CHAPTER TWENTY

King Protarus quick marched his army to the place of the Two Stones.

His scouts told him King Manacia's main force was two days away. Protarus had perhaps fifty thousand fighting men, nearly all mounted. With these he would oppose about three hundred thousand demons, some mounted, most afoot.

On the surface these odds seemed insurmountable. Protarus generals told him so in daily meetings. They pointed out he had another seventy-five thousand men spread over his realm, keeping the peace. To this he could add two hundred thousand men who had recently volunteered to fight the hated demon enemy. If Protarus waited a month that number would easily reach five hundred thousand. So many hot-blooded young men were pouring in, begging to fight, Protarus recruiters were nearly overwhelmed.

"I mean to fight now, Protarus told them. Not a month from now. A month is too late. A month is certain defeat.

"And we don't have two days to prepare for Manacia, but a day and a half. I want him here faster. I want him here in time to settle into a comfortable camp. He'll want to feed his men, rest them and then surprise us with a dawn attack."

"How can get we get him here more quickly, Your Majesty? one his aides asked. We can't command Manacia to speed up."

"True, but we can entice him, Safar said.

Then king and grand wazier explained how this thing could be done.

The desert heat formed twin devils that attacked Manacia from above and below. The appalling discomfort made him angry and his slaves kept well out of kicking range. Manacia thought the gods were being unreasonable to the extreme. They'd determined his fate, hadn't they? They'd decreed he would be King of Kings. If this were the caseand Manacia had no reason to doubt itit seemed unfair and undignified to make him suffer so.

Angry as Manacia was at the gods, his wrath knew no end when he considered the pretender, Iraj Protarus. Manacia had heard reports that Protarus shared his ambitions to rule Esmir. How dare he? Why, he was nothing more than a dirty plains savage.

Manacia's belly lurched uncomfortably with each roll of the elephant. The smells around himbeast smells, unwashed demon smellswere so thick it was difficult to breath without gagging. The sounds were so chaotic it was impossible to thinkgroaning life on the hard march, shrieking wheels in the heat, distant cries of demon kits and the babble of their complaining mothers.

And Manacia thought, Children? How did we end up carrying children with us?

He twisted around and although he couldn't see them, he knew there were thousands upon thousands of demon harlots straggling behind his army. He snorted, disgusted. Apparently he'd been in the field long enough for the harlots to breed.

Looking back, Manacia could see the Demon Moon, red glow smearing the northern horizon. Hovering above it was the lightspear of the comet. When the Demon Moon and comet had first appeared, the king had taken heart. He claimed it as his sign, the Sign of Manacia. A demon king for the Demon Moon.

But in the weariness of the long march to meet Protarus, King Manacia had begun to curse that moon. It was always present, day or night. He felt haunted by it, as if it were a heavenly force driving him on to who knows where?

Manacia felt a stony clatter against his magical shield. He jolted around to face the southhis enemy's lair.

His big demon head came up, yellow eyes drilling the far horizon.

The first thing Luka saw were his scouts racing back to his lines.

Next he spotted watery figures charging across the desert after the scouts. The figures firmed and became mailed horsemenhumans!

His first thought was, It's so hot! How can they keep up such a pace?

His second thought was, By the gods, he's coming! Protarus is coming!

Trumpets sounded the alarm all around him. Action only needed his signal.

He gave it.

His demon brothers howled their war cries and charged, carrying him along at their head.

Fari saw the twister snaking towards him. It was six feet high, which became twelve, and then double that and then it became a towering, screeching force of nature.

All about him he could hear the fearful cries of his colleagues as they leaped from their wagons to abandon Manacia's wizard caravan.

Fari ached to run with them, but he was too old to run and had to use his wits.

The twister struck the first wagons, lifting them up and hurling them in all directions. Fari calmed himself enough to see a human face staring out of that twister. It was many faces, actually, but the same facea blur of sameness whirling with the twister. It was beardless, hawked nosed and Fari could swear he could see blue skies through eyeholes in the dust-and-debris-choked tornado.

And now it was coming for him, roaring his name, Fa-ri! Fa-ri!"

Safar saw the old demon wizard and knew who he was. He called his name again, Fa-ri! Fa-ri!"

He pointed his finger and Gundara hopped over to the twister and pushed it toward the demon wizard.

Tornado and demon were among many miniature ghostly figures spread out on the campaign table in Iraj's headquarters tent. At Safar's command, Gundara moved among them, towering over the living map like a giant.

Safar concentrated, barely noticing Iraj's presence next to him, much less the generals and aides crowding close to the table. His gaze swept over the field, taking note of the key figures.

Not far above the destroyed wizard caravan was Manacia, clinging to the howdah as his elephant mount stamped its feet and trumpeted in panic. Demon soldiers rushed all around him, adding to the confusion.

Some distance from Manacia he could see the diminutive figures of Prince Luka and his cavalry of monsters charging across the desert.

Safar turned his attention back to Fari and the twister. He nodded at Gundara, who gave the whirlwind another push and it leaped forward to close the distance.

Fari saw the trick just in time.

He felt the twister suck at him, saw the whirling faces, heard them shouting, Fa-ri, and looked down the whirlwind's column until he saw its tail. It was a small, leaping serpent, no bigger than a demon kit's wrist.

Fari saw in an instant this was where its power resided. He marveled at how such a large force could come from so little energy. Then he made a slicing motion with his talon, cutting it in two.

The twister shattered, showering rocks and bits of debris everywhere. Fari suffered only a small cut on his left claw. But he was badly shaken.

He looked at the chaos raging around him and heaved a long sigh of relief.

Luka took his fear and made it his courage. His battle cry was drowned out by his brother warriors, but it took life from them at same time, wailing out in a long single ululation that resounded across the desert.

They were almost on the human cavalry, which was charging toward them unfazed by the sight and sound of so many demon killers.

Luka saw a tall horseman with a blonde beard and long golden locks flowing from under his helmet. Riding beside him was a dark-featured man, just as tall but beardless. Despite the blur of the charge Luka could see the man's burning blue eyes.