Storm from the West. Chapter 4 The war council convened at dawn. Temas sat at the head of the table looking grim and determined as heated debate buzzed from one side of the room to the other. Baylor and Tallus had already bashed heads, and Tallus’ steely demeanour was beginning to show signs of breaking. ‘We in the North...’, Tallus began. ‘You in the North know nothing of the Westerling savages. They have not been at your very gates pillaging your lands...’ ‘Councillor Baylor.’ Tallus’ voice cracked like a whip over the bustle of the room. Cold, calm, commanding, and not to be ignored. ‘I have given allegiance to Cheiftan Temas while I am in your lands and sworn my oaths to serve him. I am a man of honour and it would pain my ancestors, my family and I, to break the word of a warrior and disgrace myself. I’m sure all you men of honour present here understand this.’ He swept his gaze across the room. Each man shivered as the icy eyes of the Northerner met theirs. ‘But interrupt me like I am some common peasant again, and you will watch me break my oaths, gut you, pull your intestines through a hole in your stomach, and festoon this room with your entrails. Then, being a man of honour and mercy, and not having a want to leave widows or orphans I would seek out your household and kill everyone within it.’ There was a stony silence. Broken by Darwen’s reaction to the firewater from the night before. ‘I beg a pardon.’ He mumbled, and cursed under his breath as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘We in the North...’ began Tallus. ‘During our territorial expansion, clashed several times with the Westerlings in the North Western Territories. They are savage, heartless adversaries who seem to fight for very little reason other than carnage. I lost my younger brother in one such engagement. So believe me... I know of the Westerlings.’ Tallus threw his frosty gaze at Baylor who quickly looked down and began idly playing with the clasp of his robes. ‘But they are a simple, crude race of barbarians. They would not expand beyond the Dead Woods or seek conquest... Unless they were being pushed. Unless they were being impelled by something more insidious. And these rumours of Magick, are they substantiated? I cant see them ever being disciplined enough to learn such arts.’ Tallus continued. ‘Very reliable sources say that they have seen the Westerlings shape shift. One report says they saw a Westerling who brought forth fire from his hands.’ Said Durah. ‘Then this is indeed troubling news. The Magick sounds shamanic in origin.’, Replied Tallus. Rool shifted uneasily in his chair. ‘Did anyone here see evidence of Magick on the battlefield during yesterdays battle?’, Tallus asked. Mumbles and grunts ran through the congregation but the answer came back a resounding ‘no’. ‘Strange.’, Mused Stullys. ‘We have a prisoner. One of theirs. But none here speaks the Western tongue, so we have had little progress with our interrogation.’ Said Dayliss. ‘I speak the Western tongue.’, Offered Rool. Cheiftan Temas stood and addressed the room. ‘Time is wasting. They will be regrouping to the West. My scouts can lead your forces into the Mire Vales and we can crush them before they are strong enough to march again.’ ‘The Westerlings leave their wounded and do not tend their sick. They will already be prepared for us.’, Said Tallus. ‘I did not send for your aid so we could wait for their final assault on Westhaven itself!. Am I surrounded by the timid and incompetent?’ Cried Temas. ‘My men are ready to march now.’, Said Tallus. ‘Tallus, you are the most able commander here.’ Said Temas. ‘Ahem!’Darwen coughed derisively at the comment, but the firewater again took its toll. ‘Damn that Hell’s brew!’ Darwen mumbled. ‘Take your men and a force from Westhaven. The remainder of Woundworts men are now under your banner also. Stullys will lead a rear guard and Darwen and Rool will Garrison Westhaven. We will see your mettle here today.’ ‘It will not be found wanting Cheiftan Temas.’ ‘By your leave, Cheiftan. I would interrogate the prisoner. His intelligence may be of some use in the coming conflict.’ Said Rool. ‘And I feel like being persuasive.’ Added Darwen. ‘You have my leave.’
Posted on: Fri, 27 Sep 2013 15:44:14 +0000
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