The Dire King (Jackaby #4)(74)

“Stop!” Charlie screamed.

The hounds, against all expectation, stopped. Marlowe began to push himself up, but the growls resumed at once. He sank back to his knees and the growls stopped. The dogs clearly were not releasing the men, and yet they had listened to Charlie.

Dragomir grunted. “They recognize your place, Suveran, even if you do not,” he said.

“It was Alina!” I called across the gap at Charlie. “Alina and Lord Arawn. They lied to us! Arawn is the new Dire King! He tricked us all! He’s going to destroy the veil. I need to get back up there before—”

Above us, Arawn’s voice boomed. “Trigger the actuator.”

“No!” I cried. “I need more time!”

All of us. Arawn was about to drain all of us. The life force of every friend and enemy alike on the battlefield was about to be stolen, only to be spent unraveling the entire world as we knew it!

“I—I challenge Lord Arawn to single combat!” Charlie yelled.

I stared.

From high above, a pair of ruby red eyes and a crown of midnight leaned over the edge of the ruined tower.

Arawn scowled down. “You have no kingdom on earth or in the Annwyn, mutt. Do not delude yourself. You’re no king.”

“They seem to disagree.” Charlie pointed. The snow white hounds were parting, giving Charlie a path into the tower. “And this is not the earth or the Annwyn anymore, is it? It’s something else. Something older.”

Dragomir smiled, his face awash with pride, as Charlie pressed forward. “I was wrong about you, Kazi,” he said. “You are every bit the Suveran your father knew you would be.”

High above, amusement danced in Arawn’s red eyes. I would have preferred rage. What was Charlie doing? He couldn’t possibly defeat the king. Nobody could defeat him! He had the gem!

Charlie swallowed. The broken sword in his hands looked sad and short. The hounds dipped their heads reverently as he passed.

I stood, frozen, as he reached me. Gingerly, he brushed his hand across my cheek. “Don’t waste it,” he whispered.

“Well, King of the Dogs? I’m waiting,” Arawn called from above. Charlie mounted the steps. I waited until he was halfway up the tower before I slid silently up after him.

Arawn regarded Charlie calmly as he finally reached the third landing. Even from below, I could see that Arawn was twice Charlie’s height. I crept up another stair and suddenly the king’s red eyes darted to me. My stomach turned.

“You were not invited.” Arawn waved a hand casually, and the hovering stone stairway suddenly remembered what gravity was. I screamed and scrambled frantically to catch hold of anything solid. My flailing hands found the machine’s nearest support beam, and I clung to it with all my strength. The heavy stones crashed and cracked as they fell to the ground below and I hastily found my footing on one of the metal struts, but the landing was on the opposite side of the tower and half a flight above me, much too far a gap to jump, even if I had dared.

“So?” Arawn said evenly, turning back to Charlie. “Are you going to kill me, King of the Dogs? You haven’t even got a real weapon.”

“I have enough,” Charlie said.

“Hm. A broken sword for the broken king of a broken kingdom,” said Arawn. “Can you even use it?”

“I intend to try,” answered Charlie. He sounded as though he meant it. Oh, God—Charlie didn’t even know about the gem!

“Well then,” said Arawn, leaning his face down close to Charlie’s. “Try.”

Charlie swung suddenly, taking Arawn by surprise and raking his cheek. The king spun backward. The obsidian crown tumbled from his head to land at his feet. He straightened as a ribbon of red healed itself along his cheek. The ruby glow faded from his eyes.

“You’re new to this,” Arawn said conversationally, “so allow me to offer you a little advice.” Charlie leapt at the king again, this time slicing Arawn’s arm with the blade. Again, Arawn shrugged off the attack. He glanced at the fresh split in his cloak, making a point to brush an imaginary speck of hair from the dark fabric before turning back to Charlie. “Never pick a fight you’re not prepared to finish.” Another slash. “Nor one you can’t afford to lose.” Slash. “Nor one in which you’re not willing to do what it takes to win. Now, really. Is that the best you can do?”

Again and again Charlie came at the king, and again and again Arawn took the blows with dispassionate irritation. He raised not a hand against Charlie in return. There was no anger on his face, only cold, calculating patience. He was toying with Charlie.

I could see Alina on the side of the control stage closest to me. She flinched and turned away from the fight, her face wan and her eyebrows knit with concern.

Charlie’s next blow drove the king to the ground. I gasped. Had the gem failed? Arawn did not stand up. He lay motionless, barely breathing. Charlie’s chest was heaving as he padded around the king’s body.

“Yield,” Charlie said, standing over Arawn.

Arawn’s back shook. He pushed himself up to one knee. He was laughing. He raised his head and appraised Charlie. “There it is,” he said. “That look in your eyes. I know that look. Standing over your foe, his life in your hands. You want to kill me, I can tell. You’ve never looked more regal.”