by John Marco
After the funeral, I’d spent most of the night conferring with Marilius, listening to everything he knew about Lutobor and Drin and their war with Akyre. Kasse, it turned out, wasn’t the only Bitter Kingdom to fall to Diriel. Large swathes of Drin had been taken as well, the lands ravaged and their men conscripted into Diriel’s army. Lutobor’s own army had slowly been decimated, until now there were only a few hundred soldiers. Most of these belonged to the Silver Dragons, the personal guard of the dead king, of which the three men sitting across the table were members. Each wore the insignia of the order on their leather coats, an embroidered firedrake coiling up the left side collar.
Many things had happened in the short time that Marilius and I had been separated, and much of it I could barely talk about. I told him of my battle with Crezil and how the monster had let me live, but I didn’t tell him about my lost soul. That was still too great a burden for me to confess to anyone. Marilius had his own theories about why the beast had spared me but they were all nonsense. I knew the truth-because I was soulless. I just couldn’t confess it.
And of course I told him about Cricket. Under a jutting roof with the rain falling around us I told him how she’d gone to Sky Falls without me, how Wrestler had tracked her there in hopes of finding me, and how he’d killed her. I described it all; it gushed out of me. He listened stoically to the tale of her rape, but I could tell his guts were turning to stone. Revenge began boiling in his eyes, and it remained there as we sat with Kiryk, drinking milk around the table.
I remained quiet while Kiryk conferred with his men. Their names were Sulimer, Jaracz, and Lenhart, and all of them looked like they’d been at war a very long time. They had the grizzled faces of men who’d spent their lives in the sun, training soldiers and leading them into battle, and Kiryk seemed out of place among them. But there was no smugness from the three, only desire to help the boy through an impossible task. Finally, Kiryk turned to the woman Ursilil, who’d been buzzing around the table filling our glasses.
“Thank you,” he said. “Go to your daughter now. Make sure she’s sleeping.”
Ursilil seemed relieved to be dismissed. She was an attractive woman, or at least she had been before the raiders came. Losing her husband had given her face a glaze. She gave Kiryk a little bow, me a tiny scowl, and eagerly left the room. When she was gone Sulimer, the oldest of the soldiers, reached beneath the table and lifted up a sack he’d brought with him. He dropped it on the table with a thud.
“What’s that?” I asked.
Sulimer smirked through his peppered beard and peeled down the wrapping, revealing a severed head. “From this morning,” he said. “A friend from Akyre.”
The head sat upright, facing me with its dead eyes. The horrible pallor of its skin told me at once it had been dead longer than just a day.
“A legionnaire.”
I reached out and bounced my finger off its cheek. A chalky dust fell from the skin. He’d been a man about my age, with just about my hair color too. The eyes still had that empty look I’d seen in Diriel’s castle-dead and alive at the same time. Marilius had told me there’d been at least twenty of them with the other Akyrens, sent in first like fodder for the Drin. Only the Drin hadn’t cut them down so easily.
“Beheading them is the only way to stop them,” Sulimer pronounced. “Nothing else will do it. Not cutting off an arm, not pumping them full of arrows, nothing. You have to get right up close and swing. You don’t get a second chance.”
“Swords?” I asked.
“Axes are better,” answered Lenhart. He’d been the quiet one so far. “Swords weren’t heavy enough for some. The legion started wearing leather bands around their necks once we discovered their weakness.”
“What about just bashing their brains in?” asked Marilius.
Lenhart shrugged. “That should work if you can manage it.”
“Marilius, I didn’t see a lot of axmen with Fallon’s mercs,” I said. “What about that?”
“Axes aren’t a problem. Anton can buy axes. It’s men we need.” Marilius looked at Kiryk seriously. “I pleaded with your father, now I’m pleading with you. Will you help us?”
Kiryk leaned back in his chair. The weight of his decision made his shoulders slump. “The soldiers in this village are almost all that’s left of our army,” he said. “Some are back in Prang, some are on patrol watching the north. That’s maybe five hundred men.”
“And not all of them professionals,” said Sulimer. “Some are just farmers with scythes and forks. That’s all who’s left to defend Drin.”
“Kiryk, forgive me for asking this, but I have to,” I said. “Are you the king now? I’m all out of time, and I need to be talking to the right man. If it’s these others who’ll make the decision-”
“He is king,” said Jaracz, the one sitting just to Kiryk’s left. “The only question of that is in your mind, Liirian. He’s the son of Lutobor. He has the blood.”
“So you’ll follow him?” I asked. “And the other Silver Dragons too?”
“He has the blood,” repeated Jaracz. “The decision is his alone. But he hasn’t decided yet. There are still questions.”
Kiryk said, “Only one that matters. Who’ll defend Drin from Akyre if we leave here, Lukien? If we join you in Isowon, Drin will be wide open. What would stop Diriel from turning his men north again once he sees we’re in the south?”
“He won’t,” I said, “because what he wants is in Isowon. Isowon is the prize.”
“He wants Anton Fallon,” added Marilius. “Not just for revenge but because of his spice routes.”
“Anton Fallon is a merchant,” said Jaracz. “Why should we give our blood to that pirate? He’s a Zuran. I’ve heard he’s not even a man.”
Marilius shot back, “Not a man? What does that mean?”
Jaracz leaned forward. “He likes boys,” he said, then made a kissing noise.
I put up my hand to calm Marilius. “What does it matter who he takes to his bed? You don’t have to like Anton Fallon. No one does. But he’s the one with the army. He’s the only one with the forces to stop Diriel. Are you really going to let his choice of lovers stop you from fighting?”
Their silence acknowledged me. Sulimer, ever the serious one, asked, “How many men does he have?”
I looked to Marilius. “Be honest,” I said. “What do you think?”
“Several hundred probably,” said Marilius. “It depends. If he’s convinced them to stay then at least that many. If they quit and ran off. .” He shrugged. “Who knows?”
“Several hundred,” I repeated. “Those are good enough odds, Kiryk. With your men and Fallon’s fighting together, it’ll be a nearly equal match.”
“Equal?” Kiryk shook his head. “Diriel has twice that many. Maybe more.”
His calculations surprised me. “Why do you say that? Diriel himself told me his forces were devastated by Kasse. Almost all of them starved. He put the number close to a thousand.”
“A lie,” said Lenhart. He reached for the severed head and pushed it aside for a better look at me. “Every man his soldiers snatch is enslaved by them, pressed into his army. Not just his own people but Kassens, too.”
“Even Drinmen,” admitted Kiryk darkly. “Diriel means to deceive you, Lukien. He won’t show up in Isowon with an army that small.”
“And even if he did, how many of them would be legionnaires?” asked Jaracz. “I’ve been asking this one the same questions since he got here.” He pointed at Marilius. “He can’t answer me. Can you answer me, Liirian? Can you tell me how we’re supposed to beat an army of men who are half dead already?”
“Indeed I can.” I picked up the head by its muddy blond hair and held it out like a lantern. “By doing this to every damn one of them! That’s the way-the only way. You’ve already done it! If you come with us you’ll have hundreds of men to help you. And you’ll have me.”
Kiryk looked at me without a word. No one spoke until Sulimer finally sto
od. “Lukien, Marilius tells us you’re a man who can’t be killed. You’re like one of Diriel’s soulless.” He gestured to my sword. “That’s your magic? That’s what keeps you alive?”
“It’s more than a sword,” I said. “It’s more than magic even.” I lowered the head to the table and let it roll to a stop. “It’s kept me alive through a broken neck and a battle with a demon. Now it’s made me young and strong again just so I could make war on your enemies. This morning I had one eye. Now I have two. But Diriel and his horde could pluck them both out, and I wouldn’t stop. I’m not going to stop until they’re dead. That means Diriel and Wrestler and all his brood. Every damn one of them.”
Marilius rose to stand beside me. “King Kiryk, you can stay here and let us carry the fight in Isowon, but it won’t save you. If we lose, Diriel will be back for you all.”
“You’re brave men, but your fight isn’t over,” I told them. “Diriel won’t stop until all the lands of the Bitter Kingdoms belong to Akyre again. Drin will be a country of ghosts. That’s all that’ll be left.”
Kiryk stood, and then his trio did too. A flash of distant lightning lit his face, revealing how young he really was. “I’ll think on it,” he said. “I can’t decide something this big so quickly.”
“You have to,” I said. “Because we’re leaving in the morning with or without you, and Diriel’s not waiting. Make your choice tonight, my lord. Before you leave this room. I’m giving you the chance to avenge your father. Take it now-you’ll never get another.”
Kiryk’s eyes dropped to the severed head. “This is the one that killed my father,” he said. “It was Lenhart who took this head, not me. The head I want now belongs to another. Will you promise me Diriel’s head, Sir Lukien?”
“I can promise you his death,” I said.
“His head,” repeated Kiryk, “so I may show it off like a trophy. So that every child in Drin can see they’ve been avenged.”
“Then I will get it for you,” I pledged. “With pleasure.”
Kiryk nodded, and that was all he had to do. Sulimer, Jaracz, and Lenhart all bent in a bow, then one by one took his hand and kissed it.
“You are the blood,” said Lenhart as his lips brushed Kiryk’s fingers. “You are our master.”
Those words haunted me all that night, but I didn’t figure out why until the morning.
27
Exactly two-hundred and eighty-two men left Jelah that morning, including Marilius and myself. The number was far less than we needed but more than I’d hoped for, comprised mostly of Silver Dragons but also of men from nearby villages who’d heard about the battle brewing in Isowon. The women and children of Jelah waved goodbye to us, piling grateful kisses on their young king and blessing him with strips of cloth torn from their dresses. Kiryk, embarrassed by the attention, made the bold promise that he’d be returning soon with Diriel’s head, a pledge that made the women cheer.
Of course there were too few horses, forcing a full third of the men to march their way to Isowon. Not only would that slow us down, it also meant they’d be exhausted when battle came. But we had enough supplies for the journey-barely-given us by the women of Jelah, who’d hidden whatever they could from the Akyren hordes. I promised the Drinmen that Anton Fallon had more than enough to fill their bellies, and that when we finally reached Isowon they’d all be fed well. Still, it would be days until we made it that far south, days I didn’t have. Diriel’s army had already marched south. To my reckoning, the seven days he’d granted me to bring him Crezil were almost over. With so many of us on foot, I knew we wouldn’t make it on time.
The rain continued all that night and into the morning, turning the road to mud. I rode near the head of the column with Marilius, the two of us staying just behind Kiryk and Sulimer. Our pace was slow-painfully so for me. I longed to jab my heels into Venger and sprint the long distance to Isowon. There were far too many of us to keep our trip secret, and once every hour or so men from surrounding villages caught up to our column, pleading with Kiryk to join us. No one was turned away, and I started to hope that maybe-just maybe-we’d have the numbers needed to face Diriel.
When we’d marched our first twenty miles, Kiryk called the troops to rest. I watched him move through his little army, seeing to the needs of his “infantry” and waiting till every man had food before taking any for himself. I even saw him order a limping man to remove his boots, so that Kiryk could examine his feet. That’s when the similarity struck me. I smiled, tucked it away without saying anything, and continued watching Kiryk. I admired him, but it was hard for me to call him “king.” Akeela had been that young once, too, and had been a similarly good and caring king-for awhile. My lust and betrayal had crushed that part of Akeela’s spirit. I wondered if the same would one day happen to Kiryk.
I was drawn to him. He reminded me of the youth I’d lost and had magically regained in body, though not in spirit. When the column started moving again, I waited until he was done speaking with Sulimer and looked for a chance to talk to him alone. While Sulimer dropped back to be with the other lieutenants, I eased Venger to the front of the line. Kiryk looked surprised to see me. I could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. He nodded at me then looked up into the slackening rain.
“It’s stopping,” he remarked. “I don’t want it dogging us all the way to Isowon.”
“No,” I agreed.
A moment passed. Kiryk regarded me. “Something on your mind, Lukien?”
“No,” I said. “Well, yes. I’ve been watching you. You remind me of someone.”
“How’s that?”
“The way you are with your men. I had a king like you once. He was dear to me.” I glanced over my shoulder. “You’re dear to them. You’ve been king for only a day and already they love you. They’re following you into hell.”
“They loved my father,” said Kiryk. “They hope to see him in me.”
I nodded politely but didn’t think that was it. “Bravery isn’t passed on like blue eyes,” I said.
“Then they follow me because I’m of the blood,” said Kiryk. “My father’s son, my grandfather’s grandson.”
“I’ve seen sons that were tyrants whose fathers were saints,” I said. “We’re not all like our fathers.”
“We are,” argued Kiryk. “Even when we don’t want to be. I’m sure you’re more like your father than you think. It’s inescapable. But if you were royal, if you were of the blood, you wouldn’t be able to escape that either. Neither would your people.”
“Drin is different from other places, I think. Not everyone loves their kings and queens.”
“It’s not love,” said Kiryk. “It’s duty. Honor. It’s. . I don’t know. . of the blood.”
“They call you their master,” I said. “Last night. I heard Sulimer and the others call you that.”
“That’s right,” said Kiryk, but I could tell the title didn’t sit quite right with him yet. “It’s not a choice. And it’s not permanent. Sulimer is pledged to my father. Lenhart and Jaracz too. When they die they’ll go to him again. They’ll serve him forever in heaven.”
I grinned but didn’t laugh. “You believe that?”
“Of course. We are Drinmen. I’m their master for now, here on earth, but just for now. They’ll die and serve my father. Someday I’ll have men pledged to me that way.” Kiryk looked behind him. “Some of these men, probably.”
“Because you’re of the blood?”
“Right.” Kiryk smiled at me. “Why does that baffle you? Weren’t you pledged to a king?”
“I was.”
“So when you see him in heaven you will serve him again, yes?”
I never, ever thought of seeing Akeela again. I could barely answer. “Uh, I suppose so.” But really something else was going through my mind, the threads of a riddle coming together. I looked at the terrain ahead then back at the men. They were moving so damn slowly, and suddenly I knew I couldn’t wait. “King Kiryk,” I said, “I have to ride ahea
d.”
“To scout?”
“No. I’m sorry, I have to ride ahead.” I called out behind me. “Marilius!”
My shout startled everyone. Marilius charged forward. “What is it?”
Right in front of Kiryk, I said, “I’m going on ahead. You stay with the others. Tell Anton I’ll be there. Start getting our defense together.”
“What?”
“I can’t explain,” I told him. “Just go and buy us whatever time you can. And I want you to give Diriel a message for me, all right?”
“You’re blind-siding me, Lukien,” said Marilius. “A message?”
“That’s right. Tell him I’m going to bring him what he wants. Got that?”
“You want me to tell that to Diriel? What’s it even mean?”
“The monster,” I said. I didn’t bother saying farewell. “I’ll see you again.”
I sped away, not sure when I’d return to Isowon but certain enough to know that I would. Kiryk’s words had ignited my mind, burning away the fog that had been there for days. Now, at last, I had the plan I’d been searching for.
28
I mused on my strategy the whole way south, leaving Marilius and Kiryk and the others behind as I branched away from the river, looking for the straightest path to the Akyren tombs. My plan had its risks. Diriel might not take my bargain or might have already begun his invasion. Anton and his mercenaries might surrender without firing a single arrow. Or Crezil might just kill me. That was the kink that seemed most likely, but I reminded myself that I was soulless. I had so little to lose. So I pointed Venger toward the coast, and using the map I’d gotten in Isowon, called on my memory to fill in the rest. After all the travelling I’d done, the Bitter Kingdoms were feeling smaller to me now.
