fleck of white caught his eye. He turned to see a piece of folded paper on his pillow. He stopped unbuckling his boot and picked it up, at first thinking it was from White-Eye but then realizing that was impossible—he'd just left her. Lukien, perhaps? Or Minikin? When he read the note the contents shocked him to the core.

'Fate above," he whispered. "What the…?" The note was brief and succinct. It read simply, Gilwyn,

I have gone off to Jador to face Akeela. He does not want the amulets. He just wants me. For the good of Grimhold do not follow.

It was signed Your friend, Lukien.

Then, almost as an afterthought, another line was written under the signature. Gilwyn's heart nearly broke when he read it.

One more thing— thank you for letting me see Cassandra again.

Gilwyn sat in stunned silence, unsure what to do. Lukien was a dead man now, surely. There was no way King Akeela would let him live.

'Gods, Lukien, what have you done?"

And what could be done, Gilwyn wondered? He didn't even know when Lukien had left the note, or how much of a lead he'd have already.

'It doesn't matter. I've got to do something…"

Hastily Gilwyn rebuckled his boot and hobbled from the room as quickly as he could, carrying the little note in his hand. He needed to find Thorin at once. If they were to have any chance of catching Lukien, they would need to leave quickly. But he didn't even know where Thorin's chamber was, for he'd spent the night with White-Eye. Helplessly he looked around the hall of closed doors. Thorin might be in any one of them, or none of them. Gilwyn felt a twinge of panic. Every second lost was more assurance of Lukien's death, and he couldn't bear that. He had to do ,'ust past dawn, Gilwyn finally returned to his chamber after a long night with White-Eye. He was weary beyond words and eager for his soft bed. It had taken White-Eye hours to fall asleep. The news about her father had devastated her, and Gilwyn had been afraid to leave the girl alone. Suddenly life seemed to be spinning out of control. From one moment to the next he had gone from bliss to heartache, but at least he had been able to comfort White-Eye a little. He supposed that was something. As he walked the quiet hall to his chamber, he realized he might have very little time left with her. Foolishly he had assumed that Baron Glass and Kahan Kadar would be able to hold back the Lürians. He had been wrong, and he was ashamed now that he had not listened better to Lukien or helped the knight form his army. He'd been too lovestruck to see the truth, but that was all going to change now. Lukien and all of Grimhold needed him.

When he reached his chamber the door was slightly ajar. He paid it no attention as he slipped inside.

The sun was already up, but if he could just get a couple of hours sleep, he'd be useful enough to help Lukien. He entered the room quietly, not wishing to disturb the knight. To his surprise Lukien was not in his bed, and the sheets looked undisturbed. Had he been working all night? The thought only worsened Gilwyn's shame. Exhausted, he went to his own bed across the room, sitting down to pull off his shoes.

But as he worked the buckles on his unusual boot a something. Finally, in angry frustration he shouted,

"Thorin, where are you?"

His call resonated in the stone hall. He heard grumbles from behind a number of doors, but no answer. So he again he cried, " Thorin!"

Down the hall a door flung open. The hunchbacked Monster stuck his angry face into the hall and hissed, "What are you doing, boy? Trying to wake up the whole keep?"

'Monster, I'm looking for Baron Glass. Have you seen him?" asked Gilwyn desperately.

'Baron Glass? Who's that?"

'He arrived last night from Jador," Gilwyn explained. "I need to find him at once."

The hunchback shook his big head. "Don't know him. Go back to bed."

'I can't, I have to find him," said Gilwyn.

'Well hold it down then!" snapped Monster, slamming his door in Gilwyn's face.

Frustrated, Gilwyn stood in the dark hall, madly trying to think. Then he remembered Farl, the houseboy assigned to him and Lukien. He hadn't seen much of the boy since that first day, but he knew his room was up on the next floor. Somewhere. So he hurried for the stairs at the end of the hall. The staircase wound up into another dark hall, this one also full of closed doors—except for one. In the center of the hall was an open door with candlelight flickering over its threshold. Gilwyn went to it at once and made a miraculous discovery.

'Farl!"

The boy was on the edge of his bed, pulling on his shoes. His blind eyes looked up at Gilwyn in alarm.

'Master Gilwyn!" he asked. "I was just getting up to fetch you and Master Lukien some breakfast."

'Forget breakfast, Farl. I need your help. Lukien's gone."

Farl got to his feet at once. "Gone? What do you mean?"

Gilwyn showed him the note. "He left this for me this morning," he said. "He's gone off to Jador. He must have left some time last night."

Farl didn't bother looking at the note. "Does Mistress Minikin know?"

'No, I don't think so," said Gilwyn. "Farl, I have to go after him. But I need to find my friend, Baron Glass. Do you know where his room is?"

'Baron Glass? Oh, you mean the one that came last night! Yes, I know where his room is," said Farl.

"It's just down the hall. But he's not there. I saw him with Mistress Minikin not long ago. She came to get him."

'Get him?" asked Gilwyn. "For what?"

'I don't know, Master Gilwyn. It's not my place to ask such things."

Exasperated, Gilwyn pressed, "Where did they go, Farl? Do you know?"

The boy shrugged. "Sorry, I don't. But you can try Minikin's chamber. Do you know where it is?"

'I'll find it," said Gilwyn, then hurried out of the chamber and back down the stairway. He knew Minikin's own chamber was somewhere on the ground floor of the keep, on the same level as his own chamber. Its exact location was a mystery, but he supposed someone would be walking the halls and could tell him. But as soon as he'd left the familiar area of the living quarters, Gilwyn regretted not waiting for Farl. Grimhold was a maze of hallways, and finding Minikin's chamber would be a nightmare. So instead of trying he headed for the main hall of the keep, the great entry hall where the gate was located and where he and Lukien had first entered the keep. There were always guards on duty there, men who would certainly know the whereabouts of Minikin's chamber. It took long minutes for Gilwyn to reach the hall, but when he did he found it nearly deserted. The keep was deathly quiet, but up ahead he heard voices from one of the great hall's chambers. Rounding a corner, he came to a room with an open door and the soft light of candles. The room was large and well-appointed, with a long wooden table and numerous chairs. He peaked his head carefully inside the chamber and saw Minikin at the head of the table. To Gilwyn's great astonishment, Thorin was with her. The two of them looked up from their cups of tea with troubled faces.

'Gilwyn, what are you doing here?" asked Thorin.

'Looking for you," replied Gilwyn. He entered the chamber, waggling the note in the air. "I got this note from Lukien. He's left, Thorin."

'We know, Gilwyn," replied Minikin. "That's what the baron and I have been discussing. Sit down, please."

'You know?" asked Gilwyn. "How?"

Minikin's smile was wan. "The Akari tell me things. Now sit, please."

Confused, Gilwyn took a chair next to Thorin. The baron sipped pensively at his tea, then put down the cup and looked at the boy. "Minikin came to my room an hour ago," he told Gilwyn. "She told me the news about Lukien. We knew you were with White-Eye and thought it best not to bother you. We didn't know he'd left you a note. May I see it?"

Gilwyn handed the note to Thorin. Minikin asked him how White-Eye was faring.

'She's all right, I think," said Gilwyn. "As good as can be expected, anyway."

Minikin smiled. "I'm glad she has you to comfort her. White-Eye is fond of you, Gilwyn."

Gilwyn felt his face go hot. "Thanks."

Baron Glass passed the note to Minikin. "Nothing really. It just says he's on his way to Jador."

Minikin frowned as she read the note. "Your friend is a stubborn man."

'Minikin, we have to go after him," said Gilwyn.

'We will," she replied.

The answer relieved Gilwyn. "Good. If Thorin and I leave now, we might be able to catch him before he reaches the city. I don't know what time he left, but—"

'Gilwyn, stop," said Minikin. "You're not going. Neither is Baron Glass."

'What? Why not?"

'Would I be sitting here drinking tea if I were going after him?" asked Thorin sourly. "Minikin has another plan."

'What plan?" asked Gilwyn angrily. "There isn't time for this! We have to go after him right now!"

'Easy, boy," commanded Minikin. "I want Lukien back as much as you do. But sending you or the baron after him isn't the answer. I've got someone better in mind. Someone with particular talents for the job."

'Who?" asked Gilwyn indignantly.

An unexpected voice replied, "Me."

Gilwyn turned to see a figure standing in the doorway, reedy-thin and shrouded in black cloth. He was taller than Gilwyn but his voice was young. Two pale gray eyes sparkled beneath his dark gaka, the only visible part of his face. Even his hands were clothed, covered in dark gloves. As he stepped into the room, he gingerly removed the gloves, laying them on the table and revealing a pair of bone-white hands.

He then unwrapped his face and stooped to greet Minikin with a kiss. When he stood, his shocking features came fully into view. Gilwyn stared at him, astonished. He was barely a man, not much older than Gilwyn himself, with bright white hair and skin the color of milk. There was no color in him at all, not even in his silvery eyes. He drew back his bloodless lips in a thin smile, obviously entertained by the reaction of his audience. Minikin rose and took his hand.

'Gilwyn, Baron Glass… this is Ghost."

The young man inclined his head slightly. "Good to meet you," he said.

Thorin politely stood. "Uh, good to meet you, too… Ghost, is it?"

'That's right. Not a name I would have chosen for myself, but it's probably appropriate."

Thorin gave an uncomfortable smile. "Yes, I would say so."

Gilwyn stared at Ghost, perplexed by his snowy skin and icy gray eyes. "What are you?" he asked.

Before the man could reply Thorin said, "He's an albino. And you're staring, boy."

'Sorry," offered Gilwyn. "It's just that, well, I've never seen a person so white before. You really do look like a ghost."

The young man stuck his face into Gilwyn's. "Boo!" he shouted, then laughed. Gilwyn reared back, horrified by him and his odd humor.

'I sent for Ghost, Gilwyn," said Minikin. She took her seat again, guiding the strange fellow into the chair next to her. She continued, "He lives here in Grimhold, but he was out in the village visiting his children."

The thought of the man having children made Gilwyn squirm. A picture of weird, milk white babies flashed through his mind. "I've never seen an albino before," he said. For some reason, he already disliked the man. "Is that why you wear those robes, because of your skin?"

'That's right," replied Ghost. "If I went out without them I'd roast like a chicken." He chortled at his own joke, revealing teeth as white as the rest of him. "So," he said, "do I frighten you? I've frightened a lot of people, even my so-called parents."

'I'm not afraid of you," said Gilwyn. "I'm just… surprised."

'Ghost came to us when he was very young, Gilwyn," said Minikin. "I found him in Norvor. He wasn't as lucky as you, though. His mother didn't want him, and neither did anyone else in his village."

It seemed to Gilwyn that Minikin's words were meant to soften him. For her sake he replied, "I didn't mean to stare, Ghost. I'm sorry. I'm just upset. My friend Lukien has gone off for Jador."

Ghost nodded. "I know your troubles. That's why I'm here."

'Yes," said Thorin. "Explain that to me. Minikin, this is the man you mean to send after Lukien?"

Ghost said, "My appearance shouldn't trouble you, Baron Glass."

Glass smiled. "You know my name, eh? Lukien was right—you Inhumans are full of surprises."

'I think we should go after Lukien ourselves," Gilwyn piped in. "He's our friend and we owe him. And at least we know what he looks like."

'Gilwyn, be quiet," ordered Thorin. He looked plaintively at Minikin. "The boy does have a point, madam. I'm not sure what your reasoning is for sending Ghost here after Lukien. You told me he was perfect for the job, but, well, he's a bit odd looking. He'll only attract attention." He said to Ghost, "No offense, young man, but if you can't even go out in the sun…"

'Ghost can handle the sun as long as he wears his coverings," said Minikin. "And he's well suited to the task."

Baron Glass frowned. "Tell me."

'I'll do better than that," said Ghost. "I'll show you."

He sat in his chair, smiling like a maniac at the two Lürians and not saying a word. Gilwyn and Glass watched him curiously, watched him sitting with his arrogant grin, then watched as he silently faded from view. The air around him wavered a moment, swallowing him up.

'What the seven hells…?" Thorin got to his feet.

Minikin remained seated as if nothing had happened.

'Where is he?" asked Gilwyn.

'I'm still here," came Ghost's disembodied voice.

'Where?" asked Gilwyn.

'What are you, blind?" The voice laughed delightedly " Here!"

Minikin laughed too. "Seen enough?" she asked.

'I don't see anything!" said Thorin.

'Maybe not, but I assure you Ghost's here," replied the mistress. Gilwyn looked around the room, sure there was some trick to it. But when he felt a tap on his shoulder he shrieked.

'Get off me!" he cried, springing from his chair. The room filled with invisible laughter.

'All right Ghost, that's enough," said Minikin. "Let them see you."

As quickly as he'd disappeared, the albino became visible in a moment of shimmering air. He stood behind Gilwyn with his weird white grin on full display.

'That was amazing," said Glass breathlessly. "But how?"

'It is a lot to explain to you, Baron Glass," said Minikin, "but the Akari spirits allow us certain abilities.

You have heard how the blind here can see and the deaf can hear, yes? It is the same with Ghost's spirit.

With his help, Ghost can work on the minds of men. He was here all the time, of course, yet the spirit told you he was gone. And your mind believed it."

'Incredible," said the baron. He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Truly amazing."

'If I'd kept talking your mind would have realized I was S here," said Ghost. "You would have seen me eventually. But if I stay quiet, I can remain unseen much longer."

'Now you see why I've chosen Ghost to search for Lukien." Minikin leaned back in her chair, beaming proudly at her albino friend. "If Lukien has reached the city, he's already been captured. And if he's been captured, only Ghost will be able to find and get him out."

'That won't be easy," warned Thorin. "He doesn't even know what Lukien looks like."

'That's right," said Gilwyn. "We should go with him, at least."

Minikin shook her head. "No. I won't risk it. If either of you are seen you'll be captured on the spot.

You'll be taken to Akeela and probably killed. At least Ghost would have a chance to escape."

'But he's our friend," Gilwyn protested. "We can't just sit here and do nothing!" He looked at Thorin pleadingly. "I'm right, Thorin, you know I am. Lukien needs us."

Thorin sighed heavily. "Gilwyn, I've already been through this with Minikin. I want to save Lukien too, but if there's any chance at all I think this fellow can do a better job than either of us." He told Ghost,

"You have my blessing, son."

'Well he doesn't have mine!" Gilwyn flared. "What happens when he gets to Jador? How will he even reach Lukien?"

'I'll decide that when I get there," said Ghost. He'd lost his earlier humor and now was hard as nails.

'You call that a plan?" Gilwyn groaned.

'Do you have a better one?" snapped Ghost. He pushed Gil-wyn's shoulder. "Well?"

'No," said Gilwyn. The admission angered him. "But I still think he needs us."

'Gilwyn, try to understand," said Minikin gently. "If you go to Jador and are captured, you'll be killed.

What good would you be to Lukien then, hmm? Ghost at least can get past any guards. If Lukien is still alive, he'll have the best chance of helping him."

It was logical. Gilwyn knew Minikin was right. Yet it did little to ease his guilt. "I know," he said glumly.

'It's for the best, boy," added Thorin. "All right?"

Gilwyn nodded but said nothing.

'Good," said Minikin. She turned to the albino and said, "There isn't much time, Ghost. You'll have to leave at once."

'I'm ready, Minikin," said the young man with confidence.

'Just get to Jador and find out what you can," the mistress ordered. "Akeela has probably taken over Kadar's palace. If he has, that's where you'll find Lukien. There's a dungeon under the palace. Check there if you can."

'I will," said Ghost. He walked toward the door.

'And Ghost…"

The albino paused. "Yes?"

'Just find Lukien. If you can help him, good. But if you can't, don't try to be a hero."

Ghost grimaced. "Are you in my head again, Minikin?"

Minikin's voice was iron. "Just remember your task. Don't try to go after Akeela. We're not murderers, remember."

The young man cocked a surprised eyebrow. "How could you think such a thing?" he asked mockingly.

'I'm not jesting, Ghost," said Minikin. "Now go. Be as quick as you can."

The albino bowed with a flourish then left the room, his dark robes trailing out behind him like a bridal train. When he was gone Minikin got to her feet and stretched her little body.

'I'm tired," she pronounced. She looked unimaginably exhausted. "I should go and check on White-Eye." Before leaving she paused in the doorway. "Baron Glass, we'll need to talk later. With Lukien gone, it will be up to you to the lead the Inhumans."

'I know, madam," replied Thorin. "I've been thinking about that."

'Good. If you have any ideas, let me know later."

She left the room, leaving Baron Glass and Gilwyn alone. The baron sat back in his chair, fiddling with his tea cup but not drinking. Gilwyn could tell he was worried about Lukien.

'Do you think he'll find him?" Gilwyn asked.

The baron shrugged. "I don't know. But it's best this way. If that miraculous boy can't find Lukien, who can?"

Gilwyn was about to reply, but bit back his answer.

VJilwyn stayed with Thorin for a few more minutes, talking about Lukien and how he had sacrificed himself. The baron was downhearted, not only because Lukien had left them, but because it reminded him how he had been unwilling to do the same himself. He told Gilwyn about how he'd left Kahan Kadar to fight alone, and how Trager had probably killed him. He hated himself for that, and the admission bothered Gilwyn. He knew Thorin was a good man. He knew his reputation and how he had once been a fine leader, and he knew Thorin wasn't a coward. Yet that was how Thorin saw himself now, and it troubled Gilwyn. So he stayed and talked to the older man longer than he wanted to, hoping to cheer him and rouse him from his self-pity.

'The Inhumans need you now," he told Thorin. "Now you can prove yourself."

The notion seemed to ease the baron's mind. "Yes," he agreed. "Yes, perhaps so. Lukien seemed sure he was making an army of these people. Do you think so, Gilwyn?"

Gilwyn had to admit that he hadn't spent much time with Lukien, or helped him form his army. "I don't know, Thorin," he said. "But you'd be a better judge of that anyway."

'Indeed I would," Thorin pronounced. He stood and nodded, the old arrogance coming back to his face. "Yes!"

Finally, he left Gilwyn in the council chamber. Gilwyn cursed his bad luck. He had lost a precious hour. Dashing out of the chamber, he glanced around the hall to make sure Minikin wasn't around, then proceeded back to his chambers where he found his gaka, still dirty from the ride to Grimhold. This he rolled into a bundle and stuffed under his arm. He looked around the room to see if there was anything else he wanted to take with him. There wasn't, but when he saw the chest near Lukien's abandoned bed a twinge of emotion caught his throat. It was the chest in which Lukien kept his bronze armor, and he hadn't even bothered to wear it.

'He doesn't plan to fight," whispered Gilwyn to himself. "He just plans to let them take him."

Taking a final glance around the room, Gilwyn left and rushed down the hall, heading toward the rear of Grimhold and the stables where Emerald was kept.

J-,'ukien rode the mare as far as he could, stopping for rest only occasionally. But by the time Jador was finally in sight, Gallant collapsed beneath him. He had exhausted her, killing her, and abandoned her to the burning sands. But he knew he had to go on without her. It had taken them all day to come this far, and Gallant had served him valiantly. She seemed to have sensed the importance of his mission and so put every effort into helping him. Lukien was grateful. He stroked her unmoving head, little beads of sweat dripping from his forehead onto her chestnut coat.

'Minikin would be proud of you," he told the mare. His voice was hoarse from thirst and the desert's relentless dust. Overhead the sun beat down on him and the mare's prostrate body. Lukien hoped she would die quickly. Up in the bright sky, the black dots of wheeling buzzards appeared.

He went on.

Jador twinkled on the horizon, clearly in view yet still tauntingly far. He trudged through the sands, his throat screaming for water. An hour ago he had drunk the last of it, thinking he would make it easily. But the desert mercilessly sucked the moisture from him, and within an hour of walking he was ready to collapse. His blistered feet burned in their heavy boots; his thick hair suffocated his scalp. He had only the clothes on his back to weigh him down, yet he moved as if through mud. Finally, he The Chargers quickly drew back their steeds, surrounding him. A young cavalryman lifted the visor of his helmet and stared, plainly confounded.

'Lukien? The Bronze Knight?"

The others raised their visors to inspect him. "I don't believe it," said one. The other squinted uncertainly.

'It is I, dogs," said Lukien in disdain. Despite his exhaustion he squared his shoulders.

'It can't be!" said the young one.

'Look at me!" growled Lukien. "Who else would I be, idiot? I've come to see Akeela. Take me to him."

The horsemen looked at each other in confusion, neither striking Lukien nor taking his word.

Frustrated, Lukien shouldered past them and continued on. "Fools. Where is your bloody king?"

'Halt!" ordered the youngest soldier. He sped up behind Lukien, slapping his back with the flat of his sword and sending Lukien sprawling into the street. His jaw hit the paving stones hard, splitting his lip.

When he looked up the three Chargers were over him again.

'You might just be stupid enough to be Lukien, traitor," said the young one. "Get up."

Lukien rose unsteadily to his feet. The young solider ordered one of his companions to ride ahead to the palace and inform Akeela of their prize. The Charger galloped off while the remaining two took up positions alongside Lukien.

'That way," ordered the young one. With his sword he pointed down the avenue. Up ahead stood the sparkling palace of Kahan Kadar.

Satisfied, Lukien lurched forward.

reached the outskirts of Jador. Exhausted, he fell to his knees and looked upon the city, and what he saw appalled him.

Against the backdrop of bright buildings stood dozens of crudely erected crosses. From the crosses hung figures, men in black uniforms. They hung motionless from their ghastly perches, the hot sun bleaching their bloated faces. They had been arranged like a fence, each of them turned toward far-off Grim-hold. The sight withered Lukien. He remained on his knees, staring at the grisly trophies, finally comprehending the depth of Akeela's madness.

'Great Fate…"

He had heard the stories for sixteen years. But they had been like rumors to him, almost fantasies. He had never really quite believed them. Now, seeing the crucified warriors, his gentle memories of Akeela vanished. For a moment he thought of turning back, of going off to die in the desert and sparing himself the same heinous fate. But slowly he rose to his feet, resolving to go on. If Akeela was mad, he had made him so. It was right that he should die today.

He trudged along, his swollen feet dragging through the sands, and within a few long minutes came to the first section of road where the crosses were erected. The city was quiet. A few stray voices reached him, but no children, no happiness of any kind. He supposed the Jadori were huddled in their homes. Or worse. Through the streets he heard the clip-clop of hooves. Looking into the city he saw small groups of Royal Chargers on patrol. Exhausted, he leaned against one of the crosses, looking up at a dead figure hanging from its wrists. Dried blood ran down from its wounds. The head was tilted, staring down at Lukien. A buzzard picked at the lifeless eyeballs. Catching his breath, Lukien staggered into the city. He headed straight for the nearest patrol, calling out to them, his hoarse voice ringing through the avenue.

'Over here, butchers!"

The trio of horsemen turned, shocked at the sight of him. They galloped forward, drawing their swords. Lukien, unarmed, stood his ground. If they cut him down he wouldn't be able to face Akeela, so he shouted, "I'm Lukien of Lüria!"

,''t'tkeela had been in the palace's throne room when he'd heard of Lukien's capture. The news had hit him like a hammer. He had been studying Jador through the chamber's many splendid windows, watching his men secure the city. But when the soldier had burst in with his story, Akeela had nearly fainted, hurrying to the throne to sit down. A few moments later, Trager had 7] even been torturing townsfolk to find its exact location. So fa no one had given it up. They knew only that it was westward, i the mountains. But they would find it, Akeela knew. And whe: they did…

Long minutes ticked by. Trager began pacing the throne roon impatiently. Akeela remained arrow-straight at the window There was a dagger in his belt for his own protection, one that hi had never drawn in his entire ride south. Now he rested his ham on its pommel, waiting. Like the crucified on their crosses, h< didn't move, not even when he heard footsteps approaching thu throne room.

'It's them," Trager said excitedly.

Akeela nodded, not taking his eyes from the outdoors. "Bring him in here."

Trager went to the doors. Akeela could see his reflection in the glass. As the great doors to the throne room parted, in stumbled a man Akeela hardly recognized. Behind him came two guards, who pushed him roughly into the chamber. Trager stepped back, inspecting him. Even in the glass Akeela could see the general's triumphant grin. The man that was Lukien was barely in the room before Trager's fist slammed into his stomach. The blow jolted Akeela, but he didn't move or say a word as Lukien sank with a cry to his knees.

'Is it him?" Akeela asked. Trager replied, "Yes!"

Akeela didn't know what to feel. He was both elated and frightened, and still unable to turn away from the window. He said to Trager, "Dismiss your men and close the doors."

Trager did as ordered, leaving the three of them alone in the throne room. In the glass Akeela saw Lukien struggle to his feet. He stared across the room at Akeela's back. Trager stood beside him with his arms folded, grinning.

'I can't believe you've come here, Captain," said Trager acidly. "You've saved us all a great deal of trouble."

'Akeela, look at me," croaked Lukien. His voice was hoarse. He chanced a step forward. "Akeela—

Trager struck him again, buckling him. "You don't address the king, dog!" exploded into the chamber.

The general was thrilled by the news. A weird giddiness twinkled in his eyes. They would wait for Lukien together, he pronounced. Akeela hadn't argued with him, for he could barely speak. His mind reeling, he had stayed on the throne until his legs stopped wobbling. Then he crossed to a giant window and looked out over the city, awaiting Lukien. The vast throne room was silent except for the anxious tapping of Trager's foot. There was no one else in the chamber, and Akeela didn't bother talking to his general. He knew Trager would never leave him alone with Lukien, and he supposed that was for the best. It might be that Lukien had some trick up his sleeve and was coming to slay him. Or it could be as the soldier had claimed, that Lukien had come simply to speak to him. Akeela pondered the possibilities as he gazed out the window. Lukien might be planning to plead for mercy, if not for himself then for the wretches of Grimhold. If so, Akeela decided he would listen. He hadn't liked massacring Kadar's men, just as he hadn't enjoyed killing the Nithins. But they were all his enemies, he knew, and had stupidly opposed him.

'Why?" he asked himself.

'What's that?" asked Trager from across the room.

Akeela shook his head. "Nothing. I was talking to myself."

Trager laughed. "You've been doing that a lot lately."

'Quiet, you fool."

Trager's tittering abruptly stopped. Akeela continued staring out the window. It was very large, like everything in the throne room, and gilded with gold. Kadar had spared no expense in building his palace.

It was beyond comfortable, and Akeela had relished his short time in it. He had even tested the dead kahan's bed, a huge and fluffy thing with lots of silk pillows and a soft, downy mattress. Akeela smiled when he thought of it. It hadn't taken much to occupy the city, not once they'd killed its last defenders.

And crucifying them had been a master stroke. As Trager had predicted, the grisly act had kept the rest of the populace in line. After that, taking the palace had been effortless. Disheartened by the loss of their kahan, his servants had put up little fight. Trager and his army had spent the rest of the time resting and preparing plans to march on Grimhold. They had 'Why did you come?" asked Akeela. His voice was shaking. So were his hands. "Why give yourself up to me?"

'For the sake of the Inhumans," said Lukien. "The people of Grimhold."

Akeela blanched. "Inhumans? This is what they call themselves?"

'Yes, but they're not what you think. They're special people," Lukien argued. "They have deformities, some of them, but they're not weak. And they're not worthless. They deserve better than to have you slaughter them."

'Ha!" laughed Trager. "You won't save them, Captain, or earn our pity."

Akeela raised a hand to silence him. He asked Lukien, "Did you think you'd find mercy in me? After what you've done to me?"

'I've come to give myself up," replied Lukien. "It's me that you want, I know that. Now you can do whatever you want with me."

'To save Grimhold?" asked Akeela bitterly. "Nothing more?" "And because I've wronged you," said Lukien. He looked straight into Akeela's eyes. "I've wronged you, Akeela. And I've made a monster of you."

Akeela stood there, staring and shaking. A monster. Was that what he was now? Did the whole world think so?

'I am not a monster," he declared. "I'm a great king. I brought wisdom to the world."

Lukien shook his head. "No. That was your great dream, but that was a long time ago. You're merciless, Akeela. Look outside that window. Look at the men you've crucified."

'Enemies, Lukien. Men who opposed me. Enemies like you."

'Then I was right," said Lukien. "All this is because of me.

Well, it can end now." He stretched out his hands to show how helpless he was. "I'm here, Akeela.

I'm yours. Kill me and end this horror."

'Oh, you will die," Trager assured him. "But not before you tell us where Grimhold is." He smiled like a wolf. "And I'm going to enjoy persuading you."

Lukien ignored him. Instead he kept his gaze on Akeela. "You 'Don't, Will," Akeela ordered. "No more."

Finally he found the courage to turn around. Lukien was before him, tottering to his feet. But he was not the beautiful man Akeela remembered. His hair was rough and filthy, full of sand, and his face was streaked with age and dirt. A patch covered his left eye; the other one was bloodshot. Yet still it was Lukien. Still, after sixteen years, he was unmistakable. When he saw Akeela his lips twisted into what could have been a smile, but his one eye showed his remarkable sadness. For Akeela, the sight of him was heartbreaking.

'You shouldn't have come," said Akeela softly. "You still might have escaped me."

Lukien's expression didn't change. "No more running," he said wearily. "I've come to give myself up to you, Akeela. Do what you will."

'Where are the amulets?" Akeela asked.

'I don't have them." Lukien shrugged. "They weren't ours to begin with, Akeela."

Trager came forward and seized his arm. "Where are they?"

'I don't have them," snapped Lukien, shaking off Trager's grip 'Who does, Lukien?" pressed Akeela.

"Are they in Grim-hold?"

Lukien's gaze narrowed on him. "Did you kill Figgis, Akeela?"

The question rattled Akeela. It was like they were young again, with Lukien in control. "I'll ask the questions," he said.

'Did you?" Lukien's expression was grave, as if he already knew the truth. "He was a good man, Akeela. He was your friend."

'I have no friends!" raged Akeela. Spit flew from his mouth as he stepped toward Lukien. "Were you my friend, Lukien? Was Cassandra?"

'Yes," replied Lukien. "We loved you."

The answer enraged Akeela. His hand shot out and slapped Lukien's face. "How dare you!" he seethed. "How dare you speak of love to me! Would a man who loved me take my wife? Would a wife who loved me betray my bed? Answer me, you gutter rat!"

Lukien's face was forlorn. "Yes," he said simply. "We would."

can torture me but I won't tell you. The Inhumans are good people and I won't betray them."

'No," spat Akeela. "You'd never betray a bunch of freaks. Just your own king!"

'Look at me, Akeela. I'm finished. You've beaten me. Spare the Inhumans. They've done nothing to you."

Akeela studied Lukien's ruined face, the deep lines in his red skin. The sight was overwhelming.

"Yes," he said softly. "I have beaten you, haven't I?" He reached out and gingerly touched Lukien's eyepatch, carefully probing the flesh. Lukien winced but did not pull away. "How did this happen?"

'In Norvor," replied Lukien. "A long time ago."

'It changes you. You look… older."

'We've all changed, Akeela," said Lukien. "Especially you. You used to be a good man, remember?

You used to be loved."

Akeela gave a bitter grin. "They loved a fool, then. I'm not that stupid any more."

'But you can still be good. You can still do one good thing," urged Lukien. "You have me now. You don't need to ride for Grimhold."

'If you think that will save you from me, think again," said Trager.

Lukien turned on Trager. "Torture me, then!" he cried. "Torture me, kill me, do whatever you want!

But I won't tell you where Grimhold is, Trager. And Akeela, I know there's good left in you. You can kill me, you have that right. But if you kill the Inhumans you'll just be a murderer."

Unable to stand it, Akeela looked away. The accusations were stinging. And just seeing Lukien again made him weak. He turned back to his window. "You will die, Lukien," he said. He didn't want to make the decree, but he had come too far now. Too much had happened to simply forget. "On the morrow, at dawn. I will kill you myself."

He saw Lukien's shocked expression in the glass.

'I must do this, Lukien. You must die for what you've done, and I must be your executioner."

To Akeela's surprise, Lukien simply nodded. "If that's your wish, I accept it. But what of Grimhold?"

Akeela turned to regard him. "Aren't you listening? You're going to die, Lukien."

'I heard you. Now please, answer me. Will you seek out Grim-hold?"

Akeela was dumbstruck. "Why are you thinking about them? Your life is over! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

'They're worth saving," argued Lukien. He went to Akeela, almost pleading. "I've been with them, and I know they're good people. They've done you no harm. And…" He hesitated a moment. "And Cassandra thought they were worth saving, too."

'What?" Akeela's face contorted.

'It's true," Lukien went on. "When she learned of your plans to ride for Jador, she sent for me. She wanted to come here with me, to give back the amulets and warn them about you."

'That's not true!"

'It is!" insisted Lukien. "She saw the madness in you. She told me it was like a disease, and now that I'm here looking at you I can see it too."

The revelation staggered Akeela. He fell back against the window. "Cassandra loved me," he whispered. "I know she did."

'She did, Akeela," said Lukien. "But she knew how sick you are. And she would never have wanted you to kill the Inhumans. If her memory means anything to you—"

'Her memory is all I have because you took her from me," Akeela groaned. "And you killed her." He looked at his old friend in disbelief. "You killed her, Lukien. How could you have done that? You say you loved her yet you killed her."

Lukien looked down at the floor, unable to meet Akeela's accusative gaze. "That's why I deserve death," he said softly.

'And die you shall," said Trager. He took hold of Lukien's arm again. "Let me take him below, Akeela. Let him sweat out his last hours in a cell."

Still shaking, Akeela said, "Yes. Yes, take him below."

Trager spun Lukien toward the door. "Come along, Captain. We've got a nice room prepared for you."

'Akeela, tell me you'll spare them!" Lukien shouted.

'Move!" ordered Trager, nearly pushing him over.

'Akeela, tell me!"

'Take him to the cellars," said Akeela. Then, "I will think on what you've told me, Lukien."

'What?" erupted Trager. He stopped shoving Lukien and glowered. "Akeela, don't listen to his lies!

You've come all this way. Don't turn back now."

'Should we kill good people, Will?" asked Akeela.

'They have your amulets!" said Trager. He pointed at Lukien. "And they've harbored this scoundrel!

Good people? Freaks, Akeela. Enemies!"

Akeela thought for a moment, his mind shredded by the two arguments. Desperate to be alone, he waved at Trager to go. "Take him," he ordered. "And leave me alone."

Trager grunted unhappily, then opened the doors of the throne room. Two soldiers were waiting there. Immediately he barked at them to take hold of Lukien. Akeela watched as they dragged the knight from the chamber. When they had all gone he slumped down into the ornate throne. The meeting had rattled him. He heard Lukien's voice over and over in his head, speaking of Cassandra. Suddenly he was desperate for a drink.

No, he corrected himself. Not just one drink.

Tonight he wanted to get horribly drunk. Without the help of alcohol, he knew he'd never be able to face the dawn.

.fter a full day's ride, Gilwyn finally reached Jador at dusk. The city gleamed across the sands, beckoning him forward like a beacon in the ebbing sunlight. He was exhausted, but he still had enough water in his pouches for a celebratory drink. He undid one of the water skins from Emerald's harness and took a long, satisfying drink. He was proud of the journey they'd made, and conveyed this pride to the kreel with his mind. The reptilian response was like a silent purring in his brain. They had snuck out of Grimhold without incident, and no one had followed. Gilwyn didn't know if Minikin had discovered he was gone, though he supposed she had by now. It didn't matter. He had reached Jador. Simply by pointing the kreel's nose east and telling her to find "home," she had sprinted across the desert almost nonstop. And though Gilwyn could feel her exhaustion, he could also tell that she was eager to go on, to finish the journey they had started together.

But they couldn't go on. Just in sight of their destination, Gilwyn got down from her back.

'That's it," he told the creature, patting her long neck. You can't go any further with me."

The reptile's eyes blinked at him in confusion. He smiled sadly at her.

'You have to wait for me here," he explained. "I can't risk losing you, Emerald. The Lürians might kill you on sight. And if I do make it out again, I'll need you to take me back to Grimhold."

Emerald replied with a silent, almost human apprehension. Gilwyn knew she objected to the word if.

'All right, when I make it out," he told her. "Either way, I'll need you here." He looked back the way they'd come. There were some hills in the distance with dry, scraggly shrubs. "There." He directed the kreel's attention toward the hills. "If you wait there for me you won't be seen. And it's getting dark. You'll be safe."

If Emerald were human she would have shaken her head. She looked toward the city.

'No," said Gilwyn, "it's not that far. I can make it even with my bad foot." Gently he stroked the creature's neck. "I'll take water with me. I'll be fine."

His reassurance hardly assuaged the kreel, but Emerald lowered her head submissively.

'Good," said Gilwyn. "Now go. I'll be back as soon as I can." He tied the waterskin to his belt, then turned toward Jador. The dark was coming quickly—he would have to hurry. He took a few steps then turn back to see Emerald dutifully watching after him. "Go!" he shouted. "I mean it!"

Emerald turned and walked toward the hills. Gilwyn smiled. She was a fine kreel, and he had begun to understand the often talked about bond between a soldier and his horse. Like Teku, Emerald had already become a friend. He was already missing both of them, but he turned back toward the city and walked slowly toward it, his bad foot sinking awkwardly into the sand with each step. Jador quickly took shape in the darkening sky. Gilwyn immediately noticed the palace near the edge of the city; if that's where Lukien was, he would find him quickly. But then he noticed other structures as well, things he'd never seen before. He squinted across the last stretch of desert, trying to make out the shapes. They were crosses. Curious, he continued toward them. A minute later came the grisly revelation. There were men on the crosses. Dead men. Gilwyn stopped in his tracks, his feet frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. He stared at the crucified figures, shocked yet unable to look away. They were ghastly, motionless and bloated, their heads lolling forward in death. Buz zards and other birds picked at their faces, feasting on the soft flesh. A wave of nausea overcame Gilwyn. He sunk down to his knees, thinking he might vomit. Quickly he undid the waterskin from his belt and took a drink, trying to steady himself. Suddenly his idea to save Lukien seemed doomed. He stared at the city, wondering if he should go on, or if one of the gruesome figures hanging from the crosses was Lukien himself. But no, he didn't think so. From the looks of their black garb they were Jadori warriors, probably the last of the city's defenders.

'King Akeela," he whispered softly. "How could you?"

It didn't seem possible that the man who'd built Lüria's great library could do something so horrid.

Not Akeela, not a man who so loved books and learning. It was incomprehensible to Gilwyn, and he refused to believe it. He recalled his brief encounter with General Trager, and all the terrible things Lukien had said about him.

'It's Trager," he said to himself. "It has to be."

His resolve strengthened, he got to his feet. He had come for Lukien and he wouldn't retreat, no matter how many frightful warnings Trager hung in the streets. So he trudged forward, blocking the crosses from his mind and heading straight toward Kadar's usurped palace. He was almost at the outskirts of the city when a voice made him jump.

'Toms!"

Gilwyn let out a surprised cry, spinning to see who was behind him. Ten feet before him was a black-robed figure on a large kreel. Gilwyn panicked, not knowing who it was until the man unwrapped his headpiece, revealing his bone-white face.

'Ghost!"

Ghost rode angrily toward him. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

'How'd you find me?" asked Gilwyn.

'I've been camped outside the city, waiting till dark," said Ghost. "Now answer my question."

'I've come to help Lukien," declared Gilwyn firmly.

Ghost got down from his kreel and towered over the boy. "And just what do you think I'm here for, the view? Does Minikin know you're here? No, of course she doesn't. You came out here on your own, didn't you?" He looked around. "How did you get here?"

'Well, I didn't walk," snapped Gilwyn. "Obviously I took a kreel, like you did. She's in those hills a little way back."

'Good. Then you can just go on back there and ride home to Grimhold." Ghost took his arm and shoved him toward the hills. "Move."

Gilwyn angrily shook off his grip. "I'm not going anywhere. I've come to help Lukien and I'm not leaving without him."

'You can't help Lukien, you stubborn fool! Didn't you hear what Minikin said?"

'Shhh!" urged Gilwyn. Quickly he glanced toward the city, afraid someone would hear. "Keep your voice down."

'I will, just as soon as you stop arguing with me," said Ghost. Now that the sun was down he kept his face exposed to the air. Remarkably, his expression softened. "I know you want to help your friend, but there's nothing you can do. You don't have my abilities and you're…" He paused. "Well, you know."

'You mean I'm deformed, is that it?" asked Gilwyn. "Well don't go looking in any mirrors, friend."

'I didn't mean—"

'I know what you meant," said Gilwyn angrily. "You think just because I have a clubbed hand and foot that I can't do anything. Well, I got all the way out here on my own, didn't I? By the Fate, I've come all the way from Lüria! I can take care of myself. And I can help Lukien."

Ghost sighed and looked toward the city. "Someone's going to see us," he muttered.

'That's right," said Gilwyn. "And if they see you arguing with me then your plan is finished."

'So what are you saying, that you want to get caught?" asked Ghost. He frowned. "Just what do you expect to do here? Walk right in and demand they release your friend?"

'Something like that," said Gilwyn. He hadn't really thought about it much, but seeing the grisly crosses had given him an idea. "I'm going to see King Akeela. I'm going to plead for Lu-kien's life."

Ghost laughed, covering his mouth to keep the sound from carrying through the empty streets. "Oh, yes," he chortled. "That's a great plan. Brilliant! What makes you think that madman Akeela will even listen to you?"

'Because I know him," argued Gilwyn. "I know what he was like before all this madness happened to him. If I can just get him to listenGhost abruptly turned his back. "Go home," he said as he mounted his kreel. "Go back to Grimhold where it's safe."

'I won't!" Gilwyn shouted.

'Quiet!"

'I don't care who hears me, Ghost," Gilwyn warned. "If I'm captured they'll just take me to Akeela."

'Or kill you," said Ghost.

Gilwyn shrugged. "Maybe. But if they find you with me then you'll die too."

'Great Fate almighty," groaned the albino. "What do you want from me?"

'I want you to come with me," said Gilwyn. "Make yourself so people can't see you, then follow me.

I'll get you into the palace. Then maybe we'll both be able to free Lukien."

To Gilwyn's surprise Ghost considered the plan. His gray eyes narrowed in thought. "I'll admit, I don't really have a way of getting inside the palace," he said. "But I won't be able to help you. Once you're inside, you're on your own. If I have to save both of you—

'Don't worry about me," said Gilwyn. "Just stay with me. Let me try to talk to Akeela if I can. At least I'll be able to find out where they're keeping Lukien."

'Sure," said Ghost with a laugh, "as they take you down into the dungeon, that's where I'll find Lukien!"

Gilwyn had to admit that was a risk, but it was one worth taking. "If I can just get to see Akeela," he said hopefully. "Maybe I can convince him to let Lukien go."

'You're a fool to think so," said Ghost. Then he smiled and added, "But you're brave, I'll give you that.

Start walking, Gilwyn Toms. I'll be with you."

'Will I be able to see you?" Gilwyn asked.

'Probably. It depends on how much you concentrate. But don't worry—I won't leave you, not unless I must." Ghost got down from his kreel again, then patted the creature's rump as he directed it toward the hills. He turned back to Gilwyn with a mischievous grin and gestured toward the waiting palace. "After you."

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Gilwyn proceeded into the city. He moved cautiously, trying to quell his fear as he looked down the narrow avenues. The streets of Jador were deserted, the homes and shops closed up tight. With evening came the moonlight and a few candles in the windows, though most were shuttered and lifeless. There was very little sound, only the stray voices of Lürian soldiers, carrying endlessly through the echoing streets. Once proud and beautiful, Jador was now a silent, somber place, and even the palace seemed to be mourning. Gilwyn could see it clearly on the edge of the city, surrounded by its lovely gardens and mosaic statues. The first soldiers came into view, milling around gardens without care. Gilwyn braced himself.

'Ghost," he whispered, "are you with me?"

The answer was as faint as a breeze, heard mostly by the mind rather than the ears. "Behind you. Not far."

Gilwyn turned to search for the Inhuman, but saw no one. He paused, concentrating, then detected flashes of the albino against the nearest building. Ghost was smiling.

'Go on," he urged quietly. "I'm with you."

'All right," said Gilwyn. His nervousness spiked as he entered the grounds of the palace, passing a wall of high, well-manicured hedges, the outer ring of the garden. Ahead of them, a foursome of Lürian soldiers, all Royal Chargers from the look of them, were carousing in the garden, stretching out on the ornate stone benches and laughing. So lost were they in their good humor that they did not see Gilwyn until he was almost upon them. Once again that nagging yen to turn and run came over Gilwyn, but before he could decide one of the men glanced over at him, looked away as if nothing was interesting, then looked back with his mouth agape. The soldier sprang to his feet. Terrified, Gilwyn nonetheless stood his ground.

'You there," the soldier called. He seemed more shocked than angry. "What are you doing here, boy?"

The foursome all got to their feet and headed toward him. Gilwyn held his breath, then heard Ghost's reassuring voice in his head.

I'm right here, said the voice. I've got my knife and I won't let anything happen to you.

Gilwyn found the comment only a little reassuring. Though the soldiers didn't draw their weapons, they quickly encircled him.

'Who are you, boy?" they demanded. One of them stared hard at Gilwyn, then gasped when he noticed Gilwyn's hand and boot. "You're the boy from the library!" Quickly he grabbed hold of Gilwyn's arm, shaking him. "You're Gilwyn Toms, aren't you?"

'Yes," said Gilwyn shakily. "I've come to talk—

The soldiers drew their blades. "Where are the others?" they demanded. They quickly scanned the garden and beyond.

'I'm alone," Gilwyn insisted, sure now that they couldn't see Ghost. Nor in his fear could he. "I've come to talk to King Akeela."

'What?" The man holding him pulled him into the garden. "What are you talking about? You bring a message?"

Thinking fast, Gilwyn said, "Yes, a message. I have word from Grimhold."

'What word?" asked one of them. He put the tip of his blade to Gilwyn's chest. "Speak it."

'I can't." Gilwyn put up his hands pleadingly. "I can only tell my message to the king."

'You've come for the Bronze Knight, haven't you?" the men pressed.

'No! Lukien came on his own, to give himself up. I bring a message from the Mistress of Grimhold herself, I swear!"

Ask them if Lukien still lives, came Ghost's voice suddenly. Find out where he is.

The voice was like an annoying fly buzzing in Gilwyn's head. "Please," he told the guards, "I'm not armed. I'm just a messenger. If you could take me to see the king."

Lukien!

Shut up! Gilwyn cried silently. He smiled nervously at the guards. "You can look for yourselves," he said, "but you'll see that I'm not lying to you. There's nobody with me."

'We'll do that," sneered the man with the sword. He snapped his fingers at two of his comrades, ordering them to check the area. "I'll take care of the boy."

'You'd better take me to Akeela," Gilwyn warned. "I have important news for him. If he finds out you've delayed it he won't be happy."

The man thought for a moment, then nodded. "I don't see the harm in telling him you're here. But if you're lying…" He pushed on the sword until its point bit through Gilwyn's shirt and cut the skin. "I'll peel you like a grape." Then he sheathed his sword and walked off, ordering the remaining soldier to bring Gilwyn along. Relieved, Gilwyn stumbled after them as quickly as he could. His foot ached but he kept on, keeping pace with the soldiers as they left the garden and entered the palace. There, more soldiers were on patrol, though most of them were hardly at attention. When they saw Gilwyn they forgot their tasks and peppered their companions with questions. The men leading Gilwyn said they were taking him to the king and asked where Akeela was.

'In his chamber," one of them replied. He pointed down the hall toward a polished marble staircase.

His chamber? wondered Gilwyn. Certainly they meant Ka-dar's, which he already knew was in a tower of the palace. The soldiers led him toward the stairs. Halfway up the marble walkway, a grim figure blocked their way. The soldiers stopped abruptly.

'My lord," said the lead man in a panic. He and his companion bowed. Gilwyn looked up into the confused face of a man he'd never seen, yet whose identity he knew instantly. The man stared back at him.

'Charger?" asked the man. "Who is that boy?"

The soldier replied, "My lord, I'm sorry to disturb you. We found this boy in the garden. He claims to have a message for you from Grimhold."

Gilwyn was nearly speechless. King Akeela was an awesome sight, the very epitome of madness with his twisted features and rumpled garb. He clung to the wall of the staircase, his nails digging between the bricks to keep from falling. His eyes glowed an itchy red.

'King Akeela," said Gilwyn. He brushed past the soldiers and took a cautious step upward. "My lord, do you know who I am?"

The king's eyes tried to focus. "I don't know you."

His voice was badly slurred. Gilwyn tried to smile, knowing this was his only chance. "My lord, my name is Gilwyn Toms. My mother was Beith Toms. She worked for you in Lionkeep for years." He held out his clubbed hand for Akeela to see. "You sent me to work in the library, remember?"

Akeela drifted down the stairs until he faced Gilwyn. There he studied him, his heavily alcoholed breath striking Gilwyn's face. "I remember," he said softly. "Yes, the library boy. The cripple."

'No, not a cripple, my lord." He lifted his foot. "See? Figgis made this boot for me so I could walk."

Akeela's expression collapsed. "Figgis."

'My lord, you should go back to your chamber," suggested one of the soldiers. "You're…

indisposed."

'I am not," Akeela shot back angrily. But his face softened as he said to Gilwyn, "You're a traitor, young Toms. You sided with my enemies." The fact plainly saddened him. "Why?"

'My lord, I must speak to you," said Gilwyn. "Could we talk, please? I have important things to tell you."

'Please my lord," interrupted the lead Charger. "You really should get back to your chamber." He took hold of Gilwyn's arm again, waiting for the king to reply. "My lord? Your chambers?"

'Yes. Yes, all right," Akeela agreed. He pointed a bony finger at Gilwyn. "But I tell you, young Toms, if you've come to plead for your friend Lukien you're too late." He turned and started back up the stairway.

'Too late?" asked Gilwyn. "Gods above, you killed him?"

'Not yet," said Akeela, "but I will. He dies at dawn. Now come and tell me your news."

Gilwyn breathed a sigh of relief. In his mind, Ghost did the same. He was glad the albino was still with him, and still access. Clearly, he truly was mad. One look around the room could tell a blind man that.

There was a long couch opposite Akeela's chair. He gestured to it with his glass, slopping wine over the edge.

'Sit down, boy," he commanded.

Gilwyn did so, falling into the soft green cushions. Frantically he groped for an argument, some way to reach the king. Earlier, when he'd spoken to Ghost, the first inklings of a plan had come to him. Now it was time to test his theory. Terrified, he wondered if Ghost was still with him, but in his nervousness couldn't concentrate enough to see him.

'So you bear a message you say," said King Akeela. "Speak it."

Gilwyn hesitated, fumbling for words. "My lord honors me with this audience," he said. "I'm truly humbled."

The king yawned. He looked unspeakably tired.

No, thought Gilwyn then. He looks pathetic. It's like talking to a little boy.

'My lord," he continued, "my word from Grimhold is just this—they aren't your enemies. They're just people like me, the kind of people you once wanted to help." He put out his bad hand again. "You're right, my lord—I can't hurt you. Neither can the folk of Grimhold. And they don't want to. They just want to live in peace and be left alone."

There, he'd said it. He watched Akeela for a reaction. Surprisingly, the king let out a jaded laugh.

'You make the same argument Lukien did, young Toms," he said. "I'm not impressed. And if that's all you have to tell me, you can join your traitorous friend in the cellars."

A ripple of panic went through Gilwyn. "No, my lord, listen to me—

'You haven't come to tell me anything new," Akeela interrupted. "You've just come to plead for Lukien." He put down his glass with an angry groan. "Fate above, that's always the way it is for him!

Always he has the power of men's hearts…" He closed his eyes. "Don't tell me how good a man he is, Gilwyn Toms. Don't tell me how his heart is true and how sorry he is. He killed my wife." apparently invisible. As the soldiers pushed him up the stairs, he concentrated, trying to catch a glimmer of Ghost.

He couldn't, but supposed the man was somewhere behind him. At the top of the stairs Akeela continued down another fabulous hall, swaying as he walked. The way was lined with gilded mirrors and golden sconces, each of them aglow with a separate candle. Gilwyn prepared himself, his mind racing with ideas.

He still wasn't sure what he would say to the king—he obviously had no message from Minikin. But if he could just talk to him, just for a little while, he might be able to breach the king's insanity.

The hallway quickly gave way to a giant, doorless chamber with a high-domed ceiling and silvery-white walls. Exquisite furniture with turned, brightly polished wood decorated the tiled room, while a beautiful starburst mosaic spread its orange fingers to all corners of the room. The requisite collection of colorful Ja-dori pillows were scattered about, inviting relaxation.

Moonlight poured through the many windows, bouncing off the chamber's many mirrors. It was a place fit for a king, but Akeela had apparently abused it, for there were dirty glasses everywhere and half-drunken pitchers of wine. Akeela's own cape lay unceremoniously on the floor near the entrance.

Boot marks on its black fabric made it look like a doormat. Akeela meandered to a tall chair near one of the room's windows and plopped into it wearily. Next to it was a pedestal with a pitcher of ruby-red wine and a filthy, tipped over glass. Akeela took the glass and poured himself a liberal helping of the wine. As he sipped he waved the soldiers out of the room.

'Leave me with the boy," he said.

One of the soldiers smiled politely and said, "Perhaps that's unwise, my lord. We can stay and protect you."

'Protect me from what?" asked Akeela. He jerked a contemptuous thumb toward Gilwyn. "Him? He's a cripple."

'Yes, my lord, but—"

'Oh, shut up and wait outside," said Akeela wearily. "Toms, sit down with me."

As the soldiers departed, Gilwyn moved warily into the chamber. Akeela's red eyes studied him, not even hinting at his intent. Gilwyn wondered about a man who would grant him such easy said Gilwyn. "In another land, I might have been discarded. Once my mother died there would have been no one to care for me. I would have been a beggar."

Slowly Akeela began to understand. He said with a drunken smile, "But you're not a beggar."

'No," said Gilwyn, "because I had a place to go. A place that you built, my lord. My mother told me about the time you first saw me. Do you remember that, my lord?"

'Yes," said Akeela softly. His mind tripped back through the years. "I remember…"

'You told my mother—

'I told her that there would always be a place for you in Lion-keep." Akeela didn't look at Gilwyn as he spoke. His eyes were glassy, staring into space. "I told her that I was making a new Lüria."

'That's right," said Gilwyn. "And you succeeded, my lord. You made a place for me when you built the library. You brought knowledge to Lüria." His voice shook a little as he spoke, but there was one more thing he needed to say. "You saved my life, King Akeela. And I've never been able to thank you until now." He sort of shrugged. "I guess that's my message."

A single tear welled up in Akeela's right eye. It dropped down his cheek, rolling onto his soiled shirt.

"I tried so hard," he whispered. "To know that I helped you… that is a great gift, boy."

It was astonishing to see the change in him. The angry, time-twisted face softened as if lit by the sun.

Gilwyn knew he was reaching Akeela. Somehow, his simple words of kindness were thawing Akeela's frozen heart.

'My lord," Gilwyn continued, "I know that you're a good man."

'I'm insane, Toms," choked Akeela. He glanced down at himself in disgust. "Look what the world has made of me. I'm a drunkard. And I've lost everything. Everything…"

He began to weep, great hacking, drunken sobs. With an angry sweep of his arm he knocked the wine pitcher from the pedestal, then put his filthy hands over his face.

'I don't care what anyone else says about you, my lord," said 'I know," said Gilwyn. "I haven't come to argue his innocence. He's wronged you, my lord. But surely there's forgiveness in you." Gilwyn smiled at him. "I know there is. Why else would you even be speaking to me?"

'Because it amuses me," said the king.

'No," said Gilwyn. "You want to talk to me. I risked coming here because of all the faith Lukien still had in you. And because I know from Figgis what a special man you used to be. And look, here you are, talking to me instead of throwing me into a dungeon." Gilwyn leaned forward for emphasis. "You're still Akeela the Good."

Akeela laughed bitterly. "Akeela the Drunk, you mean. Akeela the Butcher. That's what they're calling me, you know. Even my own men. They don't think I hear them whispering, but I do."

'Then they're wrong about you, my lord," pressed Gilwyn. "They don't know the man you were."

'And you do?" asked Akeela. "Hmmph. A young boy's faith. How charming and useless."

'I do know what you were like, my lord," said Gilwyn. He knew he had to press on, to not be deterred by the king's madness. "I know that you loved reading and books, and that you loved Cassandra more than anything in the world."

Akeela's face grew sad. "Yes," he nodded. "I did."

'And I know that you loved Lukien, too."

Again Gilwyn watched for a reaction. This time it was slower to come, but soon Akeela's sad expression twisted into something like agony. He couldn't speak. He seemed on the verge of tears.

Gilwyn seized the chance. He rose from the coach and approached the king, dropping to one knee in front of him.

'My lord," he said gently, "I really do have a message for you."

With bloodshot eyes Akeela looked up hopefully. "Do you? Tell me."

'This," said Gilwyn. Once again he put out his hand for Akeela, this time laying it in his lap. The king looked at it curiously, but did not understand.

'Your hand? What of it?"

'My hand and my foot have been clubbed since I was born."

Gilwyn. "To me you will always be Akeela the Good. You'll always be the man who saved me."

Akeela put up a hand. "Don't," he begged. "I can't bear it…"

Gilwyn leaned back on his heels. "My lord," he said gently, "Lukien loves you."

'Stop!"

'He does, whether you want his love or not. That's why he gave himself up. Not just to save Grimhold, but to see you again. I just know it." Gilwyn waited for his words to sink in, then he asked the impossible. "Please, my lord, can't you forgive him?" long-winded speeches, "I've been thinking, Captain.

It didn't have to be this way." He happily rolled his dagger between his fingers as he spoke. "Imagine what your life could have been had you not poked Cassandra. You would have remained Akeela's favorite forever, and I wouldn't be here now, having so much fun."

Lukien ignored the comment.

'Not that I blame you for bedding the queen, Captain. Oh, she was a beautiful wench. Raven hair, dark eyes. And that bosom!" Trager smacked his lips loudly. "That must have been tasty, eh?" Casually he flipped his dagger into the air, catching it by the handle on its way down. "What a waste for you, though. All those years on the run, selling yourself to that bitch in Norvor for a few pennies, disgracing yourself. Who knows what you might have made of yourself in Lüria? You might have been a baron now, or a duke."

'How was that going to happen?" Lukien jabbed. "Akeela outlawed the noble houses, remember?"

'Hmm, yes, that was a pity," replied Trager with a wild grin. "A shame about Baron Glass and his fortune. I'll mention that to him when I see him." He mocked Lukien with his grin. "When do you think that will be, Captain, soon?"

Once again Lukien fell silent. It didn't matter what was done to him; he would never divulge Grimhold's location.

'We'll find it, you know," said Trager. "You don't have to tell us anything. I'll enjoy the hunt. And when I do turn over that rock, I'll squash all of those insects you call friends, including that old bastard Glass."

Lukien sighed. "Gods, don't you ever shut up?"

Trager got out of his chair and stuck his face between the bars. "I have much to say to you, Captain.

And just one night to say it."

'Then say it," spat Lukien, "and spare me your insipid voice!"

'All right," chirped Trager. "I'm your better."

Lukien finally looked up at him. Trager grinned.

'Yes, that's right," he crowed. "I'm your better and I always have been. And today we have the proof, because you're rotting in a cell and I'm out here, free as a lark. I'm more loyal than you, more respected.

I've turned the Royal Chargers into the best In the windowless cells beneath the palace, time lost all meaning. The unbearable heat stretched out the hours. A thick veneer of dust covered the stone floor and walls, undisturbed for years, and the iron gates of the cells shed flecks of rust when they opened, screeching with the strain. There was very little light, only the glow of a single torch. Lukien had counted five such cells. His was in the middle. The torch lay against the opposite wall, illuminating the passive face of Trager as he leaned back on an old wooden chair, balancing it on two legs. He didn't seem to mind the heat or dust; he was far too pleased to notice such things. Lukien sat on the floor of his cell with his back against the wall. Despite the heat the wall was cool, providing him his only bit of comfort. His hands were tied behind his back, an unnecessary precaution given the iron bars, but one that Trager indulged anyway.

The general had a dagger in his hands that he twirled from time to time, occasionally whistling as he whiled away the time with his prisoner. He had promised Lukien that he would remain with him all night.

It was, Trager had explained, his reward for all his years of patience. Lukien did what he could to block Trager from his mind. The darkness of the cell crowded around him. Given other circumstances, he might have been frightened. But he was not. He had made his choice and was satisfied. And if Akeela kept his promise, he would die at dawn.

'You know," said Trager suddenly, launching into one of his cavalry in the world. You couldn't have done that. And do you know why?"

'I'm sure you'll tell me," groaned Lukien.

'Because you were too busy playing your part! Always the Bronze Knight, the king's golden child.

You couldn't let a single good looking woman go by, not even the king's wife!" Trager smugly laced his arms over his chest and stood back from the bars. "That's it, Captain. That was your downfall. You just loved to look at yourself in the mirror."

Lukien didn't want to think about the accusation, yet it struck him as horribly true. He had no retort for it.

'You know I'm right, don't you?" asked Trager. "That's why I'm a general, and you were just a stinking captain."

The sudden sound of approaching footfalls finally silenced the general. Two of his soldiers came down the hall, saluting as they faced him.

'What is it?" asked Trager tersely.

'The king has asked us to bring the prisoner to him," replied one of the men.

Trager's face lit up. "Ah! You hear, Lukien? Akeela just can't wait until morning to kill you!"

'No, sir," said the soldier. "I don't think that's it. The boy Gilwyn Toms has come. He's with the king now."

'What?" Trager erupted. "That little troll from the library?"

Lukien sprang to his feet. "Where is he?" he demanded. "Is he all right?"

The soldier glanced at him, about to answer. Trager roared, "Look at me, you idiot. What's that boy doing here?"

'Sorry, sir," said the man. "The boy says he has a message from Grimhold. He's with Akeela now."

'What message?" pressed Lukien.

When the soldier didn't reply, Trager barked, "Well? What message?"

'I don't know, sir," said the soldier. "The king met with him alone. His lordship sent us down here to bring the prisoner."

Trager's face purpled. Whirling on Lukien, he hissed, "What is this? Some kind of trick?"

'No trick, Trager. I don't know what the boy's doing here."

'You must know," Trager insisted. "Don't lie to me. I can make your last hours very unpleasant."

'I'm telling you I don't know," swore Lukien. "Now open this god-cursed gate and take me to Akeela."

Seeing he had no choice, Trager reluctantly agreed. Muttering obscenities, he plucked the key from the wall and opened the cell's lock. One of the soldiers opened the rusty gate, which squealed as it swung outward. The other took hold of Lukien's arm and pushed him out of the cell.

'Both of you, keep hold of him," ordered Trager. "Follow me."

He led the way out of the cellars with a string of curses. Lukien followed as best he could. The soldiers kept tight hold of him, dragging him along as he struggled to keep his footing. It was awkward walking so quickly with his hands tied behind him, but Trager wouldn't let up. He took the musty stairs two at a time, and when he reached the top he bellowed down for them to hurry. The soldiers half carried Lukien up the steps, pushing him out into a well lit hall. Moonlight poured through the windows, stabbing Lukien's eye.

'Hurry up, you damn fool," ordered Trager. He continued quickly on his way. "Where is the king?" he asked his men.

'In his chambers, sir," one replied.

'His chambers? He's meeting with the boy in his own rooms?" Trager laughed and shook his head.

"The man gets more demented every day. Come on, then."

The news struck Lukien equally as odd. Why was Gilwyn in Akeela's chambers? He didn't know whether it was a hopeful sign or not, but he supposed it meant the boy was safe, at least for now. He quickened his pace, following Trager through the palace and up a flight of marble stairs. This, he knew, led to Ka-dar's opulent living area. At the top of the staircase Trager paused, waiting for Lukien. He reached down and looped his arm around Lukien's, dragging him up the final step.

'Stay here," he told his men. "I'll take the prisoner in myself."

Neither soldier argued, releasing Lukien to Trager, who roughly shoved him toward the chamber up ahead. The doors to the area were open wide, revealing the splendid interior. Lukien could tell Trager was apprehensive by the way he wet his lips, his pink tongue darting out nervously. Just before they reached the chamber, Trager called out for Akeela.

'My lord, I've brought him," he said loudly. "What's going on…?"

His voice trailed off when he looked inside the vast room. There was Akeela, on his knees in the middle of the tiled floor, weeping. Over him stood Gilwyn. The boy looked at Lukien helplessly.

'Great Mother of Fate," whispered Trager. Cursing, he shoved Lukien into the chamber then hurriedly shut the doors behind them. He turned on Akeela like a cobra. "Akeela, what's wrong with you? What are you doing down there? Get up!"

Akeela lifted his head, but didn't look at his irate general. Instead he gazed at Lukien. His tear-stained cheeks were puffed and red. Lukien gasped at the sight, going to him at once.

'Akeela, what's wrong?" He glanced at Gilwyn. "What happened to him?"

'I was talking to him, Lukien," said Gilwyn. "And he just broke down."

Trager surged forward. "What did you say to him, you little brat?" He took hold of Gilwyn's shirt, shaking him. "Tell me!"

'Let go of him!" cried Lukien.

'Or what?" Trager pushed Gilwyn backward and turned on Lukien. "What will you do, Captain?"

'Lukien…" Akeela staggered to his feet. Lukien could tell instantly that he was drunk, for he could barely hold himself erect.

'Akeela, talk to me," Lukien urged. "Please…"

Akeela sobbed, then laughed, then sobbed again, his shoulders shaking as he alternated through emotions. His hand went to his belt and slowly pulled forth his dagger. Trager snickered in triumph.

'Yes, Akeela, do it!" he urged. "Kill him!"

Slowly Akeela wobbled forward, his manic face twisting as he neared Lukien. Lukien stood his ground, unable to believe it would end this way. But Akeela was unreadable. The only thing for certain on his face was madness. An inscrutable smile broke on his face as he raised his dagger.

'Lukien…"

'King Akeela, no!" cried Gilwyn.

'Do it!" laughed Trager.

Lukien didn't move. He didn't even flinch. Akeela's nose practically touched his chest. The hot breath and stink of liquor was unbearable. Akeela whispered, "Turn around."

'What?" asked Lukien puzzled.

Akeela tried to spin him around. "Turn," he said. "I'm going to free you."

'What?" exploded Trager. "You can't!"

Lukien couldn't believe his ears. Nor could Gilwyn, who beamed at him. Lukien turned so that Akeela could cut his bonds. "Akeela, my friend." His voice choked on the words.

'No!" roared Trager. "I won't allow it!"

He reached out for Lukien and dragged him forward, sending him sprawling. Lukien's skull collided with the floor. For a moment he was dazed, but when he opened his eye he saw Trager standing before Akeela with his own dagger drawn.

'After what I did for you?" he seethed. "You'd let this bastard free!"

Gilwyn ran between them, shouting. Trager grabbed his neck and tossed him aside. He hit the wall hard and sank to his knees. Lukien struggled to his feet.

'Get away from him!" he cried.

Akeela just stood there helplessly, as though he couldn't believe what was happening. "Will?"

Gilwyn shouted, "Ghost, do something!"

Lukien staggered forward, rushing for Trager. The general easily sidestepped him, knocking him aside. Again Lukien skidded across the floor, and again Gilwyn cried out for unknown help. But it was too late. As Akeela stood with his own dagger dangling in his hand, Trager slashed at him, opening a red gash in his neck. Akeela dropped his blade and hovered there, blood filling the slit in his throat. Lukien lay on the floor, frozen in horror. Akeela stood, dazed and drunk, his hands going to his fallen king.

Blood trickled down Akeela's neck. He was still alive, though barely. Lukien quickly studied the wound.

It wasn't as deep as it could have been, but it was bad. Akeela looked up at Lukien and tried to smile.

'I die, Lukien___"

'No," Lukien argued. "I won't let you. Not here. Not like this. Gilwyn, help me with him. We have to get him out of here."

'Lukien, he's finished," cried Gilwyn. Behind him Ghost and Trager continued battling, breaking everything in the room around them.

'Get out of here!" shouted the Inhuman. "Before he sees me!"

Lukien ignored the voice, struggling to get his arms beneath Akeela. The thought of killing Trager flashed across his mind, but he only had one chance to save Akeela, and he wasn't going tc waste it.

With a grunt he pulled the wounded king off the flooi and lifted him in his arms, easier than it should have been because Akeela had wasted away.

'Come on, Gilwyn," he cried. The boy hobbled after him stealing a last glance at Trager and the still invisible Ghost. Ttu thought of leaving Trager alive was unbearable, but to Lukien th( thought of Akeela dying was worse. He knew his king didn' have much time, but if somehow they could reach Grimhok maybe Minikin could save him.

'Kill that son of a bitch, Ghost!" he cried as Gilwyn pullec open the chamber doors.

'No!" shrieked Trager. Again he tried to lunge for them, am once again Ghost was there to stop him.

For a moment Lukiei caught a glimpse of him, a frenzied flash of white skin, and knev that whatever magic kept him invisible was fading. But h couldn't stop to help the albino—a pair of Lürian soldiers wer outside in the hall.

Lukien's harried mind groped for an answer as the soldier blankly stared, shocked by the sight of their bloodied king in hi arms. Gilwyn hurried to produce an explanation.

'The king has fallen," said Gilwyn earnestly. "He's badl hurt!" wound. Then he floated like a leaf down to his knees, all the while staring at Trager.

'Die, you ungrateful bastard!" cried Trager.

'Oh, Gods, no…" Lukien got to his feet, intending to charge ahead, but an unseen hand held him back.

" Don't!" whispered a voice.

'What the…?"

Blood raced down Akeela's rumpled shirt. He fell forward, his face smashing into the floor. Trager stood over him, his face a twisted mass. He stared down at his wounded king and let the dagger fall from his hand.

'Damn you! You made me do this!" he cried.

Gilwyn hurried toward Lukien, helping him to his feet. "Ghost," he whispered, "where are you?"

'I'm here," said the unseen voice. Lukien knew instinctively it was one of the Inhumans. Amazingly he felt the ropes being cut from his hands. "Go now," he ordered. "I'll take care of Trager."

'No!" said Gilwyn.

" Go!" roared the voice.

Trager was on his knees beside the gasping Akeela. When he heard the strange voice he turned in its direction. His hand frantically searched for the blade he'd dropped.

'Hurry," urged the voice. "It's your only chance!"

'Who is that?" demanded Trager. He got to his feet with his dagger in hand, scanning the chamber.

Lukien looked around too, trying to see his unknown benefactor. Now that he was free he could get to Akeela. If he could reach him, pull him away from Trager…

'Ghost, or whoever you are, get Trager!" he cried as he made his way to Akeela. Trager made to stop him but was instantly bowled over by some unseen force. The blow stunned Trager, who looked around in terror for an opponent he couldn't see. The invisible warrior blocked the way between Lukien and Akeela. Lukien could hear his unseen blade slashing through the air. Amazingly, Trager ducked and parried each one, falling back against the wall, twirling to avoid his invisible enemy.

'Akeela, it's me," said Lukien desperately as he reached his A sudden shout from within the chamber galvanized the soldiers. Trager's voice echoed over the combat in the room.

'Stop them!"

A large crash finished his words. Lukien heard Trager's anguished cry. Confused, the soldiers in the hall reached for their swords. Burdened by Akeela, Lukien knew he was finished, but a second later the white-skinned terror exploded from the chamber with a furious scream. The Inhuman called Ghost raced past Lukien and Gilwyn, slamming his sword into the first soldier before his own weapon was drawn. The other soldier fell back in horror at the sight of Ghost, recovering in just enough time to bring up his blade.

'Move!" ordered Ghost as he pressed his attack. "Get out of here, both of you!"

Lukien glanced back to the chamber. Inside was Trager, alive or dead. Over his arm Akeela gurgled with rasping breaths. The awful sound made Lukien's mind up for him. There were only seconds, and really only one choice. They had to get out. Now. Lukien looked around wildly, desperate to save Akeela but with no way out.

'Did you bring horses?" he asked Gilwyn quickly.

Gilwyn nodded. "Better. A kreel. She's fast."

'She'd better be," said Lukien. "Because we have to run like the wind."

'But how do we get out?"

Before Lukien could answer the man battling Ghost gave a terrible cry. Lukien turned to see him sliding down the wall, his heart punctured, just as Ghost pulled free his blood-soaked blade.

'Ghost!" cried Gilwyn. "Are you all right?"

The albino man nodded, barely able to breathe. "I'm all right," he gasped. "We have to move."

Lukien shot a glance into the chamber. "What about Trager?"

'I don't know," said the Inhuman. "Maybe dead, maybe unconscious. I hit him pretty hard."

'Then we'd better hurry," said Gilwyn desperately.

'No!" cried Lukien. "We can't let Trager live!"

'And we can't let Akeela die, either," Gilwyn argued. "We have to get out now!"

'How?" cried Lukien. "There's no way through. The others will see us."

Ghost grinned through his exhaustion. "Just follow me," he said, then herded them toward the stairs.

rager awoke to the faces of worried men. His head throbbed from the blow he had taken, a blow he hadn't seen coming. As his eyes fluttered open through a stream of blood, he realized that he hadn't even seen his assailant. It had been one of the gods-cursed freaks from Grimhold. He tried to sit up, then felt a shooting pain in his side.

'Argh!"

'Don't try to move," urged one of the men. Trager realized suddenly it was Tark. The old colonel looked concerned. "You took a bad hit in the head. And your ribs again."

Trager felt nauseous, as though he might faint. He struggled to speak. "Where are they?" he gasped.

Tark looked away, studying Trager's wound. "You're bleeding," he said. "You've been stabbed."

'Tark, where are they?" Trager demanded.

The colonel said haltingly, "I don't know. They got away."

Trager's head fell back, barely able to stay up. He stared at the ceiling, swearing. There were others in the room, mumbling to themselves as they saw his terrible condition.

'General, I don't know how to tell you this," said Tark. "King Akeela's gone. There's blood outside and all though the palace. I think they took him."

'They killed him, Tark," said Trager. "They slit his throat. I don't know why they took his body, but they did." He closed his eyes, feigning disgust. "Probably for some cursed ceremony. Human sacrifice, something."

Tark looked ashen. "Fate above…"

'It was Lukien, Tark," he said. "I tried to stop him, but…"

'Shhh, don't talk," urged the colonel. "You need rest. And when you're better we'll hunt down that king-slayer scum and make him pay."

'Yes," said Trager. "We'll find him, make him suffer…"

As Colonel Tark wrapped a bandage around his wound Trager sat motionless on the floor. Guilt gnawed at him, devouring his thoughts. But Akeela had deserved it. After all he'd done for the king, how could he have turned yet again to Lukien?

'Tark, tell the men what's happened," said Trager. "Tell them I'm in charge now."

'I will, sir." Tark applied pressure to the wound in Trager's side, stemming the blood.

'Tell them Lukien killed Akeela," Trager went on. "Tell them we're going to Grimhold to get the king's body back and to punish that treacherous filth."

'I will. Now hold still."

There was nothing else to say, so Trager closed his eyes and let Tark work. In his mind he saw Lukien defeated, and the amulets of immortality around his own neck. He saw himself returning triumphantly to Koth, to a country without a king and desperate for a leader. If he was clever—if he could lead his men against Grimhold and win—he could have the thing he'd always prized.

The respect of the world.

J_^ukien and the others rode as far and as fast as they could, leaving behind the city and the gruesome shadows of the crucified. They had taken the fleet-footed kreels to the confines of a row of high, sandy dunes, hoping to escape the Lürians with their speed and the aide of Ghost's remarkable magic. The strange albino had worked his miracles on the minds of the Lürians, getting them out of the palace without being seen. Remarkably, Akeela had lived through the ordeal, silently laying in Lukien's arms as if he knew they were escaping and wouldn't make a sound to betray them. Hoping that they could make it to Grim-hold, Lukien had let Ghost ride up ahead with Akeela crudely strapped to the albino's kreel. Since he couldn't ride a kreel himself he had to share Gilwyn's, and he wanted to give Akeela the best chance of reaching Minikin and her powerful magics. The amulet would save him, he told himself as they hurried over the dunes. If only Minikin would let Akeela have it. It was a gamble but it was also Akeela's only chance, and Lukien had risked everything to take it, even letting Trager live.

Ghost didn't know for sure if he had killed the general, offering only vague assurances that he had done his best. But Lukien knew it would be worth it if only he could keep Akeela alive. It was the only thing he wanted in the world now.

Then, when Lukien felt confident they were far enough from Jador to make it safely home, he watched Ghost's kreel in front 'Lukien…"

'It's me, Akeela," Lukien reassured him, stroking his face as though he were a child, though Akeela looked impossibly old.

'You came back," rasped Akeela.

'You knew I would. I had to. You're my brother, Akeela."

For the briefest moment the dementia left Akeela's face. "Brothers fight sometimes."

Lukien smiled, remembering the many times he had said that same thing. "That's right. But that doesn't mean they don't love each other."

'Thank you for being my brother, Lukien." Akeela tried to reach up and touch Lukien, but he was too weak. His hand trembled with effort. Lukien took his hand and held it, and knew that it held the very last of Akeela's strength.

'If I had the amulet I could save you," he groaned. "I'm sorry." He fought back tears. "I've killed you, just as I killed Cassandra."

Akeela coughed, his body wracked with pain. "It was me," he gasped. "I killed us all."

Then he closed his eyes and his grip slackened in Lukien's hand. The bubbling of blood around his bandage went on, but his breathing slowed and his face softened.

And then he was dead.

Lukien held his hand and did not let go.

'Akeela?"

When he heard no reply, the tears came at last.

of him come to a skidding halt. The albino, exhausted from his magical efforts to save them, looked down at the bloodied figure slumped in front of him in the saddle. Stricken, he turned and called to Lukien.

'Mother of Fate, no," groaned Lukien. Gilwyn hurried Emerald up to Ghost's kreel. It was dark and they could barely see Akeela, but the moonlight on Ghost's white face exposed the In-human's grim expression.

'He's asking for you, Lukien," said Ghost. Then he shook his head slightly with a sad expression. "I could barely hear him."

Lukien dismounted from Emerald's back as quickly as he could, then went to Akeela and very gently lifted his head. The bandage he had fashioned around Akeela's throat was filthy with dirt and saturated with blood. Akeela's eyes lolled back in his head, but on his lips was Lukien's name, over and over.

Seeing him now, Lukien knew that he'd failed. Akeela had lost too much blood and was too near death to make it to Grimhold.

'Gilwyn," he said softly, "help me get him down. I want to be with him."

'Lukien, we have to keep going. If there's any chance—

'There is no chance, Gilwyn. You were right."

Lukien began undoing the straps keeping Akeela on the kreel while Ghost dismounted. With the albino's help Gilwyn was able to free Akeela's legs and ease him into Lukien's arms. Cradling him like a withered child, Lukien stood in the moonlight, unsure what to do. Gilwyn and Ghost were watching silently. Realizing that he wanted to be alone with Akeela, Lukien turned and walked off toward the dunes. His companions didn't follow. Akeela continued whispering his name as he was carried away, occasionally fluttering his eyes, struggling against death.

'It's all right, Akeela," said Lukien. "I'm here with you now and I'm not going to leave you."

He took Akeela far from Gilwyn and Ghost and their waiting kreels, setting him down in the sand and propping his head up with his hand. There he knelt beside the dying man. Akeela's breath was heavy, coming now in short, choking gasps. He managed to open his eyes just enough to recognize the face hovering over him.

gentle. Typically, his first concern was for his sister. How fares Lariniza, Minikin?

Lariniza inhabited Minikin's own amulet. As the great spirit spoke, Minikin felt his sister pulse within the jewel around her neck.

She is well, Amaraz, replied Minikin. She greets you. Minikin loved Lariniza. She was her protector, her life-giver. She and her powers had kept disease and age from touching Minikin's mortal body, just as her brother had long done for Kadar. Together they were not only the rulers of the Akari, but their protectors as well. It was why the amulets had been formed, and their spirits forever encased within them. Now Lariniza spoke to Minikin, gentle, reassuring words. The spirit of the Eye told her not to be afraid. She urged her human friend to ask her questions.

I worry, Amaraz, said Minikin to the incandescent face. About Grimhold. Ghost is still gone, and I have lost young Gilwyn, too. Tell me please, she begged, can you see them?

Amaraz' face smiled, his teeth like glowing fog. You are a treasure, my Minikin, he said. Do not fear. The albino is well, and the young Lürian. I have been watching them.

Minikin let out a sigh of relief. From the rafters in the ceiling she heard the chorus of spirits do the same. Of all the Akari, only Amaraz could see so clearly. Not even Lacaron, Insight's spirit, was as powerful as he at seeing the world beyond Grimhold. For Lacaron, the world appeared as a fractured mirror. Not so with Amaraz. His vision was as clear as sunshine.

That pleases me, said Minikin. Thank you, Amaraz.

There is more, said the Akari. Your champion is with them.

Lukien? Minikin was overjoyed. He's still alive?

They return to Grimhold even now, said Amaraz. They are uninjured.

Are they near? asked Minikin excitedly.

Very near, replied Amaraz. Moment by moment his face grew more clear as the bond between them grew. It was as if Minikin had left her body behind in an alternate Grimhold, and now she was one of the Akari, floating with them in their own preternatural realm. Amaraz stretched out a hand for Minikin, a hand that i n a small, quiet room in a seldom used wing of Grimhold, Minikin knelt with her palms on her knees and her eyes shut. Before her stood an altar of white stone, the only object of any size in the chamber. On the altar stood two glowing candles. Between the candles rested the amulet of the dead Kadar. The Eye of God lent its ghostly red light to the illumination of the candle, bathing the little room in its warm glow. Minikin felt its heat on her face, saw its radiance against her closed eyelids. Physically, she was alone in the room. Mentally, her mind sang with voices. She could sense them swimming through the air around her, their formless feet and hands like wisps of smoke. Her breathing steadied as she completed her trance, raising her mind to the consciousness of her Akari hosts. Their invisible fingers caressed her, taking her into their dead realm. The presence of Amaraz rose from the amulet to greet her.

In her mind she could see his wizened face, ancient but gentle, shimmering as it came into focus. She kept her eyes closed and concentrated on him. To a novice at the summoning, the little chamber would have seemed empty. Not so with Minikin; to her it was filled with beings. Amaraz' presence subjugated the other Akari. Their ethereal bodies drifted to the back of the room and up to the ceiling, anywhere to make room for the amulet's spirit. Amaraz' shimmering face smiled at Minikin.

Long since you've summoned me, he said. His voice was soothing, 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 Inhumane 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 therefrom 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 Lürians 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 had almost taken form and flesh. She even felt the warmth of his touch. There is more news, my Minikin, said the spirit. The mad Akeela is dead.

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 Lürians 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 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 Lürians 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 Lürians 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.

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 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 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, Lürian? You're not the only one that 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 Lu-kien'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 I'm furious with myself for letting him live. Now he'll be coming."

'He'll be coming just as soon as he is able," said Minikin, "And I'm sure he seeks the amulets just as much as he seeks revenge."

'Then we'll beat him, Minikin." Lukien felt his rage boiling over. "I promise."

'You want to kill him for what he did to Akeela, I know," said Minikin. "But that won't be enough.

This isn't about a vendetta anymore, Lukien, not yours and not Akeela's. This is a war for survival."

'Minikin, you don't have to explain it to me. I know what's at stake."

'No," said Minikin, "you don't." She continued to toy distractedly with her amulet. Lukien could tell something was troubling her, something more than just his coming countrymen. He waited for her to find just the right words. Finally she said, "The Lürians must not breach the gate. They must not take the fortress or even set foot in it. If they do…" She glanced away, unable to finish.

'Tell me," Lukien urged.

Minikin caressed her amulet mournfully. "If they do, the Akari will destroy them, and everyone else inside Grimhold." She looked up at Lukien, her eyes full of fear. "The Akari will burn the halls with fire if the Lürians set foot in Grimhold. They won't let their home be taken, Lukien. Do you understand that?"

Uncertain exactly what it meant, Lukien decided to be encouraging. "It means we have to defeat the Lürians out in the canyon. And we will, Minikin, I promise."

'You don't understand," groaned Minikin. "What will happen if the Lürians defeat you? What if they take the keep? What of my Inhumans? They'll be killed, Lukien, burned to death." The little woman leaned miserably against the wall, shaking her head. "That musn't happen. I couldn't bear it."

Lukien still didn't comprehend the Akari or their ways, but he knew they had the power to carry out their threat. He said, "Then take the Inhumans to the village, Minikin. They'll be safer there." 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."

'I know that," said Lukien. "With Akeela gone I thought there might be some hope, but Thorin told me Trager's still alive.

'No they won't,'' said Minikin. "After the fortress falls the village will be next, you know that. Even if the Akari kill the Lürians inside the keep, there will be many left outside." She looked at Lukien helplessly. "They'll find the village, Lukien. They'll kill my children."

For the first time since he'd known her, Minikin looked truly afraid. Lukien bit his lip, trying to think of a way out of their dismal predicament. He knew Minikin was right—if the Lürians defeated them, they would storm the keep on foot, but others would remain behind, enough to discover the village and pillage it. And if the Inhumans remained in Grimhold, they would die in the Akari fire. It seemed horribly cruel to Lukien, but he had no reason to question the Akari. Grimhold had been their home for ages, and they had already lost it to foreigners once. As unthinkable as it was to kill the Inhumans, Lukien could almost understand their decision. That left only one option for them.

'Then we'll have to defeat Trager," he said. "There's no other way."

Minikin nodded. "And I will keep the Inhumans inside the keep. They'll be safest there, I think."

'Agreed. The fortress is their best chance for survival."

It was their only chance for survival, and both Lukien and Minikin knew it. The Mistress of Grimhold put out her tiny hand and took Lukien by the fingers. She did not speak for a long moment. Rather she simply looked at him, sharing the moment. There was very little time left, and neither of them wanted to waste it.

'Minikin," said Lukien gently, "don't forget what you told me. The future is always in question. We have the power to change it."

The little woman finally smiled her bright, enigmatic smile. "I know," she said. "I just hope I don't soon regret those words."

'You won't," promised Lukien. "One way or the other, I'll make sure the Inhumans are saved."

Minikin frowned. "That's a promise you can't keep."

'But I will," Lukien insisted. He squeezed her hand. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a lot of work to do."

'No," urged Minikin. "Rest first. You've been traveling all night."

'It doesn't matter. Like you said, there's no time to waste." He bent and gave her cheek an unexpected kiss, then walked off to join Baron Glass and their blossoming army.

Dreana had broken quite easily after only a few lashes, exclaiming in her pain that Benrian had been to Grimhold before. It had taken days for Marrs to get to Dreana, systematically working his way through the palace servants and seeming to enjoy every moment. Trager himself had not bothered with the preliminaries. Like Tark, he didn't really have the stomach for torture, and he had needed to rest his wounds. He was still very weak, and had to hold himself up with effort. The wounds the Inhuman had given him had laid him up for days, and it would be days more before he could ride against Grimhold. But they were near now to learning the keep's location, and Trager wanted to hear the words himself.

Surprisingly for a body servant, Benrian was extremely resistant. It was well past dawn now, and Marrs had been working on him for an hour. He had started with the whip, turning Benrian's dark skin into a coagulated mass of scars. When the whip had failed, he had turned to the pokers. The stink of brimstone filled the dank chamber as the coals in the brazier burned. The single torch made unusual shadows on the opposite wall. Benrian looked like some sort of twisted dancer, dangling in his chains as Marrs worked his naked body. Trager pitied the man. He had come to respect the Jadori in his brief time among them and didn't like torturing them, particularly the women. It was not what he was raised to do, and he knew his father wouldn't approve, though his father had beaten his mother as if it were meaningless, swearing it was his right as a husband. Trager had daydreamed about his mother while the woman Dreana was in the chains. Their cries had been so similar.

Sergeant Marrs replaced the poker he was holding with a fresher, hotter one from the brazier. He twisted it before Benri-an's eyes, which widened horribly at the sight of it. Marrs' thick voice carried through the chamber as he spoke to his victim.

'I'm getting tired of you," he whispered. Slowly he directed the glowing end of the rod toward Benrian's left eye. Benrian let out a muffled cry through his thick gag, pleading for mercy. He shook his head wildly. Marrs smiled and pulled back a little. "No? You want to keep both your eyes? Then tell me what I want to know!"

G,

Teneral Will Trager sat alone in a dark corner of the cell, watching the handiwork of his subordinate, Sergeant Marrs. The room was dim save for the light of a single torch and the glowing embers of a brazier filled with coals. The cellars were deserted; Trager wanted no witnesses. He knew that men like Colonel Tark were loyal but squeamish sometimes, and torture had never really been part of the Royal Chargers, a unit founded on more lofty stuff. But these were dire days and called for extreme measures.

And that was why Sergeant Marrs was here, doing what the gods had gifted him to do. Marrs was a man with no remorse and a heart as hard as iron. He had never flinched in battle nor mourned the death of a friend. To Trager's knowledge, the sergeant had no friends. He was a loner but a good soldier, and today his particular dispassion was being put to good use.

Sergeant Marrs stood in the center of the cell. In his hand was a metal rod, its tip glowing red. There were three other such rods in the brazier, warming up for the dirty business at hand. Two long chains dangled down from the ceiling, with two stout manacles to hold their naked prisoner. His name was Benrian. And like all the servants in the palace, Benrian had claimed no knowledge of Grimhold. But Benrian was as close to Kadar as any servant had been. He had been the dead kahan's body servant.

And though Benrian still claimed otherwise, another of his fellow servants had not been so resilient under the whip. A woman named Benrian began to sob, and Trager could see the struggle within him. Unable to take it anymore he rose from his chair and went to the dangling man, shoving Marrs aside.

'Benrian, look at me," he ordered.

The Jadori kept his eyes closed, sobbing. Trager roughly grabbed hold of his hair and jerked his head forward.

'Open your eyes!" he growled.

When Benrian looked his eyes were red and full of tears. Badly garbled words spewed from his gagged mouth, begging Trager to end his torture.

'You know what I want to know, and you know I'll find it sooner or later," said Trager. His head and ribs screamed with searing pain, but he hardly felt it in his rage. Like many in the palace, Benrian understood his tongue, though not well. "There's no reason for you to endure this. You know where Grimhold is. Now tell me."

Benrian stifled his sobs and shook his head.

'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't cross 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 Lüria."

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 long ride 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 Lürians 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 Lürians 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 Lürians 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 Lüri-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 Lürians, 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 Lüria.

'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 Lürians 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?"

'I will," said Lukien, then headed for the southern slope. He looked up at the high rock walls as he walked, satisfied that his army was invisible against the bright sky. He was sure Trager wasn't expecting an ambush. As far as the Lürians knew, there were no soldiers in Grimhold, only cripples.

'Time for a surprise, Trager," sneered Lukien as he began hiking up the rocks. He and his people had chiseled out channels and footholds to make the climb easier, but it was still a difficult task, especially in armor. Lukien chose the most gentle slope. It took long minutes, but when he reached the top he surveyed the canyon floor far below. His position was perfect. Closer to Grim-hold he could make out some of the Inhumans among the rocks, their bows poised and ready. He himself was on a granite shelf that jutted out over the canyon like a jaw, the perfect platform for his performance. He turned toward the east and squinted. The first hints of Trager's army showed itself—a cloud of dust rising up from between the mountains. Lukien watched closely, trying to gauge their numbers and distance. They were very close, but their numbers remained hidden by the rocks. He took a deep breath to prepare himself. For a moment he thought of praying to Vala, the Jadori god who'd caused him so much trouble.

'Vala, if you're listening, watch over us," he whispered. Then he turned toward the defenders in the rocks. "They're coming!" he shouted. "Make ready!" h-r-f JL rager led his men into the winding canyons, his mind alert to every sight and sound. The rocky way was narrower than he would have liked, though Benrian had promised him there was a clearing near the entrance to Grimhold from which his men could organize and fight. Colonel Tark kept close to the general, protecting him as he looked ahead and wound his way over the rough ground. Sergeant Marrs rode near to Benrian's mule, cursing at the Jadori and promising to skin him alive if he didn't mule and go," he said, too distracted by their discovery to even turn around. Slowly he trotted deeper into the canyon, mesmerized by the sight. Colonel Tark and his lieutenants ordered as many horsemen as would fit into the clearing, until they filled it with the noise of horse hooves. Yet the gorge and its fortress were curiously quiet.

'Tark, what do you think?" asked Trager as he scanned the silent cliffs. "Where is everyone?"

'Holed up in the keep would be my guess, General," said Tark. His lieutenants nodded in agreement.

Trager wasn't so sure. He looked toward the great gate and noticed it was unguarded, though he supposed that really wasn't a surprise. It was stout enough to withstand a good bombardment, and they had no battering ram. He thought for a moment while his troops continued filing into the gorge, considering his options. If Lukien and the freaks were in the fortress, they were well protected. He ordered men to continue taking up positions in the clearing, eager to get them out of the confines of the narrow paths. When most were safely inside, he turned to Tark.

'We should explore the area, see if there's any other ways in or out of the keep," he said. "Then we can—

'Welcome, murderer!" exclaimed an echoing voice. "Up here!"

Startled, Trager scanned the cliffs for the voice. What he saw took his breath away. There on a lip of the southern slope stood Lukien, his bronze armor shining so that he looked like a golden god. He was on the edge of the cliff, gazing down disdainfully. His taunting echoed through the canyon.

'Surprised to see me?" he shouted. "You shouldn't be, you disloyal snake. Did you really think I'd let you get away with killing our king?"

Another murmur instantly rippled though the Lürian ranks. Colonel Tark and the lieutenants looked at Trager in horror.

'What's that?" said Tark. "General, what's he saying?"

'You didn't tell them, did you, Trager?" mocked Lukien from his high perch. "I'm hardly surprised.

You've always been a traitor."

'And you're a liar, you wretched bucket of scum!" Trager shook his fist at Lukien. "It was you that killed the king, and all these men know it! Where's his body? What did you do with it?"

Lukien laughed. "These men know you well enough, Trager. They know the truth, I'd wager."

The knight's voice shook the soldiers on their steeds. They began shifting in their saddles, unsure what to believe. Trager knew he had to act fast or he'd lose them.

'Liar!" he spat up at Lukien. "You'll pay for your murdering, Kingslayer! You and those monsters you're protecting!"

'You're the monster, Trager," shouted Lukien. He looked beautiful in the sunlight, the very epitome of his own undying memory. "What kind of man kills his own king? What kind of monster?"

Enraged, Trager glanced desperately at his men. "He lies! He wants to turn you against me!" He glared up at Lukien, blinded by his bronze armor. "How dare you taunt me, you traitor! All these men know how you abandoned Lüria! They all know I'm better than you!"

Again Lukien filled the cliffs with his mocking voice. "If these men follow you, Trager, then they'd better be prepared to die!"

'Ha!" chortled Trager. "That's a big boast, one-eye! We've got the weapons, remember?"

Lukien surprised him with a wink and a smile. The Bronze Knight turned toward the fortress and shouted through the cliffs, "Defenders of Grimhold, show yourselves!"

Instantly the rocky walls came alive with figures, men and women in mismatched armor bearing spears and bows, all pointed downward at Trager's army. There were hundreds of them or more, too many to count. The horses whinnied in panic as stones tumbled down from the cliffs. Trager swiveled in confused panic, watching as more and more of the armored heads appeared in the cliffs.

'Gods, now what?" asked Colonel Tark. He looked toward Trager for answers the general didn't have.

'Not a bad army for a bunch of freaks, eh Trager?" crowed Lukien. His hand rested confidently on the pommel of his sword. "Don't try to flee. If you do I'll give the order to fire."

It wasn't a bluff and Trager knew it. Immediately he put up his hand, ordering his horsemen not to move. "A good gambit, Lukien," he called, "but not good enough. There'll still be enough of us left to take your precious Grimhold."

Lukien shrugged. "Maybe," he shouted back. "Want to find out? They may not look like much but they've got good aim. I'm sure we'll take out a bunch of you."

Trager ground his jaws together, desperate for a plan. Having Lukien best him was unbearable. And just his presence on the cliff was affecting his men. He could see the adoration in their eyes, mixed with their very real fear of death. The army in the hills kept them sharply in their sights, ready to rain down their arrows and spears. Trager knew he was trapped. The last bit of control in him collapsed.

'Damn it!" he cried, shaking his fist. "I'm your better!"

Lukien's gaze narrowed hatefully on him. "Prove it."

The challenge was intolerable. All his life had come down to this single moment, and suddenly Trager didn't care about anything else, not the amulets or Grimhold or the possibility of ruling Lüria. He didn't even care about the lives of his men. He just wanted to beat Lukien in front of them.

'Name your bargain, traitor!"

'You and me, to the death," said Lukien. "Why risk all these men, when all you really want is me?"

The hunger to avenge himself for a lifetime of wrongs made Trager pull the sword from his scabbard.

"Get down here and face me!"

Lukien shook his head. "No way, murderer. If you want me, you fight me up here, where everyone can see us."

Before he knew what he was doing Trager jumped from his horse. He scanned the cliffs for a way to scale them.

'General, no!" cried Tark. "What's the matter with you? He's baiting you, can't you see that?"

Trager looked at his aide, desperate for him to understand. "I know, Tark, but I must. And you watch, all right?" He called out to all his men, "All of you, watch me! Watch me defeat this vermin once and for all! Then you'll see who the best really is!"

Under the threat of Grimhold's arrows, the hundreds of Lür-ian horsemen watched helplessly as their leader turned away and started hiking his way up the cliff. As Trager climbed he heard Tark calling after him, cursing.

'You're as mad as Akeela!" cried Tark.

Trager ignored the colonel's charge. None of them understood. None of them could ever understand.

'You didn't grow up in that bastard's shadow, Tark," he grunted as he slogged up the rocks. Tark couldn't hear him, but it didn't matter. His destiny was waiting at the top of the cliff.

-ITigh in the northern turret of Grimhold, Gilwyn waited with White-Eye and Minikin, watching the extraordinary events unfolding outside. They had waited until they'd heard Lukien's order before opening the shutters, and had experienced a wonderful but brief surge of pride. Seeing her Inhumans so well prepared for battle had made Minikin almost weep. Gilwyn had felt the very same. But then Lukien had started talking, and everything went astray. Minikin almost hung over the window in disbelief as she watched Trager begin shimmying up the cliff. At the top was Lukien, swishing his blade and stretching his muscles in preparation.

'Vala's Grace, what's he doing?" exclaimed the little woman. White-Eye joined her at the window, as dumbstruck by the knight's actions as her mentor. With the help of her Akari she could see everything that was going on. She turned toward Gilwyn for an explanation.

'Gilwyn? What's he doing?"

Gilwyn pushed past her for a better look. The Lürian soldiers were hardly moving. In the cliffs were the countless Inhumans, aiming their weapons down on them. He could see Baron Glass on the northern slope, standing in dumb surprise with his mouth open. Apparently he didn't know what Lukien had planned either.

'He's going to fight Trager himself," said Gilwyn.

'Why?" shrieked Minikin. "He doesn't have to do that! He'll be killed!"

The lump in Gilwyn's throat grew as he realized Lukien was sacrificing himself. "If he can take out Trager…"

losing them, you know. They don't believe I killed Akeela. They know what you are, Trager."

'They follow me, Lukien, in a way that no one ever followed you." Trager took a step forward, his face reddening. "I made them the greatest soldiers on the continent. But do I get any praise for that?

Does anyone talk about me the way they speak of you? You're a gods-cursed traitor and they still revere you. They don't know what you're really like!"

Lukien shook his head, almost pitying the man. "They see the truth in you, that's all."

'The truth? You made me, you bastard! I was the one who held Akeela together when you ran out on him!" Trager spit at Lukien's feet. "You sicken me. You call me a coward, but I was there to pick up the pieces after what you did to Akeela. And he never once thanked me for it. Never once!"

'You both went mad," said Lukien. "But that doesn't mean you should be allowed to go on." He hefted his sword. "You need to be put down, Trager. Like a rabid dog."

Trager's eyes gleamed as he unsheathed his blade. "I've waited a long time for this," he said. "I'm going to love watching you die."

There was hardly time for Lukien to raise his blade. Trager charged, swinging his sword in a blinding arc and nearly catching his torso. Lukien's blade slashed down to parry, then twisted to repel the attack.

At once Trager came at him again, slashing at Lukien's blind side, a tactic the Bronze Knight had expected. He was stunned by Trager's swiftness, amazed that a man could move so fast. Again and again Trager pressed, pushing Lukien toward the edge of the cliff. The ground beneath him began to crumble.

Lukien heard the stunned gasps below, felt the rocks giving way. Snarling, he gritted his teeth and counterattacked, desperately holding his ground, putting all his strength into an inch-by-inch advance. The sudden burst surprised Trager; Lukien watched his eyes widen. He pressed his one advantage, going for Trager's wounded ribs and catching his torso with the flat of his blade. The armor dented as the blade found its mark. Trager hollered in angry pain, falling back and saving Lukien from the edge. Lukien kept on, swinging his blade for Trager's legs. The 'But he can't!" said Minikin. "The man's only got one eye!"

Gilwyn reached for White-Eye and took her hand. "He's doing it for us," he said. "The Lürians won't attack if they lose Trager." White-Eye nodded but was unable to speak. There was still every chance in the world that they would soon burn in Amaraz'

fire.

ukien waited at the top of the cliff, exercising his sword arm and listening to Trager curse as he hiked his way up the rocks. In the distance he could see Minikin in Grimhold's turret, her face tight with shock.

Baron Glass was on the northern slope, calling orders to their comrades and periodically shooting Lukien an admonishing glare. Lukien knew the old baron had figured out his plan. Clearly, he didn't approve. But Lukien was past caring. He had been prepared to die since fleeing for Jador, and he knew the consequences of his actions. In fact, he was content and pleased with himself.

How well I know you, Trager, he thought as he sliced his sword through the air. How easy it had been to coax him up.

In a few minutes Trager had bested the cliff and appeared on the ledge to face Lukien, stepping out from behind a huge outcropping of brown rock. He had sheathed his sword and let it rest at his side as he watched his opponent. His eyes took measure of the ledge and smiled.

'You've chosen quite a stage for our showdown, Lukien."

Lukien let his sword fall to his side. Trager was a pitiful sight, his once gleaming silver armor now scratched and filthy from the hike. He noticed the way his old nemesis favored his side a bit as he breathed.

'Your wound," he said. "Still hurts?"

Trager's grin was maniacal. "Not enough to save you."

'I knew you'd come," said Lukien. "I knew you just couldn't resist trying one more time to beat me."

'Why shouldn't I try?" sneered Trager. "I've had to live with your memory every day of my life. Now I'll finally get a chance to prove to everyone what a bag of wind you are."

Lukien gestured toward the waiting Lürians below. "You're eyes widen just as Trager's shadow fell on the rocks. With his last bit of strength he lifted his sword and moved aside, pushing it into Trager's descending belly. Trager's blade fell from his fingers and tumbled into the canyon. Lukien lay gasping on his knees, his old adversary impaled like an insect on his sword. A ball of blood gushed from Trager's mouth. Lukien held him there for all the world to see.

'You're beaten," he whispered hatefully. "I'm still the best!" Exhausted and dazed, his back screaming with pain, Lukien pulled his blade from Trager's belly and got to his feet, kicking the general onto his back. He stared down into the man's contorted face. Trager looked up at him, coughing blood from his punctured innards. A strange smile swam on his face.

'I'm right, you know," he gasped. "You were always Akeela's favorite."

The words struck Lukien as hard as any sword. He knelt down beside the dying Trager, looking at a man who might have been so much greater, if only he hadn't been forced to contend with a legend. He realized that he had won, and that never again would Trager haunt him. It was time to give the man his due. "I know," he said softly.

Trager's expression became suddenly calm. "Finish me," he croaked. "Don't let me die like this."

'A man like you deserves the worst of deaths," said Lukien. "I should let the vultures eat you."

'But you won't," gasped Trager. His odd smile twisted. "You owe me. You know you do."

Lukien's vengeance fled as he stared down into Trager's brainsick face. Without malice he picked up his sword, raised it high above his head, then lowered it like a guillotine and chopped off Trager's head.

His strength quickly ebbing, he picked up the head and stood on the edge of the cliff.

'Here's your general!" he cried, then tossed the grisly trophy down into the clearing. "Leave this place!" he ordered. "Or die like your demented leader!"

The world around Lukien grew blurry. It was all he could do to hold himself up. Far below, the ranks of Lürians began talking among themselves. Lukien wavered on his feet, about to faint wounded general's weapon parried every blow, dancing from point to point with expert speed. Countering, he brought up his armored forearm and smashed it unexpectedly into Lukien's face. Lukien felt his nose explode in pain, saw the blood erupt in a blinding spray. He staggered back, instinctively bringing up his blade to block the blow he knew was coming. The sword clattered as Trager's blade slide down its length, barely missing his armored fingers. Blinded and in pain, Lukien fought to clear his face of blood. The awful pain drove him on, and again he pressed his attack, catching the surprised Trager once more in the torso. This time the general doubled over as the blade pierced his armor. But again he brought up his sword too soon for Lukien. Despite his pain his blade was everywhere, countering every blow Lukien mustered.

Finally Lukien broke off, exhausted and blind. This time Trager didn't counter. Both men took a much needed rest, panting as they paced around each other like maddened tigers. Lukien wiped the blood from his eye and saw that Trager was staggering, favoring his wounded side. Blood ran down the general's silver armor.

'You won't beat me," Trager seethed. "I won't let you!"

Lukien thought his lungs would burst. Fighting to catch his breath he spat, "All talk, Trager. Always all talk!"

The insult baited Trager into striking. He plunged madly ahead, his sword out before him like the horns of a bull. Lukien danced aside and brought down his blade, catching Trager in the back of the thigh. But Trager didn't howl. Instead he brought his blade about and smashed it into Lukien's back. The stroke paralyzed Lukien. The last bit of air shot from his lungs in a jolt of pain. He stumbled, falling to his knees, his back on fire with agony. Hardly able to move, he looked down and saw he was again at the cliff's edge. Again the rocks beneath him threatened to give. Far below, the wide eyes of Trager's men watched in horror. Lukien struggled for strength. Trager was behind him somewhere, stalking slowly forward. There was only one chance left, and he had to time it perfectly.

He didn't turn or listen for the approach. He barely even moved. Instead he watched the faces of the Lürians, sure that they would betray the death blow. A second later he saw their from the pain. Down his back he felt hot blood sluicing from his wound.

Then a figure rode out from the ranks of horsemen, who took off his helmet to reveal his weathered face. He stared up at Lu-kien in dumb amazement. Lukien stared down at him, sure he didn't recognize the old soldier, doing everything he could to keep himself from falling.

'Bronze Knight," cried the man. "I am Colonel Tark. Will you join us?"

The question shocked Lukien. He staggered forward to stand at the very edge of the cliff. "I have killed your general, and I will kill you too if you don't leave us in peace."

'You are one of us, Captain Lukien. You're a Lirrian. And I do not believe you killed our king."

Colonel Tark swept his hand over his dwindled army, who began nodding agreement. "None of these men truly believe it. You don't belong with these people, Captain. You belong with us."

The wound in Lukien's back was agonizing. Even breathing was an effort. "I… I cannot," he gasped.

"That time for me is over. Go now. And never return."

Colonel Tark's expression was grave. "We need you, Captain. We need a leader. What will happen to us now?"

Lukien tried to answer but couldn't. Pain overcame him, coursing through his back and brain. The world around him spun rapidly around, and the last thing he heard was Colonel's Tark's cry of alarm.

Then he collapsed to the ground, and all went dark.

A .maraz' fire never came.

Colonel Tark and his Lürians left the canyon without Lukien, letting the leadership of the band fall on Tark's shoulders. Once they'd seen Trager fall, they knew there was nothing they could do to save themselves. The Inhumans were too numerous, and they had lost heart and honor following their demented general. In the final hours Tark had seen that, but it had been too late. The old colonel regretted his life in service to Trager, and told his men that they were murderers, not at all like the Royal Chargers Lukien had commanded, and that they should be prepared to die for what they'd done. With the last shreds of honor left to them, many of the Chargers obeyed Tark's call to surrender. Most, however, were like Sergeant Marrs, who refused to turn himself over to the folk of Grimhold, and rode out of the canyon alone.

But with Minikin and her people, Colonel Tark found a mercy he didn't expect. He and his men were sent back to Jador weaponless, guided by envoys from Grimhold with assurances that the Jadori were not to harm them. This was the word of White-Eye, the new ruler of Jador. At Gilwyn's pleading she had let the Lürians live, though they had killed her father and slain hundreds of her countrymen. It was the greatest act of kindness Gilwyn had ever seen, and it made him adore White-Eye even more. He knew that she had done it for his sake alone.

In Grimhold, the Inhumans quietly rejoiced in their victory,

when he died, Gilwyn," said White-Eye. "You have this chance. You should take it."

'Why?" Gilwyn flared. He wrenched his hand away from her, not wanting to be comforted. He wanted to be angry. "Why does everyone have to die? Why won't Minikin save him? She has the bloody amulet. She could save him in a moment."

'And let him live like your Queen Cassandra? A prisoner from his own people? You know he wouldn't want that, Gilwyn. And only the spirit of the amulet can decide who may wear it with honor."

Gilwyn didn't want to hear her logic, or any more of Grim-hold's magical riddles. Lukien was dying, and that was all that mattered to him.

though Lukien had been badly wounded and lay near death. For two days he remained in bed, motionless, being comforted and watched over by Gilwyn, White-Eye, and Baron Glass. His death was imminent now. The knight had lost a great deal of blood, and the wound in his back had begun to fester.

And try as Minikin might to reach his mind, it was clouded and dark inside his brain, with only the slightest stirrings of life. Despite their victory, a pall fell over Grimhold.

By the end of the third day, Gilwyn had lost all hope. He had White-Eye now and a new home, but his closest friend was dying, and he could not bear the loss. He sat alone in his chamber, the one he had shared with Lukien, staring into the light of a candle, brooding over memories. He missed Figgis more than ever. If the old librarian were here, he would have known what to say to comfort him, but he was dead now like everyone else. Just like Gilwyn's mother. Just like Lukien was soon to be. A plate of food that Farl the houseboy had brought him lay cold and untouched on the nearby table. The halls outside his chamber were silent. All the Inhumans had stopped celebrating their victory now, because they knew the man that had won it for them was dying.

'Gilwyn?"

Gilwyn looked up at once and saw White-Eye in the doorway of his chamber. She moved like a ghost and always surprised him. It was a pleasant surprise, though, so he smiled at her.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you." White-Eye shrugged. "Your door was open a little so I came in. Baron Glass said you had come here." Her blank eyes had a peculiar way of questioning him, and did so now. "Why aren't you with Lukien?"

'What good would it do?" Gilwyn looked down at his plate and pushed it further away. "He's dying.

Minikin said so."

White-Eye came into the room and knelt down beside him. She took his hand and gazed at him.

"Then you should be with him, no?"

'I can't," said Gilwyn. "I can't face it. Looking at him like that…" He stopped himself before grief could choke him off.

'I would have given anything to have been with my father IVlinikin knelt alone in her little prayer chamber, communing with Amaraz. She thanked him for sparing Grimhold and confessed her anger with him, explaining how worried she'd been for her children, the Inhumans.

Amaraz listened patiently.

He was pleased that their alliance would continue, but he could also sense her melancholy. Up on the altar, the amulet that held his essence pulsed in quiet sympathy. Minikin told Amaraz how worried she was about Lukien, and how guilty she felt over his impending death. Lukien was not to blame for the things that had happened to him, she explained.

Amaraz continued listening, patiently.

The Mistress of Grimhold chose her words carefully. She had a great favor to ask the spirit. She explained to him how Lukien had saved them, how he had battled Trager to keep the Lürians from Grimhold and to spare his "army" from even one death. He was a good man despite his faults, she told Amaraz, and though Amaraz already knew the story he continued to listen.

Finally the spirit of the amulet asked his mortal friend what it was she wanted from him.

With all the deference she could muster, Minikin made her request.

.Tor what seemed like an eternity, Lukien drifted in darkness. It was not like a dream or nightmare, not like conscious thought at all. It was wholly different, black and terrifying, a maze from which he could not escape or glean a sliver of light, or even find a voice to scream. He was in emptiness, barely aware of himself. Occasionally other voices reached him, breaking through the darkness to offer words of love and encouragement. But Lukien could not answer them. The voices were familiar but intangible. Lukien could not remember who they were or even why they had come to him. He was in blackness and in pain, and that was all he knew.

And then there was a light and the first stirrings of memory. The familiar voice came again, stronger this time, blowing the cobwebs from his mind and flooding him with sunshine. The voice coaxed him forward. He groped for it madly. Slowly the world he knew was his again, replacing the void with the familiar heaviness of sleep.

Lukien, he told himself. I am… alive?

It took great effort to open his eye. A blurry world swirled around him. Remembering his wound he expected to feel pain, but he did not. There was only peace in his mind and a warmness through his body. He blinked, once and then again, his eyelids fluttering to focus his vision. A smiling, elfish face greeted him.

'You're awake," said the voice that had pulled him from the void.

It took a moment for Lukien to remember her name. As the grogginess lifted he whispered, "Minikin."

Minikin put her tiny hand on his forehead. Like a mother she gently brushed the hair aside. "You're alive, Lukien. You made it."

It surprised Lukien how quickly his strength was returning. Second by second he felt more invigorated. "Alive?" he asked. Then he laughed hoarsely. "I'm alive!"

Minikin's smile lit the room. There was an unusual ruby glow on her face, though her amulet was buried beneath her coat. "How do you feel?" she asked.

Lukien mentally checked his body. All his parts seemed to be with him. He remembered battling Trager on the cliff, then the world going dark. "I'm fine, I think," he said. "But I shouldn't be. My back…"

'Shhh, don't fret," said Minikin. "You are well again. That's what matters."

Lukien glanced around the room. "Where's Gilwyn and Thorin?"

'They are well, do not worry," replied the mistress. "We are all well, Lukien. The Lürians are gone.

Gilwyn and Baron Glass are in no danger."

Relieved, Lukien sighed. "Thank the Fate. But where are they, Minikin? I want to see them."

Minikin smiled. "I sent them away, just for a little while. I needed to be with you alone." She put out her hand. "Can you sit up?"

'I think so."

With his renewed strength it was surprisingly easy for Lukien to move. He lifted his head from the pillow, expecting it to jolt him with pain, but again there was nothing but a warmth coursing through his body. He sat up without needing Minikin's help and leaned against the headboard. The strange ruby glow on Minikin's face shifted as he moved. Confused, Lukien looked down and noticed the glow emanating from his own chest.

'Fate above…"

Around his neck was the Eye of God, thrumming with supernatural light.

'What is this?" he exclaimed. "Minikin, what have you done?"

'It was the only way," said Minikin quickly. "Your wound was very bad. You would have died without it."

'Died? I wanted to die!" cried Lukien.

He reached for the amulet and frantically tried to rip loose the chain. The pulsing Eye burned when he touched it. He cried out just as Minikin caught his hand and pulled it toward her. "Don't, Lukien," she pleaded. "Let me explain." "Explain what? This thing killed Cassandra. It ruined me, Minikin. It ruined all of us!"

spirit in the Eye, and that spirit was with him, bonding with him. "I'm not one of you, Minikin," he said.

"I'm not an Inhuman."

'As long as you wear that amulet, you are one of us," Minikin replied. "You can be our protector.

Amaraz has willed it."

Looking up, Lukien saw Minikin's enigmatic smile. She was just as she had been the first day they had met—supremely confident. It was good that she was still alive, and her Inhumans with her. Lukien realized his plan had worked, that his gambit on the cliff had saved them. He could die in peace but for the unknown, threatening future. He lifted himself higher, sitting upright, and flexed his fingers. They were strong, stronger than they'd felt in years. He still wore his eyepatch but the itching and constant throbbing was gone.

'So," he asked, "Gilwyn will stay in Grimhold?" "Yes," said Minikin, obviously pleased with the idea.

"He and White-Eye are close now. He won't leave her." She grinned. "Will you, Lukien?"

Lukien thought for a moment, considering his promise to Kadar. He had broken too many promises in his life, and he wasn't yet sure if he'd fulfilled this one or not. He slipped his legs over the side of the bed, testing their strength. They held him easily, so he rose. He took a deep breath. The air was fresh and good in his lungs. Minikin remained on the edge of the bed.

'Lukien," she said softly, "you don't have to answer me today, or even tomorrow or the next day. But you will think about what I've said, won't you?"

Lukien glanced around the room for his clothes, finding them draped over a chair in the corner.

Minikin watched him as he put on his shirt and pulled on his boots. He stood up and asked, "Where's Gilwyn? I'd like to see him." Minikin didn't press him further.

vJilwyn rode alone through the valley between the village and the fortress, glad to be away from the stifling air of Grimhold. He knew what Minikin had planned and how upset Lukien would be, but he also hoped desperately that her plan would work, and that the amulet would be able to save Lukien. Emerald loped 'You are wrong," said Minikin. She kept her remarkable grip on his hand. Lukien leaned back and let out a miserable sob.

'Get it off me," he gasped. "I don't want it. I don't want to live this way! I'm a Lürian!"

'Lukien, listen to me—the spirit of the amulet has granted you this gift. You are not cursed. As long as you wear it you are its sanctified owner. You can go wherever you wish, be looked upon by anyone."

'But it's evil, Minikin…"

'It is not evil," Minikin insisted. "It didn't kill Cassandra, it saved her! And the Eye isn't to blame for your life. It was Akee-la's madness that caused all that." Minikin sat down at the edge of the bed, her hand loosening on Lukien's, her touch mild. She said, "You can take off the amulet any time you wish.

That's your choice. But—"

'Fine," snapped Lukien. "Then take it off me now." " But," continued Minikin firmly, "if you do the infection in your body will return, just like Cassandra's cancer. It will kill you, and Grimhold will lose its defender." Lukien frowned. "What do you mean?" "Grimhold needs you, Lukien. I can't defend it by myself, and without Kadar we will be in danger." Minikin's eyes were steely as she spoke. "We've been discovered. The normal world will not leave us alone now. And you made a promise to Kadar. Do you remember?"

Lukien remembered perfectly. "I protected White-Eye from Akeela," he said. "I've fulfilled my promise."

'Perhaps," said Minikin with a shrug. "Perhaps not. If you die then we will lose you. We will have to face the perils of the future without you. All of us, including White-Eye. And what about the Jadori? They need you too. White-Eye will lead them now, but she'll need a defender. And so will Gilwyn." "Gilwyn?"

Minikin nodded. "He's one of us, an Inhuman. He won't leave here. This is his home now. And if I'm not mistaken, you don't have a home to go back to."

It was all too much for Lukien. He looked away and felt the great warmth of the amulet envelop him.

He knew there was a kin has given me much to think about, Gilwyn. If I remove the amulet, there's every chance I'll die."

'I know," admitted Gilwyn. "But you're one of us now, Lukien. You won't have to live as a shut-in like Cassandra. You were given the amulet freely."

Lukien regarded the boy and very quietly said, "It will make a prisoner of me nonetheless. I am already its slave. Have you heard? I'm to be Grimhold's defender."

'Only if you choose to be, Lukien," said Gilwyn. He raised a hopeful eyebrow. "Do you choose to be?"

The knight looked up at the sky and smiled. "It's a good day," he said. "Perfect for riding."

'Lukien, White-Eye and the Jadori need you. Grimhold needs you. We all have to know. Will you stay with us?"

Lukien ignored the query. He continued scanning the sky and the desert horizon.

'You're not going to answer me, are you?" said Gilwyn.

Very gently Lukien snapped the reins of his horse and sent the beast trotting toward the distant village.

"Ride with me," he said.

Gilwyn spun Emerald about and followed the knight, riding close beside him. He waited long minutes, not saying a word, sure that Lukien would speak again. At last the Bronze Knight was ready. He did not look at Gilwyn as he spoke but rather kept his one eye on the horizon.

'A week ago I wanted to die," he said. "But today, I'm glad to be alive."

Satisfied, Gilwyn rode quietly at Lukien's side.

along the ground, sensing his fear and confusion. He did not command the kreel directly but instead let her take him wherever she wanted. It was simply good to be with her, to taste the warmth and air and be reminded of better days. To the west he could clearly see the village, now back to normal, its lanes rilled again with people, its many fields being tilled by farmhands. Just to the east rose the fortress, still bustling with busy Inhumans. There was a lot to be thankful for, Gilwyn supposed. At least White-Eye was safe, as well as all the other Inhumans. And Thorin was still with him. At least if Lukien died he'd still have the old baron.

'No," he rebuked himself. "No, he won't die."

There had to be enough life in Lukien to save, he wished fervently. If he had the will to live. He looked up impatiently at the sun, deciding that he'd been gone long enough. Unable to wait any longer, he steered Emerald back toward Grimhold. Halfway there, he caught a glimpse of a horseman riding toward him.

'Lukien!"

The Bronze Knight looked fit and exhilarated as he galloped along the sands. Around his neck bounced the golden amulet.

'It worked," whispered Gilwyn. "It worked!"

Overjoyed, he sped Emerald onward. The kreel dashed ahead, kicking up a storm of sand. Lukien reined in his horse as Gilwyn approached, greeting him with a raised arm. Gilwyn came up next to him and slapped his good hand into Lukien's.

'You're back!" he exclaimed. "And look at you!"

Lukien took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "I'm a new man, Gilwyn."

'You were almost a dead man! What were you thinking, going after Trager like that? He could have killed you."

Lukien shrugged. "It was a chance worth taking." He glanced back toward Grimhold with satisfaction.

"And it worked, after all."

'Yes, it did," said Gilwyn. With his chin he gestured toward the amulet. "To be honest, Lukien, I didn't expect to see you wearing that."

'Nor did I," said the knight. His face became pensive. "Mini