David Gemmell: Waylander

He was a stocky man – ungainly when not in the saddle – and one of the few career soldiers left in the Legion following the savage reductions of the previous autumn, when King Niallad had ordered a new militia programme. Ten thousand soldiers had been dismissed and only Gellan's determination had saved Sarvaj.

Now Niallad was dead and the Drenai all but conquered.

Sarvaj had shed no tears for the King for the man was a fool … worse than a fool!

'Off on his walks again?' said a voice and Sarvaj glanced up. Jonat sat down on the grass and stretched his long bony frame to full length, lying back with his head on his hands.

'He needs to think,' said Sarvaj.

'Yes. He needs to think about how to get us through the Nadir lands. I am sick of Skultik.'

'We are all sick of Skultik, but I don't see that riding north would help. It would merely mean fighting the Nadir tribes instead of the Vagrians.'

'At least we'd have a chance there. Here we have none.' Jonat scratched his thin black beard. 'If they'd damn well listened to us last year, we would not be in this mess.'

'But they didn't,' said Sarvaj wearily.

'Pox-ridden courtiers! In some ways the Hounds did us a favour by butchering the whoresons.'

'Don't say that to Gellan – he lost a lot of friends in Skoda and Drenan.'

'We all lost friends,' snapped Jonat, 'and we'll lose a lot more. How long is Egel going to keep us cooped up in that damned forest?'

'I don't know, Jonat. Gellan doesn't know and I doubt if Egel himself knows.'

'We ought to strike north, through Gulgothir, and make for the eastern ports. I wouldn't mind settling down in Ventria. Always hot, plenty of women. We could hire out as mercenaries.'

'Yes,' said Sarvaj, too weary to argue. He failed to understand why Gellan had promoted Jonat to command of a Quarter – the man was full of bile and bitterness.

But – and this was so galling – he was right. When Niallad's militia plan had first been put forward, the men in the Legion had bitterly opposed it. All the evidence indicated that the Vagrians were preparing for invasion. But Niallad claimed that the Vagrians themselves feared an attack to save money. Our money! If one good thing has come out of this war, it is that the noble class is gone for good.'

'Perhaps. But then Gellan is a nobleman.'

'Yes?'

'You don't hate him, do you?'

'He's no better than the rest.'

'I thought you liked him.'

'I suppose he's not a bad officer. Too soft. But underneath he still looks down on us.'

'I've never noticed it,' said Sarvaj.

'You don't look hard enough,' responded Jonat.

A horseman galloped into the grove and the men lurched to their feet with hands on sword-hilts. It was the scout, Kapra.

Gellan walked from the trees as the man dismounted. 'Anything to the east?' he asked.

'Three gutted villages, sir. A few refugees. I saw a column of Vagrian infantry – maybe two thousand. They made camp near Ostry, by the river.'

'No sign of cavalry?'

'No, sir,'

'Jonat!' called Gellan.

'Yes, sir.'

'The infantry will be expecting supplies. Take two men and scout to the east – when you see the wagons, get back here as fast as you can.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Kapra, get yourself some food and then take a fresh mount and move out with Jonat. We will wait here for you.'

Sarvaj smiled. The difference in Gellan was startling now that the prospect of action loomed – his eyes were bright and alive and his voice curt and authoritative. Gone was the habitual stoop and the casually distant manner.

Egel had sent them out to find supplies to feed his beleaguered force, and so far they had been riding for three days without success. Villages had been wantonly destroyed and food stores taken or burnt. Cattle had been driven off and sheep poisoned in their fields.

'Sarvaj!'

'Sir?'

'Get the horses picketed and separate the men into five groups. There's a hollow past the thicket there and room for three fires – but none to be lit until the north star is clear and bright. You understand?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Four men to stand watch, change every four hours. You pick the places.'

'Yes, sir.'

Gellan smoothed his dark moustache and grinned boyishly.

'Let them be carrying salt beef,' he said. 'Pray for salt beef, Sarvaj!'

'And a small escort. It might be worth praying for a Ten.'

The smile faded from Gellan's face. 'Unlikely. They'll have at least a Quarter, maybe more. And then there will be the cartsmen. Still, cross that river when we reach it. When the men are resting, organise a sabre check; I want no blunted weapons when we ride.'

'Yes, sir. Why don't you get some rest?'

'I'm fine.'

'It wouldn't do any harm,' Sarvaj urged.

'You're fussing round me like an old woman. And don't think I don't appreciate it – but I am all right now, I promise.' Gellan smiled to hide the lie, but it did not fool Sarvaj.

The men were glad of the rest and without Jonat the mood lightened. Sarvaj and Gellan sat apart from the troop, chatting lightly about the past. Careful to avoid bringing up subjects which would remind Gellan of his wife and children, Sarvaj talked mainly of regimental memories.

'Do you mind if I ask you a question?' he said suddenly.

'Why should I?' answered Gellan.

'Why did you promote Jonat?'

'Because he's talented – he just doesn't realise it yet.'

'He doesn't like you.'

'That doesn't matter. Watch him – he'll do well.'

'He brings the men down, lessens morale.'

'I know. Be patient.'

'He's pushing for us to run north – to break out of Skultik.'

'Stop worrying about it, Sarvaj. Trust me.'

I trust you, thought Sarvaj. I trust you to be finest swordsman in the Legion, to be a caring and careful officer and to be a firm friend. But Jonat? Jonat was a snake and Gellan was too trusting to see it. Given the time, Jonat would start a mutiny which would spread like a prairie fire through the dispirited ranks of Egel's army.

That night, as Gellan lay under his cloak away from the fire, he fell into a deep sleep and the dreams returned. He woke with a start and the tears flowed, though he swallowed the sobs that ached to be loose.

As he stood up and wandered away from camp, Sarvaj turned over and opened his eyes.

'Damn!' he whispered.

Towards dawn, Sarvaj arose and checked the sentries. This was the worst time of the night for concentration, and often a man who could stand a shift from dusk until midnight would find it impossible on another night to stay awake from midnight to dawn. Sarvaj had no idea what caused this phenomenon, but he knew what cured it; a man found sleeping on duty was lashed twenty times, and for a second offence the sentence was death. Sarvaj had no wish to see his men hung, so he made a name for himself as a nightwalker.

On this night, as he crept soundlessly through the wood, he found all four men alert and watchful. Pleased, he made his way back to his blankets where he found Gellan waiting for him. The officer looked tired, but his eyes were bright.

'You haven't slept,' said Sarvaj.

'No, I was thinking about the convoy. What we can't steal, we must destroy; the Vagrians must be taught to suffer. I don't understand the way they are conducting this war. If they left the farming villages alone there would always be sufficient supplies, but by raping and killing and burning they are making the land a wilderness. And it will turn on them. Come winter they will be on short rations and then, by all the Gods, we'll hit them.'

'How many wagons do you think there'll be?'

'For a force of two thousand? No fewer than twenty-five.'

'So,' said Sarvaj, 'if we take the convoy without loss we'll have around twenty escort riders, and three days in the open back to Skultik. That's asking for a lot of luck.'