James Lowder - Crusade (Forgotten Realms: The Empires Trilogy, Book 3)

Crusade

Book 3 of the Empires Trilogy

By James Lowder

Ebook version 1.0

The formation of the Tuigan charge was clear now, though the sun at the enemy's back and the high, waving grain sometimes hid the horsewarriors from Azoun's sight. As the king had guessed, the khahan had organized his warriors into three rough lines, each about three men deep.

At a few hundred yards, the bulk of the enemy reined in their horses and stopped. A group about half the size of the Army of the Alliance, perhaps fifteen thousand men, raced forward. A steady rumble of drums accompanied the heavy thunder of their horses' hooves pounding the ground.

"They're going to test the line!" Farl shouted, waving his sword in the air. The first line gripped their shields a little tighter and braced their polearms for the impact. In the second rank, captains shouted orders to the archers, who tested the pull of their bowstrings one last time.

Azoun turned his destrier to get a better look at the four groups of archers, then drew his sword. The king could see Brunthar Elventree's standard the mace, spear, and chain symbol of Battledale in gold upon red clothat the rear of the closest formation of bowmen. Like all the groups of archers, the dalesman's was fortified with dozens of long, sharpened stakes. The palisade formed by the wall of spikes tilted down the hill, ready to repulse an enemy charge.

The king gave the signal for the archers to fire when ready, and Brunthar's standard wavered in the light wind crossing the field. Six thousand archers drew their bows as one and leaned back, seemingly to point their arrows at the low-hanging sun.

THE EMPIRES TRILOGY

HORSELORDS

David Cook

DRAGONWALL

Troy Denning

CRUSADE

James Lowder

To Beth Anderson, Dawn Colwell, Robert Cole, and all the teachers at WHRHS for getting me started; to my families in New England and New Berlin for helping me along the way; and, most of all, to Debbie, for understanding, support, and proofreading beyond the call of duty.

JDL

CRUSADE

Copyright 1991 TSR, Inc.

All Rights Reserved.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of TSR, Inc.

Distributed to the book trade in the United States by Random House, Inc., and in Canada by Random House of Canada, Ltd.

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FORGOTTEN REALMS and the TSR logo are trademarks owned by TSR, Inc.

First Printing: January, 1991

Printed in the United States of America.

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 89-51890

987654321

ISBN: 0-88038-908-7

All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

is purely coincidental.

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King Azoun IV of Cormyr paced back and forth before a window in his castle's highest tower. After two or three steps in the circular room, the king paused and threw open the wooden shutters. Restlessly clasping his hands behind his back, he looked out on Suzail, the capital of his rich and expansive kingdom. What the monarch saw of the city from that vantage troubled him greatly.

Suzail sprawled contentedly in the bright, early spring sunshine. As on most mornings in good weather, crowds filled the narrow streets, heading toward or returning from the capital's bustling marketplace, doing what people in most of western Faerun's larger cities did each day. Servants ran from their masters' homes to shops, then returned with goods purchased. Watchmen, dressed in the livery of their office, settled disputes and kept the peace. Wealthy merchants argued among themselves about the price of ivory or cloth or wheat. Freebooters and sailors wandered through the various inns and taverns, searching for a new adventure or just a good barroom brawl. In all, Suzail looked that morning much like it had for all of King Azoun's twenty-five-year reign peaceful and prosperous.

Unclasping his hands, Azoun ran his fingers through his silver-shot brown beard. "Why hasn't it affected them, Vangy?" the king asked without turning around.

"Eh?" a voice sighed. "What did you say?"

Azoun turned slowly to face Vangerdahast, royal magician of Cormyr, chairman emperius of the College of War Wizards. The paunchy mage was hunched over a chessboard, staring intently at the finely carved ivory pieces. In the bright cold light from the window, Vangerdahast looked to be the veteran of fifty winters or so. Azoun knew better. Despite the color in his wrinkled cheeks, his steady gaze and steady hands, the royal magician was well over eighty. His magic had helped him stave off old age for many years now.

"Why hasn't the Tuigan invasion affected my subjects?" the king repeated. "Do they think the war won't touch them at all? They're going about their lives as if nothing is wrong."

Straightening his back with a short groan, Vangerdahast cast a quick glance at his opponent in the chess match a short, stout man with gray hair and sparkling blue eyesthen turned to Azoun. The mage recognized the puzzled tone in his king's voice, which told him that Azoun was genuinely bothered by the subject he'd broached. Vangerdahast had heard that inflection many times since he had been hired by King Rhigaerd II, Azoun's father, to tutor the young prince in heraldry and ethics. However, the tone had never been so prevalent in Azoun's voice as it had been since the Tuigan horsemen interrupted trade between Faerun and the eastern lands of Kara-Tur a little over a year ago.

"Actually, Your Highness," Vangerdahast began, "you've already answered your own question, though calling the Tuigan incursion a 'war' might be a bit premature." When Azoun didn't object, the wizard continued. "The barbarians have done little so far that really touches the lives of the average Cormyrian. Since they charged through Rashemen into Ashanath last fall, they've not moved west. Must I remind you that the nearest Tuigan is well over one thousand miles to our east, on the other end of the Inner Sea? Having barbarians camped there is hardly a direct threat to Cormyr."

Vangerdahast's opponent in the chess game moved his queen and smiled. "What about lost revenue? Haven't the attacks on Thesk and the countries around it slowed trade?" the stout man asked. "Surely the guilds care about the money."

"The guilds, especially the trappers, are the biggest opponents of any military action against the Tuigan," Azoun noted. He shook his head. "They feel we should wait until the barbarians threaten Cormyr directly before spending money to fight them."

"For once, the guilds are correct," Vangerdahast said a bit peevishly. "The Tuigan are not an immediate problem." The wizard looked at the chessboard, noticed that his opponent wore a grin, and cursed softly. "You're supposed to announce your move, Dimswart. Now, what did you ah, the queen."

"And I believe that's checkmate," Dimswart stated flatly. "Your chess game really hasn't improved in all the time I've known you, Vangy." The gray-haired man, also called the Sage of Suzail, knitted his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the room's whitewashed wall.