James Lowder - Crusade

Tapping the end of his pen lightly on his chin, the bard considered what else he should record. After a moment, Thom inked his stylus and set to work again.

The dwarves of Earthfast buried Torg, ironlord of their people, in a cairn of stone on the day of the Second Battle of the Golden Way. The dwarven lord's resting place stands only a few yards from the trees that served the Alliance so well. The pyres where the clerics burned the corpses from the battle will likely leave no permanent mark on the countryside, but they, too, were built near the site of the conflict.

The dwarves left a day later. Princess Alusair attempted to convince them to stay, at least until the king was certain the Tuigan were not going to mass another attack. "The battle is over," they told her. "There is nothing else for us to do here." Many in the Alliance were not sorry to see the dwarves go. Throughout the campaign, they remained aloof and isolated.

"I don't see how the princess fought beside those cold little men for the three months before the crusade," Thom added to himself. From everything Alusair had revealed, the bard saw Earthfast as a lonely, embattled place, devoid of hope. It was hard to believe that Azoun's daughter, who seemed full of life, had stayed there.

That was before I met her, Thom decided. That was before she and the king were reconciled.

He shook his head and tried to dismiss the idle thoughts that dragged him away from the chronicles. Today was the first time in the month since the Second Battle of the Golden Way, as the conflict was now known, that the bard had stolen a chance to write. And since he wanted to have the notes on the crusade finished before the army returned to Cormyr, Thom had to get back to work.

Stretching once to get comfortable, the bard started to write once more.

It was clear on the day following the battle that the Tuigan were actually retreating. Scouts returned to report that the barbarians were covering an astonishing distance each day-a figure I would relate here but for fear of being called a liar. The death of Yamun Khahan at the hands of King Azoun, the illustrious hero of the crusade-

"Getting a bit carried away there," Thom said softly. Azoun had given the bard strict instructions after the battle that he was not to be valorized over the common troopers in the chronicles. "You'll surely ask me to strike this out," Thom noted, "so I'll do it now and save you the trouble."

After marking through the last phrase with heavy, dark lines, the bard repeated the last fragment he'd penned." 'The death of Yamun Khahan at the hands of King Azoun-'"

— broke the spirit of the barbarian invaders. The prisoners made it clear, with some help from the mages, that without the khahan to lead them, their horsewarrior brethren would surely scatter to the four winds. Experience has taught the Alliance that this was the case.

As the crusading army has moved east, following the retreating horde, it has met with little resistance. Pockets of Tuigan warriors, broken from the main column, have made valiant stands against our forces. Yet flight seems the more common strategy for the tiny bands of Tuigan. As soon as they spot the Alliance, they hurriedly break camp and ride away, pushing their swift ponies to the limits of endurance.

Of great relief to Azoun's generals, too, is the civil war that is obviously tearing at what remains of the Tuigan army. Princess Alusair, with the aid of the falcon and magical bracelet given her by the centaur chieftain, has been able to keep careful track of the barbarians. The sons of the khahan seem to be locked in bitter contention with one of the horde's generals, Chanar Ong Kho. More small bands of warriors break off every day and disappear into the open plains of Thesk.

A few of the barbarians captured in the Second Battle of the Golden Way are released each day to join these groups of fleeing comrades. "The Tuigan are prisoners from a war that's over," Azoun told his generals. "There is no reason for us to prevent them from going home, as we all will soon do."

Thom paused to study the page he'd just completed. Apart from the single blotch where he'd marked over his comment about the king, the sheet was neatly crammed with tight, controlled handwriting. He laid the paper flat to dry, then started a new page.

Even without fighting, traveling through Thesk has not been easy for the Army of the Alliance, and the going promises to be harder still the farther east we go. Few of the fields have been cultivated in the wake of the invasion, and the retreating barbarians have been killing much of the game. Food, while not terribly scarce, is still a concern, since the army's supply lines grow longer each day and more vulnerable to attack from other dark forces in the area.

The villages along the Golden Way are deserted, and most have been pillaged by the Tuigan. Where the peasants simply abandoned their homes, some of the structures remain intact. In towns and villages where the people made a stand-

Sadly Thom looked around at the interior of the shattered farmhouse. The cottage was one of the only buildings left on the outskirts of the town of Tammar. The thatch that normally covered its roof had been pulled down in many places, perhaps as food for hungry Tuigan horses. The furniture was little more than splintered fragments, and even the hut's wooden door had been smashed in. If any other possessions once lined the walls of the cottage they were gone now, but whether the peasants or the barbarians had taken them Thom would never know.

The bard closed his eyes for a moment, then glanced at the parchment. The carnage left in the horde's wake would have to be noted, but not today. Such dark topics were best left for other times, days when the sun wasn't shining so brightly and the late summer air wasn't so warm and relaxing. Thom blew the partially finished page dry, gathered the other sheets he'd finished that morning, and tucked them under his arm.

I think it's time for a walk, he decided as he collected his pens and the rest of his writing tools. Then I'll head back to town and get something to eat.

With full intention of carrying out that simple plan, the bard stepped over the broken doorjamb. Being free of the crooked, shadow-heavy cottage made him feel better than he'd expected, so he whistled a bright tune and set off in no particular direction.

"Well met, Master Bard," called a voice from behind.

Without turning around, the bard knew that it was King Azoun who had hailed him. When he did look, Thom wasn't surprised to see that Vangerdahast accompanied the king. The presence of a third person-a little, bald Khazari priest who'd been captured in the Second Battle of the Golden Way-did make him pause for an instant.

Koja, as the bard had come to know the Tuigan historian and former advisor to Yamun Khahan himself, strode beside King Azoun. Though he had been captured in the last battle, he wasn't really a prisoner, for the king had offered the man his freedom long ago. Koja had asked to stay with the Alliance, claiming that there were many Tuigan who would gladly see him dead now that the khahan was no more. His sincerity in this had been obvious, so Azoun let him stay.

"Interesting news, Thom," the king said happily. From the expression on Azoun's face, the bard could tell that it was at least partially good news, too.

Vangerdahast, still aged from the affects of the magic-dead area, tottered along beside Azoun. The wizard, once rather hale and hearty for a man in his eighties, now looked tired and haggard. His face was a nest of wrinkles, and his hands quivered slightly. The wizard clutched a staff, and his weight drove its tip into the ground with each plodding step.

"We're finally going home," Vangerdahast said before Azoun could elaborate on his comment.