“Who is that?” whispered Chuluun when he saw Grecht. He rode slowly at my side, scimitar sheathed, unable to take his eyes off the midget.
“If only they were all that size!” said Kiryk.
I took the point, letting the others fan out behind me, matching Diriel’s deliberate speed. Four legionnaires came with him on horseback, the only four with perfect uniforms, I supposed, each of them pale and expressionless. And, as I’d hoped, Wrestler was with them. His bald head caught my eye at once, gleaming and helmetless, with a sword at his side and his loose black clothes draping his uncanny body. He smiled, a grin I felt more than saw, a laughing, contemptuous leer aimed right at me. He almost looked like he’d grown since our fight, his arms more apelike, his chest even more like a beer keg. Finally, I’d be close enough to kill him.
At last Diriel’s chariot came to a stop, and the king himself dropped the reins of his twin horses and stepped down on the battlefield. Grecht performed what looked like a curtsy, then stepped aside for Diriel to pass. I jerked my horse to a halt just a few paces in front of him. His legionnaires remained in the rear, but Wrestler rode up to protect him. Diriel’s vulnerability was meant to calm me, I knew, but I couldn’t help thinking how stupid he was. He held apart his empty hands in greeting.
“Why don’t I see the creature with you?” he asked.
“It’s sleeping,” I replied.
“I’ve waited, Lukien. You promised to bring it to me.”
“If you believed that, you’re even dumber than I thought.” I glanced at Wrestler and said, “Get yourself an advisor with some brains, Diriel. Maybe you’d make better decisions.”
“I see you brought your sword this time,” taunted Wrestler. He pushed back his robe to reveal his own. “I’ll toss mine away if you want to go again, Liirian. I’d love the chance to snap your neck again.”
“Not just my neck.” I pointed at my eye. “See? Magic.”
“Then take a good look, Sir Lukien,” advised Diriel. “You’re outnumbered. Even you can’t beat all of them. Does Anton Fallon know you’re throwing his life away?”
“Anton Fallon has a message for you,” chimed Marilius. “Isowon is his. He built it, he rules it, and he’s not given it over to you. Lukien speaks for us all. If you want Anton, you’ll have to kill us all first.”
Diriel looked up at Marilius, flashing his sharpened teeth. “Why doom yourself, boy? Run back and tell your master I’ll spare him if he surrenders to me. But I want the monster, too. I want what was agreed upon.”
I laughed in his face. “Idiot. The monster was never going to be yours. I told you that to buy us time, to build this army!” I leaned over my horse to look at him. “If you want the monster, go get it!”
“Where is it?” demanded Wrestler.
“In its lair,” I said. “In the crypts of the old Akyren kings.” I heard Marilius shift with surprise at my admission. “That’s where the mummy powder came from, Diriel-from your dead ancestors! Anton Fallon dug up your mothers and fathers. He ground them into dust and let you feed them to your men!” I took great glee in my taunt, and in the shock on Diriel’s face. “He played you like a fool, and you know why? Because you are one! Did you really think I’d ever hand over a weapon like Crezil to you? Are you so deluded to believe I’d let you take control of it? Crezil belongs to me!”
Diriel was so unbalanced by his rage he could barely speak. His eyelids fluttered and his fingers clenched, and he looked up at Marilius and seethed, “Imagine the worst death you can for yourself, boy. I will flay you. I will boil you for what your master has done!”
“You’ll do nothing,” I spat. “Because you’ll be dead. And then Crezil will be mine. Anton Fallon will take over Akyre, and together we’ll drink beer until our bladders are bursting and piss on the graves of your ancestors. But they’ll be empty, because Anton dug them up and turned them into fairy dust.”
Truly, I thought Wrestler’s bald head would explode.
“Death!” he screamed, his hand flying to his sword. “Sweet Diriel, let me kill this foreign pig,” he pleaded. “Let me pull out his intestines, I beg you!”
“Then I’ll just come back,” I sneered. “An eye, a neck-haven’t you figured it out yet? I am forever! And you, you demented child raper-you’ll be dangling at the end of my sword soon.”
Wrestler was about to pull his blade. Chuluun nearly pulled his own. But Diriel wasn’t stupid enough to end things yet. He regained his composure, ignoring everyone but me.
“One more chance,” he warned. “Behold, Sir!” He swept his arm toward his warriors. “Think. The monster and Anton Fallon, and you ride back to Liiria with everything you had.”
“Not everything,” I said.
Wrestler took my meaning. “No, not everything,” he agreed. He licked his lips. “Not your pretty squire. She fought a little with her little girl fists, but she loved me on top of her. I showed her some of my best wrestling holds.”
“Demon,” hissed Sariyah. “She was a child.”
“She was candy,” crooned Wrestler.
I could barely keep myself together. I could have-should have-leapt off my horse and torn his throat out. But I remembered why I’d come, and somehow steeled myself. Behind Diriel waited his army, with the dogs and conscripts at the front. The conscripts seemed little more than slaves, starved-looking and in rags, poorly armed with whatever throw-away weapons the real Akyrens didn’t want. There were hundreds of them, too, some still in the chains that had dragged them to battle. The only expression on their gaunt faces was dread. I spurred my horse away from my men, past Diriel and knocking past Wrestler.
“Hear me!” I cried to the conscripts. “We are free men in Isowon! We do not bow to evil! Be free and join us!”
Sariyah hurried to my side. The legionnaires surrounded us both. Diriel laughed.
“They won’t join you,” he said. “I have broken them. They’re mine.”
“They will join us,” I answered. “When they see your heads rolling in the sand, they will.”
I could see Kiryk’s hand twitching on his sword and Chuluun was just dying to fight. I turned one more time toward the horde, raising up a defiant fist toward his enslaved soldiers.
“Watch how free people fight!” I cried. “Watch and grow strong!”
Diriel made his way back to his chariot, waving off his legionnaires. “Sir Lukien,” he said, “you should never have come here.”
“On that, we agree,” I replied. “If you have a devil, Diriel, make your peace with him. By tomorrow you’ll be in hell.”
Then I spat onto the ground between us, spun my horse around, and led my men back toward our army, turning my back on Wrestler and his king in one final act of contempt. I didn’t look back-I pretended not to care. I just kept on riding as Marilius caught up to me.
“Lukien!” he said insistently. “Why’d you do that? Why’d you tell Diriel about the mummy powder?”
“To kick a hornet’s nest,” I said. “Why do you think?”
34
I had barely reached the berm with Sariyah when I heard the arrows overhead. Up on the dune, Cern pointed skyward with a shout of alarm. A peculiar buzzing filled the air, and when I spun my horse around, the sky was black with missiles. My men held their places in the field while their commanders rode and cried out orders. I shouted up to the top of the berm where Cern stood.
“Cover yourself! And protect that horse!”
Cern couldn’t really do both so scrambled to guard Venger with his own unarmored body. The arrows wouldn’t last long, I knew-maybe one or two volleys. Diriel was too impatient for archers. Kiryk’s Silver Dragons raised their shields as the arrows arched, and the mercenaries with armor crossed their arms over their chests. The Zurans jeered at the arrows, daring them to strike, and Marilius rode furiously at the front of the army, rallying them all to stand fast.