He had time for one long breath, then he was on them. The large ghost he'd aimed for hurled his spear with such force that it broke Luka's shield in two. He threw the shield away, slashing with his spell-charged sword. He had a moment's satisfaction of feeling his blade bite through ghostly flesh, seeing the man fall, mouth coming open to spew blood-red smoke, then he felt the shock of collision as his mount crashed into the advancing soldiers. That shock followed another and then another as his fiends waded into battle, cutting and jabbing, forcing their way through by the sheer weight of their massed charge.
Made vulnerable by Fari's spells, the ghosts no longer had the protection of shadowy afterlife. When they were struck they died, bloody smoke spurting from their mouths. Even so, they did not die easily. They fought with wild but still silent purpose. Luka killed many of them, but he saw just as many of his own soldiers die as well.
For what seemed like an eternity the struggle was stalled at the point of first collision. It seemed that every ghost who died was immediately replaced by another. Luka felt as if he were pressing against a huge wall. And no matter how hard he fought, the wall would not give.
Just when he thought all was hopeless, he sensed a sudden weakening. He pressed harder, driving his mount against the armored mass, crying out for others to join him.
Then the line broke and Luka burst through the first formation. A moment later he was surrounded by his own soldiers who were streaming through the gap.
Luka had enough time to see a second force-mighty as the first-coming toward him.
He charged, once again bracing for the shock of collision.
Then blood lust overcame him and he knew no more.
Biner turned away from the scene below, sickened by the slaughter.
'I can't watch anymore,' he said to Arlain. 'Got nothin' left in me guts to heave.'
Hidden by the magical cloud cover, the balloon was hovering over the Caluzian Pass spying on Iraj's fight to take it.
'Poor devils,' Biner said. 'Dyin' once seems hard enough. But twice!' He shuddered. 'Makes me skin crawl even thinkin' about it, much less havin' to watch! It's more'n a sensitive showman like meself can take.'
Arlain stood well away from the railing, trembling, tears streaming down her face. She hadn't been able to watch at all.
'Ith it over yet?' she asked.
Biner nodded. 'Almost,' he said. 'For awhile I was hopin' them Guardians wouldn't break. But they did. And then old Protarus hit 'em twice more. Mos' awful thing I ever did see-or ever hope to see.
Protarus' fiends are down there now finishin' off what's left.'
'Pleath!' Arlain protested. 'Don't tell me anymore. All I think of ith what'th going to happen if thoth awful tholdierth catch uth.'
Biner squared his massive shoulders. 'They won't!' he vowed. 'Not if old Biner can help it.'
'If only Thafar would get back,' Arlain said.
'Never mind Safar,' Biner said. 'He's either gonna make it or he ain't. We have to be ready either way.'
'Maybe they won't find the gate into the valley,' Arlain said hopefully. 'Maybe they'll mith it and jutht keep on going.'
Biner snorted. 'Sure,' he said. 'And smoke don't rise, the wind don't change, and if you dump the balloons the airship'll just keep on flyin'!'
King Protarus was agitated as he approached the group gathered around Lord Fari. From the angry tone of the voices he heard echoing across the gory snow, the king was riding into the middle of a debate. It was an argument so heated the participants didn't notice the imminent arrival of the royal party.
Iraj pulled up his horse, raising a hand to bring his aides and guards to a halt. Pushing aside the reason for his agitation, he leaned forward, listening.
'This is insanity, Fari!' Luka was raging. 'You're holding up the entire godsdamned army with all your second-guessing.'
'I must agree with Prince Luka,' Kalasariz said. 'There's a time for caution and a time to strike onward.'
Then their voices dropped to more normal levels and Iraj couldn't hear what was said. He let the shape- changer's side of him come to the fore, snout erupting, bones cracking and shifting horribly, forming the head of a giant wolf sitting on a human body. There were involuntary gasps of terror from his men and he snarled for silence.
With his heightened senses he could hear their words with startling clarity.
'How many times must I repeat myself,' Fari was raging, 'before you two fools understand what I am trying to tell you. Lord Timura's trail ends here. It does not continue on through the pass.'
'Something must be wrong with your sniffers, Fari,' Luka said. 'And as always you are too stuffed with pride to admit it when your magic fails you. I'm the one who is most at risk here. I'm the one who nearly died I don't know how many times today. I am the one most likely to die as a result of your pride.
But never mind that. The point is, this halt you ordered is not only likely to result in many unnecessary casualties, but also endangers the entire expedition. The longer we wait to clear the rest of the pass, the more time we give the enemy to regroup.'
'And for Safar Timura to escape,' Kalasariz put in. 'Which is far more important. I guarantee you that if we bring him to ground, Protarus won't care how many of our soldiers' lives were wasted.'
'I warn you both,' Fari said. 'If you prevail over me with the king Lord Timura has an extremely good chance of prevailing over us.'
Kalasariz sneered. 'You've underestimated this man all along, Fari. As have you, Luka. I have more experience with him than either of you. I first tried to kill him when he was nothing more than a ragged-cloaked student in Walaria with barely enough funds to pay for the crusts he ate. I even had him on the executioner's block. On his knees, mind you. His neck bent for the sword. He escaped despite what any rational fellow would judge as impossible odds against him. Just as he has escaped us countless times ever since.'
Fari rasped laughter. 'What's this?' he mocked. 'You tried to kill Timura before? During a time when it was known to all he was the king's dearest friend. Why, it was my impression that you told the king you were Timura's secret ally in Walaria. You repeated that tale when we went to the king with charges that Timura was conspiring against him. A tale you told in the manner of a man who was shocked to learn of Timura's perfidy.'
Kalasariz started to answer, but just then the three sensed Iraj's presence. They turned, gaping when they saw him, burying their reactions as quickly as they could.
Iraj kept his wolf's head intact for a long moment, making sure they'd worry about how much he'd overhead. The spy master, whose remarks gave him reason to have the most to fear, was the first to recover.
'Hail, O King!' Kalasariz cried. 'Once again you have inspired us to win a great victory!'
Fari and Luka shouted similar bold words of praise.
Iraj resumed his human shape, flicking the reins for his horse to amble forward. He sat easily in the saddle as if he hadn't a care in the world, letting a sarcastic smile play across his face to heighten their tension.
Inside, his emotions were boiling to a froth. There were two more battles he had to win before the day was done. First, Safar. Next, his spell brothers. To build confidence and bring his emotions under control he imagined Safar's corpse under his boot while he confronted these three-his final enemies. From this moment on he had to view everything as a sport. A sport in which Iraj Protarus, king of kings, had no master. With one hand he would display a whip of fear, with the other, a broad palm heaped with the gift of the king's favor.
As Iraj closed the distance between them Fari caught a whiff of the king's intent-plus … something else.
Something he couldn't quite put a talon on, except that it did not bode well for him or his companions in conspiracy. In his long life Lord Fari had advised and survived many kings. It was his ambition that Iraj Protarus would be the last royal fool he had to suffer. A master wizard, a demon of incredible cunning, Fari knew every mask a king could present to his royal advisers. And in Iraj's face he read his demise.
His old heart bumped over the rocky road of logic. It was the Spell of Four that chained Protarus to them. A spell that he had created and cast. A bond that could be rearranged-with Fari as the ultimate mechanic-but not broken. Then suspicion, his most faithful friend, crept into his bosom. The king has a secret, he thought. A secret that did not bode well for any of them.
Before Iraj came within hearing distance, Fari whispered, 'Beware, brothers! If you want to live, be with
