Shouts and cries of horror came from the watching slaves, who crowded closer.
The Knight Commander was so distracted trying to defend his men that he did not see the Akkad-Ur attack the women. The Tarmak descended on Mariana and Linsha like an executioner, pulling a vicious-looking spiked battle-ax from a strap behind his back. “As for you,” he bellowed at Linsha, “you tried to escape, but you will never have that opportunity again!”
Even while he spoke he turned slightly, lunged, and stabbed the spiked end into the half-elf’s stomach. He wrenched the point upward through her stomach and into her lungs. Blood splashed over his hands.
Sir Remmik heard Linsha scream, an appalled cry of fury and grief that wrenched his attention around to her. He turned and saw Mariana vomit a bout of crimson blood. Her hands groped at the metal spike in her abdomen, but she was already dying. Her skin went deathly pale beneath the splattered blood. She sagged to her knees, her face a mask of disbelief and agonizing pain. When the Akkad-Ur pulled his ax out of her body, she pitched forward at Linsha’s feet, and her blood pooled on the graveled ground.
Reacting without thought, Linsha kicked the ax from the Akkad-Ur’s hand and sent it spinning to the ground. She landed another kick on his stomach that doubled him over and launched herself after the fallen weapon.
But Sir Remmik was faster. The Knight Commander snatched the ax from the dirt and threw himself at the Akkad-Ur just as the guards reached him. The two combatants fell to the ground locked together in the Knight’s death grip. The golden mask slipped off and clanged to the ground.
There was a shout and abruptly everything stopped. The Tarmak guards froze, their swords pointed at Sir Remmik’s throat. The Knight paused, the ax blade pressed to the Akkad-Ur’s neck. A silence closed in, and the tension crackled through the violent tableau.
Sir Remmik stared bleakly at his men. Besides Linsha, only three other Knights were standing and two of them were badly wounded. The rest lay motionless on the blood-soaked ground. His eyes switched to Mariana and recognized that she was dead as well. Regret clouded his gaze, then he looked up and found Linsha’s green eyes staring at him unflinching, the anger and sadness still burning in the depths of her clear green gaze. The very uncomfortable feeling that had begun to creep over his thoughts on the trail to the Grandfather Tree was now forged into a solid conviction.
“You are not in the service of the Tarmak,” he said to her alone, ignoring the swords at his throat and the general in his grip.
The Akkad-Ur answered for her. “I wish she was. She is the most stubborn and loyal female I have ever had the pleasure to meet.”
Sir Remmik’s eyes closed. He was breathing heavily under the weight of the larger Tarmak across his chest. “So, you were lying to me,” he said to the Akkad-Ur.
“It was effective. You brought her out where my men could recapture her. You have been a most useful tool. But now—” he dared a gesture at the warriors around him. “We are in a standoff. You wish to kill me, and they wish to kill you. What do we do?”
“Let my men go,” Sir Remmik said forcefully. “Honor your word. You have dishonored me and slaughtered my unarmed men without reason. You have betrayed us. Release the Knights— all of them. Or we die together. Now.”
“There is no need for both of us to die. You surprise me. I can count on one hand the number of men who have brought me to my back. Would you fight me to free your Knights and yourself?”
“What? A duel?” Sir Remmik hissed, his hand still firm on the axe at the Akkad-Ur’s neck. “I could just kill you now.”
“And you and your Knights would die a moment later.”
“You will kill them anyway.”
“By the sacred gold mask of Kadulawa’ah that I wear, I swear I will free your men if you choose to fight.”
“If I fight, you must free Linsha as well.”
“Very well.” The Akkad-Ur smiled a feral grimace. “Ket-rhild!” he said to his men. “A challenge!”
The guards stood back, talking excitedly. The Tarmaks were a warrior society who placed much emphasis on honor and the glory of single combat. And they always enjoyed watching their leader slaughter an inept human.
Sir Remmik pulled his weight off the ax and stood up. He did not look at Linsha again.
One of the guards lifted a curved ram’s horn and blew three blasts that were quickly answered from somewhere near the front of the line. The entire Tarmak army stopped what it was doing and paused while the high ranking officers hurried to the call of the Akkad-Ur. Meanwhile, the other guards hurried away from the dead Solamnic Knights and reformed a larger square in a clear, open area. Sir Remmik was quickly and firmly escorted to the square and placed in a corner. He was given a stool to sit on, honeyed wine to drink, and a light offering of food to revive his strength. Weapons were brought to him for his inspection. The Akkad-Ur occupied the opposite corner and received the same preparations.
While all this bustling activity was going on around her, Linsha crouched beside Mariana’s body and bowed her head. There were no tears in her eyes, because she was too numb, too full of disbelief. Her head ached with unshed tears, her belly churned with rage. She could not accept that Mariana was dead. All she could think about was how she would tell Sir Hugh.
Hands gripped her arms and pulled her gently to her feet. She saw a glimpse of Lanther’s vivid blue eyes and buried her face in his shoulder. “I should never… have let her… come with me,” she said. “She wanted to make sure I would be safe.” Her throat ached with a grief she could not articulate.
The Legionnaire wrapped his arms around her and held her so tightly she could hear his heartbeat. “She was your friend, Linsha,” he said in a choked voice. “You would have done the same for her.”
She rested there for a brief space of time, appreciating his comfort and strength. Then a groan of pain penetrated the hum of noise that surrounded them. It drew Linsha’s attention back to the wounded Knights and her duty. She pulled herself back under control and wiped her face on her sleeves. Relieved to have something else to think about for the moment, she took Lanther’s hand and hurried to help them.
One Knight was unharmed and greeted Linsha with gratitude. Together, he and Linsha moved the two wounded men into the shade of a clump of tall thornbushes and began to examine their wounds. The overseer sent a few slaves to carry away Mariana and the dead Knights and bury them in the desert sand before the vultures arrived.
Linsha and the Knight did what they could for the wounded, but she did not give them much hope. Their wounds were severe. They had no healers, no herbs, no bandages, and unless the Tarmak took pity on them and let them ride in wagons, they had little chance of surviving the next march.
“Let me keep a watch on them,” the Knight said to her. “Go and witness Sir Remmik’s duel. Someone should be there for him.”
Linsha was sure Sir Remmik would rather have anyone else than her witness his duel. “I don’t think—” she began, until she remembered that one of the wounded Knights was this man’s best friend. Her eyes strayed to the bloody spot where Mariana had died, and she nodded without a word.
Taking Lanther’s hand in hers, she went with him to the square of Tarmak guards waiting patiently for the duel to begin. She looked at Sir Remmik, and her eyes bulged. If she hadn’t been feeling so miserable, she would have sunk to the ground in hysterical laughter. The Tarmaks—much to Sir Remmik’s obvious disgust—had stripped off the remains of his tattered uniform and painted his skin blue with the paint they all used so liberally. They had expected him to fight naked, but he had managed to rescue his pants and stood glowering while the warriors finished painting him. The moment they finished, he tried to scrape it off with the blade of his sword.