Authors: John Marco
The Eyes of God (114 page)
Lukien’s smile was forlorn. “Thorin,” he said softly. “Akeela’s dead.”
The baron nodded. “I know. Minikin saw.”
The comment surprised Lukien. “She saw already? Gods, keeping a secret from that woman is impossible. Did she tell you it was Trager that killed him?”
“She did.” Thorin pulled Lukien closer, his arm hugging him like a father might. “I’m sorry, Lukien. I know what Akeela meant to you.”
“I thought I could change him, Thorin. I just had to see him one more time, you know? And he did change. I saw it.”
Thorin looked at him askew. “What do you mean?”
“He released us, Thorin. That’s why Trager killed him. I tried to get him here to Grimhold, to get the amulet around him and save him. But I didn’t make it.”
“You tried. That’s what matters.”
“I was so close,” said Lukien. “All I needed was a little more time.” Then he smiled, adding, “Oh, but you should have seen him, Thorin. That last moment, it was like the old Akeela again.”
Though he’d never had any use for Akeela, Thorin was pleased for Lukien. He put a hand on the knight’s shoulder. “I’m glad for that. But there’s more news, Lukien. Trager is still alive.”
Both Ghost and Lukien froze at the news.
“What?” gasped Ghost. “Are you sure?”
“Minikin saw it, just as she saw Akeela’s death. He’s still alive, and he’ll be coming for Grimhold.”
The news shattered Lukien, who balled his hands into fists. “It’s my fault he’s still alive.”
“No, Lukien, it isn’t,” said Ghost. “He was mine to kill and I failed.”
“I should have gone back and finished him!”
Ghost shook his head. “You couldn’t have, there was no time. You had to save Akeela.”
The reasoning did little to comfort Lukien. “But I didn’t, did I? I let Akeela die and Trager live!”
“Minikin says he’ll be on his way,” said Thorin, “just as soon as he’s recovered. We may have a week, maybe a bit more.” He looked at Ghost with a wicked grin. “You should be proud of yourself, my boy. You came closer than most to killing that piss-bucket.”
Ghost nodded dully. “I just wish I’d finished the job.”
Thorin smiled. “There’s still time for that. Get inside now. Get some rest.”
Ghost excused himself from the gathering and staggered toward the open gate. Lukien watched him go.
“The boy’s too hard on himself,” he said when Ghost was out of earshot. “It’s not his fault Trager’s still alive. It’s mine. And now I’ve left us open to attack. Great Fate, what a fool I am.”
“You were trying to save Akeela, Lukien,” said Thorin. “That makes you a hero, not a fool. And there’s nothing to be done about it now. I say let Trager come and attack. We’ll be ready for him.”
Lukien looked around, wondering why all the Inhumans were out so early. “So what is this?” he asked. “Drilling at this hour?”
“There’s not much time, Lukien,” said Glass. “I’ve been instructing them on how to ambush the Chargers when they come through the canyon.”
“Did you see them up there, Lukien?” asked Garvis. He was a blacksmith from the village, a big man with arms like pythons who could wield two swords at once, though not deftly.
“I saw them,” said Lukien. For the benefit of them all he added, “They looked damn good to me.”
The defenders of Grimhold broke into proud smiles. Baron Glass puffed a little at the compliment.
“They’re yours once more, Lukien. But it was an honor to command again, I’ll say that.” He pointed down the canyon. “And these walls will be a great defense. I’ve been drilling them with bows and spears. If we can set up a crossfire here, we’ll have Trager’s men pinned. We can take out a third of them before they even reach the fortress.”
“I’m sure,” said Lukien, trying to sound impressed. The idea had already occurred to him, but he liked seeing the change in Thorin. “Minikin says we have a week?”
“Give or take a few days,” replied Thorin. “She’s waiting for you inside the gate. She has something to talk to you about.”
“Oh? Trouble?”
Thorin shrugged. “She wouldn’t say. She just wanted me to send you inside when you got here.”
“All right, then, carry on, Thorin,” said Lukien. He left the baron and his soldiers behind and headed for the gate. There he found Gilwyn with White-Eye, sitting together in a quiet corner. Gilwyn had his arm around the girl, comforting her. He couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s good fortune. But when he saw Minikin inside Grimhold, his smile melted away. The little woman was leaning against a wall, waiting for him, her face sullen. Trog was with her, as silent as ever. Minikin barely smiled when she saw him. At first Lukien thought she was angry with him for going off to Jador, but he quickly realized from her drawn expression that something far worse preoccupied her.
“Minikin?” he asked when he reached her. “What’s wrong?”
Her face lightened only a little. “Welcome back, Lukien. I’m glad you’re safe.”
“Baron Glass told me you wanted to see me,” said Lukien.
Minikin nodded. “Walk with me a little, Lukien.”
Lukien did as she asked, following her away from the gate and unwanted ears. The sudden secretiveness made him apprehensive, but he asked no questions as she led him further into the hall. Because it was so early the hall was mostly deserted. She came to a stop under one of the many sconces. The oily light revealed the exhaustion on her face.
“You look like you’ve been up all night,” said Lukien. “Doesn’t anyone in Grimhold sleep anymore?”
“Not when there’s so much to do,” replied the midget wearily. “Baron Glass has told you what I’ve seen?”
“Yes,” said Lukien. “He’s told me.”
“Lukien, I’m sorry for you. Your loss is truly great.”
Lukien didn’t know what to say. “I thought I lost Akeela sixteen years ago, Minikin. I’m not sure why I feel the way I do.”
“Losing a friend is never easy,” said Minikin.
“No, I suppose not,” said Lukien. “I just didn’t realize that Akeela was still my friend until it was too late. Now, tell me what’s bothering you.”
She surprised Lukien by laughing. “Ah, what isn’t bothering me?” she said. “The battle, Lukien. I am afraid.”
“No, it’s more than that, I can tell,” said Lukien. “Come on, the truth now.”
Minikin fiddled with the amulet around her neck, avoiding his eyes. “We must defeat your countrymen, Lukien,” she said gravely. “It’s even more important now.”
“I know that,” said Lukien. “With Akeela gone I thought there might be some hope, but Thorin told me Trager’s still alive. I’m furious with myself for letting him live. Now he’ll be coming.”
“He’ll be coming just as soon as he is able,” said Minikin, “And I’m sure he seeks the amulets just as much as he seeks revenge.”
“Then we’ll beat him, Minikin.” Lukien felt his rage boiling over. “I promise.”
“You want to kill him for what he did to Akeela, I know,” said Minikin. “But that won’t be enough. This isn’t about a vendetta anymore, Lukien, not yours and not Akeela’s. This is a war for survival.”
“Minikin, you don’t have to explain it to me. I know what’s at stake.”
“No,” said Minikin, “you don’t.” She continued to toy distractedly with her amulet. Lukien could tell something was troubling her, something more than just his coming countrymen. He waited for her to find just the right words. Finally she said, “The Liirians must not breach the gate. They must not take the fortress or even set foot in it. If they do. . . .” She glanced away, unable to finish.
“Tell me,” Lukien urged.
Minikin caressed her amulet mournfully. “If they do, the Akari will destroy them, and everyone else inside Grimhold.” She looked up at Lukien, her eyes full of fear. “The Akari will burn the halls with fire if the Liirians set foot in Grimhold. They won’t let their home be taken, Lukien. Do you understand that?”
Uncertain exactly what it meant, Lukien decided to be encouraging. “It means we have to defeat the Liirians out in the canyon. And we will, Minikin, I promise.”
“You don’t understand,” groaned Minikin. “What will happen if the Liirians defeat you? What if they take the keep? What of my Inhumans? They’ll be killed, Lukien, burned to death.” The little woman leaned miserably against the wall, shaking her head. “That musn’t happen. I couldn’t bear it.”
Lukien still didn’t comprehend the Akari or their ways, but he knew they had the power to carry out their threat. He said, “Then take the Inhumans to the village, Minikin. They’ll be safer there.”
“No they won’t,” said Minikin. “After the fortress falls the village will be next, you know that. Even if the Akari kill the Liirians inside the keep, there will be many left outside.” She looked at Lukien helplessly. “They’ll find the village, Lukien. They’ll kill my children.”
For the first time since he’d known her, Minikin looked truly afraid. Lukien bit his lip, trying to think of a way out of their dismal predicament. He knew Minikin was right—if the Liirians defeated them, they would storm the keep on foot, but others would remain behind, enough to discover the village and pillage it. And if the Inhumans remained in Grimhold, they would die in the Akari fire. It seemed horribly cruel to Lukien, but he had no reason to question the Akari. Grimhold had been their home for ages, and they had already lost it to foreigners once. As unthinkable as it was to kill the Inhumans, Lukien could almost understand their decision. That left only one option for them.
“Then we’ll have to defeat Trager,” he said. “There’s no other way.”
Minikin nodded. “And I will keep the Inhumans inside the keep. They’ll be safest there, I think.”
“Agreed. The fortress is their best chance for survival.”
It was their only chance for survival, and both Lukien and Minikin knew it. The Mistress of Grimhold put out her tiny hand and took Lukien by the fingers. She did not speak for a long moment. Rather she simply looked at him, sharing the moment. There was very little time left, and neither of them wanted to waste it.
“Minikin,” said Lukien gently, “don’t forget what you told me. The future is always in question. We have the power to change it.”
The little woman finally smiled her bright, enigmatic smile. “I know,” she said. “I just hope I don’t soon regret those words.”
“You won’t,” promised Lukien. “One way or the other, I’ll make sure the Inhumans are saved.”
Minikin frowned. “That’s a promise you can’t keep.”
“But I will,” Lukien insisted. He squeezed her hand. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“No,” urged Minikin. “Rest first. You’ve been traveling all night.”
“It doesn’t matter. Like you said, there’s no time to waste.”
He bent and gave her cheek an unexpected kiss, then walked off to join Baron Glass and their blossoming army.
58
G
eneral Will Trager sat alone in a dark corner of the cell, watching the handiwork of his subordinate, Sergeant Marrs. The room was dim save for the light of a single torch and the glowing embers of a brazier filled with coals. The cellars were deserted; Trager wanted no witnesses. He knew that men like Colonel Tark were loyal but squeamish sometimes, and torture had never really been part of the Royal Chargers, a unit founded on more lofty stuff. But these were dire days and called for extreme measures. And that was why Sergeant Marrs was here, doing what the gods had gifted him to do. Marrs was a man with no remorse and a heart as hard as iron. He had never flinched in battle nor mourned the death of a friend. To Trager’s knowledge, the sergeant had no friends. He was a loner but a good soldier, and today his particular dispassion was being put to good use.
eneral Will Trager sat alone in a dark corner of the cell, watching the handiwork of his subordinate, Sergeant Marrs. The room was dim save for the light of a single torch and the glowing embers of a brazier filled with coals. The cellars were deserted; Trager wanted no witnesses. He knew that men like Colonel Tark were loyal but squeamish sometimes, and torture had never really been part of the Royal Chargers, a unit founded on more lofty stuff. But these were dire days and called for extreme measures. And that was why Sergeant Marrs was here, doing what the gods had gifted him to do. Marrs was a man with no remorse and a heart as hard as iron. He had never flinched in battle nor mourned the death of a friend. To Trager’s knowledge, the sergeant had no friends. He was a loner but a good soldier, and today his particular dispassion was being put to good use.
Sergeant Marrs stood in the center of the cell. In his hand was a metal rod, its tip glowing red. There were three other such rods in the brazier, warming up for the dirty business at hand. Two long chains dangled down from the ceiling, with two stout manacles to hold their naked prisoner. His name was Benrian. And like all the servants in the palace, Benrian had claimed no knowledge of Grimhold. But Benrian was as close to Kadar as any servant had been. He had been the dead kahan’s body servant. And though Benrian still claimed otherwise, another of his fellow servants had not been so resilient under the whip. A woman named Dreana had broken quite easily after only a few lashes, exclaiming in her pain that Benrian had been to Grimhold before. It had taken days for Marrs to get to Dreana, systematically working his way through the palace servants and seeming to enjoy every moment. Trager himself had not bothered with the preliminaries. Like Tark, he didn’t really have the stomach for torture, and he had needed to rest his wounds. He was still very weak, and had to hold himself up with effort. The wounds the Inhuman had given him had laid him up for days, and it would be days more before he could ride against Grimhold. But they were near now to learning the keep’s location, and Trager wanted to hear the words himself.
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