“Thank you,” he said. “Go to your daughter now. Make sure she’s sleeping.”
Ursilil seemed relieved to be dismissed. She was an attractive woman, or at least she had been before the raiders came. Losing her husband had given her face a glaze. She gave Kiryk a little bow, me a tiny scowl, and eagerly left the room. When she was gone Sulimer, the oldest of the soldiers, reached beneath the table and lifted up a sack he’d brought with him. He dropped it on the table with a thud.
“What’s that?” I asked.
Sulimer smirked through his peppered beard and peeled down the wrapping, revealing a severed head. “From this morning,” he said. “A friend from Akyre.”
The head sat upright, facing me with its dead eyes. The horrible pallor of its skin told me at once it had been dead longer than just a day.
“A legionnaire.”
I reached out and bounced my finger off its cheek. A chalky dust fell from the skin. He’d been a man about my age, with just about my hair color too. The eyes still had that empty look I’d seen in Diriel’s castle-dead and alive at the same time. Marilius had told me there’d been at least twenty of them with the other Akyrens, sent in first like fodder for the Drin. Only the Drin hadn’t cut them down so easily.
“Beheading them is the only way to stop them,” Sulimer pronounced. “Nothing else will do it. Not cutting off an arm, not pumping them full of arrows, nothing. You have to get right up close and swing. You don’t get a second chance.”
“Swords?” I asked.
“Axes are better,” answered Lenhart. He’d been the quiet one so far. “Swords weren’t heavy enough for some. The legion started wearing leather bands around their necks once we discovered their weakness.”
“What about just bashing their brains in?” asked Marilius.
Lenhart shrugged. “That should work if you can manage it.”
“Marilius, I didn’t see a lot of axmen with Fallon’s mercs,” I said. “What about that?”
“Axes aren’t a problem. Anton can buy axes. It’s men we need.” Marilius looked at Kiryk seriously. “I pleaded with your father, now I’m pleading with you. Will you help us?”
Kiryk leaned back in his chair. The weight of his decision made his shoulders slump. “The soldiers in this village are almost all that’s left of our army,” he said. “Some are back in Prang, some are on patrol watching the north. That’s maybe five hundred men.”
“And not all of them professionals,” said Sulimer. “Some are just farmers with scythes and forks. That’s all who’s left to defend Drin.”
“Kiryk, forgive me for asking this, but I have to,” I said. “Are you the king now? I’m all out of time, and I need to be talking to the right man. If it’s these others who’ll make the decision-”
“He is king,” said Jaracz, the one sitting just to Kiryk’s left. “The only question of that is in your mind, Liirian. He’s the son of Lutobor. He has the blood.”
“So you’ll follow him?” I asked. “And the other Silver Dragons too?”
“He has the blood,” repeated Jaracz. “The decision is his alone. But he hasn’t decided yet. There are still questions.”
Kiryk said, “Only one that matters. Who’ll defend Drin from Akyre if we leave here, Lukien? If we join you in Isowon, Drin will be wide open. What would stop Diriel from turning his men north again once he sees we’re in the south?”
“He won’t,” I said, “because what he wants is in Isowon. Isowon is the prize.”
“He wants Anton Fallon,” added Marilius. “Not just for revenge but because of his spice routes.”
“Anton Fallon is a merchant,” said Jaracz. “Why should we give our blood to that pirate? He’s a Zuran. I’ve heard he’s not even a man.”
Marilius shot back, “Not a man? What does that mean?”
Jaracz leaned forward. “He likes boys,” he said, then made a kissing noise.
I put up my hand to calm Marilius. “What does it matter who he takes to his bed? You don’t have to like Anton Fallon. No one does. But he’s the one with the army. He’s the only one with the forces to stop Diriel. Are you really going to let his choice of lovers stop you from fighting?”
Their silence acknowledged me. Sulimer, ever the serious one, asked, “How many men does he have?”
I looked to Marilius. “Be honest,” I said. “What do you think?”
“Several hundred probably,” said Marilius. “It depends. If he’s convinced them to stay then at least that many. If they quit and ran off. .” He shrugged. “Who knows?”
“Several hundred,” I repeated. “Those are good enough odds, Kiryk. With your men and Fallon’s fighting together, it’ll be a nearly equal match.”
“Equal?” Kiryk shook his head. “Diriel has twice that many. Maybe more.”
His calculations surprised me. “Why do you say that? Diriel himself told me his forces were devastated by Kasse. Almost all of them starved. He put the number close to a thousand.”
“A lie,” said Lenhart. He reached for the severed head and pushed it aside for a better look at me. “Every man his soldiers snatch is enslaved by them, pressed into his army. Not just his own people but Kassens, too.”
“Even Drinmen,” admitted Kiryk darkly. “Diriel means to deceive you, Lukien. He won’t show up in Isowon with an army that small.”
“And even if he did, how many of them would be legionnaires?” asked Jaracz. “I’ve been asking this one the same questions since he got here.” He pointed at Marilius. “He can’t answer me. Can you answer me, Liirian? Can you tell me how we’re supposed to beat an army of men who are half dead already?”
“Indeed I can.” I picked up the head by its muddy blond hair and held it out like a lantern. “By doing this to every damn one of them! That’s the way-the only way. You’ve already done it! If you come with us you’ll have hundreds of men to help you. And you’ll have me.”
Kiryk looked at me without a word. No one spoke until Sulimer finally stood. “Lukien, Marilius tells us you’re a man who can’t be killed. You’re like one of Diriel’s soulless.” He gestured to my sword. “That’s your magic? That’s what keeps you alive?”
“It’s more than a sword,” I said. “It’s more than magic even.” I lowered the head to the table and let it roll to a stop. “It’s kept me alive through a broken neck and a battle with a demon. Now it’s made me young and strong again just so I could make war on your enemies. This morning I had one eye. Now I have two. But Diriel and his horde could pluck them both out, and I wouldn’t stop. I’m not going to stop until they’re dead. That means Diriel and Wrestler and all his brood. Every damn one of them.”
Marilius rose to stand beside me. “King Kiryk, you can stay here and let us carry the fight in Isowon, but it won’t save you. If we lose, Diriel will be back for you all.”
“You’re brave men, but your fight isn’t over,” I told them. “Diriel won’t stop until all the lands of the Bitter Kingdoms belong to Akyre again. Drin will be a country of ghosts. That’s all that’ll be left.”
Kiryk stood, and then his trio did too. A flash of distant lightning lit his face, revealing how young he really was. “I’ll think on it,” he said. “I can’t decide something this big so quickly.”
“You have to,” I said. “Because we’re leaving in the morning with or without you, and Diriel’s not waiting. Make your choice tonight, my lord. Before you leave this room. I’m giving you the chance to avenge your father. Take it now-you’ll never get another.”
Kiryk’s eyes dropped to the severed head. “This is the one that killed my father,” he said. “It was Lenhart who took this head, not me. The head I want now belongs to another. Will you promise me Diriel’s head, Sir Lukien?”
“I can promise you his death,” I said.