Sons of Ironstorm - Book 2: Griffon's Call

Difficult Decisions

Will stepped forward at that point, a large jute sack in his hand.

"Now you're talking," he said with a half smile. "Doing what I wanted to in the first place! Before we go anywhere though, you'll need to get rid of those tunics. If trying to avoid enemy patrols with two men bearing more than a passing resemblance to the giant princes of Caliphra and Ironstorm isn't hard enough, your bloodied formal tunics would be as good as painting a target on your backs."

"His lordship makes a good point, your Highness," Malkolm added before looking at the bag Will held. "You've obtained disguises for their Highnesses, my lord?"

"Of a sort, captain," Will replied, pulling a pair of light gray tunics and cloaks from the sack before handing them out to Lawrence and Cajastus. "Hopefully these will help them blend into the crowds that are pouring out of the city as Mern's mercenaries expand their influence."

Lawrence took the tunic and cloak silently, setting them down beside him before he began the task of carefully stripping off the heavy, blood-encrusted tunic he still wore, the Ironstorm griffon nearly obliterated by the evidence of his rough treatment at the hands of Mern's Interrogators. Cramping as Lawrence had done earlier, Cajastus struggled with a tunic no less bloodstained, hampered by the tight knots in his arms and hands.

As the two princes removed the most visible trace of their stay in Mern's dungeons, Malkolm spread out the handful of rangers with him to establish a perimeter. Getting surprised by Suntroopers at this juncture would be a severe obstacle against the accomplishment of their plans. For his part, Will checked their mounts, making sure they had enough supplies to make it well out of the city before they needed to obtain more.

By the time Lawrence finally pulled the bulky traveling tunic on, throwing the cloak over it and his shoulders, Will had changed not only his tunic, but had put heavy breeches and thick, sturdy boots on as well.

"What do we do with these, then?" Cajastus asked in a voice tainted by pain and fatigue, throwing his bloodied formal tunic to the ground. "They're a sure sign we've changed into something else."

"I'll take care of those, your Highness," Malkolm indicated, waving a pair of his rangers forward to scoop the bloodied tunics up. "We'll sort them properly out. In the meantime, let's get the pair of you out of here!"

Now dressed like three rather weary and bedraggled looking travelers, Lawrence, Will and Cajastus took up the reins of their respective mounts and, with the rangers gliding in silent escort, they stepped into the street beyond the small square. Slowed only by Lawrence and Cajastus' cramping muscles, they quickly passed through the unnaturally dark and silent back streets, easily avoiding enemy patrols thanks to the rangers' vigilance. Silent, yes, but each step brought them closer to the sounds of battle rising in the distance.

And then it was all around them as they stepped around a battle-damaged building into a square that lay to the side of one of the main intersections between the Run and the road they now stood upon. By the light a number of fires burning raggedly over heaps of debris scattered throughout the square a large Suntrooper force was attempting to push aside a much smaller friendly force to take control of the intersection. The only thing preventing them from doing so was the fact the much smaller force was primarily composed of Sapphire Griffons, a sign of just how close they now stood to Caer Aslan and the palace.

"Now what?" Will grimaced as he studied the shifting battle in front of them, neither side gaining or losing despite the gross disparity in strength. Like any man noble born, he was well schooled in the art of war and followed the combat in the square with expert eyes. "Can we use the Griffons to cut a path for use to the intersection?"