Part 20 (2/2)

'Indeed I did,' said s.h.i.+alis. 'Though I don't remember you being there.'

'It was a brave move. Had you not held that bridge your flanks would have been turned and what was merely a defeat would have become a rout. What is it that you do here?'

'We're hunting beasts.'

'We fought them last night. They moved off towards the north.'

Behind the two men Cadis Patralis had almost reached breaking point. He had fallen from his horse, been laughed at, and now he was being ignored. Gripping the hilt of his cavalry sabre he made to move forward. A huge hand descended on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

'Been a soldier long, laddie?' Cadis turned and looked into eyes the colour of a winter sky.

The face that framed them was old, deep lines carved on the features. The man had a black and silver beard, and wore a black helm, emblazoned with an axe, flanked by grinning silver skulls. 'I've been a soldier most of my life,' continued the man. 'I've carried this axe across . . . well, I don't rightly know how many lands.' The warrior raised the weapon and Cadis found himself looking at his own reflection in the s.h.i.+ning blades. 'Never learned as much as I should. One truth, though, that I have found, is that it's always best to leave anger at home. Angry men are stupid men, you see, laddie. And in wars it's usually the stupid who die first. Not always, mind. Sometimes the stupid ensure that others die first.

But the principle remains. So, how long have you been a soldier?'

Cadis felt a trembling begin in his stomach. There was something about the man that was leaching away his courage. He made one last attempt to regain control of the situation.

'Unhand me,' he said. 'Do it now.'

'Ah, laddie, if I do that,' said the man amicably, his voice low, 'then within a few heartbeats you'll be dead. And we don't want that, do we? You'll insult that fine young fellow talking to your sergeant, and he'll kill you. Then matters will turn ugly and I'll be obliged to use old Snaga on your troops. They seem like good boys, and it would be a shame to see so much unnecessary bloodshed.'

'There are forty of us,' said Cadis. 'It would be insane.'

'There won't be forty at the close, laddie. However, I am now done talking. What happens now is up to you.' The huge hand lifted from Cadis's shoulder and the ma.s.sive figure stepped away.

The young man stood for a moment, then took a deep breath. A cool breeze touched his skin and he s.h.i.+vered. He looked across at the woman and the child, saw the fear in her eyes, and felt the first heavy touch of shame. He walked over to them, offering a bow. 'My apologies, lady,' he said. 'My behaviour was boorish. I am sorry if I frightened your child.'

Then he walked to his horse and stepped up into the saddle. Angling his mount he approached his sergeant. 'Time to leave,' he said.

'Yes, sir.'

Cadis led the troop back down the hill and off towards the northwest and the waiting city.

'What did he say, sir?' asked s.h.i.+alis, riding alongside.

'Who?'

'Druss the Legend.'

Cadis felt suddenly light-headed. 'That was Druss? The Druss? Are you sure?'

'I knew him, sir. Years ago. No mistaking him. What did he say? If you don't mind me asking?'

'I don't mind, sergeant. He gave me some advice about soldiering. Said to leave anger at home.'

'Good advice. You mind if I say something else, sir?'

'Why not?'

'That was a n.o.ble gesture, when you apologized to the mother. A lesser man wouldn't have done that.' s.h.i.+alis suddenly smiled. 'Advice from Druss the Legend, eh? Something to tell the kids one day.'

There would be no children to tell.

Four months later Cadis Patralis would die fighting, back to back with s.h.i.+alis, against the invading army of the Witch Queen.

Rabalyn missed the company of the twins. They had said goodbye at the city gates, and had left with Garianne, heading for the southern quarter. He had enjoyed talking to them.

Jared treated him like an adult, never speaking down to him. And Nian, though simple, was always warm and friendly.

His feeling of loss soon evaporated, replaced by a sense of wonder. Having never before seen a city Rabalyn could scarce believe his eyes. The buildings were monstrously large, towering and immense. There were temples, topped by ma.s.sive statues, and houses boasting scores of windows and balconies. Rabalyn had always believed that the three- storey home of Councillor Raseev had been the height of magnificence. Here it would look like a tiny hovel. Rabalyn stared at one palace as they pa.s.sed, and counted the windows.

Sixty-six. It was hard to believe that any family could have grown so large as to need a home like this.

Beyond these magnificent buildings they came to narrower streets, the houses close packed and tall, the roads of cobbled stone. Rabalyn stayed close to Skilgannon, Druss and Braygan, and wondered how so many people could live in such a place without becoming lost. Roads met and intersected, flowing around the buildings like rivers. There were people everywhere, and many soldiers with bandaged wounds. Most of the shops were empty of produce, and people gathered in crowds to barter or beg for what food there was to be had.

The axeman led them out along a broad avenue, and down through a long stretch of parkland. It must have been beautiful before the war, thought Rabalyn, for there were statues and pathways, and even a fountain at the centre of a lake. Now, however, tents had been pitched on the gra.s.sy areas and hundreds of downcast and weary people were milling around them.

'They are so sad,' said Rabalyn. Skilgannon glanced at him.

'They'd have been sadder still if they'd had better leaders,' he said.

'How can that be true?' asked the youth.

'Think on it a while,' replied the former priest.

They walked on for more than a mile, coming at last to a gated area, before which stood two tall guards, dressed in red cloaks and silver helms. One of them saw Druss and smiled.

He was tall and slim, and sporting a black trident chin beard. 'Surprised to see no-one's killed you yet, axeman,' he said.

'Heaven knows they've tried,' answered Druss, with a grin. 'They just don't breed them tough any more. Milkmaids in armour now. Just like you, Diagoras.'

'Aye, you ancients always say things were better in the old days,' replied the man. 'I don't think it's true, though. I reckon young warriors look at you and are reminded of their grandfathers. Then they can't possibly fight you.'

'Maybe so,' agreed the axeman. 'At my age I'll take any advantage I can get. Any word on Orastes?'

The guard's expression changed, the smile fading. 'Not exactly. His servant has been found. He's alive, but barely. He was in the arena dungeons. The Datians discovered him there when they opened the prisons.'

'In the dungeons? That makes no sense. Where is he now?'

'Being cared for at the White Palace,' Diagoras told him. 'I'll arrange a pa.s.s for you tomorrow. Where are you heading?'

'The Crimson Stag on the west quay. Do they still have food?'

'Aye, but not the menu they had. Things will ease now the Datians have lifted the blockade.

Six s.h.i.+ps have already unloaded. Old s.h.i.+vas will have been prowling the dock to restock his larders. I'll come by after my Watch and help you down a flagon or ten.'

<script>