Aydrian didn't explain his plan to Duke Kalas, figuring the man, who knew little outside the domain of Ursal's noble court, simply would not understand the nuances of it. He did tell De'Unnero, though, and the monk smiled wickedly.

"It is no wonder then that Prince Midalis knows exactly where to strike,"

De'Unnero said. "I have never been fond of those troublesome winged creatures!"

"Believe me when I tell you that your animus toward them is far less than my own," Aydrian dryly replied.

"You will possess them?"

"I... we, will deceive them," Aydrian explained. "And I will ensure that the deception is not discovered until it is too late for Midalis."

"You bring all of your enemies together," the monk mused. "Is that wise?"

"Do you believe that St.-Mere-Abelle can stand against us?"

"Of course not."

"And do you believe that Prince Midalis and his pitiful few thousand will truly trouble Duke Kalas and his skilled warriors?"

The monk pondered that one a bit longer. "Do not underestimate the Alpinadorans," he warned. "And there is the not-so-little matter of..."

"My mother," Aydrian finished. "Yes, I know. And have faith that I understand how to take that one from the battlefield - heart, soul, and body."

"You have underestimated her before."

"True enough," Aydrian admitted. "I should have followed your advice and done away with her back in Ursal. She is more resilient than I believed."

"Perhaps that is where her son inherited such admirable traits,"

De'Unnero replied, and Aydrian rocked back on his heels at that. Had the monk just complimented him? Truly? Things had been so icy between them since Aydrian had announced his intentions toward Sadye that Aydrian had wondered if the rift ever would mend.

But now he saw the truth of it, and upon reflection, he found that he was not surprised. De'Unnero had loved Sadye - likely he still did - but he loved power more. Aydrian, and not Sadye, was the promise of that power.

"Abbot Olin is held prisoner by the Yatols of Jacintha, or by Brynn Dharielle of To-gai," he said. "I expect that he will be returned to us as soon as our business with Prince Midalis is completed."

"Do you ask what I wish done with him?"

"You are the Father Abbot of the Church of Honce-the-Bear," Aydrian stated flatly. "Once St.-Mere-Abelle is ours - within the week, I would expect - there will be no opposition to your rule. I will defer to your judgment concerning old Abbot Olin, though I am far from pleased with him at this time."

"What would you advise?"

"Give him Behren once it is taken and secured," Aydrian replied. "He loves the southland and, as you taught me, it is always best to place your resources in those areas of their greatest desire."

The double meaning of that turned phrase was not lost on De'Unnero, obviously. He quieted and settled back, staring hard at Aydrian.

Aydrian thought to push the point, but changed his mind. There would be no resolution here, the young king understood. Marcalo De'Unnero had gotten past the outrage concerning Aydrian's affair with Sadye, but the simmering anger remained.

Obviously so. Aydrian knew then to keep the monk's focus on the goal at hand, St.-Mere-Abelle, and to keep Sadye and De'Unnero as far apart as possible. In that light alone, the two could continue to work together effectively.

"Construct the house on the northwestern end of the encampment," Aydrian explained. "Tell the workers the importance of the structure they build, that it will be the command post for all of our operations in the region."

"Place the bait," De'Unnero agreed, and he went out and started the work immediately.

Aydrian went back to his own tent, then, where Sadye waited. She started to ask him about his conversation with Marcalo, but he didn't really want to talk about that at that time. He didn't want to talk about anything; he just wanted to enjoy the woman, whom he considered among the greatest gains he had made.

Later on, with construction on the house under way, Aydrian went out with his soul stone and scoured the area, locating To'el Dallia once again and taking heart that she was already looking toward the work area.

Aydrian went out in a wider arc, then, ensuring that no other Touel'alfar were about. Then he flew far out to the west, halfway back to Palmaris, and scoured that area, as well. For this would be the march and turn of Duke Kalas, the ruse, and prying eyes might ruin everything. He did indeed find an elf, resting in the low boughs of an evergreen tree.

One more stooge.

* * * The fleet sat quiet, bobbing slightly on the tiny swells of the Mirianic, the tall trees of the coastline just west of the tip of the Broken Coast barely visible in the south. Fresh from their victory over Pireth Tulme, Midalis' men were itching to go ashore once more. But no new reports had come in from Belli'mar Juraviel, and Midalis would not go in blindly.

He stood on Saudi Jacintha's deck that summer morning, leaning on the rail. Liam O'Blythe, his dear old friend, was there with him, offering silent support.

Midalis greatly appreciated the man, and all the others who were so willingly following him along this desperate course. And it was indeed desperate, he knew. Even with the allies he had found, even with the victories he had stolen, the specter of Aydrian seemed far beyond him.

Juraviel's assessment of Aydrian's armies named them as perhaps the greatest the world had ever known. How could Midalis hope to counter that? The song of Bradwarden filtered past him then, calming his nerves and reminding him even more vividly of the extraordinary friends he had found. The centaur stood on deck amidships, Pony and the captain beside him, taking in the warm air and the brief respite; and his song only added to that sense of calm, and seemed as if it softened the waters below, as well.

So much starker then came the call of the lookouts, one ship after another, sighting a great winged form gliding in over the water.

"Brynn and the dragon," Pony said, rushing up beside the prince and Liam.

"And Roger, too, let us hope," Midalis replied.

The great wurm soared past the ships, banking and running the line of them - and more than a few lifted bows or spears its way! Sighting Midalis and the others, Brynn and Pagonel brought Agradeleous down low beside Saudi ]acintha. The dragon hooked the rail with his great claws and held aloft there, beating his wings, as his two riders leaped down upon the deck.

"Where is Roger?" Pony asked before they could even exchange formal greetings.

Brynn looked to Pagonel.

"Your son would not deal for Abbot Olin," the mystic explained. "Roger remains his captive in the city of Palmaris."

"I must go there," Pony said, and she turned to Bradwarden and Prince Midalis, pleading with them. "As soon as Juraviel returns to us, I will have him usher me away to Roger's side."

"Roger won't be liking that," Bradwarden dared to reply. "If ye bring the elf and yerself into danger, ye might be costing us more than ye know. He got caught freeing Braumin, yes? And I'm thinking that yerself and Juraviel are more important to the cause than our friend the bishop."

Pony had no answer, other than to glare at the centaur.

"To-gai and Behren are at peace with Honce-the-Bear?" Prince Midalis inquired of Pagonel.

"The treaty has been signed by all parties," the mystic replied. "Though we fear that if Aydrian proves victorious up here, he will again turn his eyes our way."

"No doubt."

"Brynn has ceded the throne of To-gai," the mystic went on, and that brought surprised expressions from all the onlookers. "Her calling is to avenge Lady Dasslerond and Andur'Blough Inninness, and she cannot involve her people in such a desperate struggle. To-gai is at peace with Honce- the-Bear, but the former leader of To-gai most certainly is not at peace with King Aydrian."

"You have come to join in our cause?" Midalis asked, and there was no hiding the hopefulness in his tone.

"If you will have us," the mystic answered.

Prince Midalis looked all around at the nodding heads and the widening smiles. Fine allies, indeed! "Brynn will fight against Aydrian, to punish him for his actions," the prince reasoned. "Why will Pagonel fight?"

"I fight for my friend, Brynn Dharielle."

"And why him?" the prince asked, motioning with his chin toward Agradeleous, who had dropped off the ship and was sitting in the water, seeming like some great lizard-headed gull.

Pagonel gave a little laugh as he regarded the wurm. "Agradeleous just likes to fight," he admitted.

Prince Midalis thought on that for just a moment, then realized that if such was the case, better that the formidable dragon was fighting for him! The direct line took the undead creature right through Dundalis, and so through Dundalis it walked, that dark night. A handful of men out enjoying some drink and the comfortable summer air saw it coming down the road from the north, and hailed it, thinking it a traveler.

It didn't answer - it couldn't, of course - but just kept walking, northwest to southeast, along the road when the road happened to be under its stiff-legged stride, across undergrowth and farms when it was not.

The men hailed it again and moved to intercept.

"Hey there, ye can'no just be walking into town unannounced and all!" one warned.

The undead creature's pace was not swift, and so the men easily moved before it.

It didn't slow, didn't even seem to notice them.

One held out his arm to block, ordering the intruder to stop again.

He got slapped aside, knocked fully ten feet through the air by a single swipe of the powerful creature's arm.

The others moved to attack, but then the creature moved before the light coming from the hearth of one house, and they got a better look at it.

As one, they fell back in terror, crying out in shock and surprise. There wasn't a religious man among the group, but more than half made the sign of the Abellican evergreen in that moment of horrible revelation, and every one called out for help from God.

But the zombie wasn't interested in them. It just kept walking, northwest to southeast, the direct line to the call of its master.

"This is outrageous!" Duke Kalas roared, and he slammed his fist on the table. "Our greatest enemy stands before us, and you would send me and my legions away? What foolishness is this?"

Aydrian stood across the table from Kalas, his chin in one hand. He fought hard to keep the grin off his face, for Kalas was unwittingly playing his part perfectly for the elven audience Aydrian knew lurked just outside the house. He had watched To'el Dallia, his former instructor in Andur'Blough Inninness, very carefully over the last few days, waiting for her to drift toward the new structure near the Kingsmen line, the house that he had obviously constructed as his field throne room, his command center.

Aydrian had also tried his best to monitor the movements of Prince Midalis after the second fall of Pireth Tulme, and he was reasonably certain now that the prince and his fleet were sailing the waters much closer to St.-Mere-Abelle.

In perfect position for the timing of this deception.

"I will not need your thirty thousand to sack St.-Mere-Abelle," Aydrian replied to the duke. "With my five thousand and the war engines, the abbey will quickly fall. That frees you up to begin the great march, to Palmaris and then to the north and east, to Vanguard itself. Prince Midalis cannot hope to oppose you, wherever he might land."

"You take too great a risk," Duke Kalas warned. "St.-Mere-Abelle is formidable beyond your expectations! Never has the abbey fallen in all its long history, and greater forces than yours have arrayed against it."

"But never a force led by one as potent as I in the use of the gemstones," Aydrian explained. "Nor as proficient in defeating the monks' use of the stones. There are no more than seven hundred monks inside of St.-Mere-Abelle at this time."

"And a like number of peasants, if not more," Duke Kalas added, and Aydrian shrugged as if that hardly mattered.

"If I can minimize the monks' gemstone use, we will get through the door, and once that has happened, the monastery will quickly fall," Aydrian reasoned.

"The monks are well trained in conventional battle," Kalas warned.

"Some are fine fighters," De'Unnero agreed. "But most are nominal, at best. King Aydrian and I will find the leadership of St.-Mere-Abelle and decapitate the abbey. Many of the lesser monks will then likely come to see the truth of the new king and the new Church. To do otherwise would be disastrous for them, would it not?"

Duke Kalas continued to shake his head. "Let us overrun the monastery together, in the morning," he offered. "Once that is done, we can better plan the downfall of Prince Midalis."

"That has been our error all along," Aydrian replied. "We have kept our forces too bunched. That is why Midalis has been able to find places at which to strike around our edges. No, it is time to sort our armies into mighty parts. And I am not ready to go against St.-Mere-Abelle quite yet.

Even now, I am quietly spying on the brothers within, to learn how best I can exploit their weaknesses. I will destroy the remnants of Fio Bou- raiy's Abellican Church in one week, I expect, but by then, I would have you storming north of Palmaris with twenty thousand warriors. Your other ten thousand are to be dispatched south and east, with three thousand strengthening the garrison of Entel and the other force to patrol the Mantis Arm and the Broken Coast. I doubt that Midalis will land again in the southland when he learns of your march to crush his home, but if he does, we will be ready to meet him quickly and decisively."

"My King..." Duke Kalas began to argue, but Aydrian was hearing none of it.

"That is my decision," he said, ending the debate. "I and my five thousand will be rid of the brothers within St.-Mere-Abelle. Then I will instate Marcalo De'Unnero as the Father Abbot of all the Abellican Church and reposition my warriors as I see fit. I hope to join you in Vanguard, my friend, that I can share in our most glorious victory, but I bid you not to wait for me. Let us be done with this, all of it."

"Yes, my King," Duke Kalas replied.

Aydrian nodded and offered a smile, but mostly, he was smiling because he knew that To'el Dallia was likely already on her way to report the momentous happenings.

And the apparent hole in his defenses.

"Your son has erred, and greatly, it would seem," Prince Midalis said to Pony and the others when Juraviel delivered the startling news of Aydrian's redeployment the very next day.

"I have heard the details of the way he overran Palmaris," Captain Al'u'met offered. "I doubt St.-Mere-Abelle will stand against him for long, even with his reduced force."

"But he has exposed himself, and he alone is the source of opposition to my rule," Prince Midalis explained.

"Five thousand," Andacanavar said. "His force is still more than equal to that which you hold at your disposal, and it is headed by the powerful young king."

"True enough," said Midalis. "But we have a pair of rangers of our own."

He looked from Andacanavar to Brynn Dharielle. "To say nothing of Jilseponie and the dragon!"

"Forget not the Jhesta Tu who walks beside you, good Prince Midalis,"

Brynn added after the mystic had translated the prince's words to her.

Pagonel bowed to her before relaying her words to Prince Midalis.

"If we sail quickly and land ashore directly opposite the peninsula from St.-Mere-Abelle, we will arrive on the field before Aydrian's attack,"

Prince Midalis reasoned. "How much will our arrival bolster the confidence and effectiveness of Father Abbot Bou-raiy and his minions as they ward the assaults of the warrior king?"

"And if we fail, then all is lost," Pony pointed out.

"And if we do not take this opportunity, will we ever again be presented with a chance as great?" Prince Midalis replied. "Duke Kalas marches with an army that is far beyond us. If we retreat now and continue to strike at lesser targets, then St.-Mere-Abelle will fall, as will Vanguard. What is then left to us? Are we to sail forever about the coastline, stinging the king? Certainly, he will build another fleet in time, and likely a stronger one; then even the waters of the Mirianic will no longer be a haven."

The man paused and took a deep breath, then moved right before Pony, placing his hands on her shoulders and locking her gaze with his own. "He has erred," the prince explained. "He underestimates us and our information gathering. He has left himself vulnerable before the gates of St.-Mere-Abelle. Let us strike at him even as he tries to topple the Abellican Church. If we can defeat him and ki..." He paused again and sighed.

"And kill him," Pony finished.

"Or capture him," Prince Midalis added. "Then will Duke Kalas continue to support him? Will any of the nobles? And more importantly, will the people of Honce-the-Bear be so eager to rush to his cause? We have already discussed at length that Aydrian's greatest advantage in this has been his proximity to Ursal, while I was far away in distant Vanguard.

The people didn't oppose him because they saw no alternative to King Aydrian, and had no way to believe that they could do battle against Duke Kalas and his Allheart Knights. Without Aydrian, his entire false 'kingdom' crumbles. I will be accepted as the rightful king of Honce-the- Bear - even Duke Kalas will have no choice but to admit the truth of it."

"With that many soldiers in his ranks, he might be thinking to make a try for the throne himself," Bradwarden remarked.

Midalis turned to the centaur, shaking his head. "That is not in the character of Duke Kalas," he explained. "He is an Allheart Knight, first and foremost. If we defeat Aydrian here and now, the war will be over and the kingdom will be returned to the line of Ursal."

He stopped and looked around, his expression asking them all for opinions.

"We'll not find a better chance, then," Andacanavar said.

"Let us be done with this," Pony added, eerily echoing the words her son had spoken only the day before.

With Pony's support, not a word of argument came from any of those present.

Within the hour, the fleet of Prince Midalis was on the move once more, sailing west around the tip of the peninsula that held St.-Mere-Abelle along its eastern arm.

At that same time, Duke Kalas and his army of twenty thousand were fast- marching toward Palmaris. By then, however, Aydrian had let Kalas in on his little secret concerning the Touel'alfar spying.

The duke would move west for three days, then pivot back to the northwest.

For by then, Aydrian would know Prince Midalis' intent and landing point.

Duke Kalas would close the vise.

Aydrian spent the next days preparing his force for the attack on the abbey. In the nights, however, the young king went out spiritually to check on the movements.

He didn't bother scouting to the east and south, for the redeployment of the ten thousand to those locations was an honest one, and any spies reporting in would only confirm what To'el Dallia had no doubt relayed to Prince Midalis.

Mostly, the young king scouted about the coast near to St.-Mere-Abelle, and when he found sunstone resistance to his spirit-walking presence in some areas, he had a fair idea of where the prince was heading.

The young king wasted no time in relaying the information to Marcalo De'Unnero, who, in weretiger form, had little trouble in catching up to Duke Kalas' army with the news.

De'Unnero walked into Kalas' tent the evening of the second day after Kalas' departure from Aydrian's ranks.

Before the break of the next dawn, the duke split his ranks and sent a group to the north, marching them fast for the coast, toward the region where Aydrian was now certain Midalis would land.

Midalis would beat Kalas' expeditionary force to that spot, but that was the plan. Let the prince and his forces charge across the peninsula to do battle with Aydrian, while Duke Kalas quietly pursued him from behind.

Aydrian knew it, De'Unnero knew it, and Duke Kalas knew it. Once Prince Midalis came ashore and marched away from his boats, he had nowhere left to run and nowhere left to hide.

The great river hardly slowed the progress of the undead creature. Moving unerringly to Aydrian's call, the zombie walked right into the Masur Delaval. It drew no breath, and so had no air within its form and was not lifted by the water. The currents did drag on it, but they were no match for the strength of the zombie.

Straight was its march.

Straight to Aydrian, its master, who ruled Honce-the-Bear and who ruled the netherworld.

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