saw Alun standing there. He smiled secretively, nodded toward Daylan.
Immediately the blood drained from Alun’s face and his heart pounded. He feared that he would be called upon to betray Daylan Hammer, to speak against him here in public, and he was almost as afraid of speaking before the king as he was of dying. He swallowed hard, looked around.
Daylan had asked Alun to lie in his behalf. Daylanclaimed that his own plans were superior to those of Warlord Madoc.
But were they?
Did Alun dare let the immortal steal off with the Princess Kan-hazur? Did they dare throw aside their shield now, when the castle had burst apart at every seam?
“What do you advise?” King Urstone asked Daylan Hammer.
“I think,” Daylan said, “that the Wizard Sisel speaks wisely. I think that you should look to your defenses, mend the walls of your fortress. It has served you well for many years, and you will need all of your strength to hold it now.”
The king nodded his head in thought, and Alun knew that he was persuaded to keep his troops home. It was the safest course, and to provoke the wyrmlings would be to condemn his son to death. Even after these many years, the king was loath to do so.
“Wait!” Warlord Madoc said, stamping his foot to gain attention. “Your Highness, before we give heed to the counsel of Daylan Hammer, there is something that you should know. Thrice in the past six weeks, he has left the hunt and gone off on his own. Four weeks past, I sent Sir Croft to follow him, and Sir Croft was found dead. Today, I sent young Alun here.”
He turned abruptly. “So, what did you learn?” Warlord Madoc demanded.
Alun caught his breath. If he told the truth, the warlords would test to see if Daylan Hammer truly was immortal.
If he lied, it could mean death for everyone else.
And then there was the matter of his reward …
“Daylan Hammer went to the Tower of the Fair Ones. There … he met with a wyrmling—” Alun said.
There were howls of outrage from the lords, “Traitor! Death to him!” Instantly the room flew into a commotion.
There was no time for questioning Daylan Hammer.He reached for his saber in a blinding flash, even as he tried to dodge toward the door. The angry lords took this as a sign of guilt.
Among commoners, he would have escaped easily.
But he was among warriors, men bred for battle for five thousand years. War clubs were thrown, and he dodged one, took another in the back. It sent Daylan sprawling, and he flashed his saber and neatly sliced the hamstring of Warlord Cowan. Madoc’s son Connor took that moment to lash out with a vicious kick to the head that knocked Daylan Hammer halfway across the room, right into the arms of Madoc himself, who grabbed the immortal and pinned him to the floor with his bulk.
There were shouts of “Hold him!” “Grab him!” “Ow, damn!” “Throw him in the oubliette; maybe a swim in the piss will settle him down!”
Soon, half a dozen of the younger warlords each had a piece of Daylan—an arm here, a leg there—and though Daylan thrashed and kicked at them, they went lugging him past Alun, taking him to the oubliette.
Alun saw Daylan’s face red with rage and exertion as he passed.
“Alun?” Daylan said in dismay, astonished that the lad had betrayed him.
And then the young warlords were gone, dragging their prisoner to the oubliette.
The king hunched upon his dais, looking old and bewildered, while the warlords waited upon his word.
Alun found himself staggering forward. He wanted to explain what Daylan had done, his reasoning, for he was sure that that would earn Daylan some leniency.
But the very notion that Daylan was conspiring with the wyrmlings proved his treachery as far as the warlords were concerned.
“Uh,” Alun began to say, but a huge hand slapped him on a shoulder, startling him. It was Drewish, leering down at him threateningly.
“Well done,” Drewish whispered. “You will dine atour family’s table
Immediately the blood drained from Alun’s face and his heart pounded. He feared that he would be called upon to betray Daylan Hammer, to speak against him here in public, and he was almost as afraid of speaking before the king as he was of dying. He swallowed hard, looked around.
Daylan had asked Alun to lie in his behalf. Daylanclaimed that his own plans were superior to those of Warlord Madoc.
But were they?
Did Alun dare let the immortal steal off with the Princess Kan-hazur? Did they dare throw aside their shield now, when the castle had burst apart at every seam?
“What do you advise?” King Urstone asked Daylan Hammer.
“I think,” Daylan said, “that the Wizard Sisel speaks wisely. I think that you should look to your defenses, mend the walls of your fortress. It has served you well for many years, and you will need all of your strength to hold it now.”
The king nodded his head in thought, and Alun knew that he was persuaded to keep his troops home. It was the safest course, and to provoke the wyrmlings would be to condemn his son to death. Even after these many years, the king was loath to do so.
“Wait!” Warlord Madoc said, stamping his foot to gain attention. “Your Highness, before we give heed to the counsel of Daylan Hammer, there is something that you should know. Thrice in the past six weeks, he has left the hunt and gone off on his own. Four weeks past, I sent Sir Croft to follow him, and Sir Croft was found dead. Today, I sent young Alun here.”
He turned abruptly. “So, what did you learn?” Warlord Madoc demanded.
Alun caught his breath. If he told the truth, the warlords would test to see if Daylan Hammer truly was immortal.
If he lied, it could mean death for everyone else.
And then there was the matter of his reward …
“Daylan Hammer went to the Tower of the Fair Ones. There … he met with a wyrmling—” Alun said.
There were howls of outrage from the lords, “Traitor! Death to him!” Instantly the room flew into a commotion.
There was no time for questioning Daylan Hammer.He reached for his saber in a blinding flash, even as he tried to dodge toward the door. The angry lords took this as a sign of guilt.
Among commoners, he would have escaped easily.
But he was among warriors, men bred for battle for five thousand years. War clubs were thrown, and he dodged one, took another in the back. It sent Daylan sprawling, and he flashed his saber and neatly sliced the hamstring of Warlord Cowan. Madoc’s son Connor took that moment to lash out with a vicious kick to the head that knocked Daylan Hammer halfway across the room, right into the arms of Madoc himself, who grabbed the immortal and pinned him to the floor with his bulk.
There were shouts of “Hold him!” “Grab him!” “Ow, damn!” “Throw him in the oubliette; maybe a swim in the piss will settle him down!”
Soon, half a dozen of the younger warlords each had a piece of Daylan—an arm here, a leg there—and though Daylan thrashed and kicked at them, they went lugging him past Alun, taking him to the oubliette.
Alun saw Daylan’s face red with rage and exertion as he passed.
“Alun?” Daylan said in dismay, astonished that the lad had betrayed him.
And then the young warlords were gone, dragging their prisoner to the oubliette.
The king hunched upon his dais, looking old and bewildered, while the warlords waited upon his word.
Alun found himself staggering forward. He wanted to explain what Daylan had done, his reasoning, for he was sure that that would earn Daylan some leniency.
But the very notion that Daylan was conspiring with the wyrmlings proved his treachery as far as the warlords were concerned.
“Uh,” Alun began to say, but a huge hand slapped him on a shoulder, startling him. It was Drewish, leering down at him threateningly.
“Well done,” Drewish whispered. “You will dine atour family’s table
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