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Authors: Jack Conner
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Obviously this prisoner
exchange was a staged affair, a half-hearted effort on the enemy’s part to fool
the humans into thinking it legitimate, but there was more to it than that. The
Men had an agenda of their own, and the enemy knew about it, was playing to it.
The human soldiers drew around him
in a tight, gleaming knot, and he wondered if any of them had been with the
Five Hundred.
Suddenly their swords pointed at
his breast and throat. “Sorry, my lord,” said their leader. “But we have to do
this.”
He recognized that voice. “ Halthus ?”
“It’s I, sir.”
“Excellent!” Baleron clapped Halthus on the shoulder, ignoring the other knights’
tension. Halthus had been one of his lieutenants when
he led the Five Hundred.
Lifting his visor, Halthus did not look so friendly at the moment, however.
“Sir, you’d better come with us quietly.”
Baleron withdrew his hand. He
hadn’t noticed it before, but one of the knights carried coils of chain over
his shoulder, and he brought it out now and bound the prince’s hands. Baleron,
not quite mystified, allowed it.
“I’m not a werewolf,” he said.
Halthus shrugged. “That’s for the mages to decide.”
They led him inside the walls as
though he were a prisoner, and the gates closed behind him with a crash that
echoed in his ears for long moments afterward. He may be in chains, he thought,
but he was home.
The knights led him to their horses and put him astride one.
Without wasting a moment, they raced off through the streets with him at their
center. It was surreal, after so much time among the horrors of Krogbur, to be
home again, to see people— people —and
hear the sounds of playing children and the barking of dogs.
Even so, it was grim.
Baleron was dismayed to see large
parts of the city still burnt and in ruins from Throgmar’s passage. The Grothgar Castle, or its blackened remains, reared
like a lightning-blasted stump from the highpoint of the city, while masses of
emaciated homeless people tangled the streets and looked out of grimy hotel
windows. They must be refugees from all over the kingdom, their own towns and
cities consumed by the devouring armies of Oslog.
Baleron turned to Halthus . “Did General Kavradnum ever mass an army out of the soldiers of Aglindor and
the other cities?”
The knight snorted. “Some army! They botched the attack on Ungier. Our sortie
was nearly unable to reach them.” Darkly he added, “Only a few survived. And
their cities were left defenseless. They did not stand for long.”
The knights rode to the largest
surviving palace in the city, home to one of the noblest Houses, the Husrans , who, Halthus explained,
had offered up their abode to the king and had taken up residence with another
great House with whom they shared many ties, the Esgralins .
The knights stopped at the palace’s
gate and were inspected by a coterie of five sorcerers, who took custody of
Baleron, bringing him into a room within the outer wall, not far from the
hastily-erected barracks. His chains were removed, and the mages made him stand
in a circle of chalk while they all pointed their staffs at him and closed
their eyes, chanting in a hypnotic baritone. The ends of their staffs glowed,
and he felt hot. They made him remove his sword, and began again.
For four days they kept him there,
testing him, scrutinizing him, and for four days he counseled himself to be
patient. He could not blame them for their caution. After Rauglir’s deception,
they should be paranoid.
At last—to the delight of Baleron—Logran
himself attended the proceedings. Baleron was happy to see him again, but the
sorcerer did not look glad to see Baleron. The Archmage just frowned sadly at
the prince and waited until his subordinates were finished. When that time
came, their leader turned to him and said, “We’ve done all we can do for the
moment, Master Belefard .”
“Well?” he asked
exchange was a staged affair, a half-hearted effort on the enemy’s part to fool
the humans into thinking it legitimate, but there was more to it than that. The
Men had an agenda of their own, and the enemy knew about it, was playing to it.
The human soldiers drew around him
in a tight, gleaming knot, and he wondered if any of them had been with the
Five Hundred.
Suddenly their swords pointed at
his breast and throat. “Sorry, my lord,” said their leader. “But we have to do
this.”
He recognized that voice. “ Halthus ?”
“It’s I, sir.”
“Excellent!” Baleron clapped Halthus on the shoulder, ignoring the other knights’
tension. Halthus had been one of his lieutenants when
he led the Five Hundred.
Lifting his visor, Halthus did not look so friendly at the moment, however.
“Sir, you’d better come with us quietly.”
Baleron withdrew his hand. He
hadn’t noticed it before, but one of the knights carried coils of chain over
his shoulder, and he brought it out now and bound the prince’s hands. Baleron,
not quite mystified, allowed it.
“I’m not a werewolf,” he said.
Halthus shrugged. “That’s for the mages to decide.”
They led him inside the walls as
though he were a prisoner, and the gates closed behind him with a crash that
echoed in his ears for long moments afterward. He may be in chains, he thought,
but he was home.
The knights led him to their horses and put him astride one.
Without wasting a moment, they raced off through the streets with him at their
center. It was surreal, after so much time among the horrors of Krogbur, to be
home again, to see people— people —and
hear the sounds of playing children and the barking of dogs.
Even so, it was grim.
Baleron was dismayed to see large
parts of the city still burnt and in ruins from Throgmar’s passage. The Grothgar Castle, or its blackened remains, reared
like a lightning-blasted stump from the highpoint of the city, while masses of
emaciated homeless people tangled the streets and looked out of grimy hotel
windows. They must be refugees from all over the kingdom, their own towns and
cities consumed by the devouring armies of Oslog.
Baleron turned to Halthus . “Did General Kavradnum ever mass an army out of the soldiers of Aglindor and
the other cities?”
The knight snorted. “Some army! They botched the attack on Ungier. Our sortie
was nearly unable to reach them.” Darkly he added, “Only a few survived. And
their cities were left defenseless. They did not stand for long.”
The knights rode to the largest
surviving palace in the city, home to one of the noblest Houses, the Husrans , who, Halthus explained,
had offered up their abode to the king and had taken up residence with another
great House with whom they shared many ties, the Esgralins .
The knights stopped at the palace’s
gate and were inspected by a coterie of five sorcerers, who took custody of
Baleron, bringing him into a room within the outer wall, not far from the
hastily-erected barracks. His chains were removed, and the mages made him stand
in a circle of chalk while they all pointed their staffs at him and closed
their eyes, chanting in a hypnotic baritone. The ends of their staffs glowed,
and he felt hot. They made him remove his sword, and began again.
For four days they kept him there,
testing him, scrutinizing him, and for four days he counseled himself to be
patient. He could not blame them for their caution. After Rauglir’s deception,
they should be paranoid.
At last—to the delight of Baleron—Logran
himself attended the proceedings. Baleron was happy to see him again, but the
sorcerer did not look glad to see Baleron. The Archmage just frowned sadly at
the prince and waited until his subordinates were finished. When that time
came, their leader turned to him and said, “We’ve done all we can do for the
moment, Master Belefard .”
“Well?” he asked
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