“I must be such a disappointment to you.”
“More a frustration.”
Adrastes laughed. “That boy is not quite the same, is he? Or the one who came after? Do you have them killed when you grow bored of them?”
Kendras’s fingers tightened on the reins. His horse felt his sudden unrest and shifted on its feet.
The high priest lifted his hands—it could have been a blessing or a defense. “Adrastes. Adrastes. Dalman needs the guidance of the temple. Don’t tell me you’ll miss the previous king.”
“Well, he took the position after I saw what your game was. Whatever he suffered from your hands would have been my fate.”
The high priest stalled. “I didn’t come here to have you throw unfounded accusations at me. I am willing to negotiate for the life of you and those loyal and dear to you.”
“In return for the city.”
“Exactly.”
Adrastes nodded as if he had expected exactly that. “I’ll think about it. But if we meet here again for battle, you and your soldiers should know one thing. I’ll be wearing an unmarked suit of armor, and I will fight in the first line. You know what they say… no faithful man or woman can spill the blood of an anointed without rousing the wrath of the gods and thus bringing down the temple. Any man who strikes me down will lose his soul and will be condemned to drown for countless years as the gods tear his soul apart.”
Now the temple guards became restless. Clearly, none of them cherished the thought, and Kendras thought that once they returned, the news that the enemies had an anointed with them would demoralize the rest of the temple guards.
Who would want to fight at such risk to themselves? Especially all the faithful would struggle with this, which meant that the same stranglehold that the temple had on Dalman and its troops would keep the temple guards from fighting.
Maybe. Unless the high priest found a way to reassure them.
“What does this mean? How can you be anointed? I am anointed,” Vistar said.
“Your Majesty, when I was about your age, there was an attempt to make peace between Dalman and Fetin. The Lord Protector’s eldest son was sent to Dalman to become anointed and king of Dalman. One gray-eyed mercenary killed the previous king under the pretext of the “marriage to the sea,” but before they could pull me out of the water as the reborn king, I fled. I did not, in the end, end up on my back, legs high.” Adrastes smiled softly. “Unlike you.”
Vistar spluttered, but Adrastes looked back at the high priest. “You’ll play this game at your own risk. Turn around now, and you keep Dalman. Until I’m strong enough to take it from you. Fight, and you’ll lose everything. You cannot lie with scorpions, and I’m the deadliest scorpion you’ve ever seen. I will kill you and destroy everything you’ve built, priest.”
Kendras hadn’t thought it possible to have goose bumps in his face, but he’d been clearly wrong. Right now he wanted nothing more than to take Adrastes to bed. Those words had the same power and authority as any order Adrastes had ever given him, and right now, he was a scorpion, beautiful, deadly, uncompromising. He’d fight to his last breath, that stare said.
“Those are my terms.”
The high priest swallowed. “Well spoken. I’ll just have to find a man who has no soul.” He raised his hands again. “May the gods show you the error of your ways, Adrastes of Fetin.”
Adrastes touched the hilt of his sword. “May I be the man who kills you.” He turned the horse, and Kendras made sure that the Scorpions immediately closed the gap at Adrastes’s back. It would be too easy to kill him now.
They rode faster back to the gate than they’d come out. The gates slammed shut, Adrastes tossed the reins to a servant. “Keep the horse here. I’ll be out soon,” he said and rushed up to the battlements.
The Lady Protector awaited him. “What did you tell them? They’re preparing to attack down there!”
“Yes. He’ll have to try to save face. It might not happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m anointed, and I’ll be out there.”
“You’re mad.”
Adrastes shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe it’ll work. Kendras, your armor.”
Kendras didn’t like having to change armor now. Wearing an unfamiliar armor annoyed him more than wearing the armor of the Lord Protector, which might draw a lot of attention from archers, those that didn’t believe in the gods, or even Steel, who wouldn’t hesitate to kill another king to please his masters.
The first wave of attack rolled up the hill while they were still getting ready, and Adrastes barely managed to put his helmet on before he rushed up to the battlements. He quickly surveyed the situation, then nodded to his sister. “You keep the wall safe. I’ll flank them.”
Kendras ran after him, back on the horses, and a number of cavalry were already waiting at the gate when they arrived. A number of light Dalmanye cavalry was watching the gate. But the archers on top of the gate forced them into retreat before they could sound a warning. Then the gate opened, and the cavalry all galloped out like a wave of iron and fury.
They drove among the waves of infantry, and then the grisly dance of war began anew. Kendras hacked at the foot soldiers with his sword, keeping the horse under control as best he could while caught in a maelstrom of chaos, bloodlust, and noise. Thankfully, his horse knew better what to do in the cavalry charge, staying with the other horses and disposing of foot soldiers with kicks, while Kendras struggled to both stay on its back and fight. He burrowed the sword so deep in the shoulder of a soldier that he couldn’t pull it free fast enough when his horse turned wildly, so he pulled out the war hammer that was fastened to the horse.
Attacking heads, shoulders, arms, swinging the short weapon close to the body of the horse against anything he could reach, anything attempting to harm him or the horse.
Then a horn sounded, and Kendras looked up, quickly, barely seeing anything through the slits of the helmet and the sweat burning in his eyes. A counterattack. The enemy cavalry was there. He disentangled himself from the fight. His horse stepped on dying bodies and kicked out against those who attempted to keep him surrounded.
Once having escaped the throng of bodies, breathing more deeply when he was finally free, Kendras spurred the horse on to return to the gates.
Before the enemy could reach them, the gates slammed shut. The silence was exhilarating. The short, swift combat burned in his veins, but even though he wasn’t much of a rider and would have much preferred to fight on his own two feet, he had to admit that this plan had worked like a charm.
Another horn sounded, and suddenly there were cries outside. Men only sounded like that when they were wounded.
“Archers,” said Adrastes, pulling the helmet off and grinning like a demon. “They came within reach of the archers I placed in the forest.”
Grimly amused at the obvious glee in Adrastes’s eyes, Kendras huffed. He handed the horse over, then climbed up to the battlements where he saw that the cavalry charge had been stopped dead. Wounded horses whinnied.
He couldn’t see the archers, but assumed they were perched up in the trees to prevent an attack by soldiers or cavalrists and deny the enemy the forest to use for wood or protection. Kendras wiped the sweat off his brow, took some water he was offered, and caught his breath to get ready for the next attack.
Chapter 24
KILLING men was hard work. Three more attacks and counterattacks on that day, Kendras always in the thick of it, always near Adrastes, who did indeed fight in the first line, as he’d promised.
The other Scorpions were protecting their flanks, and Kendras didn’t question when, for the last battle, the tanesh joined them. Riktan’s assessment that he was a “fierce little fucker” proved true, and Kendras itched to have him join properly. While the Flames guarded their Lord Protector in a loose outer ring, it was the Scorpions that bore the brunt of the attack whenever the circle was breached, and that happened a few times.
Yet the men they were fighting against were the men of the king. The temple guards were reluctant to fight, or were kept in reserve. Were they really that worried about their souls? Kendras couldn’t believe their luck. Of course he expected one man to show up and kill the anointed. One man had done it before. Steel had no soul to lose.
He was weary down to his bones when darkness fell and the duty of protecting the city moved onto the shoulders of the Lady Protector, who oversaw the guards on the walls. He peered back at the camp of the enemy, where tired soldiers would now seek food and a place to sleep near the fires.
Selvan helped him undress in the Scorpions’ quarters, face solemn when he looked at the dusty armor that was soiled with blood. Kendras could have lifted his arms to take off the armor but was grateful that he didn’t have to.
“I’ll clean this,” Selvan promised eagerly, and Kendras smiled at him. He was perfectly willing to be led to a bath not nearly as fine as the one he could have had in Adrastes’s quarters, and they’d all use that water and not mind it one bit.
He wrapped a piece of cloth around himself when he came out of the bath and sat down on one of the beds. Too tired to think or do anything, he merely watched the others settle, silent and exhausted. Dev was already snoring, the tanesh stood near Riktan, his fine white skin less an invitation as a reminder of what he was. Kendras hadn’t watched him bathe, but knew he’d have to accept the state of that man’s body eventually.
He stood, as much as it cost him, when all he wanted was to fall back on the bed, feet still on the ground, and wake up when the sun rose again. “What’s your name?”
Riktan glanced up, a strange expression in his eyes.
“Kiran, sir.”
“Don’t sir me.” The tanesh knew his name. After all, Riktan and Dev called him that all the time.
Riktan nudged Dev awake. The man woke like a soldier. He was awake immediately and ready to fight, but he relaxed again once he had his bearings.
Kendras was too aware that they were watching. “I’m the officer,” he said, the words choking him. “Or I will soon be. Once I have released Adrastes to life.” It was still a monstrous thought, and he hated it, but Kiran needed guidance and an officer to refer to. They couldn’t be leaderless, and while this wasn’t ideal, it would do.
“Officer.” Kiran bowed.
“We are the Seventeenth, the Scorpions, what remains of one of the great legions of Shara,” Kendras said, feeling every word resound in his chest. The words gave him confidence. The long list of officers and the dead, guarded and remembered every time they opened their brotherhood and accepted another man. “I would put you to training to test you, but we are at war. You have proven to be a good soldier today. You earned this by blood. You stood ready to spill yours for us.”
Kiran licked his lips. “I was. I am.”
“We are only a few survivors, so we need you to fill up our ranks, add your strength to ours so we will honor our past and those who have come before us.”
Dev’s lips spread in a slow smile. Kendras took that as approval.
“To make you ours and us yours, you will serve each of these. I understand you’ve already passed that test with Riktan.”
“What? Don’t skip me,” Riktan protested.
Kendras smiled. “You will serve each one as a comrade, fight at their side, spend the night. On the fourth day, it will be Dev, for another three days. By then, this war might be over, and we can complete the rite. Until then, you will be betrothed.”
He saw speculation in Kiran’s eyes and gave a small nod. He’d complete it, as weird as it might be to accept a tanesh as a lover. At least for a night. He, too, would have to accept and trust the man. Whether the mutilated body aroused him or not. If he’d learned one thing from Adrastes up on the mountain, then, the officer was selfless and served his men.
Riktan clapped the tanesh on the shoulder. “Congratulations. You’ll get the scorpions soon. Ken… the officer’s going to take you up the mountain and teach you the rest.”
Kendras glanced at Dev, who just grinned. They all had noted the slip of the tongue, and there was no protest, not even from Selvan, who sat on the ground, religiously cleaning the pile of armor. Kendras noted that Selvan’s unease was gone. Maybe, to the slave, life had returned to its normal order. Maybe he’d seen it coming. Maybe that was exactly what he’d expected.
Maybe, as the officer, he’d have to get used to the feeling that his men knew the important things before he did. It might just keep him humble.
In the morning, he went to Adrastes’s quarters. The servants and guards always allowed him entrance. Adrastes stood there, talking to Widow, who looked his usual smug self but also held a letter.
“Ah, Kendras.” Adrastes waved him closer. “Seems they are already losing the taste for battle.”
“What is this?”
“The little king is making an offer.” Adrastes waved for Widow to hand the letter over.
Kendras took it, but returned it after a few moments. This was court script, he didn’t know what half the letters were. He’d never get past the salutation. “What does it say?”
“He challenges me, man against man.” Adrastes scoffed. “Or rather, man against boy.”
“That’s not his plan,” said Widow. “It’s the high priest’s.”
“Of course.” Adrastes took the letter and folded it. “I’m tempted.”
“He might have realized that without the troops of the temple and sufficient siege engines, his army is too weak to take the walls by storm. Meanwhile, Dalman is defenseless. We split their strength.”
“And now they are trying to weave it back together. You’ll have to die, Adrastes,” Widow said. “The high priest might think the boy might live. Most importantly, an anointed can kill an anointed. I assume. It’s never happened. Normally there’s only one, because they kill the other before he becomes a problem.”
“So that’s how they weasel their way out of the situation,” Kendras murmured.
“It only took them a day to decide.” Adrastes slid his sword into the sheath at his belt. “If killing one man stops the war, I’ll do it.”
“It’s too obvious,” Widow muttered. “Maybe they’ll poison the sword. So he doesn’t have to best or kill you and merely strike blood.”
“Yes. But he won’t strike blood.”
“What about archers? Crossbow men?”
“We’ll meet out of reach of either.” Adrastes lifted an eyebrow. “It sounds like you’re worried about me, Widowmaker.”
Widow huffed. “Sparing your sister the inconvenience of having to bury her husband. Nobles are always desperate to kill each other. Sure, enjoy it.”
Adrastes chuckled. “I’ll send a messenger and tell them I accept.”
“Will you do it, or should I?”
“Changing armors again, Kendras?” Adrastes smiled. “No, I’ll do it myself. The king doesn’t look like a fearsome warrior to me.”
“No, he’s not.” Kendras shook his head. “But he has balls. Especially since he’s not much of a warrior. Maybe they taught him some dagger work, but he’s not a soldier.” And that wouldn’t have changed in the few weeks since he’d seen the boy in the yard of Steel’s farm.
“For a dagger he’d have to come a lot closer than I’ll let him.” Adrastes took his helmet. “It’s decided. We’ll end this war like in the old times. King against king.”
“Fool against child, more like,” Widow muttered as they trailed behind on the way out into the courtyard.
ADRASTES’S messenger returned shortly after to the Round Chamber. He was accompanied by a messenger from the enemy. The enemy demanded to have the duel in the late afternoon.
Adrastes refused. The sun would be too low and cast long shadows. One of the fighters would be at too much of a disadvantage with the sun in his eyes.
Every time a detail couldn’t be agreed upon, the messengers scuttled back and forth, until it was almost noon. Heat danced over the land,
but the king seemed impatient for the fight, so it was agreed they would fight at noon.
Both armies gathered on the slope leading up to the main gate. The Lady Protector stood on the walls behind them when Kendras accompanied Adrastes outside.
Widow was with the other guards and fell behind like them when Adrastes reached the arranged point, equidistant between the two armies. Kendras carried a second sword, as agreed, in case Adrastes lost his.
From the other camp emerged a warrior in red and gold, accompanied by a man in plain, unmarked armor. Adrastes’s eyes narrowed. “They are wearing their helmets already.” It was against the agreed-upon rules, but Kendras felt that Adrastes didn’t mind whom he killed.
“You think it’s not the king?”
Adrastes nodded.
“Should we refuse the fight?”
“No. If it comes out, it’ll humiliate them, and anger will make them stupid. I’d have expected a poisoned blade, but I don’t care either way. ”
Or maybe both. Kendras breathed deeply to relax. Seeing the snake in the grass was always better than only suspecting it was there.
“Let’s see who I’ll kill,” Adrastes said low under his breath. “Keep an eye on the witness.” He took his helmet and put it on, fastened it, then pulled his sword. Kendras took a step to the side, but stayed close enough to watch everybody.
There was no salute, no taunting. Adrastes wasn’t a man to wait for an attack. He lunged forward, attacking the red warrior’s side.
The enemy was startled. The jerk with which the other managed to get the sword in the way of Adrastes’s weapon didn’t spell anything good. It looked clumsy. Scared.
Or the other had been too surprised to react with the speed and grace of a trained warrior. Kendras looked back at the witness in the unmarked armor and almost felt the man’s stare on him. Steel? Wouldn’t it make sense to put Steel in the king’s armor and let him fight Adrastes? But could Steel really be so clumsy, and could the king really be so calm to just stand aside? If the king was involved at all. For all Kendras knew, the high priest might have rounded up the two best warriors in his camp and one of them was merely scared to kill an anointed.
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