Part 20 (1/2)

The slim girl approached Skilgannon. She walked with a subtle sway of the hips. Her head tilted and she smiled at him. It was as if he had been struck in the chest by a hammer.

Gone was the violent, scornful girl in the garden. Here was the most devastat-ingly attractive woman he had ever seen. 'You look like a man in need of a little company,' she said, linking her arm in his. Her voice was rough and uncultured, and her smile full of dark promise. Skilgannon's mouth was dry, and he could think of nothing to say. Morcha laughed good-naturedly.

'I'd take her up on it, lad. I may not be the sharpest arrow in the quiver, but she looks like something special to me.'

Skilgannon was about to speak when the girl slipped her hand under his tunic, fondling him. He leapt backwards and almost fell. 'Be careful with him, darling. He's young and I'd reckon a little inexperienced,' said Morcha.

'My home is close by,' was all Skilgannon could say. He felt like an idiot, and knew he was blus.h.i.+ng.

'Can you afford me? I don't come cheap.'

'I don't think I can,' he said, 'but I'll sell the house.'

'That's the way, boy,' said Morcha, with a booming laugh. 'd.a.m.n, but I wish I hadn't sported in the bathhouse now. This is a girl I'd willingly fight you for. Go on, go off with you!'

The princess took his arm and led him away. He glanced back to see Morcha and Casensis watching him. Morcha waved. Casensis looked sour.

And so it was that Skilgannon met the love of his life, and took her home.

Sitting in the tree, overlooking the distant city of Mellicane, Skilgannon recalled the day.

Despite the horror and death that had followed that meeting he found he could not regret it. Before that afternoon, it seemed to him, the sky had been always grey, and after it he had experienced the beauty of the rainbow.

Jianna shone like the sun, and sparkled like a jewel. She was unlike anyone he had ever met. He still recalled the scent of her hair as they walked together arm in arm. He sighed at the memory. Then she had been a beautiful young woman, no older than he. Now she was the Witch Queen and wanted him dead.

Pus.h.i.+ng such sombre thoughts from his mind, he climbed down from the tree.

Cadis Patralis had been a captain in the army of Dospilis for a mere four months. His father had purchased his commission, and he had taken part in only one action, the routing of a small group of Tantrian archers at a bridge some twenty miles from Mellicane.

Now, it seemed, the war was over, and for young Cadis the prospect of glory and advancement was receding by the hour.

Instead of fighting the enemy, and earning respect, admiration and elevated rank, he now led his forty lancers across the hills, seeking escaped arena beasts. There was no glory to be had in hunting down these abominations, and Cadis was in a foul mood. It was not helped by the sergeant who had been foisted on him. The man was insufferable. The colonel had a.s.sured Cadis that the sergeant was a sound fighter and a veteran of three campaigns. 'He will be invaluable to you, young man. Learn from him.'

Learn from him? The man was a peasant. He had no understanding of philosophy or literature, and he swore constantly -always a sign of ill breeding.

At nineteen Cadis Patralis cut a handsome figure in his tailored cuira.s.s and golden cloak.

His chain mail glistened, and his padded helm fitted to perfection. His cavalry sabre had been made by the greatest swordsmith in Dospilis, and his thigh-length boots, reinforced around the knee, were of finest s.h.i.+mmering leather. By contrast Sergeant s.h.i.+alis looked like a vagabond. His breastplate was dented, his cloak - once gold, but now a pale urine yellow -was tattered and much repaired. And his boots were beyond a joke. Even his sabre was standard issue, with a wooden hilt, strongly wrapped with leather strips. Cadis glanced at the man's face. Unshaven, his eyes red-rimmed, he looked ancient and worn out. How such a man could have fooled the colonel was beyond the understanding of Cadis Patralis.

Leaning forward in the saddle Cadis heeled his grey gelding up a slope, pausing at the crest and scanning the land. Some quarter of a mile to the south he saw a group of refugees struggling across a valley.

'Rider coming, sir,' said Sergeant s.h.i.+alis. 'It's one of the scouts.'

Cadis swung in his saddle. A small man riding a pinto pony rode up the hill, drawing rein before the officer. 'Found 'em,' he said. 'Wish I hadn't.' Cadis fought to control his temper.

The man was a private citizen, paid to scout, and therefore not obliged to salute or follow military protocol. Even so the lack of respect in his manner was infuriating.

'Where are the others?' he asked tightly.

'Dead. I would have been too, if I hadn't stopped to p.i.s.s.'

'Dead?' echoed Cadis. 'All three of them?'

'Rode into a trap. They come from all sides. Tore down the horses, then butchered the men. I was behind, but they almost had me. I grabbed the pommel of me saddle and let the pinto drag me clear of them.'

'How could beasts have sprung a trap?' snapped Cadis. 'It is preposterous.'

'I agree with you, general. I wouldn't have believed it myself unless I'd seen it.'

'I am not a general, as you well know, and I will not tolerate insubordinate behaviour.'

Tolerate what you like,' replied the man. 'I'm quitting anyway. There's no amount of money that would take me back to those creatures.'

'How do you know it was a trap?' asked Sergeant s.h.i.+alis.

'Trust me, s.h.i.+alis. Four of them were crouched down in the long gra.s.s. Didn't emerge until the others had ridden by. It's the grey one. I tell you, he's smart, that one. When the others attacked he just stood back and watched. Gives me the s.h.i.+vers just to remember it.'

'How many were there?' asked the sergeant.

'If you don't mind I will conduct this interrogation,' said Cadis, glaring at the soldier. A silence grew. He stared hard at the scout. 'Well?'

'Well what?'

'How many were there?'

'Fifteen - counting the grey one.'

'And where was this?'

Twenty miles northeast, just where the land rises towards the mountains.'

There were more than twenty reported missing,' said Cadis.

'Aye. We found three of them dead back in the woods to the south. Looked like they'd been struck by an axe - or a d.a.m.n big sword. Don't think there's no live ones around here now.'

Twenty miles northeast, you say. That is out of our jurisdiction,' said Cadis. 'I'll report this back to the colonel. You will make yourself available for his interrogation.'

At that moment the first of the refugees began to emerge onto the hill crest. Cadis stared at them. Many of the women and children were glancing nervously at him and his men. A child began to cry. The sound was shrill and spooked Cadis's mount. 'Shut that brat up!' he snarled, jerking on the reins. The horse reared. Cadis fell back, his feet slipping from the stirrups. He landed on the ground with a bone-jarring thud. Furious, he lurched to his feet, the sound of hastily curbed laughter from his soldiers adding fuel to the flames of his rage.

'You stupid cow!' he yelled at the frightened woman, who was trying to comfort the child.

A tall man stepped between them. 'Control yourself,' he said softly. 'These people are frightened enough.'

Cadis blinked. The man was wearing a fringed buckskin jacket, obviously well made and expensive, and good quality leggings and boots. The officer looked into the man's eyes.

They were startlingly blue and piercing. Cadis stepped back a pace. The silence grew. Cadis became aware that his men were waiting for him to say something. He felt foolish now - and this brought back his anger.

'Who do you think you are?' he stormed. 'You don't tell me to control myself. I am an officer in the victorious army of Dospilis.'

'You are a man who fell off your horse,' said the newcomer, his voice even. 'These people have been attacked by beasts, and also by men who behaved like beasts. They are weary, frightened and hungry. They seek only the shelter of the city.' Without another word the man walked past Cadis and approached Sergeant s.h.i.+alis. 'I remember you,' he said. 'You led a counter attack on a bridge in Pashturan five . . . six years ago. Took an arrow in the thigh.'