David Gemmell - The Legend of the Deathwalker

Talisman was sitting alone, eating a breakfast of bread and cheese. Gorkai was grooming the ponies on the other side of the courtyard. Zhusai sat beside Talisman and he poured her a goblet of water. 'Did you dream again?' he asked her.

'No.' He is bone-tired, she thought, his eyes dull. 'What will you do now?' she asked him.

'I know. . believe. . the Eyes are here, but I cannot think where else to look.'

Five men came walking through the open gates. Zhusai's heart sank as she recognized Nosta Khan, and she stood and moved back into the shadows. Talisman's face was impassive as the men approached. The first of the men, a shaven-headed warrior with a gold earring, halted before him. 'I am Kzun of the Lone Wolves,' he said, his voice deep and cold. His body was lean and hard, and Zhusai felt a flicker of fear as she gazed upon him. His posture was challenging as he stood looming over Talisman. 'Quing-chin of the Fleet Ponies claims you are a war leader to follow. You do not look like a war leader.'

Talisman rose and stepped past Kzun, ignoring him. He walked to a tall, solemn-faced warrior. 'It is good to see you, Lin-tse,' he said.

'And you, Okai. The Gods of Stone and Water have brought you here at this time.'

A burly, middle-aged man stepped forward. 'I am Bartsai of the Curved Horn.' Dropping into a crouch, he extended his right arm with palm upward. 'Quing-chin of the Fleet Ponies speaks highly of you and we are here to ask of you a service.'

'Not yet we don't,' snapped Kzun. 'First let him prove himself.'

'Why do you need a war leader?' asked Talisman, directing his question at Lin-tse.

'Gargan is coming with an army. The Gothir seek to destroy the Shrine.'

'They have already attacked several Nadir camps,' added Quing-chin.

Talisman walked away from the group, and sat cross-legged on the ground. Three of the others followed and sat around him. Kzun hesitated, then joined them. Gorkai moved across the courtyard and stood, arms folded across his chest, behind Talisman.

'How many men in the Gothir army?' Talisman asked.

'Two thousand,' said Nosta Khan. 'Lancers and foot soldiers.'

'How long before they arrive?'

'Two days. Perhaps three,' Bartsai answered.

'And you intend to fight?'

'Why else would we need a war leader?' asked Kzun.

For the first time Talisman looked the man in the eye. 'Let us be clear, Kzun of the Lone Wolves,' he said, no anger in his voice, 'the Shrine is ultimately indefensible. A sustained assault by two thousand men will take it. . eventually. There is no hope here of victory. At best we could hold for a few days, perhaps a week. Look around you. One wall has already crumbled, and the gates are useless. All the defenders would die.'

'Exactly what I said,' put in Bartsai.

'Then you advocate flight?' Kzun asked.

'At this moment I am not advocating anything,' said Talisman. 'I am stating the obvious. Do you intend to fight?'

'Yes,' said Kzun. 'This is the one place sacred to all Nadir. It cannot be surrendered without a fight.'

Lin-tse spoke up: 'You know the ways of the Gothir, Okai. You know how they will fight. Will you lead us?'

Talisman rose. 'Go back to your warriors. Tell them to assemble here in one hour; I will speak with them.' Leaving them sitting there Talisman walked across the courtyard and climbed to the east-facing parapet. Bewildered, the leaders rose and left the Shrine. Nosta Khan followed Talisman.

Zhusai stood quietly by the wall as Gorkai approached her. 'I don't think we will live to see the day of the Uniter,' he said grimly.

'And yet you will stay,' she said.

'I am Wolfshead,' he told her, proudly. 'I will stay.'

On the wall Nosta Khan came alongside Talisman. 'I did not foresee this,' said the shaman.

'It does not matter,' Talisman told him. 'Win or lose, it will speed the day of reckoning.'

'How so?'

'Four tribes will fight together. It will show the way we must follow. If we succeed, then the Nadir will know the Gothir can be beaten. If we fail, then the sacrilege they commit upon this Shrine will bind the tribes with chains of fire.'

'Succeed? You said we would all die.'

'We must be prepared for death. But there is a chance, Nosta. They have no water, so we must guard the wells, denying them access. Two thousand men will require two hundred and fifty gallons of water a day; the horses three times that. If we deny them water for more than a few days, the horses will start to die. Then the men.'

'Surely they will have thought of that?' argued Nosta Khan.

'I doubt it. They will expect to take the Shrine within a day. And here there are three deep wells.'

'Can you hold them with a hundred men — and guard the wells and water-holes outside?'

'No, we need more warriors. But they will come.'

'From where?' asked the shaman.

'The Gothir will send them,' Talisman told him.

Talisman sat alone on the parapet, cross-legged, arms outstretched, eyes closed and face upwards to the blazing sun. There were so many ambitions he had longed to achieve, the foremost of them to ride into the city of Gulgothir beside the Uniter; to see the Gothir humbled, their high walls brought down and their army in ruins. Anger flooded him and for a while he allowed the richness of the emotion to rage within his veins; then, slowly, he calmed himself. What he had told Nosta Khan was true. The Battle for the Shrine would unite the tribes as never before. Even were he to die here — which was probable — the effect would be to speed the day of the Uniter.

He had told the tribal leaders that victory was impossible. This also was true. Yet a general who fought with defeat in mind would surely lose. Slowing his breathing and calming his heart, Talisman floated above the sense of rage and frustration. Two armies were about to meet. Put aside thoughts of numbers, and examine the essentials. He saw again Fanlon's panelled study back at the Bodacas Academy, and heard the old soldier's voice whisper across the years. 'The responsibility for a martial host lies in one man. He is its spirit. If an army is deprived of its morale, its general also will lose heart. Order and confusion, bravery and cowardice, are qualities dominated by the heart. Therefore the expert at controlling his enemy frustrates him, and then moves against him. Aggravation and harassment will rob the enemy of his heart, making him fearful, affecting his ability to plan.'

Talisman pictured Gargan and once again anger flickered. He waited for it to pass. The Lord of Larness had failed against him once, when all the odds were in his favour. Can I make him do so again, wondered Talisman?

The man was full of hate, yet still a mighty general and a warrior of courage — and when calm he was not stupid. The secret then was to steal away his calm, allowing his hatred to swamp his intellect.

Opening his eyes, Talisman rose and stared out to the west. From here he could see where the enemy would camp, at the foot of the dry hills, where there would be shade for their horses in the afternoon. Would they surround the Shrine? No. They would have Lancers patrol the area.

Sitting on the wall, he gazed in at the buildings and walls of the Shrine. There was the resting-place of Oshikai, with its flat roof, a two-storied dwelling beside it with ten rooms, built for pilgrims. Beyond that there was the fallen ruin of an old tower. Three of the twenty-foot walls surrounding the buildings were still strong, but this west-facing barrier with its long V-shaped crack was the weak spot — this was where the main attack would come. Gargan would send archers to pin down the defenders, and foot soldiers armed with trench tools to tear at the crack, opening it out. Then sheer force of numbers would carry the Gothir inside.