David Gemmell - The Legend of the Deathwalker

'We will die here, my friend,' said Lin-tse softly. 'But we will die well.'

'Brothers unto death,' said Talisman. 'And perhaps beyond. Who knows?'

'Now what orders do you have for me, general?'

Talisman looked into Lin-tse's dark, brooding eyes. 'It is important that we begin this venture with a victory — no matter how small. Gargan will come with the main van of the army. Ahead will be several companies of Lancers. They will reach us first, and I want you and your Sky Riders to bloody them. Bartsai tells me there is a narrow pass twelve miles west. When the Lancers reach it, attack them — not head on, but with arrows. Then run — back through the pass. You will have most of today and early tomorrow to prepare your surprises. Bring back spoils if you can.'

Lin-tse nodded. 'You are thinking of Fecrem and the Long Retreat.'

'I am indeed. As I said, a victory is important. What is vital, however, is that you take no unnecessary risks. If there are more than three companies, do not engage them. Your thirty men are irreplaceable.'

Lin-tse rose. 'I will do my utmost, general.'

'Of that I have no doubt. You have the coolest head, Lin-tse. That is why I chose you for this mission.'

Lin-tse's expression did not change. Without a word he strode away. Gorkai stepped forward. 'He is a hard man, that one,' he observed.

'A man of stone,' agreed Talisman. 'Where is Zhusai?'

'She went into the Shrine to pray.'

Talisman followed and found her standing by the stone sarcophagus. It was cool in the shadowed chamber and he stood for a moment, watching her. She turned towards him and smiled. 'It is so quiet here,' she said.

'I saw you give the scarf to Kzun. Why did you do it?'

'He is a dangerous man, and one who might. . question your orders.'

'A man that gold could not buy — and you won him with a piece of linen. You are a surprising woman, Zhusai.'

'There is nothing I would not do for you, Talisman. You will forgive me for being forward, but time is precious, is it not?'

'It is,' he admitted, moving to her side. She took his hand and held it to her breast.

'Have you been with a woman?' she asked him.

'No.'

'Then there is much for us both to discover.' Drawing her to him, he touched his lips to hers. The scent of her hair filled his nostrils, the taste of her mouth swamped his senses. He felt dizzy and weak, and drew back from her. 'I love you, my Talisman,' she whispered.

For just those fleeting seconds he had forgotten the perils that awaited them both. Now realization struck him like a fist. 'Why now?' he asked, pulling away.

'Because that is all there is,' she said. Swinging to the sarcophagus, she ran her hand over the iron plate. 'Oshikai Demon-bane, Lord of War,' she read. 'He was beset by enemies when he wed Shul-sen. And they had so little time, Talisman. They were together only four years. But great was their love. Ours will be as great. I know it. I feel it, here in this place. And if we die we shall walk hand in hand through the Void. I know this too.'

'I do not want you to die,' he said. 'I wish I had never brought you here. I wish it with all my heart.'

'And I am glad you did. You will win, Talisman. Your cause is just. The evil comes from the Gothir.'

'It is a touching sentiment, Zhusai. And one which I wish were true. Sadly, the good do not always conquer. I must go, for there is much to do.'

'When you have done all that you can, and the night grows long, come to me, Talisman. Will you do that?'

'I will come to you,' he promised.

The sky was black with crows and vultures as Druss and Sieben came over a ridge and down into a shallow valley. Below them were some forty goathide tents. Bodies were strewn everywhere, under a writhing mass of carrion birds. Elsewhere small desert dogs tugged at rotting flesh.

'Sweet Heaven,' whispered Sieben, pulling back on the reins.

Druss touched heels to the mare and rode down the hillside. Leading their extra ponies, Sieben followed him. Vultures too fat to fly spread their wings and waddled away from the horses. The stench of death caused the horses to shy away from the scene, but the riders forced them on. At first Sieben just stared ahead, trying not to look at the bodies. There were children there, and women — some huddled together, others slain as they ran. A brown dog edged into a flapping tent, then yelped and ran away. Druss dragged on the reins.

'Why are we stopping?' asked Sieben. Druss dismounted, passing the mare's reins to the poet. Axe in hand, he strode to the tent and, ducking down, moved inside. Sieben sat on his horse and forced himself to view the scene. It was not hard to see what had happened here. The killers had attacked late in the evening, as the cook-fires were under way. The Nadir had fled in all directions, but had been cut down with ruthless efficiency. Several of the bodies had been mutilated, beheaded or dismembered.

Druss emerged from the tent and moved to the horses, lifting clear a water canteen. 'There's a woman inside,' he said. 'She's alive, but only just. She has a babe.'

Sieben dismounted and tethered the horses to a tent-pole. The Gothir mounts were skittish and nervous of the dogs and vultures, but the Nadir ponies stood by calmly. Swiftly he hobbled the horses with lengths of rawhide, then joined Druss. Inside the tent lay a naked young woman, a terrible wound in her belly and side. Blood had drenched the brightly coloured blankets on which she lay. Her eyes were open, but her mouth was hanging slack. Druss raised her head, holding the canteen to her lips; water dribbled over her chin, but she managed to swallow a little. Sieben gazed at the wound; it was deep, the blade having completely pierced her body. The babe, part hidden beneath a pile of furs, was whimpering softly. Druss picked it up, and held it to the woman's swollen breast. It began to suck, weakly at first. The woman groaned and moved her arm around the child, drawing it in to her.

'What can we do?' asked Sieben. Druss's cold eyes met his. The axeman said nothing. When Sieben reached up to stroke the woman's face, her dead eyes stared at him. The babe continued to feed.

'This one they kept for rape,' said Druss. 'What a pack of mongrels!'

'May they rot in Seven Hells,' said Sieben. The babe ceased to suck and Druss lifted it to his broad shoulder, supporting its head and gently rubbing its back. Sieben's eyes were drawn to the woman's swollen nipple. Milk and blood were seeping from it.

'Why, Druss?' he asked.

'Why what?'

'Why did they do it? What was the purpose?'

'I am not the man to ask, poet. I have seen the sack of cities, and watched good men become evil as they are fired by rage and lust and fear. I don't know why they do it. The soldiers who did this will go home to their wives and families and be good husbands and fathers. It is a mystery to me.'

Wrapping the naked babe in a blanket, he carried him out into the sunlight. Sieben followed him. 'Will they write it as a victory, do you think?' asked Sieben. 'Will they sing songs about this raid?'

'Let's hope there are some women with milk in their breasts at the Shrine,' said Druss. Sieben freed the horses and held the babe until Druss had mounted. Passing the child to the axeman, he stepped into the saddle of the gelding.

'He fed on milk and blood,' said Sieben. 'He drank from the dead.'

'But he lives,' said Druss. 'He breathes.'

The two rode on. Druss lifted the blanket over the top of the infant's head, shielding him from the bright sun. The child was asleep now. Druss could smell the newness of life upon him, the creamy scent of milk-fed breath. He thought of Rowena, and her longing for such a child to hold at her own breast.

'I will be a farmer,' he said suddenly. 'When I get home, I shall stay there. No more wars. No more vultures.'