David Gemmell - Waylander

'We are entitled to a little , my friend,' replied Gellan.

'Entitlement means nothing. I've lost at dice ten days in a row!'

'And on the eleventh?'

'I lose again. You know I never win at dice.'

'I know you never pay your debts,' said Gellan. 'You still owe me three silver pieces. Get the men together – Jonat should be back soon.'

But it was mid-morning before Jonat and the others cantered into the clearing. Gellan strode to meet them as Jonat lifted his leg over the pommel and slid to the ground.

'What news?' he asked.

'You were right, sir – there's a convoy three hours to the east. Twenty-seven wagons. But there are fifty mounted guards and two outriding scouts.'

'Were you seen?'

'I do not believe so,' replied Jonat stiffly.

'Tell me of the ground.'

'There's only one spot to take them, but it's close to Ostry and the infantry. However, the trail winds between two wooded hills; there's plenty of cover on both sides and the wagons will move slowly, for the track is muddy and steep.'

'How soon can we be there and in place?'

'Two hours. But that will leave it very tight, sir. We might even arrive as the wagons enter the trees on the far side.'

'That's too damned tight,' said Sarvaj, 'especially since they have scouts out.'

The risks were too great, Gellan knew, yet Egel needed supplies desperately. What was worse, there was no time to plan, to think.

'Mount up!' he shouted.

As the troop thundered to the east, Gellan was cursing his shortcomings. What was needed before setting out was a powerful short speech to the men, something to fire their blood. But he had never been good with groups and knew the men felt him to be a cold, distant leader. Now he was uncomfortably aware that he was leading some of them – perhaps all – to their deaths on a harebrained attack best left to reckless, colourful men like Karnak or Dundas. How the men worshipped them – young, dashing and totally fearless, they led their Centuries against the Vagrians time and again, cutting and running, letting the enemy know there was still some fight in the Drenai.

They had little time for veterans like Gellan. Perhaps rightly so, he considered, as the wind tore at his face. I should have retired, he thought. He had made up his mind to quit this autumn, but there was no quiet retirement for a Drenai officer now.

They reached the wood in under two hours and Gellan called a swift meeting with his under-officers. Two of his best bowmen were dispatched to deal with the advance scouts, and then he split his force to left and right of the track. He himself took command of the right-hand slope, giving Jonat the left, ignoring Sarvaj's disapproving glare.

With the orders given, the men settled down to wait and Gellan bit his lip, his mind racing round in infuriating circles as he struggled to find a flaw in his plan – a flaw he felt certain was there for all to see.

On the left-hand slope Jonat crouched behind a thick bush, rubbing at his neck to ease the tension. On either side his men waited, bows ready and arrows notched,.

He wished Gellan had given this command to Sarvaj; he felt ill at ease with the responsibility.

'Why don't they come?' hissed a man to his left.

'Keep calm,' Jonat heard himself say. 'They'll come. And when they do, we'll kill them. All of them! We'll teach them what it means to invade Drenai lands.'

He grinned at the soldier and as the man grinned back, Jonat felt the tension ease from him. Gellan's plan was a good one, but then Jonat would expect little else from such an ice-man. To hear him talk you would think that was just another manoeuvre, but then Gellan was one of the warrior class, damn him! Not the son of a farm labourer best known for his ability to dance while drunk. Anger flared, but Jonat quelled it as the first creaking sounds of the wagons drifted up to him.

'Steady now!' he whispered. 'No one lets fly before the order. Pass the word along – I'll flay the man alive who disobeys!'

The wagons were led by six horsemen, their black horned helms down, swords in their hands. Behind them trundled the heavy wagons and carts, twenty-two horsemen filing along both sides of the track.

Slowly they came on and as the lead horsemen passed Jonat's position he notched an arrow to his bow, waiting, waiting …

'Now!' he yelled as the last wagons began the incline.

Black shafts flashed from the trees on both sides. Horses reared screaming and pandemonium came to the woods. One horseman tipped over the back of his horse, two arrows appearing in his chest. Another pitched forward as a shaft sliced his throat.

Cartsmen dived for cover below the wagons as the massacre continued. Three horsemen galloped west, ducking low over their horses' necks. One was brought down when an arrow hammered into his mount's neck; as he scrambled to his feet, three shafts plunged into his back. The other two broke clear over the hill-top and straightened in their saddles …

Only to find themselves galloping towards Sarvaj and ten bowmen. Arrows peppered them and both horses fell dying, pitching their riders to the ground. Sarvaj and his men ran forward, killing the riders before they could rise.

In the woods Jonat led his men on a reckless charge to the wagons. Several of the cartsmen crawled out to meet them with hands raised, but the Drenai were in no mood for prisoners and they were despatched without mercy.

Within three minutes of the onset of the encounter, all the Vagrians were dead.

Gellan walked slowly down to the wagons. Six of the oxen used to pull the lead wagon were down and he ordered them cut clear. The action had gone better than he could have hoped for: seventy Vagrians dead and not one of his men wounded.

But now came the hard part – he had to get the wagons to Skultik.

'Good work, Jonat!' he said. 'Your timing was excellent.'

'Thank you, sir,'

'Strip the cloaks and helms from the dead – and get the bodies hidden in the woods.'

'Yes, sir,'

'We're going to be Vagrians for a little while.'

'It's a long way to Skultik,' said Jonat.

'We'll get there,' answered Gellan.

Waylander paused at the foot of a grass-covered hill and lifted Culas and Miriel from the saddle. The trees were thinning now and once over the crest the group would be on open ground. Waylander was tired; his limbs felt heavy and his eyes ached. A strong man, he was unused to this physical weariness and at a loss to understand it. Dardalion halted beside him and Danyal lowered Krylla into the priest's arms.

'Why are we stopping?' asked Danyal. Dardalion shrugged.

Waylander walked to the top of the hill and lay on his belly scanning the plain beyond. In the far distance a column of wagons was heading north, escorted by Vagrian cavalry. Waylander chewed at his lip and frowned.

Heading north?

Towards Egel?

This could only mean that Egel had been forced out of Skultik, or had made a run for Purdol. If either was the case, then there was little point in taking the children to the forest. But where else could they go? Waylander returned his gaze to the plain itself: thousands of square miles of flat, unending grassland, dotted with occasional trees and ground-hugging hedgerows. And yet the land was deceptive, he knew. What looked like flatlands hid scores of gullies and hollows, random dips and curves in the earth. The entire Vagrian army could be camped within the range of his sight and yet be hidden from him. He glanced back and saw the two little girls gathering bluebells. The sound of laughter echoed on the hillside. Waylander cursed softly. Moving back carefully from the crest he stood up and turned towards the group.

As he walked down the hill four men moved out of the trees.