Lion's Bride - Iris Johansen [116]
Ware shook his head. “Sinan has been known to use bribery and deception to position his players, but those close to Saladin are too loyal to be swayed. No, Sinan used other means.”
Nightmares and terror. Thea shivered. “How can a man’s dreams be controlled? It must have been pure chance.” The sentence sounded familiar, and she recalled she had used the same words in regard to the creation of her banner. She quickly veered away from the memory. “You don’t believe in the magical power of this man, do you?”
Ware didn’t answer directly. “I believe he’s a brilliant man with a monstrous self-love and no soul. Put those qualities together, and there are roots planted for a morbid blossoming. Over the years he’s become accustomed to being worshipped and feared more than any man in this land. Death in battle has become commonplace, but a man who can steal life when it’s least expected holds the ultimate power.”
“Will he hide us?”
“If Kadar discovers him in the right mood. He finds Kadar interesting and is prone to be lenient toward him.”
“And if he’s not in the right mood?”
“Then we’ll run as if Satan were after us.” He added grimly, “As indeed he will be.” He glanced over his shoulder and stiffened. “They’re coming.”
Thea turned and then inhaled sharply.
Armored riders. Coming fast.
Her gaze was drawn to the man in the forefront of the riders.
Over Kemal’s head the lions on the banner shimmered strong and vivid in the fading light.
“Come on.” Ware grabbed her reins and spurred his own horse to a gallop up the steep, rocky incline.
Pounding, driving speed.
The wind tore at her hair and stung her cheeks.
The horses labored, their breathing heavy, nostrils flared as they struggled up the trail.
Hoofbeats behind them.
Her heart leaped with fear as she glanced over her shoulder.
How had Kemal gained on them so quickly? Extra horses, Ware had said.
Ware was muttering curses as he urged the horses.
They could go no faster, and the hoofbeats behind them were louder.
Shouting.
Kemal’s shrill voice. “Acre. Avenge Allah. Avenge Acre.”
Dear God, he sounded right behind them.
A small flat plateau ahead. They would be able to go faster.
But so could Kemal.
His riders streamed around them, surrounding them.
Kemal raced toward her, sword drawn. His eyes glittered wildly. “Witch. Daughter of demons.”
Ware wheeled and rode in front of her. “Take care of her, Kadar.”
“No!” Thea cried.
He paid no attention. He was riding directly at Kemal, fighting his way through the multitude of soldiers that had closed in around him. “Me, Kemal. Where is your courage? Honorable soldiers don’t fight women.”
A mace struck him in the shoulder, jarring him in the saddle. He was not deterred. “And they do not hide behind their men. Come and meet me.”
“Did your King Richard face the men he butchered at Acre? You deserve no more honorable death than a dog.” Kemal gestured to the soldiers. “Cut him down. I want his head for Saladin.”
Kemal’s men swarmed around Ware.
Kadar grabbed Thea’s reins as she tried to ride into the fray. “No. Stay. You can do nothing.”
“Stay? They’re killing him.” Ware was warding off most of the blows with his shield, but not all. How long could he withstand such punishment? she wondered in agony. “Do something Kadar. Or let me do something.”
“Not yet.” Kadar’s head was tilted, listening. “I hear—It may be…” Excitement lit his face. “If he can hold them at bay…”
Ware was holding them. His sword downed men to the right, to the left, as he wheeled and struck again and again.
Thea jerked fiercely at the reins Kadar was holding. “Let me go to him.”
“Listen,” Kadar insisted.
“I hear it, too,” Selene said. “A drumming.”
Kemal’s head was lifted, his face turned to the rocks bordering the plateau.
“What is it?” Selene asked.
“They’re called death drums. There’s a superstition that anyone who hears them will never live to fight another battle.”
The throbbing of the drums echoed over the hills, ghostly, menacing.