Swipe after swipe, Folkes defended himself. He had fought too many battles to be defeated easily. Squinting the sweat from his eyes, he blocked each stroke, waiting for a weakness to open before he countersurged. It always happened. A concerted attack led to openings, a fatal weakness—a chance to slip in for the kill. Their blades rang like bells. He grunted with pain as Dairron’s broadsword glanced off his breastplate, knocking him back. Tightening his legs, he tried to slow the General’s advance. Wait for the opening, wait for the opening.
Folkes glowered, giving more ground. It was like trying to stop a round boulder from rolling downhill. He pressed the attack, deflecting blows with his buckler-shield until his arm throbbed with pain. The hammering blows of the broadsword came on and on.
Rage boiled inside of him. He was losing, in front of all his men. The shame of it kindled a surge of strength. He swung with mad fury and stalled Dairron’s advance. I want those gold pins! he thought. When I kill him, I’ll be the General!
Then Dairron sidestepped abruptly and Folkes felt a surge of terror. He half-stumbled forward, his swings meeting nothing but the morning air. Dairron hit from behind, the pommel crushing his ear, then shoved him into the dirt and clumpy grass. Folkes’ chin struck the ground, jarring him. Scrambling to recover, he rolled over, clearing his flank with a swipe of his sword.
The General stood over him. The tip of the broad sword hovered over his throat.
“I could kill you,” Dairron whispered, his body shadowing Folkes. “I think we both realize that.”
Lying crumpled in the dirt, Folkes felt anger scald his cheeks. If he tried to clear the blade away, Dairron would plunge the tip into his throat.
“But in spite of what you may think of me, I do not want you dead. You were bested by a superior warrior, Folkes. There is no dishonor in that. But your shame will be whole if you do not learn from it—if you keep fighting against me. I told you that Ballinaire cannot live forever. He’ll die down in the Shoreland. Then I will rule the Bandit Rebellion.” He chuckled. “Ballinaire promised you the wardship of the Yukilep and Iniva for serving him. I will give you a more generous helping to join me.”
Folkes stared hard and swallowed the dust in his mouth. “What?” he croaked.
“I will give you what Ballinaire secretly craves the most. You may have the Yukilep and Iniva, but I promise you Owen Draw as well. Yes, Owen Draw. You will be more than a Warden—you will be my Duke.”
“Why?” Folkes said, his eyes hard but interested. “What will you have?”
Dairron lowered the blade and reached to help Folkes stand. It was a dangerous move, Folkes saw—left himself open for another attack. Deliberately. But he also knew Dairron better now to think twice. It was like staring at two roads, one leading to a cliff and the other to a harvest.
“I will have the rest, of course. The Kingshadow, the Ravenstone, Avisahn.” He smiled. “And everything in between, except the western lands. Those will be yours.”
Folkes raised his hand and let Dairron pull him to his feet. His arms were numb from the shock of swordplay.
“Think what you can gain by swearing your allegiance to me,” the General said.
“What about that witch Miestri you left behind in Landmoor?”
“She will ensure my designs are accomplished. Ballinaire will fall.” He sheathed his broadsword and turned.
“How do I know this isn’t a lie?”
“You will find me in my citadel in the Kingshadow. We will formalize a pact there.”
“And if I choose to follow Ballinaire?”
The General stopped. The Dragonshrike rose and shuddered as it stretched. It let out another piercing shriek that sent shivers through Folkes’ bones.
“Should we ever cross swords again, Folkes,” Dairron said acidly over his shoulder, “I will not hesitate finishing what I started this morning.”
Folkes rubbed his jaw as Dairron mounted.
“What about the Shae? They are really going to fight this time?”
Dairron looked down at him. “Of course they are. I took the liberty of leaving a message for the Princess of Avisahn. It seems that Tsyrke has rebelled against Ballinaire also. I just wanted to warn her highness that if he tried to instigate a Shaefellow Pax with them to refuse. I’d heard his brother was ordered to murder some Shae in Avisahn. Messy business, that. Just the kind of thing to provoke the Shae into a Ravinjon.”
The monstrous bird lurched and lifted into the pale sky.
Folkes stooped and took up a black bit of its plumage. He had already made his decision when Dairron reached for his hand.
Chapter XXI
Allavin watched Shearmur’s expression darken and wondered if he had pushed the man too far. With the Knight General, it was not easy to tell which side of sanity he was walking on at any given moment.
“Do you think I’m a fool, Devers?”