“She is not without her charms, however. No wonder Sir Amik kept her at the castle.” He turned to his men, raising his arms to encourage their laughter.
Kara wiped the blood from her face as she stood again, the knife still lodged in her leg.
Sulla spun and rushed toward her. His sword hissed through the air, aimed for her neck. But at the last moment came the sound of steel shattering on adamant as Kara parried his blow.
“I have killed many of your men today, Sulla,” she said, her voice unnaturally calm. “You will be no different.”
Sulla leapt back, out of Kara’s reach, as she moved to the offensive. One of the Kinshra officers hurled his sword into the circle of men and Sulla seized it without ever taking his eye off her.
“I shall break any weapon you care to wield, Sulla.” She lunged at him, eager to shatter his second weapon and to beat down his spirit.
Kara pressed him, hoping that his heavier armour would tire him out. She did not merely wish to kill Sulla-she wanted to destroy him in front of his men, to ensure that from that day forth, whenever his name was spoken it was spoken with contempt.
Then she saw her opening. Sulla’s defence was repetitive,predictable, his sword parrying hers at an eccentric angle to prevent it from breaking. He did it again and again, and instead of backing away he stood his ground.
Suddenly Kara directed her blade toward his. As his sword broke into two halves, the Kinshra lord stepped in, seizing her arm before she had a chance to reverse her swing. She had fallen for his ploy!
With his superior strength he forced Kara to the ground, his booted foot stamping down on her blade, pinning her weapon beneath his weight. He seized her helmet with his free hand, tearing it loose with an angry grunt.
Kara grimaced beneath him, her eyes brimming with hate-filled tears, her lips parted in defiance of everything he was.
Sulla seized his broken blade, its jagged edge sharp enough to cut human flesh with ease. With his free hand he dragged her face closer to the broken edge.
“I’ll cut your pretty face first” he said to her in a low voice.
But the look in Kara’s eyes made him hesitate. Even now, she wasn’t afraid.
Kara hissed through gritted teeth as she pulled his dagger from her own calf and stabbed it into the top of Sulla’s boot. He couldn’t help but lift his foot from Kara’s sword as he stumbled in sudden agony, clutching the hilt of his broken blade with both hands in preparation for delivering a death blow to the girl who had dared believe she could beat him.
Kara’s sword swung upward, severing both Sulla’s wrists as the adamant blade cut through his black armour. Both his hands fell to the earth along with the broken sword.
The Kinshra lord sagged to his knees as the blood emptied from his veins.
Kara stood. She placed the tip of her sword to Sulla’s neck.
“Do it, if you have the courage!” Sulla spat, his voice fainter than before.
“It would be the easiest thing in the world,” Kara replied. Her hands shook with excitement. “But I want to see your face first.”
She took her sword away and tore open Sulla’s visor, forcing him backward so she could look into his one good eye. Despite his appearance, she did not flinch.
“I made a vow years ago, Sulla, to avenge those you took from me.”
Sulla shook his head.
“I don’t even know who you are.”
“You destroyed my family,” she replied. “You killed my parents when my father begged for my mother’s life. You denied him even that.”
“I don’t remember…” he gasped.
“That is the real tragedy, Sulla. You have done so much evil over so long a time that you do not even remember the faces of those you have slain.”
She raised her sword, ready to destroy him forever. It was what she had dreamt of for as long as she could remember.
But she couldn’t do it. She recalled Bhuler’s words, begging her to forgive her enemy, making her promise to release her anger.
So Kara-Meir turned her sword at the last moment, ramming it into the earth at Sulla’s side, her cries the only sound in the circle of men who looked on.
“I knew you couldn’t do it!” Sulla taunted her. “I knew you lacked the courage. Your father lacked courage as well-he never begged for your mother’s life. He offered her to me if I would spare him.”
But she knew he lied.
“I will not kill you, Sulla. Not today. The words of a man a thousand times better than you prevent me from doing so. ButI shall take from you the only thing that has counted in your miserable life.”
Kara bent down and picked up Sulla’s severed right hand, examining it closely. Suddenly she held a glittering object up above her head.
“Men of the Kinshra, I have taken Sulla’s hands. And from his hands I take this signet ring-the symbol of your leader. It is mine now! Take yourselves and be gone from here.” She looked down at Sulla. “And take this man also. He is responsible for your defeat. Take him and do with him what you will.”
Several Kinshra soldiers ran forward and dragged him away, slinging him over a horse and mounting their own steeds before heading north. Hundreds of others followed after them, none daring to meet Kara’s gaze.
Swiftly her friends gathered about her, their hands on her shoulders in comfort. She wept as she knelt on the earth with her sword before her. Never had the weapon felt so alien in her grasp.
Kara-Meir wept. She wept because she was in pain, she wept because she was sad, she wept because she had had her vengeance. But mostly, Kara-Meir wept because she had kept her promise.
SEVENTY-SIX
Every day brought new heartache and sorrow, for the dead were many. The families of the missing prayed hourly that news would come of their safe return and rescue, but it rarely did. Before the end of the second day, when hearing that someone was still missing and unaccounted for, men and women would shake their heads in sorrow, knowing that only a corpse would be found.
Sir Amik took command of the clean-up efforts. The knights were deployed with the city guard to keep a watch over the dead, to ensure their bodies were not dishonoured by the carrion birds and animals or by human thieves.
On the third day it was decided to burn the dead. Burial parties were recruited from the men of the city, and slowly the corpses of both sides were lowered into the trench that the goblins had dug to guard Sulla’s encampment. In their midst, dry straw packets were laid amongst the enemies who now slept side by side. When the trench was full, the pyre was lit. For three days and nights it burned, kept alight by the men of Falador who wished to purge their city of the dead and leave no trace for any beast to devour.
Only a few dozen bodies were retrieved from the field. Several of them were high-ranking knights who were interred in the chapel, stripped and washed before being laid to rest in the most hallowed chambers of the castle. Amongst these men were Sir Erical and Sir Pallas, retrieved by a dozen peons led by Sir Tiffy and Sir Vyvin.
A special place was reserved for the man who had sacrificed everything for the city he had cherished so much. Bhuler’s funeral was attended by thousands, and his grave was not in the castle of the knights. Rather, in memory of his sacrifice, he was laid to rest at the foot of the newest part of the wall that was being rebuilt and strengthened through the skill of the dwarfs. His body a symbol to inspire future generations. He was wrapped in Kara-Meir’s banner, and his horse was buried beneath him.
Kara was tempted to place her sword at his side, but her friends persuaded her to keep it, despite a change in her character since Sulla’s defeat.
“Those touched by the gods aren’t let off so easily, Kara,” Theodore warned her. “And the sword was given to you by Master Phyllis. You should keep it as an heirloom of the family that adopted you.”
