Borric said, “What mysteries?”
Dolgan pointed out of the cave mouth. “As we told you, we’ve had to patrol the area hereabouts. This is a new thing, for in years past the lands along the borders of our mines and farms have been free from trouble.” He smiled. “Occasionally a band of especially bold bandits or moredhel—the Dark Brothers you call them—or a more than usually stupid tribe of goblins troubles us for a time. But for the most part things remain pretty peaceful.
“But of late, everything’s gone agley. About a month ago, or a bit more, we began to see signs of large movements of moredhel and goblins from their villages to the north of ours. We sent some lads to investigate. They found entire villages abandoned, both goblin and moredhel. Some were sacked, but others stood empty without sign of trouble.
“Needless to say, the displacement of those miscreants caused an increase in problems for us. Our villages are in the higher meadows and plateaus, so they dare not attack, but they do raid our herds in the lower valleys as they pass—which is why we now mount patrols down the mountainside. With the winter upon us, our herds are in our lowest meadows, and we must keep vigilant.
“Most likely your messengers didn’t reach our villages because of the large number of moredhel and goblins fleeing the mountains down into the forests. Now at least we’ve some gleaning of what’s causing this migration.”
The Duke nodded. “The Tsurani.”
Dolgan was thoughtful for a moment, while Arutha said, “Then they’re up there in strength.”
Borric gave his son a questioning look, while Dolgan chuckled and said, “That’s a bright lad you’ve got, Lord Borric.” He nodded thoughtfully, then said, “Aye, Prince. They’re up there, and in strength. Despite their other grievous faults, the moredhel are not without skill in warcraft.” He fell silent again, lost in thought for a few minutes. Then, tapping out the dottle of his pipe, he said, “The dwarven folk are not counted the finest warriors in the West for naught, but we lack the numbers to dispose of our more troublesome neighbors. To dislodge such a host as have been passing would require a great force of men, well armed and provisioned.”
Kulgan said, “I would give anything to know how they reached these mountains.”
“I would rather know how many there are,” said the Duke.
Dolgan refilled his pipe and, after it was lit, stared thoughtfully into the fire. Weylin and Udell nodded at each other, and Weylin said. “Lord Borric, there may be as many as five thousand.”
Before the startled Duke could respond, Dolgan came out of his reverie. Swearing an oath, he said, “Closer to ten thousand!” He turned to look at the Duke, whose expression showed he clearly didn’t understand what was being said. Dolgan added, “We’ve given every reason for this migration save invasion. Plague, internal warfare between bands, pests in their crops causing famine, but an invading army of aliens was not one of them.
“From the number of towns empty, we guess a few thousand goblins and moredhel have descended into the Green Heart. South of those villages are a clutch of huts my two boys could overcome unaided. But others are walled hill forts, with a hundred, two hundred warriors to man the palisade. They’ve swept away a dozen such in little over a month. How many men do you judge you’d need to accomplish such a deed, Lord Borric?”
For the first time in his memory, Pug saw fear clearly etched upon the Duke’s face. Borric leaned forward, his arm resting across his knee, as he said, “I’ve fifteen hundred men in Crydee, counting those in the frontier garrisons along the boundary. I can call another eight hundred or a thousand each from the garrisons at Carse and Tulan, though to do so would strip them fully. The levies from the villages and towns number at best a thousand, and most would be old veterans from the siege at Carse or young boys without skills.”
Arutha looked as grim as his father as he said, “Forty-five hundred at the outside, a full third unproved, against an army of ten thousand.”
Udell looked at his father, then at Lord Borric. “My father makes no boast of our skills, nor of the moredhel’s, Your Grace. Whether there be five thousand or ten thousand, they’ll be hard, experienced fighters to drive out the enemies of our blood so quickly.”
“Then I’m thinking,” said Dolgan, “you’d best send word to your older son and your vassal barons, telling them to stay safely behind the walls of your castles, and hie yourself to Krondor. It will take all the Armies of the West to withstand these newcomers this spring.”