"Binding!" echoed deJulienne loudly, pointing an accusing finger and seeming to gain a fleeting moment of momentum.

Oliver blew him a kiss and the distraction gave Brind'Amour the upper hand.

"Broken!" the Eriadoran king roared, coming forward, and the stunned deJulienne skittered backward and nearly tumbled. Brind'Amour did not pursue him physically, but his verbal tirade continued the assault. "Broken by cyclopians, working for your treacherous king! Broken by the spilled blood of Eriadoran innocents in hamlets along the Iron Cross!

"Broken," shouted Brind'Amour, motioning to his stern-faced fellow sitting calmly in the second throne, "by the spilled blood of DunDarrow's dwarfs."

"Be not a fool!" deJulienne pleaded. "We have Huegoths to contend with, and so many other . . ."

Brind'Amour waved his hand and the terrified man fell silent. "We of Eriador have a more pressing enemy." Then, responding with his trump card, Brind'Amour motioned again to the two guards standing at the door over to the side of the room. Again the door was opened and a miserable Resmore was dragged in by two elven escorts.

Felese stood back in thoughtful posture, his hand stroking his fashionable goatee.

"Now you know your enemies, foolish pawn of Greensparrow," Brind'Amour said to deJulienne. "Go to your king. War is at your door!"

The man of Avon, horrified, ran from the room, but Felese remained, seeming truly intrigued. "A friend of Greensparrow's?" he asked, indicating Resmore, who was in a crouch on the floor, seeming barely conscious.

"The duke of Newcastle," Brind'Amour replied. "Sent into the mountains by Greensparrow to incite the cyclopians into war against Eriador and DunDarrow. I will furnish Duke Resmore's complete confession for you to take to your lords."

The man nodded. He had no intention of committing Gascony to the war, and Brind'Amour didn't ask for, or expect, such a pledge. All that the king of Eriador needed was for Gascony to stand with him in spirit or, at the least, to remain neutral.

"I will send my messengers at once," Felese replied, and bowed and turned to leave. He looked back at Brind'Amour and nodded, all the confirmation the king of Eriador needed. Then he left the room, his mind whirling with the possibilities. For the Gascons, this situation might well prove profitable. No matter the outcome, both sides would soon need tons of supplies.

Back in the audience room, Brind'Amour motioned to the guard at the door on the opposite side of the room, and when they unlocked it, it nearly burst apart as King Asmund and Ethan stormed in.

"You did not introduce your other ally," Ethan explained. "My king feels slighted."

"I did not reveal the most potent of my weapons," Brind'Amour replied, bidding Asmund to take the unoccupied throne at Bellick's side, Brind'Amour's own.

The proud Huegoth puffed out his chest and accepted the seat of honor, satisfied with the gesture and with the description of his warriors as Brind'Amour's "most potent" of weapons.

CHAPTER 17.

OPENING M MOVES.

I WILL KEEP ASMUND WILL KEEP ASMUND and my people from bloodlust," Ethan assured Luthien quietly. The two of them stood along the side wall of a small, unfurnished chamber. A few feet away, Brind'Amour worked his magic, opening a tunnel through the stone and across the miles, a fast run to Chalmbers. King Asmund, Proctor Byllewyn, and Brother Jamesis stood beside the old wizard, the two men of Gybi waiting patiently, but the Huegoth king obviously anxious. and my people from bloodlust," Ethan assured Luthien quietly. The two of them stood along the side wall of a small, unfurnished chamber. A few feet away, Brind'Amour worked his magic, opening a tunnel through the stone and across the miles, a fast run to Chalmbers. King Asmund, Proctor Byllewyn, and Brother Jamesis stood beside the old wizard, the two men of Gybi waiting patiently, but the Huegoth king obviously anxious.

Ethan looked to Asmund and couldn't suppress a grin. It had taken him a long time to convince Asmund to come through the tunnel to Caer MacDonald. Now, though Asmund desperately wanted to get back to the Dorsal Sea and his fleet, it seemed as though another battle would have to be fought.

Luthien was too busy scrutinizing Ethan to take note of the sight that had brought a smile to his brother's face. The younger Bedwyr was encouraged by Ethan's continuing shift back toward their family. Ethan's unsolicited promise to keep the Huegoths in line during the war showed that the man cared deeply about Eriador. How deeply? Luthien had to ask himself, and as yet he had no answer. In that same promise, Ethan had referred to the Huegoths as "my people," a notion that Luthien was finding harder to dispute.

The two walked over to the others as Brind'Amour, clearly growing weary from his extensive use of magic over the last few days, completed the passage. This was the old wizard's second magical tunnel this day, having earlier delivered Kayryn Kulthwain back to Eradoch, where she would gather her forces.

"My folk will join with me in Chalmbers," Proctor Byllewyn explained.

"They have sailed from Gybi already," Jamesis added. "Escorted by the thirty galleons of Eriador's Dorsal fleet."

"Our fishing boats will remain in dock there," the proctor went on. "It is not so far a march from Chalmbers to Malpuissant's Wall, where my folk of Gybi will meet with the forces of Dun Caryth and Glen Albyn, as well as Kayryn Kulthwain and her fierce riders."

"Out with you then," insisted Brind'Amour. "Captain Leary leads the Eriadoran fleet and anticipates your return."

Proctor Byllewyn and Brother Jamesis bowed curtly and said their farewells, promising victory, then entered the tunnel without hesitation.

"One of your longships awaits you at Chalmbers's dock," Brind'Amour said to the nervous Huegoth king.

"Will it wait long enough for me to walk?" Asmund asked, managing a slight chuckle. Rennir followed suit, laughing exuberantly, but the king's other Huegoth escort was distracted at that moment.

"Luthien Bedwyr," Torin Rogar called, joining Luthien and Ethan at the side of the room. "We never found chance to speak of my kin who was your friend."

"We will meet again," Luthien promised.

"In celebration," said Torin determinedly. He clapped Luthien on the shoulder, then nodded to Ethan and moved back to join his king. He and Rennir stepped into the swirling blue mists together, paving the way for Asmund.

"I look forward to our meetings when this is at its end, King Brind'Amour," said Asmund. "We have much to learn from each other."

Brind'Amour took the huge man's wrist in a firm and sincere clasp. Luthien and Ethan exchanged hopeful looks at the encouraging words.

"Do not tarry," Asmund ordered Ethan, and with a deep breath to steady his nerves, the Huegoth king went into the magical tunnel.

"Eriador free," Luthien said as he and Ethan walked to the spot.

Ethan turned to him, curiously at first, but his expression gradually and surely changed to one of excitement. "Eriador free," Ethan offered, "my brother."

They hugged each other tightly, and for that short moment, Luthien felt as close to Ethan as he had through all their years together in Dun Varna. At that moment, Luthien understood that Ethan could proclaim whatever heritage he desired, but the truth of it was that he and Luthien were of the same blood, were indeed, as Ethan had just generously offered, brothers.

"Until we meet again," Ethan said.

"At the gates of Carlisle!" Luthien called as his brother disappeared from sight, lost in the fast pace of the swirling blue mists.

"A pity there weren't more of you," Brind'Amour snickered under his breath. Luthien looked at him curiously, not understanding the comment.

"Your father sired two fine sons," the old wizard explained. "A pity there weren't more of you." Brind'Amour walked past Luthien, patting him comfortingly on the shoulder, then exited the room, heading for his bed and some much-needed rest.

Luthien stood for a long while watching the wizard's tunnel diminish and then disappear altogether. He missed Ethan already! The last year or so, since he and Oliver had stumbled into Brind'Amour's secluded mountain cave, then into a revolt against Duke Morkney that quickly degenerated into open rebellion against Avon, had been such a wild ride for the young Bedwyr that he had hardly given his absent brother much thought. Ethan, to his knowledge, had been far away in the Kingdom of Duree, fighting with Greensparrow's loaned troops beside the Gascon army.

Only when Luthien had finally returned to Dun Varna and seen Gahris on his death bed, had he found time to focus attention on his past, on his lost brother and his redeemed father.

Then, suddenly, Ethan had been thrown back into Luthien's life. Luthien's emotions swirled as had Brind'Amour's tunnel, moving along at a pace no less swift, but with a destination far less clear. Ethan was returned, perhaps, but Gahris was dead. That much was certain.

Luthien's father was dead.

The young Bedwyr bit his lip hard, trying to hold the tears in check. Eriador needed him, he reminded himself. He was the Crimson Shadow, the hero of the last war and destined to lead this war. He could not stand facing a blank wall in an empty room and weep for what had gone before. He could not . . .

But he did.

"I will deliver Brind'Amour's head unto you," the woman promised.

King Greensparrow rested back comfortably in his plush throne, throwing both his legs over one arm of the great chair and studying closely the fingernails of one hand. The pose did little to diminish Deanna's suspicion that the king was greatly agitated. He had called to her through an enchanted mirror, a call she had at first decided not to answer. The urgency of his tone, though, could not be ignored, and Deanna had concluded quickly that if she did not go to her own enchanted mirror in her private quarters, Greensparrow would likely show up in Mannington, something the duchess most definitely did not want to see!

"Where is Taknapotin?" Greensparrow asked, the question Deanna had feared all along.

Deanna put on a perplexed look. "Where should the fiend be?" she replied.

"I want to know."

"In Hell, I would suppose," Deanna answered. "Where Taknapotin belongs." Greensparrow didn't believe any of her explanation, Deanna realized by his sour expression. He was indeed closely tied to the fiend he had given to her, as she had suspected. Now the king had her backed into a corner because he could not contact his demonic spy.

Deanna silently congratulated herself on the power of her dismissal of Taknapotin. Her enchantment and the breaking of the crown had apparently blasted the fiend from the world and put him beyond even Greensparrow's considerable reach.

Unless the king was bluffing, Deanna suddenly feared. Unless Taknapotin was sitting in Greensparrow's throne room, out of view, sharing a diabolical joke with the merciless king of Avon.

Deanna understood that her fears showed clearly on her face. She quickly composed herself and used that involuntary expression to her benefit.

"I have not been able to contact him since . . . since Selna . . ."

Greensparrow's eyes widened-too much, Deanna realized, for the name of Selna had struck him profoundly, confirming to the duchess that her handmaid was indeed yet another of Greensparrow's spies.

". . . since Selna broke my crown," Deanna lied. "I fear that Taknapotin took offense, for the demon has been beyond my call-"

"Broke your crown?" Greensparrow interrupted, speaking each word slowly and evenly.

For a moment, Deanna expected the man to fly into a fit of rage, but he composed himself and relaxed in his chair, settling comfortably.

He is angry about Selna and the crown, Deanna told herself, but he is relieved, for he believes the lie, and now thinks that I am still his willing puppet.

"The crown was indeed a link between you and your demon," Greensparrow confirmed.

And between you and my demon, Deanna silently responded.

"I enchanted it those years ago, when first you came into your power," Greensparrow said.

When you murdered my family, came Deanna's angry thoughts.

"I will find another way back to Taknapotin," the king offered. "Or to another fiend, equally malicious."

Deanna wanted to divert him from that course, but she realized that she would be walking dangerous ground. "I will not wait," she said. "I can destroy Brind'Amour without Taknapotin, for I have my brother wizards and their fiends at my call."

"You must not fail in this!" Greensparrow said suddenly, forcefully, coming forward in the throne, so close to his mirror that his appearance became distorted, his pointy nose and cheeks looming larger and more ominous. "It will all dissolve when Brind'Amour is dead. Eriador's armies will fall into disarray that we might destroy them one by one."

"Brind'Amour will die within the week," Deanna promised, and she feared that she might be correct.

A wave of Greensparrow's hand broke the contact then, to Deanna's ultimate relief.

Back in Carlisle's throne room, the king motioned for the two huge and ugly one-eyed cyclopians holding the enchanted mirror to be gone, then turned to Duke Cresis. DeJulienne, returned from Caer MacDonald, stood beside the brute, twitching nervously. He had been the bearer of ill tidings, after all, not an enviable position in Greensparrow's court!

Greensparrow's laugh put the ambassador at ease; even militant Cresis seemed to relax somewhat.

"You do not trust her?" Cresis reasoned.

"Deanna?" Greensparrow answered lightly. "Harmless Deanna?" Another burst of laughter followed, and deJulienne chimed in, but stopped and cleared his throat nervously when Greensparrow sat up abruptly, his face going stern. "Deanna Wellworth is too filled with guilt to be a threat," Greensparrow explained. "And rightly so. To turn against me, she must explore her own past, wherein she will discover the truth."

Cresis was nodding at every word, deJulienne noticed, and he realized that the brutish duke of Carlisle had obviously heard all of this before. DeJulienne had not, though, and he was perplexed as to what his king might be hinting.

"Deanna was my link to the throne," Greensparrow said bluntly, looking deJulienne right in the eye. "She unwittingly betrayed her own family, giving me personal items from each of them."

DeJulienne started to ask the obvious question, but stopped short, realizing that if what Greensparrow was hinting at was the truth of Avon's past, then his king was a usurper and murderer.

"All that I feared from Deanna was the loss of Taknapotin," Greensparrow explained, looking back to Cresis. "But if that fool handmaid broke the crown, then I understand why I have not been able to make contact, a situation that should be easily rectified."

"What of the coming war?" Cresis asked. "The Eriadorans will soon march, and sail."

"Fear Eriador?" Greensparrow scoffed. "The ragtag farmers and fisherfolk?"

"Who won the last war," deJulienne reminded, and he regretted the words as soon as he spoke them, as soon as he saw the dangerous scowl cross Greensparrow's hawkish features.

"Only because of my absence!" the king roared angrily. Greensparrow sat trembling, his bony knuckles turning white as he clasped the edges of his throne.

"Indeed, my mighty King," deJulienne said with a submissive bow, but it was too late for the man.

Greensparrow snapped a fist into the air, then extended his long fingers. Beams of light, a rainbow of hues, shot out from each of them, joining and swirling into one white column, roughly the length and breadth of a sword blade.

The king sliced his arm down, the magical blade following.

DeJulienne's left arm fell to the floor, severed at the shoulder.

The man howled. "My King!" he gasped, clutching at the spurting blood.

With a growl, Greensparrow brought his hand in a straight-across cut down low.

Off came deJulienne's left leg and the man toppled to the floor, his lifeblood gushing out from the garish wounds. He tried to call out again, but only managed a gurgle. He did lift his remaining arm in a feeble attempt to block the next strike.

It was taken off at the elbow.

"My absence was the cause of our defeat," Greensparrow said to Cresis, ignoring the squirming, shivering man on the floor. "That, and the incompetence of those I left in charge!

"And because of Gascony," Greensparrow reasoned. "The Gascons thought a free Eriador would profit them greatly; little did they realize the importance of Carlisle's protection from Huegoths and other such troubles.

"This time," Greensparrow went on, coming right out of his seat and pointing a finger to the air, "this time, the Gascons understand the truth of pitiful Eriador and will not ask that we make peace." The king gingerly stepped over the now-dead deJulienne. He noticed Cresis then, noting particularly the worried look on the ugly face of his duke.

"This is exactly what we wanted!" Greensparrow yelled, and howled with laughter. "We prodded Eriador and foolish Brind'Amour declared war."

Cresis relaxed somewhat, remembering that this was indeed the outcome that he and Greensparrow had plotted when they had sent the cyclopian tribes into raiding actions against Eriador and DunDarrow.