David Gemmell - The Swords of Night and Day

We’ll get away from here. We’ll find a place. With the Legend people, maybe, to the north. Or high in the mountains, away from Jems and armies.’

Askari came running over the lip of the rock shelf. ‘They are closing in,’ she said. ‘Around twenty riders and four Jems. Not seen their kind before. They move on four legs, like hounds, but they are big.

Almost as big as ponies.’ She glanced at the dead man, then at Skilgannon. ‘Best wake him,’ she said.

Harad leaned over and shook Skilgannon. There was no response.

Charis touched his face. ‘The skin is cold,’ she whispered. ‘I think he’s dead.’

Askari knelt on the other side of Skilgannon and shook him roughly. Charis touched his throat. ‘There is a heartbeat,’ she said. ‘It is very faint.’

The sound of a distant howl came to them. Charis shivered. ‘Doesn’t sound like a wolf,’ she said. ‘It makes the blood run cold.’

‘Wait till you see them,’ said Askari. ‘Your blood will turn to ice!’ She shook Skilgannon again. ‘We have to get away from here,’ she told Harad. ‘Can you carry him?’

Harad grabbed Skilgannon’s arm and hauled him upright. Askari ran to the edge of the rock shelf.

‘Too late,’ she called back. ‘The beasts are coming.’

Harad laid Skilgannon down, then took up Snaga and moved out into the moonlight. He followed Askari for some fifty paces to the edge of the slope.

Four huge beasts were bounding up the trail.

Askari notched an arrow to her bow.

The grotesque hounds came rushing up the hillside. Harad had once seen a lion in the high country, but these creatures were far bigger. For the first time in his life he knew fear. Not for himself, but because Charis was behind him, and if the beasts got past him, she would be torn to pieces. The fear was replaced by a sudden blazing fury. These creatures were threatening the woman he loved. He hefted the axe and waited. Askari let fly. The shaft flashed through the air, thudding into the chest of the first beast.

It howled in pain and swerved, but then came on. A second arrow plunged into its gaping maw. Its jaws snapped shut, snapping the shaft. Then it continued its run.

Harad leapt out to meet the charge. Snaga hammered into the beast with terrible force, half severing the head. Harad wrenched it clear. A second creature leapt at him. A shaft plunged into its side. Snaga clove into the jaws, splitting the skull. A third Jiamad leapt over Harad as he killed the second beast, and ran on towards the cave. The fourth stumbled and fell as a shaft from Askari tore into its throat.

Harad turned back towards where he had left Charis. The last beast had almost reached the campsite.

Harad could never make it in time. He ran up the hill as fast as he could. As he came over the lip of the rock he saw the beast sprawled on the ground. Skilgannon was standing there, the Swords of Night and Day in his hands.

Without a word to the swordsman Harad ran to the campsite beyond. Charis was standing in the shadows. Dropping the axe he swept her into his arms, holding her close. Then he let out a sigh of pure relief, and turned to Skilgannon. ‘Thank the Source you woke in time,’ he said.

Skilgannon merely nodded. Harad saw that he looked exhausted. Releasing Charis, he moved to the swordsman. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Weak,’ said Skilgannon. He staggered and almost fell.

Harad caught him. ‘Rest a moment,’ he said.

‘No time for that,’ said Askari, running into the camp. ‘The riders are already in sight. We need to get higher into the tree line.’

Skilgannon sheathed his swords, then swung to Charis. ‘You saved me,’ he said. ‘I would have died there.’

Then he followed Askari out into the open. Harad took Charis by the hand and they moved after the huntress and the swordsman. The twenty riders were still some way distant. Harad glanced up at the tree line. It was at least a half a mile away. Skilgannon and Askari were already running. Harad and Charis followed them. Skilgannon stumbled twice, then fell to his knees. Harad hauled him to his feet, then ducked down and lifted the exhausted swordsman onto his shoulders. Then he ran again. Charis and Askari were far ahead, but Harad pounded on. The slope was steep, and there was scree underfoot.

Even Harad’s great strength began to fail. His breath coming in ragged gasps, he forced himself on. He could hear the pounding of hooves getting closer. An arrow sang past him, and he heard a horse whinny in pain.

Then he was into the trees. Askari sent another shaft down into the riders. It sank into the shoulder of a bearded horseman. The other soldiers hauled on their reins and turned their mounts, riding back down the slope.

Harad laid Skilgannon down. The man was unconscious again, but breathing normally. Charis came alongside, and felt his pulse. ‘He’s just sleeping now,’ she said. ‘When I woke him he could barely stand.

I don’t know how he found the strength to kill that awful creature.’

‘How did you wake him?’ asked Harad.

‘The swords,’ she told him. ‘You remember when Gamal woke. He shouted: “The swords.

Skilgannon.” When you ran out to fight the Jems I drew one of his swords and put it in his hand. His body jerked and he cried out. I helped him to stand, then we saw the beast coming. He drew the other sword, the golden one, and stepped out to meet it. I thought there was no way he could survive. He is an amazing man.’

‘I killed two of them and he’s the amazing man?’ grumbled Harad good-naturedly.

‘Are you jealous?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good!’

Askari kept watch, and Charis slept for a while. Harad dozed beside her. After an hour Skilgannon woke. He sat up. The movement roused Harad.

‘How are you feeling now?’

‘Stronger. Thank you, Harad. I couldn’t have made it.’

‘It was a pleasure. So, what do we do now?’

‘You should take your lady and find somewhere safe. As for me? I’m going to fulfil a prophecy.’

Alahir was glad to be away from the encampment. The army of Agrias had swelled to around twelve thousand now — more than a third of them Jiamads. They were camped on high ground near a deserted and ruined city that had once been the capital of the Sathuli lands. Every day more troops arrived, along with an endless stream of supply wagons. Alahir found the encampment too noisy and far too unpleasant on the nose. Latrine trenches had been dug, but Jiamads tended to squat wherever and whenever they felt the need, and the stench was overpowering.

The tall cavalryman led his troop of fifty riders over a ridge, heading south. It was not a routine patrol, hunting runaways and scouting for any sign of enemy movement. Agrias had said the Eternal was moving her forces into the lands of Landis Kan, and there were reports of enemy cavalry moving through the mountain passes. So all the riders wore full armour: heavy, hooded mail shirts and breastplates, and horsehair-crested battle helms, with long bronze nasal guards. Each man possessed a recurve bow with fifty shafts, a heavy cavalry sabre, and a short sword in a scabbard fitted to the left shoulder. Agrias had said the final battle was approaching. His words were full of confidence about the outcome, but Alahir didn’t like the look in the man’s eyes. There was fear there. He had expected a huge uprising to follow his rebellion, and it had not materialized. Alahir wouldn’t have cared one way or another who won, save that his own homeland was at risk.

The Last of the Drenai.

It was not just a romantic phrase to Alahir. It meant everything to the young soldier. The lands around the city of Siccus had been ruled by the descendants of the Drenai for more than three hundred years.