Sovereign

'It was his Kingdom. He knows it better than anyone.'

'How do you know he won't rebel against you once you leave Haxus?'

'Is he nearby?'

'As you requested, he was assigned one of the rooms in the palace.'

'Not his original quarters, I trust.'

'Something much less grand.'

'Would you bring him to me?'

When Korigan had gone Lynan walked up to the throne. He was about to sit in it when he changed his mind. He was not sure what it was, but he knew that this was not his to have. He would sit in a throne one day, but not this one and not this day. He ran his hand along its polished stone. It was beautifully crafted, with a battle scene carved on its three closed sides. He wondered absently if they depicted a battle during the Slaver War. Unlikely, he told himself. Haxus won no great battles in that war. Lost a few, though. He noticed there was blood on the floor here, too. Puddles of it. He wondered how many had died to defend this empty throne.

'You wanted to see me?' asked a voice behind him.

Lynan turned to face Salokan. The once king stood slung-shouldered, but there was something about the way he held his head and the way his arms set straight against his sides that spoke defiance, not submission. Korigan and one of the Red Hands stood behind Salokan. Lynan asked them to leave. The Red Hand turned on his heel and left immediately; Korigan seemed reluctant, but nodded to Lynan and left too.

'Are you happy to be back in your palace?' Lynan asked Salokan light-heartedly, going to him.

Salokan blinked but did not answer. Lynan took him by the arm. Salokan tried to resist, but gasped in pain as Lynan tightened his grip.

'Let me show you around,' Lynan said. He pointed to the throne. 'Here is where you used to lord it over Haxus. And here is where your cousin's soldiers died defending it.' He forced Salokan to accompany him on a walk around the entire room, making sure they stepped in every pool of blood. When they returned to the throne he forced Salokan to sit in it.

'Now you are back, ready to lord it again.' Lynan smiled thinly. 'As governor of my province of Haxus.'

Still Salokan did not answer. Lynan sighed, then with one quick motion drew his dagger. Salokan flinched, but did not cry out. Lynan flipped the dagger in the air, caught it by its blade and offered the grip to him. Salokan looked up warily.

'Go on,' Lynan urged. 'Take it.'

'You are going to kill me, aren't you?' Salokan said. 'Now that you have my Kingdom you don't need me alive any more.'

Lynan seemed to consider the words. 'There's a certain logic in that,' he conceded.

'I will take the dagger and you will strike me down, claiming I attacked you.'

'You forget one thing. I don't need an excuse to kill you. In the eyes of the world you are nothing. A king without a throne is less than a peasant.'

'Then what does that make you?' Salokan spat back.

'Your conqueror,' Lynan said easily, and offered the dagger again. Salokan took it reluctantly. 'Now strike me.' Salokan gaped at him. 'Go on.'

Salokan shook his head and dropped the dagger to the floor. The hall echoed with a metallic clang. Lynan looked disappointed. He picked up the dagger, grabbed Salokan's right hand and forced his fingers around the grip. Then, the horrified Salokan powerless to stop him, Lynan drove the dagger through his left forearm. A spray of blood spurted between them. Salokan used all his strength to pull away, to release the weapon, but Lynan held him in place with extraordinary ease.

'More sacrifice for your throne,' Lynan said, grinning now, and pulled the dagger out. He let go of Salokan and stepped back, watching his bleeding wound with keen interest. Salokan tried to stand up, but Lynan used his gory right hand to push him back. He thrust his forearm into Salokan's face. 'Look at it!' he commanded, and Salokan had no choice but to look, and as he did so he saw the flow of blood ease to a trickle and then stop altogether.

'That's not possible,' Salokan said hoarsely.

Lynan reached out and grabbed Salokan's shirt, used it to wipe his forearm clean and presented it again for inspection. There was no wound. Not even a scratch. Bile flooded up Salokan's throat, and he grabbed his mouth with his hands to stop vomiting. Lynan leaned forward and whispered in his ear: 'You will rule Haxus in my name because I say you will. If you disobey me in anything, if you rebel or join cause with my enemies, I will come back to this palace and eat you alive in front of your people.'

CHAPTER 7

Amemun looked down from the dune rise to wide green plains and could not help breathing a sigh of relief. After travelling for so long in the deserts of the Saranah, he longed to walk in a land that actually had grass and trees instead of the stunted bushes and spiky weeds that passed for vegetation in the south of the continent. Dekelon raised himself on his elbows to get a better view of the land that spread northwards.

'The Oceans of Grass,' he said, and could not hide the excitement in his voice. He turned to Amemun. 'My people have dreamed of returning here for generations to exact our revenge on the Chetts and take back our land. And now it is possible.'

Amemun smiled sympathetically. I would have the same dream had I come from your home, old man, he thought.

'What now?' he asked.

'We wait until night before moving. On these plains we would stick out like trees in the desert.'

Amemun glanced behind him at the small army Dekelon had gathered. There were four thousand warriors, all young and all male, all wearing sheepskin lapcloths tied around their waists with long strands of dyed and twisted wool, and all were armed with a simple bow, javelin and hunting knife. He still found it hard to believe just how quickly the Saranah had organised once he and Dekelon had come to an agreement about the level of Grenda Lear support for their invasion. In the end it was the temptation of new land, especially the richer pasture on the Oceans of Grass, that convinced the Saranah to take up arms. Financial support was not as important as the news that the Chetts had mobilised as never before and gone east with their army, leaving their southern border more vulnerable than it had been in living memory.

'My great-great-grandfather grew up here,' Dekelon said, now gazing out over the plains again. 'We were once the strongest and biggest clan on all the Oceans of Grass.'

Amemun had heard the story before, not only from Dekelon but from every other Saranah who had bothered talking to him. You were also the most aggressive, Amemun wanted to add, but there was no benefit in needling new friends.

'When this is over we will again be a clan. All our tribes can come together for the first time in over a hundred years.'

'First you have to win your land back,' Amemun reminded him.

Dekelon grinned. His bald pate shone in the sun, and he patted it. 'My skull will lie in this good earth, not the desert behind us.'

The pair eased their way down the dune. The army was camped in a deep gully that hid a small creek of fresh water and afforded shade during most of the day. Dekelon stretched himself out on the ground and almost immediately fell asleep. Amemun, native to the cool mountainsides of Aman, found it almost impossible to sleep during the day: the heat and the flies made him more uncomfortable than he could ever remember being before. He reminded himself that from now on they would be marching at night and so would not be able to sleep then either. Cursing under his breath, he closed his eyes and tried to rest.

Savero of the Horse Clan, nephew of great Eynon, swelled his chest in pride as he watched his clan's mighty herd make its way along the narrow valley called the Solstice Way. Four thousand head. No larger among the Chetts, except for possibly the White Wolf herd, and everyone knew they got that by reaving cattle from other clans. Savero fidgeted with his sword belt. Every time he swelled his chest the belt would slip a little. Well, he would grow into it. He was already tall for his thirteen years. Eynon—the great Eynon—had said so himself. And he was already working as one of the clan's outriders. He could not help it, his chest swelled with pride again.