Authors: John Marco
The Eyes of God (116 page)
Too slim a chance for Lukien to risk, though he hadn’t confessed that to anyone.
He waited. He took some nuts from Gilwyn and gave them to Teku. He sipped at his drink again and found it had no taste, a sure indicator of his own agitation. Time was precious and he didn’t like Minikin wasting it. But before he grew too impatient, the door to the council chamber finally opened. Minikin stepped inside, looking drawn and serious. With her was Trog. The big mute had chosen a suit of armor from the cellars, a great spiked affair that made him look even more massive than usual. He had a sword at his belt and a mace in his hand, which dangled loosely from a giant, gauntleted fist. Lukien himself wore his own bronze armor. He had spent the night polishing it until it gleamed.
“Well?” he asked Minikin.
The tiny woman didn’t bother taking a seat. “They are coming.”
“How close?” asked Gilwyn.
“Very close. A mile away, maybe a bit more. They have paused to suit themselves in armor. Amaraz says they will be here within an hour.”
Lukien got out of his chair. “That’s it, then. There’s no more time to wait.”
Minikin merely nodded.
Gilwyn put out his arm and let Teku climb onto his shoulder. “I’ll be up in the turret with White-Eye,” he said. “Will you be coming, Minikin?”
“As soon as I’m able,” said the mistress. Like White-Eye and Gilwyn, she had agreed to remain inside the fortress, and would watch the battle from one of the keep’s towers. They would be the first to know when the Liirians broke through. Trog would wait with Greygor by the gate. The two giants would be the keep’s last guardians.
Lukien asked Minikin, “Did Amaraz tell you anything else? Is he still prepared to go through with it?”
“Amaraz does not change his mind, Lukien,” replied Minikin. “If the Liirians defeat you and enter Grimhold, he will burn them. And all of us with them.”
“Minikin, remember my promise,” said Lukien. “I’m not going to let the Liirians defeat us. Trust me.”
Minikin smiled and beckoned him down toward her with an index finger. When Lukien stooped, she kissed his cheek and said, “You’re a very good man, Bronze Knight. But even I don’t expect miracles today.” She turned and went toward the door. “I must go see to the others. They’ll want me to speak to them before the battle. Gilwyn, get up to the tower with White-Eye. Wait for me there. I’ll be up presently.”
Lukien waited for Minikin to leave before speaking to Gilwyn. The boy gave him an encouraging smile, but there was sadness in his eyes. It occurred to Lukien how much Gilwyn had come to mean to him. Just as he couldn’t let the Inhumans die, he couldn’t let Gilwyn be harmed, either.
“Did I thank you yet for coming to save me?” he asked.
Gilwyn nodded. “You did.” His expression grew serious. “Did you mean what you told Minikin? Do you really think you can defeat them?”
“I intend to defeat Trager once and for all,” replied Lukien, not wishing to elaborate. He went to Gilwyn and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been a good friend. You would have made a good Royal Charger.”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” joked Gilwyn. “The Chargers aren’t what they once were.”
“Because they’ve been corrupted by an evil man,” said Lukien. “Don’t forget that. Don’t forget what the Chargers used to stand for, and what they could be again.”
“I won’t,” said Gilwyn. He stepped back to inspect Lukien. “I’ve never seen you in your armor before. You look. . . .” He shrugged as he groped for the right word. “Well, you look the way I expected you too, that’s all. Good luck, Lukien.”
Lukien pulled the boy to him and kissed his forehead. “And to you. Protect that girl of yours.”
Outside, Lukien quickly located Thorin near the gate. The baron was directing his people into position, telling his archers to take the higher ground and the spearmen to position themselves just below the bows. It was a good plan that Lukien and Thorin had devised together, and they had made sure that each man and woman was also provided a sword so that they could join the fighting quickly once the initial assault was over. Thorin turned toward Lukien when he saw him, waving him over. The baron wore a mismatched collection of armor he had scrounged from the armory and had tied a strip of blue cloth around his upper arm, the color of his noble house back in Liiria.
“Ho, Lukien,” he called in greeting. “What word?”
“An hour, maybe less. They’re suiting up for battle.” Lukien raised his voice so that all the Inhumans could hear. “Are you listening, my friends? The Liirians are on their way. Take your positions and wait for my orders. And don’t let them see you!”
“Where will you be, Lukien?” asked Darren. The farmer was halfway up the rocks with his bow on his back. “We’ll need to see you.”
Lukien pointed to the head of the canyon. “I’ll be there, on the southern slope,” he told his people loudly. “Baron Glass will be back here with you, there on the north slope. Those of you who won’t be able to see me will hear my orders, don’t worry.”
Darren nodded and continued climbing the path they’d cut in the stones. His companions did the same, one by one taking up their hidden positions in the high rocks. Lukien braced himself for Thorin’s reaction. It came quickly.
“The southern slope?” railed Thorin. “You and I are taking the north slope, Lukien, back here near the fortress.”
“Change of plans, Thorin,” said Lukien. “I’ve had an idea.”
“You’ve had an idea?” Thorin sputtered. “What are you talking about? It’s all been arranged!”
“I know, but I want Trager to see me first, before he sees anything else,” said Lukien. He didn’t want to explain himself to Thorin, for he knew he’d only end up arguing. “Those are my orders, all right?”
Thorin frowned. “What are you up to?”
Lukien chuckled, trying to defuse the baron’s anger. “Don’t be so suspicious, Thorin. It’s still the same plan. I just want to get a good look at the army, that’s all, to see what we’re up against.”
“That makes no sense at all, and you know it. Come on, Lukien, talk to me. What’s your plan?”
“My plan is for you to take the north slope and for me to take the south,” said Lukien. “Now get up there into position.” He began walking toward the front of the canyon but paused. “And Thorin, one thing—if anything happens to me, you’ll be in charge. Do whatever it takes, but make sure those Chargers don’t take the fortress.”
The old baron didn’t argue. “All right, Lukien. But whatever fool idea you’ve gotten into your head, just be careful, all right?”
“I will,” said Lukien, then headed for the southern slope. He looked up at the high rock walls as he walked, satisfied that his army was invisible against the bright sky. He was sure Trager wasn’t expecting an ambush. As far as the Liirians knew, there were no soldiers in Grimhold, only cripples.
“Time for a surprise, Trager,” sneered Lukien as he began hiking up the rocks. He and his people had chiseled out channels and footholds to make the climb easier, but it was still a difficult task, especially in armor. Lukien chose the most gentle slope. It took long minutes, but when he reached the top he surveyed the canyon floor far below. His position was perfect. Closer to Grimhold he could make out some of the Inhumans among the rocks, their bows poised and ready. He himself was on a granite shelf that jutted out over the canyon like a jaw, the perfect platform for his performance. He turned toward the east and squinted. The first hints of Trager’s army showed itself—a cloud of dust rising up from between the mountains. Lukien watched closely, trying to gauge their numbers and distance. They were very close, but their numbers remained hidden by the rocks. He took a deep breath to prepare himself. For a moment he thought of praying to Vala, the Jadori god who’d caused him so much trouble.
“Vala, if you’re listening, watch over us,” he whispered. Then he turned toward the defenders in the rocks. “They’re coming!” he shouted. “Make ready!”
Trager led his men into the winding canyons, his mind alert to every sight and sound. The rocky way was narrower than he would have liked, though Benrian had promised him there was a clearing near the entrance to Grimhold from which his men could organize and fight. Colonel Tark kept close to the general, protecting him as he looked ahead and wound his way over the rough ground. Sergeant Marrs rode near to Benrian’s mule, cursing at the Jadori and promising to skin him alive if he didn’t find the proper route soon. Benrian looked around nervously, his bruised eyes scanning the many paths. The way was like a maze, and Trager wasn’t surprised by the man’s difficulties.
“I have not come here many times,” Benrian explained nervously. “But I know it is here.”
“You’d better be right,” warned Marrs, “or I swear I’ll sharpen my dagger on you.”
“Marrs, shut up,” snapped Trager. “You’re frightening him. Benrian, think now. Which way?”
Benrian looked around desperately. “This is the path, I think,” he replied. “We keep going.”
Behind them the army began to mutter. Trager ordered his lieutenants to steady them. He himself was a little on edge, for he hadn’t expected to get trapped in this maze of rock walls. But Benrian wasn’t lying, he was certain.
“We go on,” he told his men, then led the way deeper into the gorge. His horse stepped lightly over the rough terrain, careful not to loose its footing. Trager didn’t rush the stallion, and warned his men to go slowly, also. As the column picked its way forward, Benrian noticed another bend in the path.
“There,” he exclaimed. “That is the way.” He turned toward Trager hopefully. “You go that way. I go now?”
“When we find Grimhold you’ll go home,” said Trager. “Come on.”
His mood lightened, Trager directed his horse through the bend in the path and saw for himself what Benrian had predicted. The path instantly widened into a large clearing, showcasing a giant mountain looming up ahead of him. Trager’s eyes lifted toward its summit, stunned by its immensity and formidable beauty. He could see turrets cut into the mountain and a huge iron gate. On both sides of the clearing the mountain walls rose up in sheer cliffs, as though a raging river had blasted through the place a thousand years ago.
“Grimhold,” he whispered. Colonel Tark and the others trotted into the immense clearing after him. One by one the jaws of the soldiers dropped as they noticed the forbidding fortress.
“You see?” said Benrian. “Grimhold! I go now, General, yes?”
Trager nodded. He didn’t need the man anymore. “Take your mule and go,” he said, too distracted by their discovery to even turn around. Slowly he trotted deeper into the canyon, mesmerized by the sight. Colonel Tark and his lieutenants ordered as many horsemen as would fit into the clearing, until they filled it with the noise of horse hooves. Yet the gorge and its fortress were curiously quiet.
“Tark, what do you think?” asked Trager as he scanned the silent cliffs. “Where is everyone?”
“Holed up in the keep would be my guess, General,” said Tark. His lieutenants nodded in agreement. Trager wasn’t so sure. He looked toward the great gate and noticed it was unguarded, though he supposed that really wasn’t a surprise. It was stout enough to withstand a good bombardment, and they had no battering ram. He thought for a moment while his troops continued filing into the gorge, considering his options. If Lukien and the freaks were in the fortress, they were well protected. He ordered men to continue taking up positions in the clearing, eager to get them out of the confines of the narrow paths. When most were safely inside, he turned to Tark.
“We should explore the area, see if there’s any other ways in or out of the keep,” he said. “Then we can—”
“Welcome, murderer!” exclaimed an echoing voice. “Up here!”
Startled, Trager scanned the cliffs for the voice. What he saw took his breath away. There on a lip of the southern slope stood Lukien, his bronze armor shining so that he looked like a golden god. He was on the edge of the cliff, gazing down disdainfully. His taunting echoed through the canyon.
“Surprised to see me?” he shouted. “You shouldn’t be, you disloyal snake. Did you really think I’d let you get away with killing our king?”
Another murmur instantly rippled though the Liirian ranks. Colonel Tark and the lieutenants looked at Trager in horror.
“What’s that?” said Tark. “General, what’s he saying?”
“You didn’t tell them, did you, Trager?” mocked Lukien from his high perch. “I’m hardly surprised. You’ve always been a traitor.”
“And you’re a liar, you wretched bucket of scum!” Trager shook his fist at Lukien. “It was you that killed the king, and all these men know it! Where’s his body? What did you do with it?”
Lukien laughed. “These men know you well enough, Trager. They know the truth, I’d wager.”
The knight’s voice shook the soldiers on their steeds. They began shifting in their saddles, unsure what to believe. Trager knew he had to act fast or he’d lose them.
“Liar!” he spat up at Lukien. “You’ll pay for your murdering, Kingslayer! You and those monsters you’re protecting!”
“You’re the monster, Trager,” shouted Lukien. He looked beautiful in the sunlight, the very epitome of his own undying memory. “What kind of man kills his own king? What kind of monster?”
Other books
Envy by Noire
Carly by Lyn Cote
Four Blondes by Candace Bushnell
The Last Camel Died at Noon by Elizabeth Peters
Bridge Too Far by Ryan, Cornelius
Past All Dishonor by James M. Cain
Claiming Callie: Part one by Rion, Paige
List of the Lost by Morrissey
Pumpkin by Pronzini, Bill
Madly by Amy Alward