Part 37 (2/2)

The Nadir had been tough and fast. They had roused from sleep more like animals than men, instantly alert. This had surprised him. He had expected to be able to kill more of them as they blundered from sleep to awareness.

Skilgannon rode on, still scanning the land, and planning the next attack. Only one important question remained. What sort of losses would the Nadir need to suffer before they pulled back from the fight? There were, at most, twenty-two fighting men left. How many would the companions need to kill. Another ten? Fifteen?

He saw Druss and the others waiting on a wide section of the road. Stepping from the saddle he approached the axeman.

'You're bleeding, laddie,' said Druss.

In the shelter of a concave depression in the cliff face Diagoras knelt behind the standing Skilgannon, st.i.tching the cut in his lower back. Moonlight shone down on the blue and gold tattoo of the eagle, its flaring wings rising across Skilgannon's shoulder blades. There were old scars on the young man's body, some jagged, some clean and straight. There were old puncture wounds from bolts or arrows. Diagoras pulled close the last st.i.tch, knotted it, then sliced his dagger through the twine. Skilgannon thanked him, and donned his s.h.i.+rt and sleeveless jerkin.

Diagoras placed the crescent needle and remaining twine in his pouch and sat back, listening as Skilgannon outlined his plan for the morning. He had said little of his fight with the Nadir, merely telling them that he had entered the camp and killed five. He made it sound undramatic, almost casual. Diagoras was impressed. He had not fought the Nadir himself, but he knew men who had. Ferocious and brutal, they were enemies to be feared.

Skilgannon asked Druss if he had any idea how many men the Nadir would have to lose before they withdrew. The old warrior shrugged. 'Depends,' he said. 'If their leader is a bold one we might have to kill them all. If he is not . . . another ten, maybe twelve, dead will convince him to pull back. It is hard to say with Nadir fighters. Their chief back at the fortress may be the kind of man who will kill any survivors who have failed him.'

'Then we must plan to take them all,' said Skilgannon.

Diagoras swallowed back a sarcastic comment and remained silent. He glanced at the others. The twins were listening intently, though the simpleton had a puzzled look on his face. He had no idea what was really going on. Garianne seemed unconcerned at the prospect of defeating twenty Nadir warriors, but then she was a fey creature, and more than a little insane. The boy, Rabalyn, sitting with his back to the far wall, looked frightened, but resolute.

Skilgannon outlined his strategy. It sounded, at first, breath-takingly simple, and yet Diagoras, who prided himself on his tactical skills, had not thought of it. Few men would have. Skilgannon called for questions. There were a few from Druss, and one from Jared.

They were all concerned with timing. Skilgannon glanced at Diagoras, who shook his head.

This was not the time to point out that there was no fall back plan, and no line of escape.

Which, of course, was the danger with a strategy of such stunning simplicity. It was win or die. No middle ground. No safety factors.

Skilgannon moved to where a water skin had been placed. Hefting it, he drank deeply.

Then he gestured to Diagoras and walked out onto the road. Diagoras joined him there.

'I thank you for your silence back there,' said Skilgannon.

'It is a good plan.' He gazed down over the sickening drop to the valley floor below, then stepped back. 'But you know what General Egel once said of plans?'

'They survive only until the battle starts,' replied Skilgannon.

Diagoras smiled. 'You are a student of Drenai history?'

'A student of war,' corrected Skilgannon. 'Yes, there is much that could go wrong, and even if it goes right we are likely to take losses.'

Diagoras laughed suddenly. Skilgannon eyed him curiously. 'What is amusing you?'

'Isn't it obvious? A mad woman, a simpleton and an unskilled boy make up almost half of our fighting force. And here we are talking of what might go wrong.'

Skilgannon was about to answer, but then he too laughed.

Druss wandered out to join them. 'What are you two discussing out here?' he asked.

'The stupidity that comes with war,' said Diagoras.

'Diagoras believes our force is not as good as it might be,' offered Skilgannon.

'That's true,' said Druss, 'but then you can only fight with what you have. I've seen Garianne and the twins in action. They'll not let us down. And the boy has courage. Can't ask for more than that.'

This is all true,' said Diagoras, with a grin. 'So we're not worried about them. It's you. Let's be honest, Druss, you are a little too old and fat to be of much use to young and powerful warriors like us.'

Druss stepped in and Diagoras was hauled from his feet. Even as he began to struggle he was hoisted above the axeman's head. Druss grabbed his ankle then swung him upside down. Diagoras found himself hanging head first over a six hundred foot drop. Twisting his head he looked up. Druss was standing, arms outstretched, holding him by his ankles.

'Now, now, Druss,' he said, 'no need to get angry.'

'Oh, I'm not angry, laddie,' said Druss amiably. 'We old folk have difficulty hearing sometimes, and with you speaking out of your a.r.s.e I couldn't catch what you were saying.

Now, with your a.r.s.e where your mouth was, it should be much easier. Speak on.'

'I was telling Skilgannon what a privilege it was to be travelling with a man of your renown.'

Druss stepped back and lowered Diagoras to the rock. The Drenai breathed a sigh of relief, then stood. 'I fear you don't have much of a sense of humour, old horse,' he said.

'I wouldn't say that,' offered Druss. 'I laughed so much I nearly dropped you.'

Diagoras was about to say more when he looked into the axeman's face. In the moonlight there was a sheen of sweat upon his brow, and he was breathing heavily. 'Are you all right, my friend?' he asked.

'Just tired,' said Druss. 'You are heavier than you look.' With that he turned away from the two warriors and walked back to where the others waited. Diagoras saw him kneading his left forearm, and frowned.

'What is worrying you?' asked Skilgannon.

'Druss does not seem himself. At Skein his complexion was ruddy. These last few days he has looked ten years older. His skin is grey.'

'He is an old man,' said Skilgannon. 'He may be strong, but he is still a half a century old.

Travelling these hills and fighting were-beasts would sap anyone's strength.'

'You are probably right. No man can fight time. When do we need to get into position?'

'An hour. No more than that.'

Druss had stretched himself out on the ledge and appeared to be sleeping. Diagoras and Skilgannon walked further along the road. Here and there were fissures in the rock wall, some shallow, others deep. At one point the road narrowed, then widened. To the left was the sheer red rock face, to the right an awesome drop. Diagoras scanned the area and s.h.i.+vered.

'I have always been nervous about heights,' he said.

'I don't much like them myself,' said Skilgannon. 'But in this situation the terrain is to our advantage. And we need all the advantages we can get.'

'The Nadir are said to be superb hors.e.m.e.n.'

'They will need to be,' observed Skilgannon grimly.

For some time they discussed the plan, and then, as warriors will, they spoke of gentler days. Diagoras talked of an aunt who ran a brothel. 'She was wonderful,' he said. 'I liked nothing better as a child than to sneak off into the city and spend a day with her. My family never spoke of her - except my father. He went into the most terrible rage when he discovered I'd been seeing her. I don't know what annoyed him the most, the fact that she was a wh.o.r.e, or that she was richer than all the rest of the family.'

<script>