David Gemmell - The Swords of Night and Day

‘Do you fear heights?’ asked Skilgannon.

‘Of course not,’ growled Harad. ‘I was just wondering how I can climb that, and still carry Snaga.’

The axe blades were too wide, and too wickedly sharp, for the logger to push the haft into his belt. The wrong move, or a slip, could see the pointed upper or lower blades pierce his flesh.

‘We will pass it between us,’ said Skilgannon. Stretching to the first handhold, he placed his foot on a jut of rock and levered himself upwards. ‘Hand me the axe,’ he said. ‘Then you climb.’

It was painstaking and slow, but they reached the ledge safely, then followed it round to the left until they reached a chimney of rock. This proved an easier climb, and at the top they came to a dark tunnel.

Skilgannon crouched down at the entrance and peered inside. Closing his eyes he drew in a deep, slow breath through his nostrils. ‘The beasts passed this way,’ he said softly. Then he glanced at Harad.

‘Every step from here must be considered carefully,’ he whispered.

‘We find them and kill them,’ said Harad, with the confidence of the young.

Skilgannon looked into his pale eyes. This man is not Druss, he told himself. He is young and callow, and over confident. ‘Listen to me, Harad! You killed a Jiamad back at the village. But it knocked you from your feet, and you lost your grip on the axe. Had there been a second close by it would have torn your throat out. We are about to face up to fourteen of these creatures. The chances of getting out alive are remote. So walk warily. Do not charge in unless there is no other way. Follow my lead, and stay behind me.’

Moving stealthily, they followed the tunnel, but it soon branched off into a series of deep, impenetrable caves. Twice Harad stumbled in the darkness. Then they heard the sound of crashing rocks from some way to their left. Skilgannon drew the Swords of Night and Day and angled towards the sound. A thin shaft of light was shining through a crack in the high, domed cavern roof. Skilgannon stood for a while, scanning the area ahead. Harad moved around him. ‘It’s coming from ahead. Is it a landslide, do you think? I wouldn’t want to get trapped in here.’

‘Don’t speak,’ hissed Skilgannon. ‘Sound carries far in caves like this.’

Harad said nothing, but stepped past Skilgannon and moved out into a wider section of tunnel.

Something dark and huge suddenly loomed over him. Harad spun, the axe slashing out, but the Jiamad was upon him, and all that struck it was Snaga’s haft. The Jiamad’s weight bore Harad back. Losing his footing the young logger fell, the beast upon him. Harad’s left hand slammed into the creature’s throat, his fingers trying to prevent the long, vicious fangs from tearing at his face. But the power in the beast was astounding. Harad twisted under it, seeking to find a way to bring Snaga to bear. It was no use. His right arm was pinned beneath the Jiamad, and the strength in his left was fading. The fangs inched nearer to his throat. Glittering silver flashed above the Jiamad, and the beast’s body spasmed. Light flashed again. The head came loose in Harad’s hand, blood from the severed jugular gushing over the front of his jerkin and splashing his face. With a grunt he heaved the head aside, then kicked himself free of the decapitated corpse.

‘I’ll say it again,’ said Skilgannon softly. ‘Stay behind me. There is no room in the tunnels to swing that axe.’

Skilgannon moved forward stealthily, swords in hand. The tunnel widened, then branched off to the left. The sound of crashing rocks was louder now and dust filled the air. Another, taller, tunnel beckoned.

Skilgannon paused at the entrance and peered round the corner. Some thirty feet away he saw light appear, as a huge boulder was pushed clear of a blocked opening. In that light was a group of ten Jiamads. Three of them were throwing their weight against another massive boulder. It must have weighed several tons. A screeching sound came from the stone. Then it toppled. A chorus of growls greeted the move, and the Jiamads rushed into the wide, dawn-lit cave beyond.

Skilgannon took a deep breath. A sensible man would withdraw at this point, he knew. He glanced at Harad. ‘What are we waiting for?’ whispered the logger.

‘We can’t kill them all, Harad. To go in there is to die.’

‘ Protect the weak against the evil strong ,’ quoted Harad. ‘It didn’t say anything about doing it only when you think you can win.’

Skilgannon gave a tight smile. ‘True!’

With that he swung and ran down the tunnel, Harad behind him. Just as they emerged into the cave entrance Skilgannon saw a young man, in red tunic and leggings, hurl himself down into the mass of beasts. From a rock shelf some twelve feet above the cave floor a young woman, her features in shadow, was shooting arrows into the surging Jiamads.

Harad gave a great shout and charged. Several of the Jiamads were swarming up the rock face trying to reach the woman. One fell, an arrow through his skull. Others roared their defiance and rushed at Harad. The great axe smashed one from his feet, his neck torn open, a second fell to a reverse cut that clove through his ribs.

Just as a third bore down on the young axeman Skilgannon sprang in, sending a slashing cut into its face. The creature leapt back, fell and rolled to its feet.

For a few heartbeats no-one moved. The Jiamads, surprised by the sudden arrival of the newcomers, pulled back to regroup. Harad was about to charge again. Skilgannon seized the moment. ‘Hold, Harad!’ he shouted. Then he called up to the woman. ‘Loose no more shafts!’ His voice rang with authority, but he knew the situation was fragile. Blood had been spilt, and the tension in the cave was palpable. One wrong word. One wrong move and the killing would begin again. ‘Who commands here?’

he said, stepping towards the seven remaining beasts.

‘Shakul leads,’ grunted a huge Jiamad, his fur darker than the rest, and his snout more rounded. More bear than wolf in this one, thought Skilgannon. The creature was tense, his taloned hands clenching and unclenching.

‘What are your orders, Shakul?’ The beast took a step towards him, but Skilgannon did not back away. He looked up into the creature’s enormous eyes. ‘Your orders?’ he repeated.

Shakul hesitated. The beast was torn between his desire to rend flesh and kill, and his training to be obedient to the wishes of humans. ‘Take woman,’ he said, at last.

‘Where?’

‘Corvin. Captain.’

‘Corvin is dead. Both your officers are dead. There is no-one to take the woman to. You now have a decision to make.’

Skilgannon saw the beast’s golden eyes flicker. His head tilted, and he gave a low growl. Skilgannon quelled the urge to speak again. It was best to keep matters simple and wait. The moment was pivotal.

Shakul swung to look at the remaining Jiamads, who were standing now, calmly awaiting his orders. Then the great beast glanced at the bodies of the Jiamads on the cave floor. His head shook, as if insects were buzzing around his eyes. ‘You soldier?’ he asked.

‘I am Skilgannon.’

Shakul began to sway, his golden eyes on the swords in Skilgannon’s hands. His talons opened and closed. Skilgannon sensed he was about to attack.

‘We could kill each other,’ said Skilgannon. ‘Or not. You choose.’ Shakul wavered. He glanced up at the woman with the deadly bow, then at the axeman standing ready. Skilgannon waited. And the tension eased.

‘Corvin dead?’

‘Yes.’

‘You kill Corvin?’

‘Yes.’

‘Fight no more,’ said Shakul. ‘We go.’

‘Do no harm to the villagers, Shakul,’ said Skilgannon. ‘Either go back to your regiment or head north.