Dragonfly

"Yes." She licked her lips. "If you surrender the city, I will spare the civilians, take your soldiers into slavery or recruit them to my forces, and see to it that you are given a dignified death. Your

daughter will live as a guest in my house; your son, unfortunately, will not."

"Very generous," Lagan said in a hollow tone. His eye was caught by a glimmer out to sea on the horizon. A tiny white sail appeared, followed by others, until the whole ocean seemed to be

covered by a flock of birds come down to rest on the waters. "I don't believe it!" he murmured.

"You had better believe it," said Junis, "because it is my final offer."

Cheers and bells could now be heard in the city. The Blue Crescent ships already in harbor fired a

salvo that echoed from the walls.

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With an upsurge of hope, Lagan turned in his saddle and snapped his fingers. "That to your offer, Junis. I

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reject your terms. Look to the ocean. You should be thinking what terms you might accept from

me." He spurred his horse to retreat.

With a scream of fury, Junis galloped back to her troops and ordered the attack. Her infantry

advanced, tight ranks of soldiers in red tunics crawling like ants over Gerfalian land. Lagan

signalled his own men forward.

"You fight for your homes and your freedom!" he shouted, riding along the lead edge

brandishing his sword. "Charge!"

The cavalry swept forward, driving into the pike-bearing infantry as battle was joined on the

flower-studded meadows. Soon the spring blooms were trampled under boots and hooves, the

ground wet with blood. Men cursed; horses screamed. Lagan's forces were hard pressed,

pushed back to the walls by wave upon wave of Empire soldiers. Lord Taris fell as he defended

the gates. Ramil's cousin, Hortlan, was trampled when knocked from his horse. The King fought

by his standard bearer, aware that his knights were dying around him. Lord Usk went down,

wounded by an arrow. Lord Egret killed Junis's second-in-command only to die on the Inkar's

sword. Lagan spurred his horse forward to meet her in battle. She yelled with delight as she saw

him charging towards her. Their swords met with a clang, sparks flying.

A shout went up from the harbor.

"For the Goddess!"

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Now under new orders, hundreds of Blue Crescent

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sailors from the ships that originally came with Tashi rushed to the relief of Gerfal. More

warships arrived, disgorging their cargo of fighters onto the harborside. Armed with swords and

long knives, the Westerners hacked and slashed their way through the Empire's infantry. An

elite force of riflemen took up position on high ground to fire upon the invaders. Ca

boomed from the decks, shot sailing overhead to pound the Inkar's reserves.

"Witchcraft!" shrieked the Empire soldiers as comrades fell to invisible missiles, which left circular bloody wounds. Some turned to flee only to be shot in the back.

In the midst of battle, Lagan and Junis exchanged arm-jarring blows. She caught him with a

swipe, cutting his cheek to the bone. He replied with a slash that smashed into her left arm,

leaving it hanging useless, blood spurting from the wound. Junis stared down at her arm in mild

surprise.

"Lagan," she said faintly.

The King struck, killing her with a blow to the head.

"Sorry, Junis," he said as the Inkar fell from the saddle. "These are the only terms I offer."

Reports from all over Tigral reached the rebel headquarters in the palace throne room. East

Gate had fallen but the galley slaves were holding their own at the barricades in the Cloth

Market. West Gate still survived but the Brigardians were taking heavy casualties. No one had

tried South Gate again.

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Ramil paced the room restlessly. He knew their fortunes were balanced on a knife edge. The

only way they could win was if he could take out the Spearthrower himself. He was relying on

Fergox's pride to bring him to the palace. He just had to hope the warlord would take the bait.

Yelena dashed in, her face shining with excitement.

"The old goat's at the North Gate. What shall we do?"

"Let them through but keep out of sight. Are your soldiers posted all round the walls?"

She nodded.

"Remember, Yelena, we mustn't let them out of the palace but pen them in here until I've

finished with Fergox."

Yelena nodded, then darted forward and kissed him on the lips. "That's for Tashi."

Ramil smiled, touching his mouth. "You're a wicked woman, Yelena.

Melletin's going to have his hands full with you."

"I hope so!" she called, returning to her position outside the throne room.

Ramil gave orders for his assistants in the command center to fall back out of sight into the

robing room. He checked that the archers were up in the rafters, bows trained on the doors, and

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then took up his post on the throne, sword across his knees.

As anticipated, a few minutes later the doors were thrown back and Empire soldiers poured into

the room, fa

doorway, hands on hips, gazing

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straight down the hall at Ramil. He drew his sword and marched forward confidently.

Ramil rose and bowed.

"Hello again, Fergox."

A soldier rushed towards Ramil, his sword raised. An arrow flew from the ceiling and brought

him down sprawling at the Prince's feet. Fergox glanced up once into the roof, but continued

advancing.

"Ramil ac Burinholt. I confess that I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you had scurried

home to Gerfal," Fergox said coldly as he reached the bottom of the steps. "Though perhaps I should have realized that no ordinary slave could have got so far."

Ramil held out his sword to stop Fergox from coming any closer. "If you bothered to investigate

your own subjects, you'd find out that there is no such thing as an ordinary slave."

Fergox raised his sword. "How touching. But tell me, before I kill you, what have you done with

my little Tashi?" He took a swipe at Ramil, no more than a probing of his guard. Ramil blocked it and swung away.

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"She is not your Tashi and never was."

Fergox smiled. "You've warmed to her, I see. That makes it all the more perfect a revenge when I

kill her. I'd like to keep you alive so you can watch me do it."

Ramil swung but Fergox jumped back out of range.

"In fact, I hope you've got her hidden away somewhere in the palace for me to hunt down," the warlord continued. "I have some unfinished business with her which I'm looking forward to

settling."

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Ramil brought his sword round in a high strike; Fergox blocked so that they were face to face,

wrestling for an advantage.

"She's not here," Ramil hissed. "She's dead."

It was the first time he'd admitted this aloud and he felt a yell of fury inside.

This man had brought about the death of the woman he loved. Ramil

launched himself into an attack for real, entering into a glittering pattern of thrusts and strikes.

Fergox's eyes widened with surprise but he matched Ramil, parrying each blow efficiently,

experience telling him to let his opponent tire himself. Sweat ran down Ramil's brow, his

breathing fast, his muscles singing with the strain.

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