"We did it!"

They'd won at least this first battle. His duty was done, he realized. Riordan commanded the army. Riordan made the decisions.

He was but a foot soldier. That thought mingled with pain blackened his mood further.

"Riordan, it was but one battle. Do not forget that Hael still awaits us." He moved to rise, to drag himself back upon his horse and ride toward Hael himself if she refused to listen to reason.

"I haven't forgotten." She pushed him gently back down. "But I'll see you patched back together first, Captain."

Penden had the needle ready. The sharp penetration of metal into his flesh made him grind his teeth. Another pain to be endured on top of the numbing agony that cut from shoulder to wrist. Nhaille shut his eyes, leaned back against her as the last of his strength left him. He heard Penden's grunt of dismay as he attempted to close the ragged wound, felt the press of the wineskin against his lips.

And surrendered to the oblivion it offered.

# The trumpet blasted through pain-clouded thoughts. Nhaille grasped left-handed for his sword, getting it half way out of his scabbard before consciousness dawned.

"You don't need the sword." A cold hand closed around his. He started, recognizing Riordan as the shadow that bent over him in the predawn light. "It's just the morning signal."

It didn't look like morning. The horizon had barely turned from indigo to gray. Rain seemed likely. Though she moved stiffly, still favoring the wounded side of her chest, the damp and the darkness didn't stop Riordan. Already she was dressed in full armor, the Sword slung about her hips, the Amber's power stone still lodged in her belt. It had taken nothing short of outright threats to get the Riordan he used to know out of bed. The Sword's hunger spurred her on. Or maybe it was just a headlong rush at destiny after all those years of waiting.

She walked now through uncharted territory. There was no longer any useful advice he could give. He didn't know what it felt like to have a million souls clamoring in his mind, tearing him up inside. He wanted to reach out to her, to take her in his arms one last time, regardless of the pain that radiated out from his shoulder in a shower of needles, regardless of what the soldiers around them thought. He wanted to shelter her, if only for a moment, from the consequences that awaited her. But Riordan moved like a woman possessed, with her father's single-mindedness Fatigue weighed every muscle as he got to his feet. Sleeping on the cold ground only added to the agony in his shoulder. The weight of years of planning and weeks of worry descended on him in one massive stroke.

Gods Arais! Whatever made you think I could do this? But a young man never thought of the reality of approaching middle age. A young man never thought beyond the next moment, beyond the glory of being the recipient of the King's great faith.

Riordan walked among the men as if she'd been commanding an army all her life. And they regarded her with the awe due a legend come to life.

Movement caught his eye. Nhaille turned to find Riordan standing at the edge of the summit, the stake of Amber in her hand.

Below them, the army of the dead marched out toward Hael.

He watched them go, fallen Haelians, Kanarekii in stages of decay too advanced to be recognizable, newly-dead Kholeran. If he looked long enough, the King would pass below them and he would have to look again on his dear friend's walking corpse.

Jewels caught the setting sun. Remarkably, the diadem still perched on the King's head, turning Nhaille's gaze in his direction.

"Let him go."

He became aware of Riordan standing beside him.

"Leave him be, Nhaille. He's made his choice. This is what he wants."

When had it happened, this strange reversal of roles? When had Riordan become the commander and he her loyal servant?

Relief flooded him. The decisions were no longer his to make alone. The course of the war no longer lay in his hands.

One of the soldiers led their horses toward them. It seemed Strayhorn had been found. The warhorse didn't look any worse for the ordeal he'd suffered.

"We must go," she said softly. "As you advised me at some length earlier, Hael will not wait for us."Nhaille watched the King march past him until his lurching form was lost among the leagues of his fellows.

"No," he agreed, mounting stiffly onto Stormback's saddle. "Hael most certainly won't."

He was bone tired as never before. The biggest battle of Nhaille's career lay before him. Perhaps it was his wounds, or maybe seeing Arais in the ranks of the dead, weeks more decayed than last time. Or perhaps it was seeing the child he'd raised step into his footsteps without so much as ripple.

Kanarekii soldiers poured over the hilltops, down into the highway. The remnants of the Haelian and Kholeran army staggered after them. She had become everything he'd hoped she would, he thought with a shiver of revulsion and admiration. The army of the dead flowed before her, more smoothly than it ever had for Doan-Rau.

Shraal blood burned in her veins. The innocent child he'd known was forever lost, replaced by a wild-eyed woman he scarcely recognized. A woman who could wield the Sword that felled the kingdom of Bayorek--and then abandon herself with as much fervor to their love-making.

Nhaille shuddered again in the cold dawn air. From his hilltop perch, he watched as the army chewed up the ground before it, each footstep taking them closer to the destiny that awaited them in Hael.

He stood on the precipice of great events.

And he no longer had the stomach for any of it.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Hael. The city crouched on the horizon like an animal poised to spring.

Riordan reined in and looked up at the towering spires. In the tallest of those towers was Doan-Rau. And somewhere in the labyrinth of winding corridors was the Amber's hiding place. Before the day was done, she'd have destroyed them both. Or died.

Not the best mood in which to greet the morning. Beside her Nhaille looked up at the great towers with the same trepidation.

Riordan suspected it was only his iron will that kept him on his horse during the long ride from Kholer. Deep down she feared the day's fighting would be the end of him. But he refused to leave her side, even after the most elaborate of her threats. And she didn't want the men to witness any more of their quarrels.

The army collected uneasily behind them. Riordan slammed down her visor, trapping her fears inside, away from prying eyes. She didn't want the men to sense the raw fear within her.

Above them, Hael waited.

Unlike Kanarek, whose wide avenues she had memorized through the map Nhaille kept hidden in the root cellar, Hael had a claustrophobic opulence. Dark streets doubled back upon each other in an order that defied comprehension. Buildings perched upon each other, monuments to different ages, different architects. Leering above the poverty of the lower streets, the towering palace took up the horizon. Its gilded roof was a sharp contrast to the bowels of the dark crowded streets below. Massive wooden gates were slammed shut against them. Archers by the dozen manned the walls.

Just beyond range.

"We just can't go riding up to the gates," Riordan mused. "Once Rau knows we're in range, he'll bring out the Master Stone and the army will be his."

Nhaille studied her fiercely. "I know what you're thinking, Riordan. And I like it not one bit."

She studied Nhaille sitting rigid with pain atop Stormback. Though she was prepared to die in battle, now that the moment had come, she found she couldn't send Nhaille into battle to die. Love has weakened me, she thought. But I don't regret it, not one bit.

However, if the Captain guessed her line of thinking he'd be furious.

"We have no other choice," she said aloud. "Only I can destroy the Amber. If we announce our presence to the entire countryside, Rau will have this battle won in a matter of minutes." Imitating Nhaille, she finished, "And I like that line of thinking not one bit."

Nhaille drew his mouth into a grim line but didn't refute her orders. When had things changed between them? she wondered.

When had the Captain started taking orders instead of giving them?

"Nhaille, I have to go in there myself. There's no other way."

"I'm coming with you."

"No!" She couldn't humiliate him in front of the men. She couldn't order him beyond the lines of battle because of his injuries. "I need you here. In case I fail."

In case Rau captures me. In case I become a foot soldier in the army of the dead. His grim expression told her she didn't need to say the words aloud.

"No." The finality in his tone brooked no argument. Apparently, the Captain wasn't taking orders so well, after all.

"I need you out here to create a distraction. Give the archers something to do while I'm trying to find a way in."

He frowned, and she knew her logic was sound. He didn't need to like the idea to carry out her orders. But was he strong enough for the task she had in mind? Riordan weighed her options and decided she had no choice.

"Here!" She slid the Power Stone from her belt. Nhaille's eyes widened. He backed Stormback sharply away in reflex.

"Your Majesty, have you lost your mind!"

"Most probably weeks ago. But one lunatic knows another. Only a maniac can deal with Doan-Rau."

"Absolutely not!"

She crowded Strayhorn in beside him. "You must take it, Nhaille. If I'm carrying it, Doan-Rau will know my every move. With you at the gate, controlling the Amber, he'll be distracted from my movements with the Sword. Hopefully until it's too late."

"They'll tell him you're not with us."

"No they won't."

He looked at her then as if she were more insane than Rau. "And why is that?"

"Because they will think I am with you."She glanced around for Nhaille's cousin. "Coren-Nhaille-Penden!"

Penden looked up in surprise. "Your Majesty?"

"Your helm and cloak, Soldier."

They were both staring at her now, as if she'd taken complete leave of her senses. With one last questioning look at her outstretched hand, Penden handed over his helmet and undid the clasp of his cloak. Silver-blonde hair gleamed white as the sun as she removed her helm and fastened Penden's beneath her chin. She handed her own to Nhaille's cousin, who took it and wordlessly donned it along with her cloak.

A tight fit, but he crammed it down over his ears and regarded her nervously.

"You will ride beside Nhaille on Strayhorn."

He dismounted. With a questioning glance he handed the reins to Nhaille.

"Do as Her Majesty orders," Nhaille said curtly as she swung down from Strayhorn's back.

The warhorse objected to a strange rider. He tossed his head, threatening to unseat the unfortunate Penden.

"Easy." Riordan snatched at the reins. The majestic beast snorted at her, plainly unhappy about this new arrangement. But he calmed at her gentle words and permitted Penden to sit astride him. Riordan swung up onto Penden's horse.

Amber flashed, a golden knife in the sunlight. "I wouldn't ask, Nhaille, not if there was any other way. If we march straight into Hael all will be lost." She held the golden knife out toward him. "You know the lore as well as I do. And there is no one I would rather trust with my kingdom or my life."

"I am not of Shraal lineage," Nhaille insisted, staring at the blade as if touching it would scald him. "I was never meant to command the Amber. Remember what happened with Larz."

"I haven't forgotten. But it is only for a couple of hours at most."

"Against the Master Stone, against a mind like Doan-Rau's I will be lost."

"Hopefully it won't come to that." Riordan gazed at the gates that barred their way. "And if it does we may be marching side by side in Rau's army on our way to conquer Golar."

The gravity of that comment got through to him. Nhaille reached for the Amber.

Only his quick intake of breath betrayed his surprise. Riordan remembered her own first contact, the terrifying sensation of dead minds pressed against her consciousness and pitied him.

"Focus your thoughts," Riordan said. "Do not let it steal too much of your strength. The dead require constant guidance, not brute force."

Nhaille's eyes narrowed as he concentrated. Riordan watched him closely. He seemed to be bearing the strain well enough. Hold on just a little longer, she thought desperately. If I'm successful, then we can all go home. But in order to do that, first she had to destroy the Master Stone.

"Start making a commotion. Get their attention on the gate and not on the soldier sneaking in the back door. Keep the men back.

Let them underestimate the numbers in our ranks, thin as they are. Put the dead on the front line."

He nodded, his eyes creased at the edges in concentration, his jaw set against the mental agony and the physical pain of his wounds.

"May Moraah, Goddess of Courage shine upon us. "

"And on you, Riordan."

Not her formal title this time, betraying the fact that Nhaille was desperately afraid. We may never see each other again. She thrust the thought from her mind. Please be all right, Nhaille. Riordan straightened Penden's loose helmet on her head. "See you soon."

"Wait!" Penden urged the reluctant Strayhorn up beside her. Reaching down into his boot, he drew his dagger. "For luck, Your Majesty."

"For luck," Riordan repeated and slid Penden's dagger into her own boot.

He offered her a tight smile, then turned away to carry out her orders. Riordan cast one last look back at Nhaille's back, stiff against the burden he carried and her spiked helmet bobbing on Penden's head. She put the spurs to his horse and headed back into the scrubby foliage for a scouting mission about the periphery of Hael.

# "Enemy at the gate!" The cry rang through the palace. Rau ran for the balustrade. Beyond the city gates he could just make out the black forms of men assembling. A booming thud resounded off the towers. Riordan-Khun-Caryn knocking at his front door. He'd expected as much. The outright challenge was very much her style, as it had been her father's before her. Not much subtlety to the Khun-Caryn clan. Just as he'd thought, the Kanarekii had not one whit of sense when it came to strategy. Did you really think you could win against me, here on my own ground?

Another ominous boom sounded across the square. Apparently so. Desperation obviously clouded her thinking. An easy battle.

One soon over. He could feel it in his bones.

He turned back from the wall, heading in the direction of the castle's inner-most chamber, with its hidden treasure. His father would be shouting for his presence in a matter of seconds, but before he dealt with the King and his entourage of dithering old fools, a moment's reflection was needed.

Shouting came from all directions. Men thundered down the stone stairs, racing for their bows, their swords, and their horses. He spied his father's steward in the halls below and ducked down another passageway. Soon enough he'd have to deal with the I told you so's, soon enough he'd have to listen to his father's endless list of recriminations. If he must face his father's disapproval, he might as well have all the facts. Facts even the keen-eyed watchmen on the wall couldn't give him.