‘Are you all right?’ Lukien asked.
The boy nodded. ‘I’m fine. They got that girl, Lukien!’ Across the sands Lukien saw the Zarturk surrounded by his men. There were twenty of them now, still a lopsided number. The desert leader had the struggling girl in his arms as he watched them imperiously from the safety of his horde.
‘Melini!’
Lukien spun to see a woman racing out from behind the wagon. The Jadori warrior Kamar dropped from his kreel to stop her, pulling her backward. ‘They have my daughter!’ she shouted.
‘Stop!’ Lukien commanded. ‘We’ll get her back.’
The woman tore at Kamar to free herself, then fell to her knees in sobs. The other Seekers were returning, some hovering over the man who had fallen, others approaching Lukien and his comrades. A man older than the woman came and comforted her, then looked up at Lukien.
‘Thank you,’ he said. Obviously shaken, he seemed to be the leader of the group. ‘If you hadn’t come-’
‘Are these your people?’ asked Lukien.
The man rose. ‘Yes. My name is Paxon. We’re from Liiria. We’re seeking-’
‘Mount Believer, I know,’ said Lukien. He shook his head in disgust. ‘Fate above. What is the woman’s name?’ he asked, pointing his chin at her.
‘This is Calith. That’s her daughter they’ve taken, Melini,’ said Paxon. He helped Calith to her feet. ‘They’ve killed Crizil. If you hadn’t come they would have killed us too.’
‘Who are they?’ asked Calith. ‘Why did they take my baby?’
‘They’re warriors of Prince Aztar,’ said Lukien. ‘This is his desert, or so he claims.’
‘We didn’t know,’ said Calith desperately. ‘Tell them for us. Tell them so they’ll bring Melini back!’
‘It won’t matter to them,’ said Ghost suddenly. ‘Lukien, they’ve seen you. That’s why they broke off their attack and took the girl.’
Gilwyn nodded. ‘And that’s why they waited so long to attack.’ He looked at his friend. ‘Another challenge, Lukien.’
Brooding, Lukien turned toward the Zarturk and his waiting men. Since becoming Shalafein, Aztar’s men had challenged him often. It was said that the Prince of the Desert had put a bounty on his head so large that any man who slayed the Shalafein would become a prince himself. To Aztar, Lukien was as guilty of soiling the desert as the Seekers, because he protected them and the Jadori who gave them shelter. Unconsciously he put his hand to his chest, feeling the outline of the amulet beneath his gaka. The Eye of God had brought him back from the brink of death. It kept him alive when he should have perished, but it also brought these bloody challenges.
‘Calith, I will get your daughter back if I can,’ he said.
Gilwyn looked grave. ‘Don’t give him the amulet, Lukien.’
‘He doesn’t want it handed to him, Gilwyn. He wants to fight for it. So I will fight him, and I will kill him. Kamar. .’
The Jadori came to him at once, looking earnest. Because the languages of Jador and Ganjor were similar, Kamar would be their mediator. But Lukien himself spoke little Jadori, and so told Gilwyn what he wanted.
‘Gilwyn, explain it to him. Tell Kamar that I will fight the Zarturk for the girl, but that his men must leave when I defeat him. Tell him that if he has any honour at all, he will agree to these conditions.’
Gilwyn told this all to Kamar without hesitation. In the short year he’d been in Jador, the boy had picked up the language remarkably well. Kamar listened, nodded, then frowned at Lukien, who knew he didn’t approve.
‘Tell them, Kamar,’ said Lukien. ‘I can beat this bastard easily.’
They all knew it, too. Lukien’s skill at killing had shocked them all. Kamar nodded, then trotted his kreel out from their circle. He paused a good distance from the gathered raiders, shouting across the sand. The Zarturk listened intently as Kamar delivered the terms. He had unwrapped the gaka from his face and now clearly showed his smiling features. The girl still squirmed in his arms, reaching out for her mother, but the desert leader ignored her. Questions and accusations flew back and forth. Finally the Zarturk handed the girl over to one of his men.
‘What’s he doing?’ asked Calith. ‘Why don’t they bring her back?’
Paxon put a hand on her shoulder. ‘If this man wins her back, she’ll be returned.’ The Seeker looked up at Lukien. ‘Is that right? You’re going to fight for her?’
‘There’s no choice in it,’ said Lukien. ‘If you want the girl back, it’s the only way.’
‘But you will win, won’t you?’ asked Calith. She hurried up to Lukien and touched his arm. ‘You must win. I beg you.’
‘I don’t intend to die, madam,’ said Lukien. ‘Not today, at least.’
‘They call you Lukien,’ said Paxon. ‘Are you truly he?’
‘Not what you expected, eh?’
‘In Liiria you are well known, sir,’ said Paxon. He could barely contain his joy. ‘Truly then, we have found Mount Believer.’
With a grunt Lukien spun his horse around. ‘You are a superstitious man, Paxon, and you should not have come here.’
Riding away from the Seekers, Lukien let Gilwyn follow him out. They rode slowly, not saying a word until they were away from the others. The raiders in the distance watched them, while their leader the Zarturk got down from his horse and readied himself. It would be armed, unmounted combat, but Lukien wasn’t worried. He was cursed to live forever, and was sure no filthy thief would best him. Instead, his worries were for Gilwyn.
‘You’re sure you’re unhurt?’ he asked.
Gilwyn nodded anxiously. ‘Yes, I’m fine. He’s a big one, Lukien. You need to be careful.’
Lukien smiled. ‘I’m glad you’re all right. Thorin would never forgive me if anything happened to you.’
‘Lukien, are you listening to me? Be careful.’
The Bronze Knight got down from his horse. ‘Did you hear what Paxon said? They’re from Liiria.’
‘I heard.’ Gilwyn took the reins of Lukien’s horse. Under other circumstances it would have been good to see countrymen. ‘Do it as quickly as you can. Finish him fast so they don’t have time to change their minds.’
Lukien laced his fingers, then stretched his arms above his head until his back cracked. Once he killed their leader, he knew, the other raiders would leave the girl and flee. Though they were murderers and thieves, Aztar’s men didn’t lie. ‘You just stay back and protect yourself,’ said Lukien. ‘And make sure the woman Calith doesn’t try anything to get her daughter back.’ He paused a moment then asked, ‘What is this beast’s name, did Kamar say?’
Gilwyn called the question to their companions. Kamar shouted back, ‘Hirak Shoud.’
Lukien turned back toward the raiders. Hirak Shoud was smiling at the sound of his name. The burly man stepped forward, bid his fellows to stay put, and said loudly, ‘Shalafein.’
Beneath his desert robes, Lukien’s amulet throbbed. He knew that within the thing, Amaraz — the spirit of the Eye — was listening. It didn’t matter how many fools challenged him. Lukien was too skilled to lose, and Amaraz could close any mortal wound. The knight raised his sword slightly and strode out into the arena of sand. Hirak Shoud came out to greet him. Like most Ganjeese, the Zarturk carried a large curved scimitar. His gaka was black — the colour of his lord, Aztar — and the red sash around his waist bespoke his rank. His dark eyes watched Lukien carefully as they approached each other, his weapon jumping from hand to hand. Lukien paused ten paces from the man, then held up his hand. Hirak Shoud stopped as well, confused by the gesture.
‘In a moment you will be dead, Hirak Shoud,’ said Lukien. ‘You should make your peace with Vala now.’
Whether the god of the Ganjeese and Jadori existed, Lukien couldn’t say. But Hirak Shoud believed in him, and was incensed to hear an infidel utter his name. The Zarturk’s beard pulled back in a snarl and a string of curses erupted. Lukien hefted his broadsword, then waved the big man closer.
‘Come and get your lesson, fat one.’
Hirak Shoud thundered forward. Raising his blade, he quickly lowered it again with ferocious speed. Lukien ducked the blow, dancing to the side. Again the scimitar whistled, this time overhead, and again Lukien gracefully dodged it. It was easy to predict the raider’s clumsy blows. Hirak Shoud grunted, feinted left, then brought his blade forward, missing Lukien’s chest. For the knight who’d spent a lifetime in heavy armour, the freedom of the gaka was a gift. He moved like a dancer on the sand, threading his blade into Hirak Shoud’s guard, twirling his way out of every attack. Since the Zarturk was many stones heavier, his predictable attack only tired him. His face quickly reddening, he broke off the clash and pedalled backward, studying his foe anew.