Hali's right eyebrow rose almost imperceptibly. "As you command, Lord. When shall we begin?" El Murid glanced away. El-Kader did not. Hali shrugged as if to say, "What can I do?"
"Immediately, Mowaffak. And I'll accompany you." A growing, unreasoning panic taunted him. He felt the walls of the universe closing in. "That's all. Both of you. Get out of here. Give the orders. There isn't much time."
Two days after the Disciple's departure southward, two bedraggled, confused Itaskian survivors of Karim's Altean debacle reached Dunno Scuttari. There consternation and confusion deepened when they could locate no one who knew anything about the negotiations which had brought them south. El-Kader had them thrown into a dungeon.
The general continued preparing for the advent of the northern army, unaware that its commander and his own were co-conspirators.
Sidi and Yasmid, left behind by their father, drove their Invincible babysitters to distraction with their bickering. They always squabbled when their father was absent.
Sidi was young, but perfectly aware that he was being deprived of his patrimony. He was possessed by a growing, diamond-hard hatred for his sister.
Chapter Twelve:
END OF A LEGEND
T he death of Karim did not halt the invasion of Altea. The Host of Illumination came on, but its advance became confused, frenetic, without direction. The war bands simply roamed, killed, raped, and destroyed. The warriors did not know what their goals were.
"I'm exhausted, Beloul," Haroun said. "There're just too many of them." He lay back on a grassy hillside, staring at a sky that promised rain. "This charging here to stop this band and there to... "
Beloul settled to the grass beside him, sitting cross-legged. "It's grinding us all down, Lord." He plucked a stem of grass and rolled it between his fingers, squeezing out the juice. "We can't sustain it."
"We have to. If they break through here... If they finish Altea and Kavelin, and manage their treachery with the Itaskian Duke... What'll be left? It'll be over."
"I doubt it, Lord. The Guildsmen will continue. We'll fight. And the thieves will fall out soon enough. Can you imagine El Murid being satisfied with half the spoils? When he wants an empire spanning Ilkazar's historical boundaries?"
"Despair stalks me, Beloul. I don't think he can be stopped. He's done the impossible."
"No war is over till the last battle is fought, Lord."
"You begin to sound like Radetic."
Beloul shrugged. "With age comes wisdom, Lord. And Radetic was both old and wise. For a foreigner. Let us recount our victories instead of forecounting our defeats. Karim is gone. The Duke's treachery has been forestalled."
"Who's that there?"
"What?"
"Someone's coming."
"Looks like Shadek."
El Senoussi cantered up. "There's news from Dunno Scuttari, Lord."
"At last. You look grim, Shadek. Is it that bad?"
"It's worse, Lord. A man's face can't express it."
Haroun threw an I told you look at Beloul. "Well?"
"The Scourge of God has kept his promise. He took the city."
Haroun surged into a sitting position. "What? Don't joke, Shadek. That's impossible."
"Nevertheless, Lord."
"But how? Where did he get the sailors and boats? How did he scale the inner walls?"
"The Scourge of God sees things hidden from us ordinary mortals, Lord. He does the thing that would occur to no one else. He and the Disciple rode into the city, Lord."
"They surrendered without a fight? You can't make me believe that, Shadek."
"No. They fought. Valiantly. But the Scourge of God changed the course of the river and attacked them through the city's watergate. That huge bridge he was building from the north bank? That engineers said would never work? Just a diversion."
Softly, Haroun asked, "What do you say now, Beloul? You know how that's going to hit them north of the river? They'll give up without a fight. He can't be stopped anymore."
"The final battle isn't lost or won, Lord."
"Yes, yes, I know. Megelin junior. But it's only a matter of time. Shadek... You have that grey look. I take it there's more."
"Indeed, Lord. There's more. The Scourge of God has decided to replace Karim with himself. He's probably here by now."
"I expected that. He takes defeat personally. What else?"
"El Murid has given his pet Invincible, Mowaffak Hali, his own army. And ordered him to occupy Ipopotam."
Haroun grinned. "Ha! So! You hear that, Beloul? The fat man and his friend did their job. He's desperate. This'll destroy the credibility of his diplomacy. Nobody will believe him anymore. If only the northern army would strike while he's gone and Nassef is out here... "
"I doubt that would help much, Lord," el Senoussi opined. "El-Kader commands the Host. He's no moron. At worst he would persevere till the Scourge of God bailed him out."
Haroun frowned. "You insist on extinguishing every spark of hope, don't you Shadek?"
"I'm sorry, Lord. I but relate the truths I see."
"Yes. I know. So. The Scourge of God has come to our part of the board. How can we make his stay here miserable?"
Sadly, Haroun had to admit that there was little they could do. His army hadn't the strength or the staying power. The predations of the roving war parties were crushing the Altean will to resist. Crown Prince Raithel's army was the sole native force still solid and reliable. The Prince's men, too, were exhausted.
"What about those Guildsmen?" el Senoussi asked.
"Still licking their wounds in the Bergwold," Beloul replied. "I was up there the other day. That boy is trying to rebuild with Altean stragglers. He had a little over two hundred men. Maybe three."
"They won't be much help, then."
"Only as a rallying point. That battle on the hill didn't hurt their reputation."
Haroun observed, "We may all end up hiding in the Bergwold. Shadek, locate the Scourge of God. Keep an eye on him."
Nassef found Prince Raithel first, just fifteen miles west of the Colberg. He shattered the Altean army. The Prince barely escaped with his life. Two thirds of his soldiers did not.
Nassef then turned to Haroun. He started boxing the Royalists in.
Altea seemed to be taking its last pained gasps of freedom. Only the Bergwold and a handful of fortified towns remained unconquered.
The fat man wakened suddenly, every nerve shrieking that something was wrong. Frozen by fear, he moved nothing but his eyelids.
The campfire had burned low, but still cast a red glow. He probed the shadows. Nothing.
What was it?
There was a frightening stillness to the night. He turned till he could make out the huge, blanket-buried lump of Gouch.
There was a fly walking on the big man's naked eyeball. Its wings caught the glow of the coals, giving the eye an eerie look of motion.
Mocker hurled himself at the big man. "Gouch! You wake up." His hands closed on an arm grown cold. "Hai! Gouch! Come on. Self, am frightened by game."
He knew it was no game. The fly had betrayed the truth.
Gouch had taken terrible wounds in their last fight. They had slain six Invincibles! A half dozen of the most determined fighters in the world. It had been too big a task.
It was a miracle that the big man had lasted this long.
"Woe! Gouch! Please! Do not leave self alone."
They had become close. Mocker, though he had expected the worst, could not accept it.
"Am accursed," he muttered. "Am carrier of death, like bearer of plague. Should be expunged from face of earth."