David Gemmell - The Swords of Night and Day

‘The man’s mad!’ said Anatis.

The soldier laughed. ‘You think sane men would choose to come to this arid place in order to kill each other? Go tend the beast.’

Stavut let his sabre fall clattering to the ground. ‘I am sorry, surgeon,’ he said. ‘Will you help me?’

Anatis eased himself to his feet and swung his medicine bag over his shoulder. ‘I do not know how the melding changes the physical structure. But I will do what I can.’ Together they walked out into the moonlight. ‘I should have asked for lanterns,’ he said.

Ironfist was breathing raggedly, his head resting back against the rock face. The surgeon glanced at Stavut. ‘He’s not going to attack me, is he?’

‘No.’ Stavut crouched down on the other side of the beast. ‘It is me, my friend. I have brought someone to help you. You understand? To mend your wound.’

The surgeon took hold of Ironfist’s paw, which was resting over an awesome puncture wound in his chest. His fur was covered in blood, some dried, but more flowing from the wound. At the point of entry the blood was coming in small spurts. Ironfist suddenly coughed, and blood sprayed Stavut’s face and chest. The surgeon looked across at Stavut. ‘Now do not go back for that sabre, but there is nothing I can do. All the indications are that the wound is deep, and has pierced a lung. It has also severed an artery, which is why the blood is coming so fast.’

‘Would you know what to do if he were a man?’

‘If he were a man he would be dead already. And before you ask, the answer is no. Even if I got to the man immediately the wound was delivered I could not save him. My best guess is that your. . friend will not last the night. All you can do is make him comfortable.’

‘You wouldn’t lie to me?’

‘No, Drenai, I would not lie about my craft, not even to an enemy. If we had bright light, and perfect surroundings, and the right tools, I could have tried opening the wound further and attempting to seal the artery. This would cause immense pain to your friend, and would still result in death forty-nine times out of fifty. I do not have the light, or the tools, and this wound has been bleeding too long. The creature’s strength is almost gone. It could not survive surgery. And now, if you will excuse me, I shall finish stitching the soldier’s wound.’

Stavut said nothing and turned back to Ironfist. ‘I don’t know how much of that you understood, my friend,’ he said. ‘So we will just sit together for a while, you and I.’

Shakul came alongside and peered at Ironfist. ‘You die soon,’ he said.

‘Soon,’ answered Ironfist. Shakul squatted down, and laid his huge hand gently on Ironfist’s arm.

Leaning forward he touched his finger lightly to the wound, then licked the blood. Pulling back he made way for Blackrock, who did the same. One by one all the beasts tasted the blood of Ironfist. Stavut had seen this peculiar ritual earlier, but had not asked Shakul about it. By the time Grava came to repeat the manoeuvre Ironfist was dead. Grava looked enquiringly at Stavut.

‘Why do you lick his blood?’ Stavut asked. The beast answered in his usual incomprehensible manner.

This time, however, Stavut managed to piece together the words. With a sigh, he placed his own finger on the wound, then licked it clean. Then he rose and sought out Alahir.

The rider was talking with Skilgannon and Askari as Stavut approached. Then the group broke up, Skilgannon and Askari walking past the former merchant. He reached out to Askari as she passed. She smiled at him. ‘I will see you later,’ she said, then followed Skilgannon.

‘Well, we survived the day, tinker,’ said Alahir.

‘And tomorrow?’

Alahir shrugged. ‘They are great warriors, and they outnumber us. I won’t lie to you. Chances are we won’t see another sunset.’

‘I don’t want my lads to die here.’

‘No, nor do I. I don’t think the Guard will send their beasts. Though they might, if we hold them long enough. You have done enough, my friend. Take your pack and go.’

‘No, I will stay. I will send my lads out over the other pass. I’ll need to borrow some armour.’

‘There is plenty to choose from, tinker. We lost seventy men today.’

‘That many? I am sorry, Alahir.’

The sound of horses’ hooves clattered on the stone. Stavut swung to see Skilgannon and Askari ride from the pass.

‘Where are they going?’

‘To the temple. Skilgannon thinks he can find a way in. We need to hold the Guard off for another day.’

Stavut walked back to where the pack were sitting, by the entrance to the rock pool. He squatted down alongside Shakul. ‘It is time we had a new leader,’ he said.

Shakul stared at him. ‘Bloodshirt leads.’

‘No. Not any more. This is Shakul’s pack. I want you to trust me, Shak. Tomorrow this battle will be lost, whether you are here or not. The pack has given lives for these men and their war. You have fought well. Tonight I want you to take the pack back through the pass we fought in earlier today. From there you can see the green mountains. There will be deer there. You can hunt. You can run free, Shak. You can truly run free.’

Shakul’s head swayed from side to side. ‘Hungry,’ he said.

‘Hungry,’ muttered some of the others.

‘Hunt deer,’ said Shakul. Pushing himself to his feet he swung to the others. ‘We go!’ he said.

Immediately they rose and padded off.

Stavut stood alone and watched them until they had disappeared over the rim of the road.

‘Not a sentimental bunch, were they?’ said Gilden, moving alongside him. ‘No hugs. No long speeches.’

Stavut shook his head. ‘I watched one of them die tonight. Each of the others placed a finger on the wound and licked it. I asked why. Grava told me in three words. Carry with us.’ The two men stood in silence for a moment.

‘Come on, Stavut,’ said Gilden, ‘let’s find you some armour. You can be a Drenai warrior for a day.’

The moon was bright in a clear sky as Skilgannon rode down the mountainside. The trail was more treacherous here, shifting scree under his gelding’s hooves, so he rode slowly and with care, constantly glancing back to see how Askari was faring. Once on level ground she drew alongside him, and they moved on in silence for a while.

‘You could not have saved them if you stayed,’ she said.

He glanced at her. ‘It would not have been to save them. I brought them to this. My head tells me that I must go to the temple, but my heart feels I am deserting them. Stavut is with them. Are you not concerned about his survival?’

‘Of course I am. He is a sweet man.’

‘A sweet man?’ he echoed. ‘Faint praise for a man you love.’

She did not reply, and the silence grew. ‘Have I offended you?’ he asked at last.

‘Not at all. I was thinking about what you said.’

‘About Stavut?’

‘No, about love. Do you really believe in it, Skilgannon?’

‘What an odd question. It is not about belief .’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course I am sure.’

‘Do you desire me?’

The question shook him. He drew in a deep breath. ‘Yes,’ he said, at last. ‘You are a beautiful woman.’

‘Is that love?’

‘Of a physical kind. Yes. But that is not only how I loved Jianna.’

‘Ah. Two kinds of love then. Did you love your father?’

‘Deeply.’

‘And that is three. Love seems to be a harlot, flitting from object to object. A word with so many uses ultimately becomes meaningless. I have heard Alahir talk of the love of the homeland, and Stavut speak of his love for the beasts. It is all mystifying.’

‘Yes, it is,’ he agreed, ‘but once true love touches your heart you will understand. It has a power beyond any magic in the world. If I walked into a room in which Jianna was sitting I felt my spirit lift. She was in my thoughts every day for all of my previous life. I would fall asleep thinking of her, and wake thinking of her. The day she died it was as if someone had robbed the world of sunlight.’