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‘Not this time,’ said Aric. ‘My lord, I have good news. It’s not just the Nithins who’ve come to join you. Lukien comes with them.’

Raxor smiled. ‘Ah. And what about that fairy tale you told me? About the sword?’

‘It’s no fairy tale, my lord. The sword is real and Lukien has it. He’s come to fight my father again. This time he can win.’

Raxor scoffed, ‘No one can win against your father.’

‘You don’t believe that,’ said Aric. ‘If you did you wouldn’t be here.’

‘Look into my eyes, Aric.’ Raxor opened his eyes wide. ‘Tell me what you see there.’

Aric looked, and to his deep regret saw nothing, not a hint of the twinkle he had always found there.

‘Do you see hope in me?’ asked Raxor.

‘No,’ admitted Aric. ‘I don’t.’

‘Nor will you.’ Raxor leaned back again, annoyed. ‘Only a fool would believe that Baron Glass can be beaten. I’m not a fool, Aric. I’ll fight him gladly. I have no use for hiding in Hes any longer. But no one will beat him. We will all die. Even your vaunted Lukien.’

Raxor’s certainty riled Aric. He was about to speak when the girl named Alena returned, this time bearing a tray full of hot food. The temptation of the food distracted Aric, but only half as much as the pretty girl. Alena quietly floated into the room, setting down her tray and waiting for Raxor’s orders.

‘Alena, this is Aric,’ said the king. ‘We’ll need clothes for him and a place to sleep.’

Alena looked surprised. ‘He’ll sleep here, my lord?’

‘Yes. Make a place for him.’

‘Yes, my lord,’ agreed the girl, then turned and left the room. Raxor waited until she was gone before speaking again, keeping his voice low.

‘Aric, your father means to keep Koth at any cost. He’s already forsaken the rest of Liiria. Norvans are pouring over the border to help him because even they know how strong he is.’

‘You don’t know, Lukien, my lord,’ said Aric icily. ‘He’s strong, too.’

‘Yes, I know you think that,’ said Raxor. ‘But do not forget what you saw that day at the river. Remember?’

Aric remembered. He remembered far more than he could ever forget. It was the stuff of nightmares.

‘My father may not exist any more,’ he admitted, ‘but he is still just a man behind all that armour. Surely you see that, my lord. You must, or you wouldn’t be here yourself.’

Raxor glanced thoughtfully at his wine. ‘Aric,’ he said softly, ‘I do not believe we will best your father. For most of us, this will be the end.’ He looked at Aric, emphasizing his meaning. ‘I have crossed into Liiria now. I will not be going home this time.’

The admission hit Aric like a thunderbolt. For a moment he was speechless. He saw the certainty in Raxor’s eyes and did not know how to counter it.

‘No, my lord,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You will live! Don’t think such black thoughts. Believe what I tell you — Lukien has the Sword of Angels.’

‘Bah!’ Raxor pushed his goblet aside. ‘An army of angels with an army of swords — that’s what we need to defeat your father.’

‘No, my lord,’ Aric insisted. ‘You can’t go into this fight thinking that way. You need to lead! Where’s that bear-hearted king we all remember? That’s the Raxor that will make my father tremble!’

‘That Raxor is old,’ groaned the king. ‘Old and afraid.’

‘Not so afraid.’ Aric gently poked him. ‘He’s brave enough to face death.’

‘Death is what old people have to look forward to,’ laughed Raxor. ‘But all right, boy, you’ve made your point. I wouldn’t have come here to face your father if I wasn’t ready.’

‘Good,’ Aric pronounced, ‘because I’m ready to face him too.’

The king got to his feet. ‘I’m glad to hear that, because we’ll need you. I won’t keep you from the battle this time, Aric. Now eat and get some rest. Soon we’ll be marching again.’

As always happened when the king left the room, a great emptiness swept in after him. Aric glanced around, stunned by everything that had happened. Exhaustion began to creep over his body, but the pull of the food on the table was greater than the pull of sleep and so he dragged his chair to the table and began to eat, slowly at first, then ravenously. As he reached for the wine, the girl named Alena reappeared, this time bearing an armful of clothing. She paused in the doorway, waiting for Aric’s invitation. Aric stopped eating and stared at her.

‘Come in,’ he said clumsily.

The girl’s face was stern but pretty. She avoided looking at Aric as she came forward. ‘I did not want to disturb you.’

‘This is your house,’ said Aric.

Alena seemed amazed. At last she met his eyes directly. ‘It is.’ Catching herself, she held out the clothes. ‘These are for you.’

Aric stood up. ‘Thank you.’ He took the offering with a smile. ‘I’m truly grateful for this. I think I’ll have to burn what I’m wearing!’

Alena didn’t laugh. ‘If you don’t need anything else. .’

‘No.’ Aric hesitated. ‘I’m fine. Just a question — why are you still here?’

The question surprised the girl. ‘My lord?’

‘I’m a Liirian,’ said Aric. ‘I know this is your home. But these men are Reecians. Your mother and you. .’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘King Raxor’s men have not been cruel to us,’ said Alena. ‘They have taken nothing from our home, only our food and service, and have paid us for both.’

‘But they’re invaders,’ said Aric, still not understanding. ‘They mean to kill your king, you know.’

‘What king?’ spat Alena. ‘Baron Glass? He is king in name only. And we will all be better off when he is gone.’ She made a face at Aric that was almost pitiful. ‘You must have been gone from Liiria a very long time not to know this.’

‘Yes,’ admitted Aric. ‘I have been.’

Alena laughed, not unkindly. ‘Then you will see what I mean. There is no love in Liiria for Baron Glass. We welcome the Reecians. Anything would be better for Liiria.’

Without another word, the girl turned and left the room. Aric sat and watched her go, sure that his world was upside down.

77

At the edge of Koth, on a ridge of hills overlooking the sleeping city, Lukien paused amidst the rolling fog to ponder the place he had long called home. The rain that had plagued them for days had finally stopped, leaving the night sky clear and star-filled. A great, bare-faced moon hung overhead, shining with milky light. Down in the valley, tucked safely away from the Nithin army, Koth rested uneasily as it waited for the morning. The armies ringed the city like vultures, but old, enduring Koth seemed unafraid. The streets of the ancient city yawned with quietness. High on its hill, the great library loomed above the homes and shops. In the yards around the hill, Lukien could see the unmoving brigades of Norvan soldiers, still asleep as morning neared, their numerous war machines and horses poised for the coming battle. They were so far away, and yet like a great dragon Lukien could hear them breathing. Lights gleamed in the tower of the library. Inside, Thorin waited with his demon, and the sword at Lukien’s side pulsed with unease.

Far behind him, the army of Prince Daralor slept, too. It was hours yet until dawn, when all of them would march for Koth. Amazingly, the coming battle had kept only handfuls of them awake. The rest of them — exhausted from the long trip north — slept soundly in their bedrolls. The dogs slumbered in their makeshift kennels while their keepers slept just outside, the keys to the long leashes jangling at their belts. Horses clopped at the earth, snorting in the cool night air. Like the armies of the Norvans occupying Koth, Daralor’s army stretched deeply into the darkness, lit by smouldering campfires and torches. The Nithin flag snapped in the breeze, standing tall atop Daralor’s distant pavilion.

Tonight, it seemed to Lukien as though the whole world had gathered at this one place, for on the other side of the city, barely visible even through the clear sky, glowed the pinpricks of another army. Raxor’s forces had marched for Koth, too. Two days ago they had arrived. Daralor and the Reecian king had already sent emissaries to each other, sharing what they knew about the forces poised against them. Just like the Nithins, the Reecians had met no resistance either, marching effortlessly toward the Liirian capital. Now, though, the numbers of their foes showed themselves at last. Lukien paled as he considered them.