The Gathering Storm

A soldier brought wine. Although it was turning, so sharp he could smell the flavor of vinegar, she gulped it down as wind shook the awning and made the tents and banners dance all down the long slope where the army had pitched camp. There was a commotion at the far edge of the tents, where Hathui’s escort was moving in and, no doubt, startling the new recruits who had joined up in the days since he had sent Hathui and her escort on their detour to Walburg while continuing his own southwestward march.



It was hard to wait, but he did; he reined himself in, tapping one foot on the ground in a staccato until she was at long last finished although it hadn’t taken her more than ten breaths.



“What news?” he asked in a low voice. “What news of Liath?”



“Each night at dusk I’ve lit a fire and taken off my amulet and looked into the flame, just as we planned, but I’ve seen nothing. Until last night. She’s at Verna.”



“Verna” The name rocked him; he pushed so hard with his legs that his chair teetered, and Gyasi leaned forward to stop it tipping over.



Hathui shifted to put more of her weight on her other knee, the one not plagued by an old injury. “Verna. That’s what she said. She thinks it likely they’ll cross back into the crowns tonight.”



It chafed him, for he had no skill to speak or see through fire, but perhaps it was for the best not to have to see her and hear her voice. That would be torment. Even the centaurs were beginning to look attractive to him, and he did his best to keep women well away from him. It was the only way to keep his promise to her.



“We’ve been five months marching at a hard pace,” he said at last, “yet she leaps farther in one step.”



“So be it, my lord prince. We have each chosen our own path. Had you willed it, you might have crossed through the crowns, but you needed to shepherd the griffins and raise your army.”



“So I did. What of Villam? Has Lord Druthmar returned with you?”



“He has. The milites who marched east have gone back to their farms, all but the soldiers. He comes at the head of an army of five hundred, which is all the margrave can spare. These are her words: ‘My lord prince, march south if you must, but be swift in this task. Wendar suffers and will break apart if you linger too long in the southern lands as does your father. Beware. There are those in the southern lands who know the gift of Eagle’s Sight. They will spy you out if they can, and prepare where they must. Go in haste. Bring home the crown and the mantle that will rule Wendar in peace once more.’”



He grunted, and brushed his fingers over the gold torque at his neck that Waltharia had given him, symbol of his descent from the royal line. “Is it my father she wishes to rule Wendar, or me?” he asked softly.



Hathui’s smile cut. “The margrave wishes for prosperity and peace, as do we all. That her people have not suffered as badly as some is due to her wise and prudent stewardship.”



“What do you think, Eagle? Ought I to remain in Wendar and restore what I can?”



She would not be drawn. “I am the king’s Eagle, my lord prince. I serve Henry. It is to Henry that I desire to return. Free him, and he will return to Wendar of his own volition and set all things right.”



“Very well. What of supplies?”



“Ten wagons.”



He gestured to a steward. “Let two bags of seed grain be given to Brother Anselm. Brother.” The monk crept forward, tears in his eyes. “Husband this grain well. Your monastery must become a refuge to all folk who suffer in difficult times. Hold fast.”



The monk kissed his hand, weeping openly. “Bless you, Your Highness.” The steward led him away.



“Let the next one approach.”



A brawny man with arms the size of tree trunks shuffled forward; he was lame in one leg. His face looked odd until Sanglant realized that he lacked eyebrows. His face was red, but his gaze was steady.



“I am a smith out of Machteburg, my lord prince. By name of Johann.”



“How goes it in Machteburg? That’s a long walk from that town to this place, if I judge it rightly.”



“A long walk, it’s true, but I came east hearing a report that my sister’s village was besieged by barbarians, these Quman. By the time we came, we saw no sign of them for they’d ridden on west into Avaria.”



“Your sister?”



“Still living, thank God. I stayed to help her people rebuild their village and forge weapons. I married again, for my wife died two years back of the lung fever. But I found these things out in the woodland where we went to get trees for the palisade.”