commander of the army. Technically speaking, he was still under his authority in the eyes of the law, even if he was no longer a soldier. At this moment, despite what he said, Azaar was the dictator of Kharadrea and would be until Queen Arielle sent someone to replace him.
'Leave Rik alone, Azaar,' said Asea. 'He's your guest and he's been adopted into our clan.'
“Of course, where are my manners? I apologise, Rik. I have yet to congratulate you and I have something to give you — a gift to welcome you into our extended family.”
He summoned a servant with a gesture and the man brought a long wooden case. Asea looked up with interest, her gaze flickering between her brother and Rik. The servant gave the casket to the General and he offered it to Rik with his own hands. “Go on, take it!”
Rik took the box. It was made of a wood he had never seen before, ancient and polished. There was a smell of wax and incense about it and his thievish instincts told him at once that it was old and valuable.
“Open it up!” said Azaar. Rik did so and saw that there was a blade contained within it. The sword was long and straight and there were runes set on the blade. It was quite the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“A princely gift,” said Asea. “That blade came from Al’Terra, didn’t it?”
Azaar nodded. “It was made before we came to this world. See that you do nothing to disgrace it.”
Rik realised that this sword was probably worth more than all the things he had ever owned put together and then some. It was a weapon that could protect its owner from magic and which could kill daemons and Nerghul and other monsters.
“If this boy is going to be your bodyguard, I suspect is going to need a weapon like that,” said Azaar. He snapped his fingers and the servant brought a scabbard. It was plain and gave no hint of the wealth represented by the sword it was made to contain. Rik slid the blade home and then strapped the scabbard onto his belt. It hung there as if it had been made for him, and he barely felt the weight.
He bowed low to the General and said, “I thank you, sir. It is a gift beyond price.”
“My sister has brought you into our family. I want the world to know that I have welcomed you too. It may prove some protection to you in the days to come.” He shrugged and then maliciously added, “Then again, it might not. I am not without enemies myself.”
“I will do my best to see that I bring no disgrace on you or your sister,” said Rik.
“You’d better, boy. You’d better. Tomorrow we meet with the Sardeans so you’ll have a chance to live up to those words.”
“Look at them,” said the Barbarian, he pulled the sausage he was warming out of the fire and pointed the spit in the general direction of Sergeant Hef and his family. The Sergeant, his wife and all of their kids were on their knees praying, beside the small tent they all shared.
“It’s good someone is praying for our survival,” said Weasel “Maybe the Light will listen. You never know. Stranger things have happened.”
“Waste of time,” said the Barbarian, taking another slug from his vodka flask. The burning liquid scorched his throat. He offered the flask to Weasel who took it gratefully enough. “If your time is up, your time is up. No amount of praying will do any good.”
Weasel gave him a crazy lop-sided grin after he had finished a long pull on the flask. “You know that for certain, do you?”
“How many guys have you seen pray the night before battle that had their brains blown out the next day?”
“A fair number,” said Weasel “But I’ve known a few that prayed and they were spared too. Who is to say it didn’t make a difference?”
“I’ve never prayed before battle and I am still here.”
“There’s some would say it’s because you’re too stupid to die.”
“Show me where they are and I will show them how stupid I am.”
“Why this sudden interest in religion?” Weasel asked. “It’s never bothered you before.”
The Barbarian considered voicing what was on his mind. He felt ashamed. It was not the sort of thing a man was supposed to admit to. He kept a wary eye on the praying family and eventually managed to force the words out. “I am worried,” he said at last.
“About what?”
“Things.”
“What bloody things?”
“I’ve heard folk talking. Some of them think the end of the world is coming- what with the dead men walking and the Elder demons waking and all.”
“I could see where they might get that idea,” said Weasel. “But it’s not like you to allow an idea to force its way into your head uninvited.”
“I know and that’s one of the things that’s bothering me. What if they are right? What if the end of the world is here?”
“Not much the likes of you and me can do about it, is there? I doubt God or his Shadow are going to pay much attention to what we think.”
“That’s it you see, maybe they would if we prayed to them.”
“If you think it would help, maybe you should give it a try.”
“What about you?”
“I am not much of the praying kind.”
“But it might help. Maybe a couple of extra prayers might swing the balance. They say in the balance of power between the two is very close.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll pray with you.”
“I thought you have to be sincere when you pray.”
“Believe me when I ask God to spare us and give us some loot, I will be sincere.”
“Fair enough, let’s get started then.”
“What now?”
“No time like the present.”
Weasel gave him a nasty grin. “I just thought of something.”
“What’s that?”
“You never prayed before any other battle and you’re still here, right?”
“Right.”
“What if that’s why you have luck?”
“I don’t follow you.”
“Well you never prayed before and you survived. Why break a winning streak, that’s what I am saying.”
“You think if I pray I might die in the next battle?”
“You said yourself that you’ve seen it happen to lots of others. Do you really want to risk it happening to you?”
“You’re winding me up right?”
“No- I am just asking you to think about it.”
“You’re winding me up.”
“All right, I admit it. Do you want to pray or not?”
“I’ve gone off the idea now.”
“Somehow I thought you might.” Strange witchfires burned on the distant hills. It was a long time before the Barbarian dropped off to sleep.
Chapter Nineteen
A red dawn burned over the distant hills. A rising cloud of dust announced the presence of the Sardean army. It approached on a long front. Overhead bonded devilwings flapped across the cloudy sky. Batteries of cannon were emplaced on hills near the village of Weswood. A huge mass of infantry deployed onto the plain in the shadow of
