Chapter 5: When Rivers Run Blood

James' breath emerged from his lips as a frosty white cloud.

Below him, Seigneur Locklear negotiated scrub brush as he worked his way up the
winding mountain path. He cursed expansively as a thorn bush caught in the
chinks of his leg guards and he paused to throw his friend an exasperated frown.
James smiled, then turned to look out over the snowy peaks that marked the
boundary of Moredhel territory.
	Five hours after arriving at Northwarden, Baron Gabot had called both he
and Locklear into his meeting room. While worried about James' story of
Nighthawks, he was far more concerned that his magical adviser had not reported
back from investigating possible Moredhel activity. With a large band of the
Dark Brothers approaching his castle, he feared that the old magician might have
 fallen into enemy hands, and so, reluctantly, he had asked the two Seigneurs to
finish Patrus' job.
	Locklear arrived puffing, his face haloed by mist.
	"I thought I was going to have to come down there and carry you up,"
James said grinning. "You shouldn't have stayed up all night with that serving
girl."
	"I didn't expect to have to get up at the crack of dawn," Locklear
growled, yanking a twig from his chain mail. "Mountain climbing and armor do not
mix."
	Suddenly, the two Seigneurs wheeled to the sound of a horrible
mewling...

PATRUS:
... And if it weren't bad enough I had to chase you, you made me get rocks in my
best shoes! I'm blistered! Know how mad I get when my feet hurt? I get river
bottom mud sucking badger whacked mad...

JAMES:
Excuse us...

PATRUS:
Go way. I'm busy right now agitatin' this here Moredhel...

JAMES:
Begging your pardon, but I am Seigneur James... and this... and this is...
Seigneur Locklear. We have been sent... by the Baron Gabot... to find... you.
You are his magical advisor, aren't you?

PATRUS:
Just Patrus, please. I don't ken to titles much. Glad to meet you. I've just
been out trying to get some information about these Moredhel. They've been
gettin' too close to the castle and it was makin' my tongue itch. Man can't
respectably eat thataways.

JAMES:
Have you... learned anything about the attack?

PATRUS:
Only that there's six companies of 'em out creepin' in the woods somewhere, but
I don't know exactly where yet. I think they've got their own magicians, too.

JAMES:
Magicians?! The Baron will be sorry to hear that, I'll wager. We need to return
to the castle. Which way would be quickest?

PATRUS:
Northwarden? Oh, well it's THATAWAY...

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

				Entering Northwarden

The portcullis creaked.

An ashen faced soldier trembled as he labored at the monolithic peg wheel, his
back arched backwards taut as a bowstring as he hauled the iron gate upwards.
With a jerk of his neck, he gasped between clenched teeth for James and his
companions to hurry inside.
	Within, a handful of soldiers hurried to various tasks on the
battlements and panicked captains attempted to rally the surviving contingents
of the day's fighting.
	"Something's wrong," James muttered, observing the disarray. "What's
happened?"
	"Baron Gabot's been murdered, that's what's happened!" a nearby soldier
shouted, glancing up from where he worked feverishly at unplugging a keg of oil.
"We found a bloody nest of Nighthawks in our midst! They murdered the Baron's
staff and three of the captains before we cornered 'em in a storeroom."
	"Torch those corpses immediately," James ordered. "They might be Black
Slayers. Where is Duke Martin?"
	"Don't know. You're the closest thing we have to nobility at the moment.
Guess that puts you in command, Seigneur.
	James said nothing as a rumble of thunder split the sky.
	Half dead soldiers trumped past, their eyes hollowed with exhaustion as
they traded places with equally worn men brought from the dining
hall-turned-infirmary. Few men still possessed clothing unstained by blood.
	Dour with the turn of events, James eyed the horizon for any sign of
help. In all likelihood, the Moredhel would attempt to breach the wall today and
there was little he could do about it. Nighthawk treachery had silenced their
cannons and too many men had fallen in four days of heavy fighting.
	"Attack!" a voice screamed in the stillness. "Attack! Men on the south
face!"
	James cast a fuming curse into the sunrise. He might die, but he would
send as many Moredhel as he could reach in to the halls of the Death Goddess
before he would go down...

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The Moredhel thrashed.

As life dimmed in his horrified eyes he toppled backwards into a wooden
balustrade. With an ear splitting shriek the railing sundered into flying
splinters, tumbled after his flailing feet as he disappeared into nothingness.
Almost too dazed to breathe, James bolted to the wall to sight his fallen
opponent. A crumpled heap of armor lay far below, splashed in gore and a
spreading stain of red. Close by, a grim looking figure lowered his crossbow
and tilted up his shaggy dark head to favor the Seigneur with a rare smile.
	Arutha!

JAMES:
I was beginning to believe you were going to miss all the fun!

ARUTHA:
Delekhan would think me impolite if I didn't attend his little party. How are
the men?

JAMES:
Very bad. Of the original garrison of four hundred and fifteen men, two hundred
twenty seven are dead, thirty five are mortally wounded, and the rest are
afflicted with dysentery or are too exhausted to wield a sword. Your arrival
came none too soon.

JAMES:
No discourtesy intended, Prince, but why did you wait so long in coming?

ARUTHA:
We made all haste, nearly to the point of calamity! Your well-meaning messengers
bumped into trouble and nearly didn't win themselves free. Consequently we
didn't receive your word until it was nearly too late for us to respond. We were
greatly fortunate to arrive as soon as we did.

JAMES:
The Moredhel are in retreat?

ARUTHA:
What few of them remain. By the accounts of my scouts, they think there may have
been up to at least six companies in the hills.

JAMES:
About that. Since they didn't have the decency to attack all at once, we
couldn't tell.

ARUTHA:
If our trackers are to be believed, four of those companies slipped out a week
ago while the other two kept your forces pinned down. The rest apparently turned
southwest.

JAMES:
Sounds like they mean to strike at Highcastle.

ARUTHA:
Undoubtedly. Since the Moredhel leader has mimicked many of the moves that his
predecessor Murmandamus made, it stands to reason he may make many of the same
mistakes.

ARUTHA:
As a precaution, I split my forces and diverted half of them to Highcastle. As
soon as we are finished cleaning up here, I will take the rest of our companies
to engage him there.