by John Marco
Dead? Minikin couldn’t believe it. How?
Slain by his general. The Bronze Knight tried to save him. But be warned—the one called Trager still lives.
Minikin didn’t know what it meant. Without Akeela, there might be the chance that the Liirians would retreat. It was unlikely, she knew, after what she’d heard about Trager, but there was always the chance. Perhaps this was the hope that she’d told Lukien about, the unforeseen event that changes the future. She had never imagined that Trager would slay his king.
Will they still come? she asked hopefully. Can you see, Amaraz?
Amaraz never couched his answers in riddles. He said simply, They will come.
Minikin’s mood fell. But without their king. . . .
They will come, Minikin, repeated Amaraz gently. I do not need to see the future to tell you this. The Trager is wounded, but resolute. When he recovers, he will ride for Grimhold.
Of course he will, thought Minikin bitterly. There seemed no way out of this trap. Then we will be ready for them, she declared. Baron Glass has been preparing our defense, and Lukien will soon return to aid us.
Amaraz’ warm hand tightened on her own. You will do your best, I know, he said. But I must warn you, my Minikin, I will not allow this hallowed ground to be soiled. The invaders must not breach the gate.
Of course, Amaraz, said Minikin. We’ll do our best to defend it.
You do not understand. Amaraz’ breath seemed to sigh. I cannot allow Grimhold to fall into foreign hands. He looked up and around the chamber, which had magically expanded now to accommodate hundreds of Akari. The faces of the other spirits were grave. We have spoken, Minikin, and we have agreed. Grimhold must not fall.
Amaraz, I don’t understand, said Minikin. Explain yourself, please.
Amaraz kept his gentle grip on Minikin, lifting his other hand toward the ceiling. You may fight outside these walls, he said, but inside we are the masters. A flame grew in his palm, like the fire of a torch. We are only spirits now, Minikin. We have no bodies to be destroyed.
So? asked Minikin. She guessed at Amaraz’ meaning and hoped she was wrong. What are you saying?
Watch!
The fire in Amaraz’ palm grew until it consumed his hand, then exploded out in all directions. Minikin felt its heat but no pain, watching in horror as the searing light engulfed the room. The rafters in the ceiling burned, the bricks ignited and tumbled. And all around her the hall of Grimhold filled with fire, like a rushing torrent of red water, until all was in flames and burning. The Akari spirits watched the holocaust from the safety of the air, their faces drawn but resolute. Minikin stood in the center of the room, unscathed, her clothes magically retarding the flames. Slowly she turned to Amaraz and nodded.
Enough, she said. I understand.
Amaraz closed his fist, instantly extinguishing the inferno. His expression was grim as he looked at Minikin. If you cannot defeat the northerners beyond these walls, then I will do so within them.
Minikin tried to compose herself. If you do that, all my Inhumans inside the fortress will die.
Then you must make a choice, my Minikin, said Amaraz. Do you have faith in the Lukien and the army he has made? If not, then take your children out of here. Bring them to the village. They will be safe there from my power.
They’d be vulnerable in the village, said Minikin. Without these walls to protect them. . . .
Then let them remain, said Amaraz, and have the Bronze Knight protect them.
But if he cannot—
Minikin, I have protected your people for years, more years than even I can remember. But I must protect my own people, too. My powers are greatest inside Grimhold. I will not be able to destroy the Liirians outside these walls.
Minikin nodded. His logic was horrible but flawless.
This is our sacred place, the only home left for the Akari. I cannot let it fall into the hands of foreigners, not again. We will not allow it. Take your children away from here. The walls of Grimhold can withstand my fire. The Inhumans will be able to return once it is over.
They will be dead by then, Amaraz, said Minikin. The Liirians will not send all of their men into the fortress. There will be enough to slay my children in the village. She let her hand slip out of Amaraz’. But I understand. You have been good to us, Amaraz. And we have only been guests, after all.
The Akari looked profoundly sad. More than guests.
Minikin smiled crookedly. More than guests, though not quite family it seems. Do not fear, Amaraz. We will defeat the Liirians somehow.
Before the Akari could reply Minikin opened her eyes, severing the trance. The room around her was again quiet and small. Above her head the rafters were empty. The two candles glowed on the altar. Between them, the amulet of Amaraz burned like spitting fire. Minikin glanced down at her own amulet and saw that its jewel was pulsing sadly. She heard Lariniza’s voice in her head, almost apologizing, but Minikin did not want to hear it. Instead she rose from her knees and left the tiny chamber in search of Baron Glass.
It was almost dawn when Lukien and his entourage finally reached the mountains of Grimhold. They had ridden through the night on their two kreels, Gilwyn on the smaller Emerald while Lukien shared a beast with Ghost. The albino was silent as they rode. Exhausted from all they had been through, he spared Lukien conversation, letting the Bronze Knight mourn Akeela instead. They had buried Akeela in the dunes, digging a shallow grave for him with the help of the kreels and their sharp claws. It was a horrible grave, just enough to keep the vultures off his corpse.
How should I remember him? Lukien wondered as they rode. The moon had fallen and the sky was melancholy, matching his mood. He was glad that he had enjoyed a last moment with Akeela, that in the end they had been brothers again. It was good to see his face untainted by madness, however briefly. That’s how he would remember Akeela, he decided. The way he was before the madness.
But the thought of Akeela’s reclamation did little to leaven Lukien’s mood. There was still the awful matter of Trager. Had Ghost killed him? The albino seemed to think so, but he couldn’t be sure. Lukien flayed himself for fleeing the palace without finishing off his nemesis. It would have been so easy, but Akeela was bleeding and time was so short, and. . . .
Enough, he scolded himself. If Trager still lived, he would deal with him. He would have to.
With dawn breaking over the barren horizon, they came at last to the canyon where Grimhold was hidden. Emerald sniffed her way forward with her tongue, leading the way. Even in the darkness the kreels could see perfectly, their strange eyes widening to catch every glimmer of light. Lukien nudged Ghost as they entered the canyon.
“We’re here,” he said softly.
The albino’s white head scanned the rising walls of rock. “Thank the Fate.” He let the reins slacken in his hands. “The kreel will take us the rest of the way.”
Up ahead, Lukien could barely see the mountain fortress in the distance, camouflaged by darkness and its own rocky facade. He was about to call out to Gilwyn when another voice startled him from above.
“They’re here!”
Ghost bolted upright, and together the trio scanned the cliffs above, but could see nothing but darkness and the sharp contours of rock. Gilwyn jerked Emerald to a halt and whirled her about.
“Who was that?” asked the boy.
Ghost shrugged.
“Ho, there, Lukien!” said the voice again. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere in particular. “Here!” the voice directed. “Above you!”
Lukien focused on the cliffs, at last catching a glimpse of movement. Directly above them a man was perched, waving down at them.
“Lukien, it’s me, Darren,” said the voice. He leaned out carefully so they could see him better. Lukien recognized him at once. Darren, one of the Inhumans from the village, had a bow in his hand and a beaming smile on his face. As he came into view others joined him, dozens of men with bows and spears who’d taken up position in
the rocks.
“Darren, what are you doing up there?” Lukien called to him.
“Baron Glass’ orders, Lukien,” said Darren. “We’re on guard for an attack.”
Lukien counted up the defenders, all of whom waved down at him. There were women in the cliffs, too, like the dwarf Jasine, who had insisted that she could throw a spear and had proven herself among the best. Lukien saw her on the cliff to his right, her small profile set against the darkness. She raised her spear overhead in greeting.
“Is there an attack on the way?” asked Gilwyn.
“No, I don’t think so,” said Lukien. “I’m sure they’re just drilling. I told them I wanted them to get used to being in the cliffs. That’ll be our first defense.” Again he looked up at Darren and shouted, “Where’s the baron, Darren? I need to speak to him.”
“Baron Glass is at the gate,” cried the man. “We’ve all been waiting for you.”
Lukien waved at him in thanks, then told Ghost to head onward. The albino did so, ordering his kreel toward Grimhold. Gilwyn followed at their side. He smiled at Lukien.
“Not a bad army you’ve got there,” he joked.
Lukien couldn’t help but feel proud. “They’re keen, that’s for sure,” he replied. He was eager to find Thorin and tell him what had happened in Jador, but he suspected that Minikin had already told him. Then he laughed and said, “They do look good up there, don’t they?”
“They do,” agreed Ghost. “You see, Liirian? You’re not the only one who can fight.”
In a few moments they reached Grimhold. The huge iron gate was open with the giant Greygor standing guard. Near the gate milled a dozen men and women, all of them conscripts in Lukien’s Inhuman army. They had swords and bows and spears in their hands, all the old Akari weapons from the dusty armory. With them was Baron Glass, talking loudly as he explained the importance of surprise and stealth. The Inhumans listened to him, enraptured, standing around him in a semicircle as he imparted his hard-won wisdom. So entranced were they that none of them saw Lukien approach.
“Stop here,” Lukien ordered. He climbed down from the kreel as Ghost brought it to a halt, then walked out of the darkness with his hands raised and a bright smile on his face. “Don’t you need me anymore?”
Glass and the Inhumans turned to look at him, then broke into a chorus of shouts and warm greetings. Gilwyn and Ghost came up behind him, receiving the same hero’s welcome. Thorin hurried toward them and slapped his hand on Lukien’s neck.
“You crazy bastard, it’s good to see you!”
As the Inhumans crowded around, Lukien laughed. “What is this?” he asked, gesturing toward the cliffs. “You’re starting to look like a real army!”
The men and women smiled and told Lukien how glad they were he was back. All were careful to include Gilwyn and Ghost in their comments.
“Gilwyn!” cried a distant voice.
Lukien and Gilwyn both turned to see White-Eye standing in the gate, her expression bittersweet. She had obviously been worried about the boy and looked on the verge of happy tears.
“White-Eye!” Leaving the others behind, Gilwyn hurried toward her. With all the Inhumans watching, they embraced. When they kissed, the gathered broke into applause.
“I see the boys brought you back safely,” quipped Thorin. “What were you thinking, you damn fool?”
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.”