David Gemmell - The Swords of Night and Day

In her leggings and jerkin of faded leather, and her dark green hooded shirt, Askari was virtually invisible in the deep undergrowth. She waited patiently. A troop of twenty Jiamads moved out of the trees some thirty paces east of her. They were marching in double file. Each one wore a leather breastplate, emblazoned with the head of a silver eagle. Several also wore leather helms. All carried clubs, embedded with iron nails. There were two officers with them, both walking to the rear of the column. Askari waited until the troop had re-entered the trees, heading northeast, then rose and ran swiftly to the far side of the trail. Here she scaled a tall tree, moving smoothly up through the branches. From this high vantage point she could see the valley to the south, and the distant red rooftops of Petar, some twenty miles away.

Horsemen were riding across the valley, and there were small groups of Jiamads scanning the ground. It was obvious that they were searching for something. A rider on a pale grey horse sat unmoving, his long, dark hair blowing in the afternoon breeze.

Movement came from below her. Someone was climbing the tree. Her bow was hooked over her shoulder, but Askari drew a double-edged skinning knife from the buckskin sheath at her side.

Skilgannon eased aside a thick, leaf-laden branch and levered himself up alongside her. He followed her gaze. ‘It will not be possible to cross the valley in daylight,’ she whispered. He was very close to her, and she could smell woodsmoke and sweat on his shirt. The scent made her uncomfortable. Not because it was unpleasant. Far from it. She tried to ease back a little from him. A small leaf had come loose and had attached itself to his dark hair, just above the ear. It was an effort not to reach out and brush it away.

‘There are too many Jiamads searching,’ he said. ‘It must be someone important. Maybe Landis himself.’

‘They will find him. The breeze is now northerly. Wherever he is they will scent him. Indeed, if we stay here they will scent us before long.’

Skilgannon returned his gaze to the valley below. Askari found herself staring at his profile, and noting the sheen on his hair and the curve of his cheekbone. Closing her eyes, she drew in the scent of his clothes. When she opened them she found his sapphire eyes staring at her.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Of course. Why would you ask?’

‘Your face is flushed.’

‘This shirt is too warm. I am climbing down now.’ She glanced at him. ‘There is a leaf in your hair.’

Easing her way down the tree she jumped to the ground alongside Harad. ‘We need to take the long route into Petar,’ she said. ‘There are Jiamads swarming over the valley.’

Harad nodded. ‘I thought I heard something from the north,’ he said. ‘Sounded like a scream. Very faint, very distant.’

Askari had heard nothing. ‘There are some Jiamads behind us now. However, they are searching for someone, and it is unlikely to be us. We should be able to avoid them if we move east.’

Skilgannon leapt lightly to the ground beside them. ‘I heard a shout, or a scream,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t place the direction.’

‘North,’ said Harad.

‘I’m not sure it was human. It was cut off too soon. Did you hear it?’ he asked Askari. She was annoyed that she had not. The scramble down the tree had been too hurried, and the swishing of the branches must have obscured the sound. She shook her head.

‘Did you want to investigate it?’ she asked. ‘Such a plan would seem foolish to me.’

‘I agree,’ said Skilgannon, ‘but we have a problem. Harad is looking for a friend. She may be back in the town — or she may be out here. If that scream was human then it suggests there are people in the high woods. Any one of them might know what happened to either Charis or Landis Kan. You lead off, Askari. We’ll follow. Do not get too far ahead.’

The huntress pulled her bow clear and set off towards the north at a lope, ducking under low branches and zig-zagging through the undergrowth. Skilgannon and Harad followed. They had run for almost half a mile before another scream sounded. It was a high, trembling cry, full of agony. Askari slowed in her run and angled towards the east and a stand of trees. Skilgannon and Harad moved up behind her as she scaled a small rise, then crouched down in the scrub at the top. Beyond it was a wide, rock-strewn hollow. There were three bodies splayed out on the ground, and five Jiamads and a human officer were kneeling beside a fourth man. His arm had been severed above the elbow, the limb lying some ten feet away, seeping blood to the grass. The officer had applied a clumsy tourniquet, but not to save the man’s life. Merely to keep him alive during questioning.

‘Where did they go?’ asked the officer. The dying man swore at him, and spat blood towards the other’s face. A Jiamad plunged a knife into the man’s leg, twisting the blade. The man’s scream was high pitched and ended in a gurgling cry.

‘I’ve had enough of this,’ said Harad, heaving himself to his feet.

‘I agree,’ said Skilgannon, his voice cold. Together they walked out into the open. Skilgannon raised his right hand and drew the Sword of Day. With his left he took hold of the jutting lower hilt and drew the Sword of Night.

Two of the Jiamads swung round, hearing their approach. The beasts came to their feet with incredible speed and charged, iron-studded clubs raised. Skilgannon darted to the left, the Sword of Day flashing out and down, slicing through the fur of the first beast’s throat, slashing the skin and severing the jugular.

In the same movement he spun on his heel, the Sword of Night plunging through the second beast’s leather breastplate and skewering the heart. Harad leapt at the remaining three. Snaga hammered into the skull of one, the glittering blades splitting the bone and exiting at the dead beast’s mouth. Another fell, a black-feathered shaft buried in its eye socket. The last of the Jiamads hurled himself at Harad. The giant logger leapt to meet it, ducking under the swinging club, and plunging Snaga’s twin points into its belly.

The Jiamad’s golden eyes bulged as the cold steel ripped through its breastplate. It let out a fearful howl and staggered back. Harad wrenched Snaga clear. The beast lurched forward. Harad, unable to bring the axe to bear, struck it in the snout with a straight left. Two fangs snapped off under the impact. Dazed now, the creature half turned. Snaga clove through its neck.

The officer of the Eternal was alone. He was young, and fair-haired, his features handsome. But his hands were covered with the blood of a tortured man.

‘Who are you looking for?’ asked Skilgannon, as the man drew his army sabre.

‘I’ll tell you nothing, you renegade!’

‘I believe you. Which makes you useless to me.’

Skilgannon stepped in swiftly, blocked a clumsy lunge, and near decapitated the young man. Even before the body had hit the ground Skilgannon was kneeling beside the prisoner.

‘I. . enjoyed. . that,’ said the man, blood on his lips.

Harad moved to the other side of the wounded man. ‘Lie still, Lathar. We’ll try and stem the bleeding,’ he said.

‘Don’t! They’ve ruined my legs and. . bitten off my. . arm. Wouldn’t. . want to live. . even if I could. Killed my brothers too.’

‘Who were they looking for?’ asked Skilgannon.

‘The old blind lord and. . the girl who. . brings your food, Harad. Saw them yesterday. With a Jem. One of ours. Should have gone with them.’ Lathar closed his eyes and went still. Askari, who had walked over to join the men, thought he had died. Then he opened his eyes again. ‘That’s some axe,’ he said. ‘I’d like to say it was worth it, just. . to see you cut the bastards down. Damned well wasn’t, though.’