“His head,” repeated Kiryk, “so I may show it off like a trophy. So that every child in Drin can see they’ve been avenged.”
“Then I will get it for you,” I pledged. “With pleasure.”
Kiryk nodded, and that was all he had to do. Sulimer, Jaracz, and Lenhart all bent in a bow, then one by one took his hand and kissed it.
“You are the blood,” said Lenhart as his lips brushed Kiryk’s fingers. “You are our master.”
Those words haunted me all that night, but I didn’t figure out why until the morning.
27
Exactly two-hundred and eighty-two men left Jelah that morning, including Marilius and myself. The number was far less than we needed but more than I’d hoped for, comprised mostly of Silver Dragons but also of men from nearby villages who’d heard about the battle brewing in Isowon. The women and children of Jelah waved goodbye to us, piling grateful kisses on their young king and blessing him with strips of cloth torn from their dresses. Kiryk, embarrassed by the attention, made the bold promise that he’d be returning soon with Diriel’s head, a pledge that made the women cheer.
Of course there were too few horses, forcing a full third of the men to march their way to Isowon. Not only would that slow us down, it also meant they’d be exhausted when battle came. But we had enough supplies for the journey-barely-given us by the women of Jelah, who’d hidden whatever they could from the Akyren hordes. I promised the Drinmen that Anton Fallon had more than enough to fill their bellies, and that when we finally reached Isowon they’d all be fed well. Still, it would be days until we made it that far south, days I didn’t have. Diriel’s army had already marched south. To my reckoning, the seven days he’d granted me to bring him Crezil were almost over. With so many of us on foot, I knew we wouldn’t make it on time.
The rain continued all that night and into the morning, turning the road to mud. I rode near the head of the column with Marilius, the two of us staying just behind Kiryk and Sulimer. Our pace was slow-painfully so for me. I longed to jab my heels into Venger and sprint the long distance to Isowon. There were far too many of us to keep our trip secret, and once every hour or so men from surrounding villages caught up to our column, pleading with Kiryk to join us. No one was turned away, and I started to hope that maybe-just maybe-we’d have the numbers needed to face Diriel.
When we’d marched our first twenty miles, Kiryk called the troops to rest. I watched him move through his little army, seeing to the needs of his “infantry” and waiting till every man had food before taking any for himself. I even saw him order a limping man to remove his boots, so that Kiryk could examine his feet. That’s when the similarity struck me. I smiled, tucked it away without saying anything, and continued watching Kiryk. I admired him, but it was hard for me to call him “king.” Akeela had been that young once, too, and had been a similarly good and caring king-for awhile. My lust and betrayal had crushed that part of Akeela’s spirit. I wondered if the same would one day happen to Kiryk.
I was drawn to him. He reminded me of the youth I’d lost and had magically regained in body, though not in spirit. When the column started moving again, I waited until he was done speaking with Sulimer and looked for a chance to talk to him alone. While Sulimer dropped back to be with the other lieutenants, I eased Venger to the front of the line. Kiryk looked surprised to see me. I could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. He nodded at me then looked up into the slackening rain.
“It’s stopping,” he remarked. “I don’t want it dogging us all the way to Isowon.”
“No,” I agreed.
A moment passed. Kiryk regarded me. “Something on your mind, Lukien?”
“No,” I said. “Well, yes. I’ve been watching you. You remind me of someone.”
“How’s that?”
“The way you are with your men. I had a king like you once. He was dear to me.” I glanced over my shoulder. “You’re dear to them. You’ve been king for only a day and already they love you. They’re following you into hell.”
“They loved my father,” said Kiryk. “They hope to see him in me.”
I nodded politely but didn’t think that was it. “Bravery isn’t passed on like blue eyes,” I said.
“Then they follow me because I’m of the blood,” said Kiryk. “My father’s son, my grandfather’s grandson.”
“I’ve seen sons that were tyrants whose fathers were saints,” I said. “We’re not all like our fathers.”
“We are,” argued Kiryk. “Even when we don’t want to be. I’m sure you’re more like your father than you think. It’s inescapable. But if you were royal, if you were of the blood, you wouldn’t be able to escape that either. Neither would your people.”
“Drin is different from other places, I think. Not everyone loves their kings and queens.”
“It’s not love,” said Kiryk. “It’s duty. Honor. It’s. . I don’t know. . of the blood.”
“They call you their master,” I said. “Last night. I heard Sulimer and the others call you that.”
“That’s right,” said Kiryk, but I could tell the title didn’t sit quite right with him yet. “It’s not a choice. And it’s not permanent. Sulimer is pledged to my father. Lenhart and Jaracz too. When they die they’ll go to him again. They’ll serve him forever in heaven.”
I grinned but didn’t laugh. “You believe that?”
“Of course. We are Drinmen. I’m their master for now, here on earth, but just for now. They’ll die and serve my father. Someday I’ll have men pledged to me that way.” Kiryk looked behind him. “Some of these men, probably.”
“Because you’re of the blood?”
“Right.” Kiryk smiled at me. “Why does that baffle you? Weren’t you pledged to a king?”
“I was.”
“So when you see him in heaven you will serve him again, yes?”
I never, ever thought of seeing Akeela again. I could barely answer. “Uh, I suppose so.” But really something else was going through my mind, the threads of a riddle coming together. I looked at the terrain ahead then back at the men. They were moving so damn slowly, and suddenly I knew I couldn’t wait. “King Kiryk,” I said, “I have to ride ahead.”
“To scout?”
“No. I’m sorry, I have to ride ahead.” I called out behind me. “Marilius!”
My shout startled everyone. Marilius charged forward. “What is it?”
Right in front of Kiryk, I said, “I’m going on ahead. You stay with the others. Tell Anton I’ll be there. Start getting our defense together.”
“What?”
“I can’t explain,” I told him. “Just go and buy us whatever time you can. And I want you to give Diriel a message for me, all right?”
“You’re blind-siding me, Lukien,” said Marilius. “A message?”
“That’s right. Tell him I’m going to bring him what he wants. Got that?”
“You want me to tell that to Diriel? What’s it even mean?”
“The monster,” I said. I didn’t bother saying farewell. “I’ll see you again.”
I sped away, not sure when I’d return to Isowon but certain enough to know that I would. Kiryk’s words had ignited my mind, burning away the fog that had been there for days. Now, at last, I had the plan I’d been searching for.
28
I mused on my strategy the whole way south, leaving Marilius and Kiryk and the others behind as I branched away from the river, looking for the straightest path to the Akyren tombs. My plan had its risks. Diriel might not take my bargain or might have already begun his invasion. Anton and his mercenaries might surrender without firing a single arrow. Or Crezil might just kill me. That was the kink that seemed most likely, but I reminded myself that I was soulless. I had so little to lose. So I pointed Venger toward the coast, and using the map I’d gotten in Isowon, called on my memory to fill in the rest. After all the travelling I’d done, the Bitter Kingdoms were feeling smaller to me now.
Meeting Kiryk and his Silver Dragons had shown me that not everyone in this part of the world was like Diriel or even like Anton Fallon. The Bitter Kingdoms had been plagued by every misfortune imaginable-war, starvation, even a demon-but good-hearted men and women still lived here and still struggled. If I could do some good myself, if I could help them, then I would. I would be for a moment the knight-errant I’d hoped.