A terrible silence descended on the battlefield, as everyone seemed to hold his breath. Blade knew what had to be coming next; he wondered how many others did.

It came. Fifteen hundred archers cocked their bows, dropped bolts into place, lifted them, and shot. Bolts poured down like hail, onto the mounted Lords of the East Kingdom.

Each of the archers must have picked a target, and most of them were good shots. A thousand bolts must have found targets in men or horses and all the horses and most of the men seemed to be screaming at once. Gone was the silence, and what replaced it sounded like the end of the world. In the uproar Blade also heard curses and cries of horror from the Duchies' ranks. The sight of men, even enemies, dying in such an unlordly fashion was more than they could bear in silence.

Certainly this was nearly the end of the battle. As the archers shot again, the Lords of the West on the other flank charged. It was a wild, disorderly charge, and for a while it only kicked up dust. Before the dust grew too thick, though, Blade saw Lords of the East begin to turn their horses. They'd already lost their chances of an easy victory. Now they faced a good chance of a messy, unlordly death. Whatever loyalty they owed their King wasn't enough to make them hold still for that.

At the bottom of the U, Fedron's banner still rose behind his pikemen. He was trying to rally them. Blade was willing to leave that part of the fight to stronger men on fresher horses. He led his Guardsmen back toward the baggage and the water.

By now the shock of seeing Lords struck down by archers was wearing off. Everyone who still had a voice seemed to be expressing an opinion. Most of the opinions were what Blade expected.

«Unlordly!»

«Lawless!»

«An abomination!»

«The Fathers will not bless a victory won this way!»

«We fought properly, at least.»

«Yes, but we can't allow ourselves-to gain by the victory, or-«

And then an exchange which froze Blade in his saddle:

«At least King Fedron fought a lordly battle.»

«Yes. If we are to have a King, let it be Fedron. I'll swear no oath to Handryg.»

«My steel on that!»

«Yes, and my steel for anyone who says a word for Handryg. That-«

Blade's first impulse was to splatter the brains of those two idiots with his mace. Then he realized that they probably had no brains, only firm prejudices, probably shared by many of their fellow Lords. Prejudices enough to create two factions in the Duchies: those who wanted to swear allegiance to King Handryg and those who preferred King Fedron. Only a miracle would keep the two factions from coming to blows. Then there would be war all over again along the Crimson River, a civil war likely to go on until the land was a barren waste. All the deaths Blade had seen since he reached this Dimension would be wasted, and thousands more would die.

Such a thought would have paralyzed most men. It made Blade think and move faster than usual, even after a long day of battle. If King Fedron is dead, nobody is going to be swearing anything to him. Then he looked down the battle field to where the East Kingdom's banner still waved, and dug in his spurs.

As his horse gathered speed, Blade passed close to the Helper who held Cheeky. With an eager cry the Feathered One hurled himself through the air, landing on the head of Blade's mount. The horse shied and Blade reached down, meaning to pluck Cheeky loose and toss him back to safety. But Cheeky refused to budge, clinging to the horse's ears until the animal started to rear.

All right, thought Blade. You, too, have more courage than sense.

The legends of later years said that the ranks of the enemy gave way before Lord Blade Duke-Slayer as if by magic. Some stories said that the look in his eyes turned men to stone, or at least made them drop their weapons. He certainly looked dangerous enough, but the fact was that the East Kingdom's pikemen were already breaking ranks when he rode up. He had to be careful not to step on bodies or press too closely against men already turning to run, but he wasn't in much danger from the men on foot.

The mounted Lords around Fedron might well have been another matter, but as Blade approached them, Alsin ordered a general attack. He'd seen Blade ride into the ranks of the enemy. Even if Blade was determined to die, honor required the men of Nainan to try to save him. And then again, if he, Alsin, didn't lead the attack, Chenosh would, and if Chenosh died, Alsin didn't even want to think about what might happen.

So he attacked, and King Fedron sent his bodyguards forward to help the pikemen. The Eastern king was almost alone when Blade rode up to him. He was not turned to stone, though, and he didn't drop his sword. He was a warrior to the last, and he nearly killed his opponent.

The two men circled each other on horseback, mace and sword crashing against shields. On the fourth stroke the sword split Blade's battered shield and numbed his left arm. Fedron drove his horse in close and his own mount snapped at Blade's thigh. Blade felt the teeth dent his flesh through the mail.

Then Cheeky leaped to his master's defense, hurling himself onto the head of Fedron's mount. He covered the horse's eyes, and it reared in panic. Fedron was offbalance, and a sword stroke intended to split his enemy's head only cut the air. Blade swung his mace and caught the King in the chest, as his horse reared again and threw him backward. The combined force of horse and mace was too much. Fedron went backward out of the saddle with a scream. Before he could struggle to his feet, his bodyguards broke under Alsin's charge. So King Fedron died-under the hooves of his own fleeing bodyguards.

Blade didn't wait to help identify the battered royal corpse. With Cheeky on his shoulder, he rode back through the Duchies' army, ignoring the cheers. He rode straight to Castle Ranit, then went up to the room in the keep where his wife lay.

He did not leave it or speak to anyone there until Miera died just before sunset.

Chapter 24

About half the mounted Lords with King Fedron died, most of them under the archery. The rest were already on their way off the field when they heard of their King's death. This news made them move even faster. King Handryg's army made no attempt to pursue, and the Lords of the Crimson River were too exhausted to even try.

So the battle died down well before sunset. Alsin finished the day by making sure the two armies camped well apart. The Lords of the Duchies resented Handryg's late arrival as well as his unlordly tactics. At the same time, the Eastern army seemed ready to carry off every unattached woman and stray animal in Nainan.

«Blade will be amused to hear of your trying to protect women and chickens,» said Chenosh, as they rode toward the castle.

«I doubt Blade will find anything amusing for some time,» said Alsin heavily.

Chenosh flushed under his coating of dust. «I'm sorry. You are quite right. He-«

«Never mind. If he was amused, he would be right. But-what else could I do?» He asked the question of the empty air and got no answer. They rode on in silence for a while.

Then Chenosh spoke up again. «Akin, Fedron is dead, and I do not see how we can get our Lords to trust Handryg. I am not sure I trust him myself, and it is not just because of the archers.»

«No. He could have come sooner, if his heart was in it. We had food and wine enough in Nainan for all his men and horses. Those wagons of his were an excuse.»

«Or perhaps he didn't want to take any food from us. That way he would be freer to turn against us anytime he chose.»

Alsin nodded. He and Chenosh saw clearly that King Handryg was not now, and never could be, an acceptable ruler for the Duchies. On the other hand, with the East Kingdom in chaos, he might not be interested in the Duchies anymore. He might have his eyes on a bigger prize and his hand outstretched to grab it. This prospect could make it easier to do what Alsin knew must be done, but only if he acted quickly. And he could only act quickly if Chenosh agreed at once-tonight, if possible.