Glen Cook - Splinter Of The Mind's Eye

The first startled cries gave purpose, provided relief at last. They burst from their tents into the moonlight. The compound was a-crawl with white-robed Invincibles.

"Where the hell did they come from?" Fuad demanded. "Altaf! Beloul! To me!"

"Megelin, what's happening?"

"El Murid is here, Haroun. Back for Disharhun, it would seem."

In minutes the fighting was general, and chaotic. Royalists and Invincibles fought where they found one another, the majority on both sides acting with no goal greater than surviving the attack of the foe. "The King is dead!"

Ten thousand throats took up that demoralizing cry. Some Royalist partisans shed their arms and fled. The rot Yousif had sensed now betrayed how deeply it had gnawed the fiber of Royalist courage.

"Ahmed betrayed his father!"

That declaration of filial treachery was more demoralizing than news of the King's demise. How could a man fight when the heir of his sovereign was one of the enemy?

"Father is it, then," Haroun told Radetic.

"Absolutely." Megelin seemed bemused. "But he's... "

"I'll find him," Fuad growled. "He'll need me. He's got nobody but Ali to guard his back." He hit the nearest Invincibles like a windmill of razor steel.

"Fuad!" Radetic shouted. "Come back here! You can't do anything."

Fuad could hear nothing.

Haroun started after him. Radetic seized his arm. "Don't you be a fool too."

"Megelin—"

"No. That's stupid. Think. You're just heartbeats from the throne. After your father and Ali, who else? Nobody. Not Ahmed. Never Ahmed. Ahmed is a dead man no matter who wins. Nassef will want him living less than we do."

Haroun tried to break away. Radetic's grip held. "Guards," he called. "Stay with us." Several of the Wahlig's men obeyed. They had overheard Radetic. "There has to be a pretender, Haroun. Otherwise the Royalist cause is dead. After you, Nassef has next claim."

White robes kept pouring into Al Rhemish. Confusion and panic ran before them. Twice Megelin and the guards beat off attacks. Radetic kept gathering Royalists.

A company of Invincibles appeared, hunting Yousif's family. They were determined. Radetic fought like a demon, revealing tricks of the sword seldom seen outside Rebsamen practice halls. His stubbornness inspired the men he had assembled. Haroun fought beside him, trying to win a minute's respite so he could employ his shaghûn's skills. The Invincibles gave him no chance. His companions began to falter.

Haroun tried to dig into his kit anyway. A swordtip buzzed past his ear. He fumbled the kit, lost it.

The Invincibles couldn't be stopped. He was going to die...

An unholy bellow slammed the belly of the night. Swinging his sword with both hands, Bragi Ragnarson hit the Invincibles from behind. In seconds half a dozen went down. Some scrambled away from his insanity. The northerner attacked those who remained, pounding through their sabers with his heavy sword.

They broke too. Haroun laughed hysterically. "Three times," he gasped to Megelin. "Three times!" He staggered toward Bragi. The northerner waved his sword and called the Invincibles cowards, daring them to come back. Haroun threw his arms around the big man. "I don't believe it," he gasped. "Not again."

Bragi stood there panting, watching the white robes. "I found you, eh? I've been hunting since sundown."

"Just in time. Just in time."

Bragi shuddered. "I didn't think that could happen to me. My father could go crazy when he wanted, but... what's going on? How did they get here? I better get back to camp." He was confused. His voice was plaintive.

Radetic said, "You can't get there from here, lad." There was heavy fighting on the slope below the mercenary encampment. "Stay here. Gamel. Find a Royal standard. Let's give our people a rallying point."

Radetic did his utmost, parlaying the Royal name, but the collapse continued. Al Rhemish was doomed. Even with the mercenaries making vigorous sallies from their encampment, the inertia of the rout could not be turned.

Haroun almost whined as he asked, "Megelin, how could Al Rhemish be overrun so easily? There are too many loyal men here."

"Most of whom ran for it right away," Radetic replied.

A group of youngsters came in led by a wounded officer.

"Nobles' sons, sire," he said. "Take care... " And he collapsed.

Haroun stared down, bewildered. "Sire?" he whispered. "He called me sire."

"The word is spreading," Megelin said. "Look. The mercenaries are pulling out. Time we did too. You men. Round up whatever animals and provisions you can."

"Megelin—"

"No room to argue anymore, Haroun." Radetic told Bragi, "Watch him. Don't let him do anything silly." He spoke Trolledyngjan.

"I have to get back to my outfit," Ragnarson protested.

"Too late, son. Way too late." Radetic resumed arguing with Haroun.

Haroun gradually accepted Megelin's truth. Al Rhemish was lost—and with it his entire family. He had no one but Megelin and this strange northern youth. Angry, with hatred knotting his guts, he allowed Radetic to lead him into the night.

Ahmed waited among the dead, holding a limp, frightened Lalla. His personal guards surrounded him, duty-bound despite loathing him for his patricide and treason. A dozen Invincibles watched them, indifferent to the carnage.

Ahmed's heart ripped at him like some cruel monster trying to tear its way out of his chest. "I did it for you, Lalla. I did it for you."

The girl did not respond.

The Invincibles snapped to attention. A darkly clad, hard-eyed man strode in. The hem of his djaballah dragged through a pool of blood. He grunted disgustedly.

There was blood everywhere, on the walls, the floors, the furnishings, the bodies. The bodies were piled deep. More wore white than the bright colors favored by Royalists. Aboud would explode when he saw... Ahmed giggled. For a moment he had forgotten who had died first.

The newcomer asked a question Ahmed didn't catch. He had no attention to spare. Lalla was crying.

A hand closed on his shoulder. Pain lanced through his body. "Stop!" he whined.

"Get up." The newcomer squeezed harder. Ahmed's guards watched, indecisive.

"You can't do this. It's death to lay hands on the King." He reached for Lalla.

"Don't be a damned fool. You aren't King of anything. And you'll never be."

"Who are you?" Though frightened, Ahmed retained the Quesani arrogance.

"The Scourge of God. The man with whom you've been corresponding."

"Then you know I'm King. You agreed to help me take the throne."

Nassef smiled thinly. "So I did. But I didn't say I'd let you keep it." To the Invincibles he said, "Lock this fool up till we can deal with him."

Ahmed was stunned. "You promised... Lalla... " He had betrayed his family and murdered his father so he could become King and possess Lalla. It had been her idea initially...

"I did promise you the woman, didn't I? Lock her in with him."

"My Lord!" Lalla protested. "No! I did everything you told me."

"Take them," Nassef said. He turned to a man who had followed him inside. "Get this cleaned up before the Disciple gets here."

"No!" Ahmed shrieked. He stabbed the nearest Invincible, whirled, slashed at another. His bodyguards jumped in enthusiastically.

Ahmed faked a rush at Nassef. The Scourge of God stumbled, avoiding the expected blow. Ahmed swerved toward the exit. His guards followed. "After them!" Nassef bellowed. "Kill them. Kill them all." He faced Lalla. "Get her zils. Can't have her playing tricks on us too." He smiled cruelly. "Save her for me."

Haroun paused halfway up the eastern slope of the bowl, looked back. A third of Al Rhemish was aflame. Fighting persisted, but would not last long. On the far slope the mercenary camp was ablaze. Hawkwind had abandoned it to the Invincibles. "I'm sorry," he told Bragi. "You can catch up with them later, I guess."