Angus Wells - The Kingdoms 02 Read Online Free PDF Page A

chamber
Rycol, Chatelain of High Fort, had set aside for the planning of strategy. It
was a wide, low-ceilinged room, heated against the mounting chill by a great
hearth, the fire there augmenting the flambeaux that burned along the walls.
Ancient weapons decorated the stones and at the center was a long, oaken table
surrounded by high-backed chairs of carved, dark wood. King Darr sat at the
head, his pale, thinning hair bound by a simple coronet, his kindly features
lined with sympathy as Kedryn entered. To his left, the shield position a mark
of deference to his status as commander of the fort, sat the hawk-faced Rycol,
to his right, Bedyr. Jarl, Lord of Kesh, occupied the seat to Bedyr’s right,
his oiled black hair and hooked nose a contrast to the softly handsome features
of the goldenhaired Lord of Ust-Galich, Hattim Sethiyan, who faced him across
the table. It was Jari who rose bowlegged to drag back a seat and murmur,
“Here, Kedryn, at my side.”
                “Thank you, my Lord,” Kedryn
responded, easing himself down. “Are all assembled?”
                “We are,” confirmed the king, “and
we thank you for your presence, Prince of Tamur.”
                “Brannoc?” Kedryn asked. “Is he
here?”
                “The outlaw? What need have we of
him?” demanded Hattim.
                Kedryn held his temper in check with
some difficulty as he heard the insolence in the Galichian’s voice. There was
no love lost between them since Kedryn had defeated Hattim in the duel that had
forced the ruler of the southernmost kingdom to commit to the expedition
against the Horde, and while he was prepared to forget the affair, Hattim was
ever mindful of his embarrassment.
                “He knows the forest folk better
than any present,” Kedryn said.
                “And proved himself a most valuable
ally in the siege,” added
                Rycol, his own initial animosity
toward the half-breed wolf s-head long forgotten.
                “Send for him,” Darr ordered the
soldier who had escorted Kedryn.
                “Knowing the forest folk seems to me
of little moment,” Hattim grunted, his tone piqued. “We know we have beaten
them. What further knowledge do we require?”
                “If I am to discuss peace terms with
them, my Lord, I must understand them,” Kedryn answered evenly.
                “Discuss? Peace terms?” Hattim
laughed. “We are the victors—we dictate and they accede. Or we ride into the
Beltrevan and wipe them out.”
                “To what end?” asked Kedryn,
carefully modulating his tone. “We should lose men in such a venture and have
no hope of destroying them all. That way would build nothing but resentment
that would fester until some new chieftain should rise to form the
Confederation afresh. Sooner than commit the Kingdoms to endless war, I would
argue for peace.”
                “There speaks the voice of reason,”
King Darr remarked admiringly.
                “Will they listen?” asked Jarl, his
own voice dubious.
                “Brannoc can best advise us on
that,” Kedryn pointed out.
                “Enough lives have been lost
already,” said Bedyr. “If Kedryn sees a way to bring a lasting peace, I say we
listen.”
                “Tamur has two voices, the one
echoing the other.” Rancor put an edge to Hattim’s words. “I say we strike
while we have our full force in one place and end the threat of the Beltrevan
forever.”
                “How long do you think such a
campaign might last, Hattim?” Bedyr demanded. “Corwyn built the forts to hold
the woodlanders out because that was the only way he saw to end the conflict.
We have seen the danger of that bottling—had Kedryn not slain the hef-Ulan the
Horde would likely have overrun us. If we