Instruments of War (Iron Kingdoms Chronicles) Read Free Page B

elite warriors. Proud …” Makeda noted. “It is understandable.”
    “They will do as they are told … I do not think your brother will relieve us in time.”
    “Akkad will come.” Makeda had her doubts, but she did not speak them aloud.
    “The karax have fought past the point of exhaustion. They will fall soon, and when they do we will be overrun by these wretched Muzkaar belek .”
    “Good.” A belek was a thick skulled, herd animal, strong but notorious for blundering into wallows and getting stuck. Makeda did not think Zabalam realized what a fitting insult that was.
    “Good?” Since Zabalam’s face had been split nearly in half with a sword many years before, only half of his mouth moved when he frowned. The other side was permanently frozen in a straight line. “I’m unsure how that is a good thing?”
    “We cannot outlast a force this size. Our only hope to defeat them is by killing their tyrant. Without Naram, Muzkaar will fall. What do you know of Naram?”
    “He is renowned for his skill, but your grandfather defeated him once and took many slaves from one of his cities.”
    “Yes. It is said he retains a rather passionate hatred of House Balaash, and he is still a warrior without peer. My ancestor shamed him, so he will come for revenge. He knows I am here, so Naram will want to give the killing blow himself.”
    “Or maybe he will capture you and turn you over to his Paingivers.”
    Makeda shrugged. “Either way, Naram is coming, and when he does, I will kill him first.”
    “You remind me of your grandfather sometimes … But what of the karax?”
    “Hopefully Akkad’s reinforcements will have an extoller with them.” Only a member of the extoller caste or the much rarer ancestral guardians could save a warrior’s spiritual essence in a sacral stone so they could live on as a revered companion to the exalted. “Look at how many they have slaughtered. Surely some of them will be worth saving.”
    “And if Akkad has none of their caste amongst his reinforcements?”
    She thought it over for a moment. Though no extoller had arrived, the warriors below did not know that, so she signaled for a message runner. “Tell Dakar Barkal that I am personally observing the battle, watching for any who are worthy of exaltation. Tell him to spread the word to his troops.” The messenger did not seem disturbed in the least that he was to relay something which would raise an impossible hope. He merely bowed and ran down the hill. Makeda turned back to Zabalam. “That will make them fight that much harder.”
    Zabalam’s half face twisted up in the other direction. “You definitely remind me of your grandfather.”

    The temperature continued to climb as the sun beat down on her armor. Droplets of sweat rolled from under her helmet and into her eyes. Makeda welcomed the sting. The cries of the dead and dying were all around her. The cohort of House Muzkaar seemed to be an endless thing stretching across the plains. She passed the time mentally steering her cyclops toward the weakest points of the Balaash lines. She stood there, her back banner whipping in the wind. Makeda wanted all of the enemy army to see her, defiant. Let them tell their tyrant that a scion of House Balaash was waiting for him.
    Makeda felt the pang of loss as the cyclops that had been injured earlier was dragged down and killed. She drained the last bits of vitality dwelling in the cyclops tissues and gathered that strength to herself. She would need it shortly.
    The line of karax faltered, broke, and was swept away before the swords of House Muzkaar. Their center had fallen.
    A trumpet blew, and then another. A black banner was raised on the other side of the road and waved back and forth. The entire Muzkaar host hesitated, and then parted as a small escort of warriors and beasts advanced through the army.
    “That is a lot of titans …” Zabalam muttered.
    There were only two of the great grey beasts lumbering behind Naram’s