Authors: John Marco
The Eyes of God (111 page)
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 Kadar’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 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.
’ 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 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 to waste it. With a grunt he pulled the wounded king off the floor 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. The thought of leaving Trager alive was unbearable, but to Lukien the thought of Akeela dying was worse. He knew his king didn’t have much time, but if somehow they could reach Grimhold maybe Minikin could save him.
“Kill that son of a bitch, Ghost!” he cried as Gilwyn pulled open the chamber doors.
“No!” shrieked Trager. Again he tried to lunge for them, and once again Ghost was there to stop him. For a moment Lukien caught a glimpse of him, a frenzied flash of white skin, and knew that whatever magic kept him invisible was fading. But he couldn’t stop to help the albino—a pair of Liirian soldiers were outside in the hall.
Lukien’s harried mind groped for an answer as the soldiers blankly stared, shocked by the sight of their bloodied king in his arms. Gilwyn hurried to produce an explanation.
“The king has fallen,” said Gilwyn earnestly. “He’s badly hurt!”
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.
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