Part 17 (1/2)

'No, you're not,' said Senta, with an easy smile.

Angel grunted a short obscenity and sat beside the swordsman. 'Why did you have to talk of marriage?'

'You think I'd have been better advised to suggest rutting with her under a bush?'

'It would have been more honest.'

'I don't think it would,' said Senta softly. He became aware of Angel staring at him and felt himself blus.h.i.+ng.

'Well, well,' said Angel. 'That I should live to see the great Senta smitten. What would they say in Drenan?'

Senta grinned. They'd say nothing. The entire city would be swept away under an ocean of tears.'

'I thought you were going to marry Nexiar. Or was it Suri?'

'Beautiful girls,' agreed Senta.

'Nexiar would have killed you. She d.a.m.n near did for me.'

'I heard the two of you were close once. Is it true that she was so repulsed by your ugliness that, when in bed, she insisted you wore your helmet?'

Angel laughed. 'Close. She had a velvet mask made for me.'

'Ah, but I like you, Angel. Always did. Why did you ask him to spare me?'

'Why didn't you kill him when he approached you?' countered Angel.

Senta shrugged. 'My great-grandfather was a congenital idiot. My father was convinced I took after him. I think he was right.'

'Answer the question, d.a.m.n you!'

'He had no weapon in his hand. I have never killed an unarmed man. It's not in me. Does that satisfy you?'

'Aye, it does,' admitted Angel. His head came up, nostrils flaring. Without a word he strode back to the cabin, emerging moments later with his sword strapped to his waist. The sound of walking horses came to Senta and he loosened his sabres in their scabbards, but remained where he was at the well. Belash came into sight, stepping from the cabin doorway, knife in his right hand, whetstone in his left. Waylander said something to Miriel, and she vanished into the cabin, then the black-garbed warrior lifted his double crossbow from the hook on his belt, swiftly drawing back the strings and notching two bolts into place.

The first of the hors.e.m.e.n came into view. He wore a full-faced helm of gleaming black metal, a black breastplate and a blood-red cloak. Behind him came seven identical warriors, each riding black geldings, none less than sixteen hands high. Senta stood and strolled to where Waylander and the others were standing.

The hors.e.m.e.n reined in before the cabin, the horses forming a semi-circle around the the waiting men. No one spoke and Senta felt his skin crawl as he scanned the black knights. Only their eyes could be seen, through thin rectangular slits in the black helms. The expressions were all the same - cold, expectant, confident.

Finally one of them spoke. Senta could not tell which one, for the voice was m.u.f.fled by the helm.

'Which of you is the wolfshead Dakeyras?'

'I am,' replied Waylander, addressing the rider directly before him.

'The Master has sentenced you to death. There is no appeal.'

The knight reached a black gauntleted hand to his sword-hilt, drawing the blade slowly.

Waylander started to lift the crossbow -but his hand froze, the weapon still pointing at the ground.

Senta looked at him, surprised, and saw the muscles of his jaw clench, his face redden with effort.

Senta drew the first of his sabres and prepared to attack the hors.e.m.e.n, but even as the blade came clear he saw one of the hors.e.m.e.n glance towards him, felt the man's cold stare touch him like icy water. Senta's limbs froze, a terrible pressure bearing down on him. The sabre sagged in his hand.

The black knights dismounted and Senta heard the whispering of steel swords being drawn from scabbards. Something bounced at his feet, rolling past him. It was the whetstone Belash had been carrying.

He struggled to move, but his arms felt as if they were made of stone.

And he saw a black sword rising towards his throat.

Inside the cabin Miriel lifted Kreeg's crossbow from the wall, flicking open the winding arms and swiftly rotating them, drawing the string back to the bronze notch. Selecting a bolt she pressed it home and swung back towards the door.

A tall knight stepped into the doorway, blocking out the light. For a moment only she froze.

Then the bow came up.

'No,' whispered a sibilant voice in her mind.

A terrible lethargy flowed into her limbs and she felt as if a stream of warm, dark water was seeping through the corridors of her mind, drawing out her soul, emptying her memories. It was almost welcome, a cessation of fear and concern, a longing for the emptiness of death. Then a bright light flared, deep within her thoughts, holding back the black tidal wave of warm despair.

And she saw, silhouetted against the light, the silver warrior who had rescued her as a child.

'Fight them!' he ordered. 'Fight them, Miriel! I have opened the doorways to your Talent. Seek it! And live!'

She blinked, and tried to aim the crossbow, but it was so heavy, so terribly heavy ...

The black knight walked further into the room. 'Give me the weapon,' he said, his voice m.u.f.fled by the helm. 'And I will give you joys you have not yet even dreamed of.' As he approached Miriel saw Waylander on his knees in the dust of the clearing, a black bladed sword raised above his head.

'No!' she shouted. The crossbow tilted to the right. She squeezed the bronze trigger. The bolt slashed through the air, plunging into the black helm and disappearing up to the flights. The black knight toppled forward.

Outside, Waylander, suddenly free of the spell, threw himself to the left as the sword hissed down. Hitting the ground on his shoulder he rolled and let fly the first of his bolts. It took the swordsman under the right armpit, cleaving through to the lungs.

A dark shadow fell across him. Waylander rolled again - but not swiftly enough! A black sword flashed for his face. The hound sprang across the fallen man, its great fangs closing on the swordsman's wrist. Belash took one running step then launched himself feet-first at the knight, cannoning the man from his feet. The Nadir landed lightly and hurled himself on the a.s.sailant, driving his knife under the chinstrap of the black helmet and up into the man's brain.

The hound's angry growling panicked the horses. They reared, and - save for one gelding - bolted.

Free of the spell, Senta brought up his sabre, barely blocking the blade thrusting for his throat.

He parried a second cut and, twisting his wrist, sent a vicious return that clanged against the knight's neck gorget of reinforced chain mail. Senta shoulder-charged the warrior, spinning him from his feet. A second man attacked, but this time Senta swayed aside from the killing thrust and rammed his sabre up under the man's helmet, the point slicing through the soft skin beneath the chin, and on up through his mouth. The knight fell back. Senta lost hold of the sabre and drew his second blade.

Angel, his back to the cabin wall, was battling against two knights, the former gladiator desperately blocking and parrying. Waylander sent a bolt through the thigh of the first a.s.sailant.

The man grunted in pain and half-turned. Angel's sword smashed against the knight's helm, cutting through the chinstrap. The helm fell loose. Waylander's sword clove through the man's skull. Angel sidestepped a lunge from the second knight, grabbed the man's arm and hauled him, head-first, into the wall. Dropping to the man's back Angel took hold of the helm, dragging it back and sharply to the left. The knight's neck snapped with a stomach-wrenching crack.

'Look out!' yelled Senta. Waylander dropped to one knee. A sword-blade sliced the air above him. Waylander flung himself backwards, hammering into his attacker and hurling the man from his feet. Senta leapt at the man. His opponent reared to his feet, then lunged. Senta swayed aside, ramming his elbow into the man's helm. The knight staggered. Senta leaned back and kicked out, his booted foot cracking against the knight's knee. The joint gave way. The knight screamed in pain as he fell. Belash threw himself on the fallen warrior, pulling back the neck-guard and driving his knife deep into the knight's throat.

Miriel, the crossbow loaded once more, stepped from the cabin. The last knight ran to the one horse that had not bolted and leapt for the saddle, grabbing the pommel. The horse reared and began to run, dragging the knight with it. The hound bounded after it. Miriel brought the crossbow to her shoulder and sighted the weapon. The bolt sang clear and flashed across the clearing to punch home into the knight's helm. For several seconds he clung to the pommel, but as the horse reached the rise the man's fingers loosened and he fell to the earth. Instantly the dog was upon him, fangs ripping at the dead man's throat, but unable to pierce the chain mail. Waylander called to the hound and it loped back across the clearing, standing close, its flanks pressing against Waylander's leg.