David Gemmell - The Swords of Night and Day

Skilgannon untied the tourniquet over the stump of the logger’s left arm. Blood immediately began to flow. ‘Which way did they go?’ he asked.

‘North. Damned acorns and oak trees,’ said Lathar, his voice fading. ‘Can’t get it out. . of my. .

head.’

‘Nor me,’ said Harad. Reaching out he stroked the hair back from Lathar’s brow. The logger’s breath rattled in his throat. Then there was silence.

‘A friend of yours?’ asked Askari.

‘No. Could have been, though,’ Harad told her sadly.

‘We need to go,’ said Skilgannon. ‘The scent of the blood will carry far. There will be beasts swarming over this hollow in no time.’

Even as he spoke there came the sound of howls to the south and east.

Stavut did not sleep through the long night. He sat quietly away from the villagers, seeking to summon to the surface all that he knew of hunting. It did not take long. At no time in his life had Stavut ever hunted, and he knew nothing of the movements of deer, elk, or any other wild meat-bearing creature. Yet, with the dawn, he would be leading a party of carnivorous Jiamads out into the wilderness. His stomach tightened, and he spent some time berating himself.

He tried to avoid staring at the sleeping beasts. Even in repose they were massive and terrifying. If they couldn’t hunt, how in the Seven Hells could he help them?

‘ You know, tinker ,’ Alahir had once said, ‘ if I were to put my shield in your mouth it would still rattle .’

In the darkness of this frightening night Stavut had to accept the truth of the remark. He had a fast mind, and all too often he would speak his thoughts without due consideration of the consequences. The brilliance of his instant plan to stop the Jiamads from killing his horses could not be denied. In the short term it had saved the day. In the longer term it was likely to cost him dearly. He could imagine only too well the consequences of being out in the wild lands with a group of hungry Jiamads, and no meat.

Stavut wished that Askari was close by. She knew how to hunt. She could have advised him. The huntress had talked of deer, but, truth to tell, he had not really listened. He had sat staring at her exquisite face and body, doing his utmost to picture her without any clothes.

Which he began to do now.

‘Are you a complete idiot?’ he asked himself. ‘Now is not the time.’

All he could remember was that Askari would find a hide and wait. She talked of bringing down a deer with a single killing shot, so that panic would not affect the tenderness of the meat. Stavut couldn’t remember why a panicked deer would taste any less tender.

He recalled far more of what she had told him about wolves. Everyone knew they hunted in packs, but Stavut had never realized how complex was the planning. Since wolves did not possess the stamina and speed of a stag they would split into groups, forming a large circle miles wide. Then the first group would rush at the stag. It would run, and they would chase, driving it towards the second group. Just as the first attackers were tiring, the second would pick up the chase, herding the stag inexorably towards a third group. Meanwhile the first hunters would lope off to a prearranged position, resting and regrouping their strength. Eventually this teamwork would see the exhausted stag seeking out a spot on high ground in which to make its last stand. By the time it arrived there all the wolves would have gathered for the kill.

Stavut had found it all fascinating, but of course it wasn’t helpful now. There were only seven Jiamads.

He could hardly separate them into packs, forming circles in the hills.

At any other time Stavut would have found the problem facing the Jiamads to be an interesting one.

Here they were, huge and powerful, and yet with no hunting skills. Most were at least part wolf. One would have thought they would have retained enough memory to know how to hunt. Hell, they had hunted Stavut and Askari with a fair degree of skill. That, he realized, had not been too difficult. Their prey was slow moving and had gone to ground in a series of caves. Out in the open the speed of the deer would give it a great advantage.

Several hours passed. In the end Stavut moved over to where the villagers slept, and nudged Kinyon awake. The big man sat up, and ran his fingers through his sandy hair. ‘I was having a good dream,’ he complained.

‘Lucky you. What can you tell me about hunting?’

‘I never was any good at it,’ said Kinyon, reaching for a water canteen and drinking deeply. ‘Too impatient. That’s why I took up cooking.’

‘Good. Perhaps we can teach the Jiamads to cook pies.’

Kinyon rolled from his blankets. ‘Let us dwell on the positives, Stavi. The Jiamads are strong and fast, and they can scent the deer.’

‘But they can’t catch them.’

‘A drawback, I’ll admit,’ said Kinyon. They talked for some time, but then the big man began to yawn, and Stavut let him return to his blankets. The merchant strolled out from the campsite and walked up the hillside, sitting down on a jutting rock.

Whatever plan he came up with would have to be simple, and rely on scent and strength.

And luck.

Dawn was approaching as he returned to the campsite. Shakul was waiting for him, the other beasts hunkered down close by. ‘Hunt deer now?’ asked Shakul.

‘Absolutely. This may take time, and you will have to be patient.’

The red-garbed merchant walked away from the camp, the small troop of Jiamads filing after him. The wind was from the north, so Stavut headed in that direction, moving up towards higher ground. When they were some half a mile from the camp he paused and called Shakul to him. ‘Can you scent deer?’ he asked. Shakul’s great dark head tilted up, his nostrils quivering.

‘Yes.’ He pointed northwest towards a group of wooded hills.

‘Good,’ said Stavut. ‘Now we need to find a deer trail, downwind of their position.’ The Jiamads stood around him, unmoving. Shakul loomed above him.

‘We hunt now .’

‘How many deer have you caught so far?’ asked Stavut.

‘No deer. We hunt now!’

Momentarily Stavut’s fear of the creatures vanished, replaced by annoyance. ‘You will do as I tell you

— or there will be no deer. I am the hunter. I am a great hunter. I have killed more deer than. . than there are stars in the sky.’ Several of the beasts looked up at the clear blue heavens. ‘No, not now ,’ said Stavut. ‘At night. Than there are stars in the sky at night. First we find a deer trail. Downwind. So they won’t scent you. Then we begin the hunt.’

Shakul’s head twisted to one side and jerked. Finally, after a long silence, he said: ‘Downwind, yes.’

‘Good,’ said Stavut. ‘Let’s go.’ For the next hour they walked round the base of the high hill below the stand of trees where Shakul said there were deer. They found three trails. At the third Stavut called Shakul to him. ‘Now we are going to have to pick the best of your Jiamads, and set them the task of chasing the deer.’

‘Deer too fast.’

‘Exactly. But they are going to chase them towards us. One Jiamad must climb this trail and get behind the deer so they pick up his scent. Another must climb the far trail. They must pick up his scent also.

Then the deer should run down the third trail towards where the rest of us will be waiting. Because the wind will be in our faces the deer will not scent us. As they come out of the trees we rush them, and bring one down.’

‘How?’ asked Shakul.

‘Right, we’ll take this more slowly,’ said Stavut, sitting down on a flat rock. ‘We need two of your troop, one to go up the first trail, the other to go up the second trail. They need to get behind the deer so that the deer scent them and start to run. You, me, and the others will be hidden at the foot of the third trail. The deer will run towards us. As they come close we rush out and kill one.’