From his height, he saw her coming long before the Tarmaks around him realized the party was approaching. A low, rumbling growl started in his chest and vibrated up his long neck. Something was wrong. He could not smell or see the Akkad-Ur, but he could smell blood, and he saw Linsha following someone he had never liked. All at once he clamped his ears to his head, furled his wings tightly against his sides, and laid his belly on the ground, his front legs crossed. He did not know what had happened, but he had survived enough odd circumstances to sense when he needed to tread with care.
He watched through slitted eyes as the Tarmak officers, with Lanther, Linsha, and Sir Remmik in their midst, came into the place where the Akkad-Ur’s tent still stood. He tried not to show any surprise when the Tarmak guards by the tent saluted Lanther. What was going on? Crucible studied Linsha avidly to see if she was well and unharmed, or if she could give him any clues, but all she did was return his gaze with infinite sorrow. Her hands were tied, and her tunic was spattered with fresh blood.
Crucible heard someone speak and jerked his attention away from the woman. To his astonishment and dismay, Lanther strode over to Linsha and dragged her in front of him.
“The Akkad-Ur is dead, killed in a duel with the Solamnic Knight, Sir Remmik,” Lanther said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “I am now commander of the army. I am the Akkad-Dar, and I hold the secret of the power over this dragon.”
Crucible’s eyes narrowed even further. This man was not a Tarmak, yet not one of the Brute officers or warriors offered an argument, and no one in his right mind would approach a dragon with a statement like that if he did not have some way to back it up. Unless, of course, he had a death wish.
The bronze dragon tapped a taloned foot on the ground thoughtfully. “Do I have this correct?” he asked in a frigid voice. “You are a traitor and you are now in charge of this army? And they are willing to go along with it?”
Lanther gave Linsha’s arm a shake. “Tell him so he understands.”
In hard, grim terms she told the dragon what had just transpired, including the deaths of Mariana, the Akkad-Ur, and the remaining Solamnic Knights.
Crucible felt his temper rise as surely as the magma in Mount Thunderhorn. He struggled to fight it back. This was not the time. Not when Linsha stood there in the traitor’s grasp. Not when that foul barb still penetrated his back. He needed patience and time.
“I suppose you, too, know the spell that controls the barb,” he said to Lanther, sneering down his long nose.
For an answer, the man lifted his fist and spoke a word. Pain stabbed down Crucible’s back and almost broke his self-control. He howled and swung his head around to snap at his back, and as quickly as it came, the pain vanished. His golden eyes smoldered in fury, but he restrained himself from retaliating. He knew it would not help.
“You see?” Lanther said with an arrogant smile. “I created that spell, and I control it far better than my predecessor. Be warned, Crucible. I could kill you with a word, and that word would still be viable even if I die.”
The dragon snaked his head down and glared at the man nose to nose. “How is it that you, and your…predecessor—” he spat the word—“wield magic when no one else in this land is able to do so?”
Lanther chuckled. “Just know that I can.”
He suddenly swung around and pointed his hand, palm out, toward Sir Remmik. As he muttered a string of unfamiliar words, he curled his fingers into a fist.
The Knight screamed and grabbed his head both hands. With a convulsive jerk, he fell to the ground, his eyes rolling wildly, and writhed in the dirt as if his very bones were on fire.
Crucible was impressed. He guessed this was the same curse the Akkad-Ur had used on Linsha, but he had had to touch her. Lanther could inflict that kind of agony from a distance.
Linsha leaped forward and grabbed Lanther’s arm, deflecting his spell from the tortured Knight. The connection broke. Sir Remmik shuddered once and lay on his back panting, his face twisted in lingering pain.
Crucible tensed, wondering if he would have to protect Linsha and risk Lanther’s wrath, but Lanther looked down into her green eyes and grinned. He locked his strong fingers on her chin, pulled her close, and kissed her full on the mouth. An unexpected, wild feeling of rage welled up in the dragon that had little to do with self-preservation. He hissed, a sharp, searing blast of air that sounded like a gnome’s steam engine about to explode, and reared up on his hind legs. His wings unfurled and his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl.
He was stopped by Linsha. She wrenched away from Lanther and threw herself in front of Crucible’s towering form. Grabbing a flapping wing, she yanked it with all her weight. “No!” she yelled at him. “No! Not now! Be patient.”
“Yes.” The new Tarmak general sneered. “Be patient. Your time to fight will come soon enough.”
Crucible bowed his neck and leaned down to nudge Linsha away from his wing. “I will listen,” he hissed softly to her. “I will listen to you. But if he touches you again…”
Harsh laughter rang in the clearing. “What a touching scene!” Lanther was about add more when the sound of hoofbeats distracted him.
A slim Keena in the dark robes of a priest trotted into camp and saluted the new Akkad-Dar. “Majesty,” he said. “Urudwek’s body has been brought to us and is safely sealed for mummification.”
Lanther turned away from Linsha and the dragon. “Very well. Then let us leave.” He stepped away and raised his voice for all the onlookers to hear. “Commanders, I want this army on the move before the sun passes midday! You two!” He pointed to two guards. “Put Sir Remmik in the slave cage. No food or water. I will find a good use for him.”
“And the woman?” one asked.
“Tie her to a horse. She rides with me.”
The Tarmaks bowed and hurried to their tasks. Shortly thereafter, the large army pushed on, leaving the fords behind and following the Run toward the distant town of Stone Rose.
Crucible estimated that at the rate they were moving, they would be in the small town in six or seven days—if the militia and tribesmen did not stop them somewhere along the way. Disgruntled, he stamped along behind Lanther’s retinue and thought about everything Linsha had told him and a few things she knew nothing about. By the First Eggs, he wished he could sear Lanther where he stood. This was the second—no, there was that Lonar in the Crystal Valley. So this was the third man Linsha had liked and trusted who had lied to her, betrayed her, or even tried to kill her. It was enough to give any woman reason to never trust another man as long as she lived.
He ground his sharp teeth together and fought down his despair. By the absent gods, how would he ever find the courage to tell her?
25
The Mask of a General
The next few days became a blur to Linsha-hot days on horseback and cold, uncomfortable nights spent tied in Lanther’s tent. The new general did not try to kiss her or touch her again, but he would not let her near Crucible, and he never let her out of his presence. Linsha wished sometimes he would, even for just a few minutes. She was starting to loathe this man she had once considered her friend. She stared at him sometimes as they rode, still in shock that he had turned on her so suddenly. She half expected him to slouch in his saddle, turn around with his crooked grin, and tell her it had all been a joke. A poor joke, but a joke nonetheless. And then he would limp to her side and apologize. But it never happened. The Lanther she knew was a lie, a fabrication that was gone forever, and she began to grieve for that person as surely as she grieved for Mariana.