‘He’s right, it’s them,’ Gilwyn confirmed. ‘And more.’ He pointed with dread beyond the valley. ‘Look there.’
Lukien and Ghost both followed Gilwyn’s finger. They were the only two of the group on horseback, and had no magical link with their mounts. But even Lukien with his single eye could see the cloud of sand being kicked up from the dune.
‘Raiders,’ spat Ghost. ‘How many?’
Gilwyn stared but it was Emerald that saw. ‘Thirty or more,’ said the boy.
‘And how many Seekers?’ pressed Lukien.
‘Half that many,’ replied Gilwyn. ‘I can’t tell exactly.’
That was some good news, thought Lukien. If there were men among them, they could fight if their maladies weren’t too severe. But there was little time to act. From what he could see, the raiders were close to the Seekers. Thankfully, the kreel were much quicker than any horse.
‘Go,’ Lukien ordered. ‘Protect them. Ghost and I will go after the raiders.’
Gilwyn didn’t waste a moment. With the Jadori close behind, he bolted forward on his kreel, leaping over the dune and bounding headlong through the sand, speeding toward the Seekers. Lukien and Ghost hurried after them, their horses galloping against the sand. Already the kreels and their riders were well ahead, and with five Jadori warriors to protect them Lukien knew the Seekers could be saved. But the raiders were a brutal bunch, and he and Ghost would be outnumbered.
‘Ride!’ cried Lukien, urging on his stallion. His robes and headdress snapped in the wind. His voice pierced the desert. Ghost was still beside him, still visible, but it wouldn’t be long until he vanished like a mirage. Lukien tucked himself down deeper in his saddle, breaking off from the direction of the Seekers, heading toward the raiders. He could see them now and they saw him, high on their hill, their desert robes of many colours, brigands without a flag. Aztar had called his tribe from across the desert lands, from Ganjor and Dreel, and they had come for his unholy cause. But Aztar himself had never come to battle. Today, once again, Lukien knew he’d slake his thirst on the blood of underlings.
‘So be it!’ Drawing his sword, he cursed the raiders in their own tongue, goading them away from the Seekers. His cries caused the desired commotion; the Ganjeese warriors looked around in confusion, shouting amongst themselves as Lukien blazed toward them. Preparing himself, Lukien glanced over his shoulder at Ghost — and saw nothing there.
‘I’m with you!’ came the Inhuman’s disembodied voice.
A ferocious smile crossed Lukien’s lips. He had seen Ghost’s amazing power before, but marvelled at it still. Better, it always shocked their foes. He charged on, unafraid. He hadn’t feared death in ages. There were times he even longed for it, when the memory of his dead Cassandra plagued him or when he thought of his past life, so full of wrongs. But the Eye of God would not release him to death. Berserk with rage, Lukien dug his boots into his stallion’s sides, eager for the fight. He could hear Gilwyn and the Jadori in the distance, shouting as they announced themselves to the Seekers. Aztar’s warriors waited on the dune, then abruptly split in two, one group awaiting Lukien, the other riding for his friends.
‘Damn it, come on!’ urged Lukien. He raised his broadsword in his fist. ‘Fight me!’
‘They’re heading for the others,’ said Ghost, still invisible.
‘I know!’
His stallion raking the dune, Lukien let his enemies have the high ground. Ghost’s magic had blanketed their brains, and all they saw was one desperate fool. They reared on their horses, ten weaponed men in Ganjeese garb, scimitars ready to cut him down. Lukien barrelled up the dune after them, poising his blade for battle. The amulet around his neck flared to life, burning his chest.
‘Are you with me, Amaraz, you deaf bastard?’
As always, the spirit of the Eye was silent. Lukien laughed hatefully.
‘Then I will kill them alone!’
But of course Lukien knew he was not alone. Amaraz would keep him alive despite mortal wounds. It gave him strength as he rode into the raiders, who shouted as he clashed against them. Lukien’s broadsword cut through the air, smashing the clumsy defence of the nearest man. They wore no armour, these men of Aztar, and the broadsword made quick work of flesh and bone. The warrior’s arm came off at the shoulder. Lukien ignored his scream, turning at once to another foe. There were shouts from the rear; Ghost was at his unseen worst. The warrior galloped toward Lukien, shouting with a raised scimitar. Their swords clanged as the men parried each other’s blows, but only for an instant. None of the raiders was Lukien’s equal. The Liirian’s sword dipped low, catching the Ganjeese and sending fingers flying. A twist in his saddle brought Lukien’s blade whistling around, slicing through the man’s neck. Blood sprayed from the stump as Lukien turned to find another. The Eye of God raged beneath his robes, bursting through the fabric with angry light. The other raiders watched in dread as he came at them, shocked at how fast their comrades fell. But all knew the legend of Shalafein, and boasted openly of killing him.
‘Not today!’ cried Lukien. His horse reared and whinnied, his sword danced through the air. Concentrating, he caught the smallest glimpse of Ghost. The young albino threaded through the warriors, stabbing at them furiously, dragging them from horseback like an assassin. There was magic among them; they knew it now and panicked. Breaking from the dune, the warriors rode away all at once, barrelling down the hill toward their comrades and the Seekers. Lukien gave chase, shouting for Ghost to follow. In a second the Inhuman was visible again.
‘Lukien, look. .’
The knight saw it, too. Down in the valley, Gilwyn and the Jadori were surrounded as they tried to protect the Seekers. Outnumbered, the Jadori and their kreels were in combat as Gilwyn and Emerald tried to fight free of the horde. There were at least a dozen of the Seekers — Lukien could see them clearly now. The men had gathered the women and children around a single desert wagon. They themselves were poorly armed, mostly with walking sticks.
‘Hurry, Ghost, hurry!’ cried Lukien, snapping his reins in pursuit. The kreels could easily handle two or more horsemen, but they had the Seekers to protect and that was all-important, because Aztar had given his men brutal orders — the Seekers were to die. And the Ganjeese themselves were ready to die in the cause, for Aztar’s wrath was legendary. As Lukien and Ghost raced into the valley, Gilwyn struggled to keep the raiders from the huddled northerners. He expertly commanded Emerald, slipping the kreel under every attack, beating back those who broke through the line of Jadori warriors. But there were more raiders coming and Gilwyn had seen them. So too had their Ganjeese brothers. Gilwyn’s concentration faltered as one of the raiders slipped past the Jadori. He was a big man with robes grander than the rest, a Zarturk by the looks of him, one of Aztar’s own lieutenants. Gilwyn turned on him too late, just as the man barrelled past him. The clash knocked the boy from Emerald’s back, sending him colliding with the sand.
The Zarturk reached the Seekers, raised his scimitar, and cut down a fragile man, cracking through his cane and opening his chest. The other Seekers scattered. The Zarturk gave chase. Like the weakest of a herd, he spotted a young girl limping quickly away. He spurred his horse and caught her, grabbing her collar and dragging her through the sand, away from the others as he returned to the protection of his men. Shouting orders, he gathered his raiders about him, who broke off their attack and rode away from the Seekers just as Lukien and Ghost approached. The Jadori warriors did not pursue, but retreated to the wagon and the downed Gilwyn, who was getting unsteadily to his feet. Lukien and Ghost rode up to him, their horses skidding to a stop.