'Tell me!"
Still Benrian said nothing.
Trager whirled on Marrs and snatched the poker from him. "Give me that," he snapped, then turned back toward Benrian. Holding the Jadori's head firmly in one hand and the poker in the other, he began carefully pointing the burning rod toward Benrian's eye. The man screamed and slammed shut his lids.
Trager singed the lashes. "Closing your eyes won't help," he warned. "This beauty will burn right through your head and come out the other side. You want that? You want to go bumbling around the desert like a blind chicken?"
Benrian choked on his own breath as he pleaded.
'Then tell me what I want to know," said Trager. "Stop protecting those cursed freaks!"
'Just do it, General," urged Marrs. "He'll break once you do, I'm sure."
But Trager didn't want to do it. So much of his humanity had already been stripped away. "Don't bloody make me, you blackskinned bastard," he hissed. His hand was shaking, and so was Benrian.
"Speak! You saw what I did to those warriors of yours!" Finally Benrian screamed, breaking into a chorus of sobs and wildly nodding his head. Trager lowered the poker and stepped back. A wave of relief washed over him. He reached out and yanked down the gag from Benrian's mouth.
'I take you," sobbed the man. He tossed his head and stared at the mildewed ceiling, weeping. "I know Grimhold."
Satisfied, Trager plunged the poker back into the brazier, sending up a shower of sparks. "Release him," he told Marrs. "Get some clothes on him and let him rest. If he's hungry give him food."
Marrs gave a gruff, "Yes, sir," as Trager left the cell. Eager to be gone from the stinking cellars Trager went at once to the slimy stone stairway and made his way back up to the livable regions of the palace.
He was breathing hard and wanted desperately to return to his bed and rest. Worse, the tortures had taken a toll on him, and the way his men viewed him They were following him now because Akeela was gone-probably dead-and they wanted to avenge themselves on Lukien, but Trager knew he could easily misstep. He had to be cautious, he knew, and not break the fragile hold he had over his men.
Up in the palace, he went in search of Colonel Tark. Before he could rest he had to tell the colonel the news. After making inquiries among his soldiers, he found Tark out in the garden, sitting around a stone table with his lieutenants. The men rose to attention as Trager limped into their midst.
'At ease," said Trager. "Sit."
The officers took their seats again as Trager stood before them. Colonel Tark looked tired and disheartened.
'Cheer up, Tark," said Trager. "We've found our way to Grim-hold."
All the men but Tark cheered. Trager noticed his aide's ill-humor but ignored it. Instead he told them all to make ready, they would be leaving for Grimhold within days. The news heartened the lieutenants, who promised to have their troops ready to move on his orders.
'As soon as I've recovered," he told them. It embarrassed him to admit it, but he was hardly ready to face the Inhumans yet. "What about you, Tark?" asked Trager. "Are you ready?"
a fine soldier, General, and a good leader. The men will follow you anywhere, as long as you don'tcross any lines."
'What lines?"
'The same lines King Akeela crossed, sir. We follow you because you're stable, because we know we can count on you. Have you not always had our loyalty?"
Trager nodded, seeing what his aide was getting at. "I have," he said. "And I've been grateful for it.
But Lukien maddens me, you see?"
Tark smiled. "Just don't go over the edge," he said. "If you remain the man who rebuilt the Chargers, we'll follow you anywhere." He leaned forward. "Anywhere, General. Even to the throne of Luria."
Excitement pulsed through Trager suddenly. He did his best to control it. "You're a good man, Tark,"
he said. "You give good advice. Now let's get our army together, eh? We've got a war to win."
.Tour days later, Trager rode out of Jador at the head of his twelve hundred strong army. Beside him at his right rode Colonel Tark. To his left was Sergeant Marrs, leading a pack mule carrying the still dazed and battered Benrian. The former servant of Kahan Kadar wore a white gaka to stave off the sun and to hide the embarrassing bruises on his face and arms. He did not speak, and probably would not until they neared the distant mountains. He had only told Trager to point his army westward. There, hidden in the high rocks, they would find Grimhold. Trager felt wonderfully good this morning. His ribs still twinged but that was nothing; he was finally, at last, going to face Lukien. Buoyed by his conversation with Colonel Tark, he kept himself erect in his saddle so that all the men could see him. He did not wear his silver armor, nor did any of his men. The wretched heat of the desert would have roasted them, so they carried their armor and heavy weapons with a train of pack animals. The sun was already hot, bearing down on his army as it made its way across the desert sands. Most were glad to be leaving Jador behind. Subjugating the city had been unpleasant business. And because they 'I've been ready for days, sir," replied the gray-haired colonel. "The question is how are you? You don't look well."
'I'll be ready to ride, don't worry about that. I just need a few more days. That should give you enough time to get that sour look off your face." Trager said to his lieutenants, "You men have work to do now. Get to it."
There were salutes as the officers dispersed. Colonel Tark leaned back in his chair and stared out toward the mountains. "So, you've found the way to Grimhold?" he asked.
'I have." Trager took one of the vacated chairs, grateful to be sitting again. The wound at his forehead threatened to crack his skull. He rubbed it as he asked Tark, "Do you have a problem with that?"
'Not all the men know how you've been coming by your information, sir. I'm not sure they'd approve."
'I see," said Trager. "And you don't approve, is that right?" Tark was characteristically frank. It was one of the things Trager had always liked about his aide. "I didn't mind killing warriors. They were soldiers, like us. They were well prepared to die. But these people in the palace are servants. They're civilians, General. And we're Royal Chargers, after all." "Colonel, I do what I must."
Tark shrugged. "Some of them think you go too far. Some of them say you dishonor yourself, and the Chargers. They say the Bronze Knight would never torture people."
The statement stunned Trager. "They say that? How dare they speak that brigand's name? This is war! And I'll do whatever it takes to win."
Tark grinned. "Is this a war, General? Or just a vendetta?" "Both," declared Trager. "And it's not just my vendetta, Tark, so stop looking at me that way. Lukien murdered the king. He dragged Akeela's body off for some sick ceremony. He's become one of those damned Grimhold freaks. He must be punished for that."
The old colonel nodded but didn't seem convinced. "You're right about that, certainly."
'But?" pressed Trager. "Go on, Tark, speak freely."
Colonel Tark looked at Trager, his expression gloomy. "You're and the power they would give him, and about a glorious return to Koth with an army behind him and no one to oppose him. And he thought of his father, too, and how proud the old man might have been. And how shocked. Even as he slept, Trager smiled.
Tomorrow, he would finally meet his destiny.
were soldiers and eager to avenge their king, they voiced no complaints about the heat or the longride ahead. It was only two days, after all. They would endure it. On kreels it would have been quicker, Trager knew, but he was in no great hurry any longer. There was nowhere for Lukien to hide.
Grimhold will be his final hiding place, he told himself as he rode. The city fell away behind him.
They rode through the day, breaking often. At midday Trager went to Benrian, offering him a drink.
The Jadori was shocked by the small kindness, but took the drink gratefully. Trager watched him as he drank, sizing up his loyalty.
'Do well and we won't harm you further," he told the man. "Just take me to Grimhold. Then I will release you with a horse and enough water to return to Jador."
Benrian handed him back the waterskin and nervously licked his lips. "I will do as you ask," he promised. The terror in his eyes was plain. Satisfied, Trager left him and ordered his men back onto their horses.
They rode through the afternoon, until finally the mountains seemed to grow closer. Benrian told Trager that they were more than halfway to Grimhold. Trager told Tark that they would go on a few hours more, hoping to get close enough to Grimhold to be able to reach it early the next morning. After more riding and resting, the sun finally began to dip. Exhausted and still smarting from his wounds, Trager ordered the companies to stop for the night. Sergeant Marrs drove a tent stake into the ground and tied Benrian to it, a precaution Trager thought unnecessary given the rugged terrain and the possibility of attack by one of the desert's giant serpents. But he let the sergeant do as he thought best, then rode through his men, directing them as they made camp.
The night was blessedly quiet. Because they had no tents with them, they laid their bedrolls onto the warm sand and slept looking up at the stars. The aroma of cooking fires reached Trager as he rested, reminding him how hungry he was. Once his wound had healed his appetite had returned with a vengeance, so he ate heartily before going to sleep. Guards milled nearby as he blanketed himself in his bedroll. When he closed his eyes, sleep came quickly, and with dreams. He dreamed about the amulets didn't like Minikin wasting it. But before he grew too impatient, the door to the council chamber finally opened. Minikin stepped inside, looking drawn and serious. With her was Trog. The big mute had chosen a suit of armor from the cellars, a great spiked affair that made him look even more massive than usual. He had a sword at his belt and a mace in his hand, which dangled loosely from a giant, gauntleted fist. Lukien himself wore his own bronze armor. He had spent the night polishing it until it gleamed.
'Well?" he asked Minikin.
The tiny woman didn't bother taking a seat. "They are coming."
'How close?" asked Gilwyn.
'Very close. A mile away, maybe a bit more. They have paused to suit themselves in armor. Amaraz says they will be here within an hour."
Lukien got out of his chair. "That's it, then. There's no more time to wait."
Minikin merely nodded.
Gilwyn put out his arm and let Teku climb onto his shoulder. "I'll be up in the turret with White-Eye,"
he said. "Will you be coming, Minikin?"
'As soon as I'm able," said the mistress. Like White-Eye and Gilwyn, she had agreed to remain inside the fortress, and would watch the battle from one of the keep's towers. They would be the first to know when the Lurians broke through. Trog would wait with Greygor by the gate. The two giants would be the keep's last guardians.
Lukien asked Minikin, "Did Amaraz tell you anything else? Is he still prepared to go through with it?"
'Amaraz does not change his mind, Lukien," replied Minikin. "If the Lurians defeat you and enter Grimhold, he will burn them. And all of us with them."
'Minikin, remember my promise," said Lukien. "I'm not going to let the Lurians defeat us. Trust me."
Minikin smiled and beckoned him down toward her with an index finger. When Lukien stooped, she kissed his cheek and said, "You're a very good man, Bronze Knight. But even I don't expect miracles today." She turned and went toward the door. "I A .lone with Gilwyn in the council chamber of Grimhold, Lu-kien sipped thoughtfully on a glass of wine and tried to keep his mind focused. Outside the keep, Baron Glass and his army of Inhumans had begun taking their positions, waiting for the Luri-ans.Inside the keep, those Inhumans who couldn't fight had remained, readying themselves to fight or die just as their comrades out in the rocks would. Among these was White-Eye, who had promised Minikin she would stay by her side, no matter what. As Lukien and Gilwyn awaited word from the mistress, the boy fed Teku from a handful of nuts. The monkey seemed to sense the tension in the room and so ate quietly.
It was well past dawn now. Ghost and the other scouts had reported that Trager had made camp last night just a few miles east of them. They would be coming; there was no doubt of it now. Lukien was eager to get outside and take up position with his comrades. He was proud of the men and women he'd trained, impressed with their willingness to defend their home. And the chance remained that they might actually win against the well-armed Lurians, though that chance was slim.
Too slim a chance for Lukien to risk, though he hadn't confessed that to anyone.
He waited. He took some nuts from Gilwyn and gave them to Teku. He sipped at his drink again and found it had no taste, a sure indicator of his own agitation. Time was precious and he must go see to the others. They'll want me to speak to them before the battle. Gilwyn, get up to the tower with White-Eye.
Wait for me there. I'll be up presently."
Lukien waited for Minikin to leave before speaking to Gilwyn. The boy gave him an encouraging smile, but there was sadness in his eyes. It occurred to Lukien how much Gilwyn had come to mean to him. Just as he couldn't let the Inhumans die, he couldn't let Gilwyn be harmed, either.
'Did I thank you yet for coming to save me?" he asked.
Gilwyn nodded. "You did." His expression grew serious. "Did you mean what you told Minikin? Do you really think you can defeat them?"
'I intend to defeat Trager once and for all," replied Lukien, not wishing to elaborate. He went to Gilwyn and put a hand on his shoulder. "You've been a good friend. You would have made a good Royal Charger."
'Hmm, I don't know," joked Gilwyn. "The Chargers aren't what they once were."
'Because they've been corrupted by an evil man," said Lukien. "Don't forget that. Don't forget what the Chargers used to stand for, and what they could be again."
'I won't," said Gilwyn. He stepped back to inspect Lukien. "I've never seen you in your armor before.
You look..." He shrugged as he groped for the right word. "Well, you look the way I expected you too, that's all. Good luck, Lukien."
Lukien pulled the boy to him and kissed his forehead. "And to you. Protect that girl of yours." from the armory and had tied a strip of blue cloth around his upper arm, the color of his noble house back in Luria.
'Ho, Lukien," he called in greeting. "What word?"
'An hour, maybe less. They're suiting up for battle." Lukien raised his voice so that all the Inhumans could hear. "Are you listening, my friends? The Lurians are on their way. Take your positions and wait for my orders. And don't let them see you!"
'Where will you be, Lukien?" asked Darren. The farmer was halfway up the rocks with his bow on his back. "We'll need to see you."
Lukien pointed to the head of the canyon. "I'll be there, on the southern slope," he told his people loudly. "Baron Glass will be back here with you, there on the north slope. Those of you who won't be able to see me will hear my orders, don't worry."
Darren nodded and continued climbing the path they'd cut in the stones. His companions did the same, one by one taking up their hidden positions in the high rocks. Lukien braced himself for Thorin's reaction. It came quickly.
'The southern slope?" railed Thorin. "You and I are taking the north slope, Lukien, back here near the fortress."
'Change of plans, Thorin," said Lukien. "I've had an idea."
'You've had an idea?" Thorin sputtered. "What are you talking about? It's all been arranged!"
'I know, but I want Trager to see me first, before he sees anything else," said Lukien. He didn't want to explain himself to Thorin, for he knew he'd only end up arguing. "Those are my orders, all right?"
Thorin frowned. "What are you up to?" Lukien chuckled, trying to defuse the baron's anger. "Don't be so suspicious, Thorin. It's still the same plan. I just want to get a good look at the army, that's all, to see what we're up against."
'That makes no sense at all, and you know it. Come on, Lukien, talk to me. What's your plan?"
'My plan is for you to take the north slope and for me to take the south," said Lukien. "Now get up there into position." He began walking toward the front of the canyon but paused. "And Thorin, one thing-if anything happens to me, you'll be in , Lukien quickly located Thorin near the gate. The baron was directing his people into position, telling his archers to take the higher ground and the spearmen to position themselves just below the bows. It was a good plan that Lukien and Thorin had devised together, and they had made sure that each man and woman was also provided a sword so that they could join the fighting quickly once the initial assault was over. Thorin turned toward Lukien when he saw him, waving him over. The baron wore a mismatched collection of armor he had scrounged find the proper route soon. Benrian looked around nervously, his bruised eyes scanning the many paths. The way was like a maze, and Trager wasn't surprised by the man's difficulties.
'I have not come here many times," Benrian explained nervously. "But I know it is here."
'You'd better be right," warned Marrs, "or I swear I'll sharpen my dagger on you."
'Marrs, shut up," snapped Trager. "You're frightening him. Benrian, think now. Which way?"
Benrian looked around desperately. "This is the path, I think," he replied. "We keep going."
Behind them the army began to mutter. Trager ordered his lieutenants to steady them. He himself was a little on edge, for he hadn't expected to get trapped in this maze of rock walls. But Benrian wasn't lying, he was certain.
'We go on," he told his men, then led the way deeper into the gorge. His horse stepped lightly over the rough terrain, careful not to loose its footing. Trager didn't rush the stallion, and warned his men to go slowly, also. As the column picked its way forward, Benrian noticed another bend in the path.
'There," he exclaimed. "That is the way." He turned toward Trager hopefully. "You go that way. I go now?"
'When we find Grimhold you'll go home," said Trager. "Come on."
His mood lightened, Trager directed his horse through the bend in the path and saw for himself what Benrian had predicted. The path instantly widened into a large clearing, showcasing a giant mountain looming up ahead of him. Trager's eyes lifted toward its summit, stunned by its immensity and formidable beauty. He could see turrets cut into the mountain and a huge iron gate. On both sides of the clearing the mountain walls rose up in sheer cliffs, as though a raging river had blasted through the place a thousand years ago.
'Grimhold," he whispered. Colonel Tark and the others trotted into the immense clearing after him.
One by one the jaws of the soldiers dropped as they noticed the forbidding fortress.
'You see?" said Benrian. "Grimhold! I go now, General, yes?"
Trager nodded. He didn't need the man anymore. "Take your charge. Do whatever it takes, but make sure those Chargers don't take the fortress."
The old baron didn't argue. "All right, Lukien. But whatever fool idea you've gotten into your head, just be careful, all right?"