David Gemmell - The Swords of Night and Day

‘You read spoor well. I helped him to his horse.’

‘Why would you do that, Askari?’

She heard the note of suspicion in his voice, and found herself growing irritated. ‘I do not answer to you,’ she snapped.

‘Do you know him?’ he persisted, his voice cool.

‘No. He was lying on the ground, in pain and delirious. I found I could not kill him.’

‘Why did he not seek to kill you?’

‘He thought I was someone else. Like you, he called me Jianna. Then he kissed my cheek and asked me what he should do. I told him to go back to Petar.’ She saw the shock register and his steady gaze faltered.

‘We will talk more of this later,’ he said. ‘For now let us find these riders.’

Rising to his feet he set off down the slope. Harad set off after him, without a word to Askari.

The huntress followed them.

The moon shone brightly as they neared the trees. Then came a high pitched shriek of pain, and the distant sounds of snarling beasts, and terrified horses.

For most of the day Longbear had carried the old blind man, while Charis stumbled behind. Her skirt was torn from the stand of brambles they had scrambled through, to try to gain a march on the mounted men following, and her legs were covered with scratches from the sharp thorns. Charis was wearier than she had ever been. Her legs were leaden, her thighs sore, her calves burning. The higher they climbed the more she felt that she could not breathe swiftly enough to fill her lungs. There was no conversation.

Gamal was old and frail, his strength long gone. His face was grey with exhaustion and there was an unhealthy blue pallor to his lips. Longbear had told them the night before that a Jiamad was leading the pursuers, and that the soldiers hunting them were horsemen. The chances of escape were slight.

Out in the open a bitter wind was blowing from the snow-covered mountains, and even in the cover of the trees Charis began to shiver. Longbear laid Gamal on the ground, then turned and stared back over the ground they had covered. Far below Charis could see horsemen emerging from the trees. Several of the riders carried long lances, and the last of the sunlight gleamed upon their silver breastplates and plumed helms.

Gamal was awake now. Reaching up he laid his hand on Longbear’s furry arm. ‘Save yourself,’ he said. ‘Go now. They are not hunting you.’

‘You die soon,’ muttered the beast.

‘I know.’

Longbear growled, then straightened. ‘I go,’ he said. Without another word he moved off into the trees. Charis sat beside Gamal. The old man was shivering, so she drew him into an embrace, rubbing his back, and holding him against her.

The light was failing, the temperature dropping. Charis leaned back against the tree. The five riders below were on open ground now, and she could see the dark figure of a Jiamad loping ahead of the group, heading unerringly along the trail they had walked an hour before. ‘You go too,’ whispered Gamal. ‘Longbear was right. I am dying. I have a cancer. Even without Decado I would have lived for a few days only. Save yourself, Charis.’

‘I am too tired to run,’ she said. ‘You just rest.’

She saw three running figures emerge some way behind the riders, then cut to the left, re-entering the trees. They were so far away she could not see whether they were soldiers or Jiamads. What does it matter, she thought? Nothing matters any more.

Still holding the old man, she looked up. Darkness had come swiftly and already bright stars were gleaming in the sky. Her father had said that stars were merely holes in the heavens, through which the bright, glorious light of the Source shone down on humanity. Kerena had said this was nonsense. Her father had told her they were the ghosts of dead heroes. The Source had blessed them, and given them a place in the sky until they could be returned to the earth. Sometimes, if one was lucky, it was possible to see a hero flash across the sky upon his return. Charis had seen such a miracle. One night, sitting on the flat roof of the bakery, she had seen a star shooting across the sky. It was so bright it must have been a great hero.

There were no shooting stars tonight.

Gamal’s head felt heavy on her shoulder and she eased her position. The old man was sleeping now.

She found herself thinking of Harad, and hoping that he had survived the attack on Petar. She guessed he probably would. Even a Jiamad would think twice before attacking her Harad.

A stooping Jiamad came into sight. It did not approach her, but squatted down some thirty feet away.

Then the horsemen came. They drew rein, and sat staring at the girl and the sleeping blind man. For a moment no-one moved.

‘Well?’ Charis called out. ‘Which one of you heroes is going to step down and kill an old blind man?’

She saw the riders glance at one another. One man eased his horse forward.

‘No-one here would choose to kill him,’ he said. ‘But his death has been ordered by the Eternal. Step away from him. I have no orders concerning you.’

‘A pox on your orders,’ she sneered. ‘I am going nowhere.’

‘So be it,’ he said, swinging his leg over the saddle and preparing to dismount.

Just then Longbear charged from the trees, letting out a mighty roar. Several of the horses reared. The soldier who had been dismounting was hurled to the ground, his panicked mount racing past Charis.

Longbear rushed at the riders, his talons slashing through the neck of the nearest horse. Blood sprayed in the air, and the animal reared and fell, hurling its rider to the ground. One of the soldiers brought his lance to bear and kicked his mount forward. It charged at Longbear, just as he was rushing towards the enemy Jiamad. The lance took Longbear high in the shoulder, plunging deep before snapping. With a roar of pain and fury Longbear swung and leapt at the rider. As he did so the enemy Jiamad jumped on his back, burying fangs deep into Longbear’s neck. Another lancer charged. His weapon speared the back of his own Jiamad, shattering the beast’s spine. The Jiamad fell from Longbear, who spun and charged at the rider. The lancer tried to turn his mount, but Longbear’s talons ripped into his side, dragging him from the saddle. The rider’s helm came loose and tumbled to the ground. Longbear’s jaws crunched down on the man’s head, crushing the skull. Another lance hammered into him. This too broke. The great beast stumbled, blood pouring from the wounds in his back and the torn flesh of his throat.

Charis watched in horror as the four remaining soldiers closed in on the dying beast. Three of them had dismounted, allowing their horses to run free. The other was baiting Longbear, holding him at bay by stabbing his lance towards him. The beast roared again, but the sound had no power. It tried to rush at the dismounted soldiers, but lost its footing. As Longbear fell they charged him, burying their lances deep.

The beast gave one final cry, high and piercing and grotesquely human. Then it died.

The mounted rider steered his horse towards where Charis sat. Amazingly Gamal had not woken during the battle. Perhaps he is already dead, thought Charis, and will be spared the pain of plunging sword blades.

The rider approached Charis. His face was pale and angry. ‘You knew that beast was close. Now you will die too, you bitch!’ he said.

His head jerked to the right, a black arrow thudding through his temple. He sat very still for a moment, his face showing his shock. Then he dropped his lance and started to reach up. His body slumped forward over the horse’s neck.

The three surviving soldiers swung away from the fallen beast, drawing their sabres and straining to see where the shaft had come from.