David Gemmell - The Swords of Night and Day

‘Listen to me!’ said Skilgannon, taking the man by the arm. ‘Try to understand. She is not Jianna! She is Askari, a young woman from the mountain lands south of here.’

‘She might once have been this Askari you speak of. Not now. I am not fooled. I see beyond the flesh. I see the aura of her soul. She is Jianna. She is the Eternal.’

Skilgannon turned slowly towards Askari. She was standing behind him, her sabre in her hand.

‘The twisted magic here has driven him mad,’ she said.

‘No,’ said Skilgannon softly. He sighed. ‘I knew something was wrong back on the road when I looked at you in the moonlight. My heart almost stopped. I think I knew then. I just didn’t want to believe it. How did you do it, Jianna?’

He thought she was going to deny it. Instead she merely smiled. ‘Decado gave one of Memnon’s jewels to the girl. It connected me to her. All I had to do was die. It was most painful. Much like this. .’

As she spoke her sabre lunged forward, spearing Skilgannon’s chest. He staggered back, and tried to draw his own swords. Strength seeped from his body and he fell heavily. Jianna leaned over him. ‘Do not fret, my love,’ she said. ‘I will have you Reborn. Perhaps by then you will have put aside notions of destroying me. And now I must go. Memnon is waiting for me.’

With that she walked past the old priest, and through the far door.

As the sun rose the Drenai warriors filed out onto the road, forming up in ranks, twelve men across and seven deep. A little way back a second phalanx formed, ready to rush to the aid of the first when needed. Stavut had been placed at the rear of the second group, along with the less experienced of the Drenai. These were the younger men, new to the front line. Stavut glanced at their faces. Many were nervous, but all stood ready. From their high vantage point Stavut could see the Eternal Guard forming up below. In their black and silver armour they looked invincible, and the inspirational speech Druss had given the night before seemed suddenly hollow and unconvincing.

Stavut felt the weight of the chain mail on his shoulders, and sweat was beginning to trickle down his neck. How odd, he thought. Water is running freely from my skin, and yet my mouth is parched and dry.

It was then that he realized his bladder was full. He swore. ‘What is it?’ asked the man beside him.

Stavut told him, and the young soldier smiled. ‘Me too. It will be the same for every man here.’

‘Why?’ asked Stavut.

‘According to Gilden it is the tension and the fear. It tightens the muscles around the bladder. The feeling will go away once the battle starts.’

‘Oh, I’ll look forward to that,’ muttered Stavut.

The Eternal Guard began to march. Instinctively Stavut reached for his sword hilt. ‘Not yet,’ said the soldier. ‘Your arm will be tired enough by the end. Wait until you actually need to draw it.’

Up ahead Stavut saw Druss, dressed now in a long mail hauberk, walking along the front rank, Alahir beside him in the Armour of Bronze. The axeman was talking to the soldiers, but his words did not fully carry to the second phalanx. Stavut thought he heard the word ‘wedge’.

‘Can you hear what he’s saying?’ he asked the soldier beside him.

‘Don’t need to,’ said the man. ‘Alahir told us last night what the plan was. We will hit them when they reach the narrowest point of the road. They will be expecting arrows. Instead they will be met by a charge, in wedge formation. It will pierce them like an arrow head, with Druss at the point.’

The Eternal Guard marched on, not swiftly, but steadily, conserving their energies for the battle ahead.

Stavut found himself wondering about his lads, and how they were faring in the green hills. He sighed.

The sun was bright in a cloudless sky, and he saw several doves flying by. A sense of unreality gripped him. It was hard to believe, standing here in the sunlight, that men were about to die. Then he thought about Askari. She had been acting strangely these last few days. Ever since the nightmare. She had suddenly awoken beside him with a cry. He had reached over to her, and she had slapped his hand away and looked at him strangely. ‘It is all right,’ he said. ‘You were dreaming. That’s all.’

‘Dreaming?’ She relaxed then. ‘Yes, I was dreaming. Where is Olek?’

‘Olek?’

‘Skilgannon.’

‘He is out scouting the passes for sign of the Guard.’ He had leaned in to her then, and suggested they find a spot away from the others where they could be together.

‘Not now, Stavut,’ she said. It had been odd hearing her use his full name. He had become so used to Stavi.

The men around him began to shuffle and swing their arms, loosening the muscles. Stavut saw that the Guard were approaching the narrowest point of the road. They began to shuffle together, raising their long shields to protect themselves from arrows.

Without any battle cries the Drenai line surged forward, Druss at the centre, axe raised. It was several moments before the marching Guard realized they were under assault. Stavut saw the huge axe splinter a shield, and sweep the man beyond from his feet. Then the noise erupted, metal on metal, screeching and clamouring, screams and shouts and death cries. Several of the Guard were pushed over the edge of the precipice, and fell. Stavut watched them, arms flailing as they plummeted towards the rocks far below.

Switching his gaze back to the front line he saw the carnage and his stomach knotted. The axe rose and fell, swept and cut, blood spraying from it. It seemed perpetually in motion, as if it was somehow mechanical. There was a gap opening around Druss, as men fought to keep back from the slashing blades. Then, with the initial shock of the charge over, the Guards’ discipline reasserted itself. They began to push forward. Now Stavut saw Legend Riders fall, as the black and silver ranks hurled themselves at the defenders. Slowly, inexorably, the Drenai were forced back. Druss fought on, and the enemy warriors had almost reached the point of encircling him. Then Alahir threw himself into the attack, battling to reach Druss. Several men, Gilden among them, joined him, and once more the two fighting groups became wedged together, neither giving nor gaining ground.

The battle seemed to go on for ever, but Stavut glanced at the sky and saw that the sun had barely moved.

Another line of Drenai reserves rushed forward to fill the gaps left by the dead and dying. The soldier beside him had been right, thought Stavut, as he and the men around him shuffled forward. He no longer felt the urge to piss, and his mouth was no longer dry. He saw Alahir go down, and then rise again. The battle looked chaotic now. More men fell screaming from the edge, and the ground was dense with bodies, some still writhing, or trying to drag themselves clear of the fighting. Stavut, though he had no experience of battles, could sense that the tide was beginning to turn. The Drenai had been pushed back from the narrow point. This allowed more Guards to enter the fray. Druss was still holding his ground, but once more the two flanks were pressing inwards. A second line of reserves ran in, briefly bolstering the defence. Druss suddenly surged forward into the Guards trying to join the fighting, cutting left and right with his terrible blades. Stavut shivered as he saw men go down, helms crushed, faces slashed away.

This sudden, almost berserk attack opened a gap behind the Guards, and Stavut saw many men in the front ranks glance nervously behind them. Alahir must have seen it to, for he bellowed: ‘At them, Drenai!

Kill them all!’

The defenders returned to the attack with renewed vigour, hacking and slashing, hurling themselves at the enemy. The guardsmen at the rear turned and fled from the awesome axe. Then the front line caved.