David Gemmell - The Swords of Night and Day

Stavut wandered over. ‘About two miles ahead the trail you can see merges with the old road. If they split their force this is the way they will come.’

Harad would have preferred to fight alongside the Legend Riders, rather than these beasts. He was still uneasy around them, though he marvelled at the way Stavut wandered among them, clapping some on the shoulder, and making jokes Harad was sure the beasts could not understand. The Jiamads stretched out in the sunshine. Many of them began to doze. Stavut yawned and scratched his thickening beard. ‘Do you know any stories about Druss?’ asked Harad.

‘A few. Legends, probably. His wife was a princess of some kind. She was stolen from the palace by traitors. I think some foreign king had fallen in love with her. Anyway, she was taken across the sea, and Druss went and fetched her back.’

‘Storytelling is not a strong point of yours, is it?’ said Harad.

‘I never was much interested in history. I think he fought a demon king as well — but that could have been someone else.’

‘Why is it that all the heroes married princesses?’ asked Harad.

‘I guess that’s what heroes do.’ Stavut glanced back down the trail. ‘I hope they don’t come this way,’ he said.

Shakul suddenly stood and raised his head into the air, nostrils quivering. The other Jiamads stirred.

Stavut swore. Harad took up his axe. ‘You are as good at hoping as you are at storytelling,’ he said.

Shakul padded back to where the two men waited. ‘Many Jems. Here soon,’ he told them.

‘How many?’ asked Stavut.

‘Big pack.’

‘Bigger than us?’

‘Many times.’

Stavut swore again, and drew the cavalry sabre Alahir had given him. ‘I think you should keep back out of the action,’ Harad observed. ‘Unless you know how to use that.’

‘Very droll,’ muttered Stavut.

Shakul sniffed the air again. ‘Not all come,’ he said. Stavut moved forward to where the trail dipped down towards the canyon floor. To the right was a towering cliff, to the left an awesome drop. The trail was some twenty feet wide. Then he glanced around. There were scores of boulders from previous rock falls scattered over the plateau.

‘Shak, I want as many of those big rocks pushed to the edge of the plateau as you can.’

‘Rocks?’

Stavut ran to a huge boulder, and placed his hands upon it, pretending to push. ‘We will roll them down towards the enemy. Come on, lads!’ he shouted. Shakul walked to the boulder and heaved his enormous bulk against it. The massive rock did not budge.

‘No good,’ said Shakul.

‘Together we can do it. Grava! Ironfist! Blackrock! Over here!’ Three more Jiamads joined him.

Together they threw their weight against the boulder. Slowly it began to move. ‘Careful now!’ warned Stavut. ‘We want it right on the edge.’ Harad moved forward to assist them, and slowly they rolled the giant rock into place. Others followed, until there was a line of colossal rocks perched on the edge of the plateau. Then they waited.

Far below they saw the first of the Jiamads come into sight. There was an officer with them, on a piebald horse. Stavut ordered his pack to pull back from the crest. He was not quick enough, and the officer saw them. Harad watched as he waved his arm forward. The Jiamads with him began to run up the slope. They were big beasts, all of them as large as Shakul, perhaps larger, and they were carrying long clubs of dark iron. Harad counted them as they came. There were more than forty of them, and they were moving fast. The officer was riding with them. He had drawn his sabre, and his black cloak was billowing behind him.

When the beasts were halfway up the slope Stavut bellowed: ‘Now!’

Shakul and several of the others hurled themselves at the first boulder, tipping it over the edge. Others of the pack pushed another great rock after it. Then a third. The first stopped about ten paces ahead, but the second rolled on, picking up pace. Shakul ran to the first, Grava alongside him. Together they got it moving, then loped back to where Stavut stood with Harad.

Five boulders were now rumbling down the slope. They picked up speed, bouncing off the rock face to the right. One of them rolled over the edge long before it reached the Jiamads. Another hit the cliff face and stopped. The rest thundered on, picking up speed. The charging Jiamads stopped, as they realized the danger. They turned and tried to run. The officer’s horse reared as he dragged on the reins. Then a boulder struck the piebald, hurtling it over the edge. The officer had managed to kick his feet clear of the stirrups just before the boulder struck, and threw himself from the doomed horse.

Harad stared down through the dust cloud the avalanche had caused. At least ten of the Jiamads had been swept to their deaths, or crushed. The others regrouped. The officer, his plumed helmet gone, waved his sword in the air, pointing up the mountainside. And the enemy came on again.

Shakul and the pack waited. Stavut moved up to stand at the centre, Harad alongside him.

‘I hate fighting,’ said Stavut.

‘Picked the wrong place to be,’ muttered Harad.

As the enemy neared Stavut shouted at the top of his voice. ‘Kill them all!’ With a great roar the pack hurled themselves at the enemy. Harad ran with them. A massive beast swung an iron club at his head.

Harad ducked and sent Snaga crunching through its ribs. Then he shoulder-charged the dying beast, thrusting it aside as he hurled himself at another. Shakul grabbed a Jiamad by the throat and groin, hoisting it into the air and flinging the hapless beast back into his comrades. Stavut whacked his sabre at a charging monster. The blade bounced away, causing no more than a shallow cut. The beast grabbed Stavut by the shirt, dragging him towards its fangs. A mighty blow from Shakul struck the side of its head.

Dropping Stavut it turned towards Shakul. The two huge beasts roared and hurled themselves at one another.

Stavut pushed himself to his feet, and gathered up his fallen sabre. The plateau echoed with the sound of snarls and cries. Shakul tore the throat from his opponent and rushed back into the fray. Harad was attacking with relentless power, blocking and cutting, the great axe cleaving through fur, flesh and bone.

Stavut ran to help him, leaping over fallen beasts, and ducking round others who were still fighting. The officer of the Eternal Guard saw him, and rushed in. Stavut blocked a fierce thrust, then threw himself back as a second slashed towards his belly. The blade flicked up, tearing his shirt and nicking the skin of his chest. Holding the sabre two-handed Stavut slashed and cut, but his attack was easily parried. ‘You are dead meat!’ sneered the officer.

Harad, who was close by, smashed Snaga into the face of an attacking beast, then leapt towards the guardsman. The soldier saw him coming and swung to meet the new threat. With no concern for fairness Stavut rushed in, plunging his sabre through the man’s throat. As he did so, he saw that Harad’s attempt to save him had put the axeman in peril. He had turned his back on the Jiamads coming at him. Stavut tried to call out a warning. A club thundered against Harad’s head. The big man staggered. Stavut leapt to his aid. Harad, blood streaming from his temple, drove Snaga through his attacker’s chest.

The enemy broke — the survivors running back down the trail.

Stavut, feeling light-headed with relief, sought out Shakul. The big beast was bleeding from several shallow cuts and gashes. ‘Are you all right?’ Stavut asked.

‘Strong,’ answered Shakul. Stavut moved around the killing ground. He found eight of his pack dead, and four others wounded. Then he saw Grava lying close to the precipice. Running to him he squatted down. ‘No, no, no!’ he pleaded. ‘Don’t you dare be dead!’ Cradling the elongated head he felt for a pulse, but couldn’t find one. Shakul leaned over, his snout close to Grava’s mouth.