“He bested . . . you?”
“Only the fact that Bartolo came to my rescue enabled us to defeat him. This last revenant, this . . . king . . . his eyes will be filled with blood.”
“That’s right,” the Dain said, nodding.
“He behaves like a man—plans strategies and gives orders. He remembers all the swordsmanship he learned in life, but his abilities are now supplemented by incredible speed and the ability to go on when a living man would fall.”
“Who is he?”
“Deniz said his name is Gorain.”
They marched in silence, each man thinking his own thoughts, concentrating on the sapping energy of the frantic pace. The army now wound along a well-maintained paved road, and Miro began to see familiar features. The soldiers kept up the burning intensity of the march, hour after hour.
And then a scout came running. “The city lies ahead!”
The column stopped.
Immediately, they heard cries and screams, thudding booms, and crashing stone.
“Call up the command!” Killian directed.
Soon a circle of nobles and officers stood around Miro, Killian, and the Dain. Miro nodded to the Alturan commanders, Lord Marshal Scola and Marshal Corlin. Tiesto was there, along with two Halrana commanders. High Lord Grigori stood with a Veznan marshal in an orange uniform. Touana of Loua Louna looked from one face to the next. Miro saw Bartolo standing with Amber a short distance away.
“I brought you all here to make our final plan,” Killian said. “Right now, as we speak, Seranthia is under siege. We must make all haste to break the siege. If we can combine our attack with a sortie from the city, we stand a much greater chance of success.”
Miro looked on in wonder as Killian spoke. He’d come to know the young emperor on the long journey from Altura, and a friendship had developed between them, but he’d never seen the emperor—only the man. Killian had almost seemed too . . . gregarious . . . to lead the harsh land of Tingara and the fractious new Empire.
Miro realized he’d been wrong in his estimation. Where this man led, people would follow.
“We know that inside the city are the Hazarans and our legionnaires. We have avengers and meldings and Louan dirigibles, both here and in Seranthia. If we time it right, we can still scourge this darkness from the Empire. Our swords must be sharp, but our wits must be sharper, for the enemy is at the gates, and they’re climbing the Wall . . .”
Sharp swords. The Wall.
Miro had an idea.
“Emperor,” Miro said. All eyes were suddenly on him. Miro gulped. Part of him thought it was a mad plan, but even as he ran it through in his mind one more time, he decided to get Killian’s opinion. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”
Killian frowned, but he nodded, and Miro peeled away from the group to walk to a cleared patch of dirt where they wouldn’t be heard. Miro crouched on the ground and waited.
“Well?” Killian said, squatting beside him. “What is it?”
Miro reached over his shoulder and drew his zenblade. The steel made a whispering sound as it came out, and Miro laid its length on the ground in front of him. He was a tall man and wore the zenblade on his back. It was long, and its entire surface was inscribed with arcane symbols. The zenblade was a work of beauty, a thing of terrible power.
“Ella made this zenblade,” Miro said. “It’s the most powerful ever created.”
Killian glanced down at the huge sword. “I can imagine that.”
“As I understand it, we have two problems to deal with. One is the mass of revenants formed along the base of the Wall, forcing their way up with ladders. The scouts tell us they’re disorganized revenants, but they’ll soon open a breach nonetheless. The other is the infantry square outside the gates, the more disciplined of the two forces, led by Gorain. I have an idea, a way we might be able to neutralize one of those problems, but at a cost.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“You’re going to think it’s crazy, and it will need your help, but hear me out.”
“Miro, just tell me.”
Miro took a deep breath.
He told him.
Killian shook his head as the two men rose to walk back to the circle of commanders, but he’d agreed to Miro’s proposal. Miro wasn’t sure who was crazier—Miro for suggesting the idea or Killian for going along with it. He only hoped it would work.
“You know this plan leaves the army without either of us to lead it?” Killian said, stopping to look Miro in the eye.
“I know,” Miro said.
“Who would you have lead them?”
“Tiesto,” Miro said without hesitation.
“Any other contenders?” Killian asked.
“No,” Miro said.