Spinning the horse about I started moving with better speed and better visibility. Dawn was lightening the world and the added height let me see some of what was going on.
Clouds of dust obscured several sections of the wall. I picked the nearest and headed for it.
118
I looked like one of them, heading for a breech and intent on defending it, just as they were. No one so much as gave me a glance apart from getting out of the way of my horse, which I used as a tool to push forward when things were pressed.
I looked around all the time, searching for a clue, and found it. A banner. There were several but this one was by far the largest and most impressive. A black bird, wings spread against a yellow background. The light was good enough that I could see colors. Good enough that even as I spotted the banner at a breach in the wall I also saw soldiers of the city pouring through the breach and pressing the enemy back. I glanced around, seeing this pattern repeated at every breach I could see. The dust settling, the enemy faltering, and our men pushing them back. I guessed that an hour would see the battle done, the war done, and my chance to settle with Kukran Epthel lost.
I turned slightly and headed for the big yellow banner. Surely Kukran was still with the warlord, and surely Tahal, if he was the Turned I took him for, would be with him, using my stone against our people. As if the gods had heard me I saw a great flash of light and a fireball expand in the midst of the breach where our men were thickest. Tahal or another, it didn't matter at the moment. What mattered was that it had to stop.
I rolled my hips forward and kicked the horse into a canter, careless of who was in the way and might get knocked down. It wasn't far but I wanted to be there now, not later.
As I closed on the banner a bonfire shielded the knot of men from view; I steered so that I could see past it and there they were. Kukran Epthel and a group of warriors grouped together on a small mound back from the fighting, suddenly close. Grimly, I made for them, picking out my companions from the group as I went. Tahal was there, and Sheo, Kerral, Hettar and Lentro. There was another figure in a black robe. Their backs were turned to me, but I knew them anyway. Their size, shape, the way they stood, told me who was there. Not just the Turned but others, a warrior I took to be the warlord and his band of bodyguards ranged ahead of him. In the black robe, the other Necromancer. They did not expect to be attacked from the rear. Ahead of them the defenders were being pushed back. A war mage must have reached the breach because a sudden concussion rent the center, taking down dozens of defenders and our brave lads pushed against the suddenly lessened resistance. A bonfire burned to one side of my target and I steered my mount to be shielded by it until the last moment. Then I was among them.
119
It wasn't much of a plan, but it was the only one I had.
Sheo and Kerral had not let me keep the ten carat stone and Sapphire keep his few tools for no reason. They must be allies. They must expect us to escape, somehow. They must expect me to come here and now, to attack Kukran Epthel. They must have a plan, and that plan must surely be enough to keep me alive. Our soldiers were close and getting closer. The enemy barbarians were about to break. And I was attacking the only sure enemy I saw among the knot of enemy men. Kukran Epthel.
I recklessly rode the horse right into them and threw myself from the saddle, arms spread, hitting the lich square and bearing him to the ground. Around me all hell broke loose. Magic flared and flashed, near-invisible light followed by fire and lightning and hot oil, some of which landed on my back and made me howl. It didn't make me change my mind. Fire. He had burned and would burn more. The bonfire was close. He wasn't heavy. He struggled. I had landed hard, winded and one arm wrenched. Bruised and battered I still wrapped my arms around him and hauled him toward the fire. He twisted in my arms, speaking calmly, his struggles slow and thoughtful. “Unhand me,” he said.
The banality of it almost made me laugh. I had him off the ground, his dry weight as much as a ten year old child. He smelled musty and damp, like mushrooms and mold.
“You will not live,” he said.
I ignored him, carried him the short distance I had planned, turned on my heel and threw him into the fire.
My companions were covering me, spraying magic in every direction. Suddenly they were allies. Suddenly they were helping. Why had they waited? I glanced back at them. There was no threat to me there; the bodyguard of the warlord had turned and attacked the small knot of men who suddenly defended the raised ground. The warlord was dying, writhing on the ground, covered in hot oil and screaming the desperate howl of a man in agony that won't stop. I heard it clearly even above the roar of battle.
Glancing back I was nearly enveloped in flames as Kukran Epthel staggered into me, his robes burning. His face, I saw then, had had the flesh stripped from one cheek by a sword blow, one ear missing. His eyes were fixed on me as he gripped me, hugging his burning body to me.
“You will serve me as a spirit,” he said.
I could almost hear his thought process slowly developing the idea. He could call a spirit to kill me and I knew he would at any moment, just as soon as he decided which one and recalled its name. The flames burned me but I didn't care.
“No, I won't,” I told him and picking him up, hugging is burning robes to me. I bore him backwards, tripping and throwing both of us into the fire. I didn't have much time. I knew that what I did was madness, but Lentro was close by. I kept my eyes closed and held my breath as I sought his head with both hands, dragging them free of the burning wood and rising up as best I could. I was burning. I didn't have much time. I gripped his head as I had seen Sapphire do and wrenched it. I was not sure for a moment if the pop I heard was his neck breaking or a branch snapping under our weight where we struggled in the fire. Then I felt his head move and twisted it right around as far as I could, and not able to take the pain any more, I threw myself away, rolling over and over out of the fire. My clothes were on fire and I was covered in pain the like of which I had never guessed at. “Douse me!” I shouted.
I struggled to my feet, stripping the burning clothes from my body desperately. Eyes still closed, not daring to open them. Still holding my breath, but I would have to breathe soon. “Douse me!” I shouted again. And mercifully someone did, water shocked me with its icy cold, knocking me to my knees. I opened my eyes. I was facing the fire. Stunned with the pain. Shivering. I couldn't move.
Kukran did not die readily. He kept moving despite his grotesquely broken neck. He struggled among the burning branches, thrashing deep in the heart of the fire. Achieving nothing, he paused and moved again, dragging wood to him as he tried and failed to drag himself free. There was no desperation in his movement, only detached determination. The robes he had worn were already gone and the flesh of him burned with blue and green flames, hissing fiercely, popping and spitting now and again. I watched, determined that he would not get out, seeing that there was no chance of it. Covered in burns, moaning softly from the pain that built to levels I would not have imagined possible, I nonetheless knelt unmoving and watched Kukran's end. He died in stages as less and less of his body functioned. I watched his burning hand sticking out of the fire, close by, scrabbling still, trying to drag the useless body out of the fire. Someone healed me as I watched the hand twitch and twitch and finally, burning out, become still.