David Gemmell - The Legend of the Deathwalker

The Nadir staggered and turned towards Premian. 'Nadir we!" he shouted.

A Lancer spurred his horse forward and slashed his sword down at the man. The Nadir ducked under the blow and leapt forward to grab the Lancer's cloak, dragging him down into the path of his own sabre which sliced up into the man's belly. The Lancer screamed and pitched from the saddle. Both men fell to the ground. Soldiers leapt from their mounts and surrounded the fallen Nadir, hacking and cleaving at his body.

Premian ran forward. 'Get back, you fools!' he yelled. 'Save the wagons!'

Using their cloaks, the Lancers beat at the flames, but it was useless. The dry timbers had caught now and the fires raged on, unstoppable. Premian ordered the five remaining wagons pulled clear, then sent out riders to gather the wagon horses which, having picked up the scent of water, were walking slowly towards the pool. Ten of the drivers were also found, hiding in a gully, and were brought before Premian. 'You ran,' he said, 'from seven Nadir warriors. Now half our wagons are gone. You have put the entire army in peril by your cowardice.'

'They came screaming out of the steppes, in a cloud of dust,' argued one man. 'We thought there was an army of them.'

'You will take your places on the remaining wagons, see them loaded and the water delivered back to the camp. Once there, you will face the Lord Gargan. I don't doubt your backs will feel the weight of the lash. Now get out of my sight!'

Swinging away from them, Premian thought through the mathematics of the situation. Five wagons with eight barrels each. Some fifteen gallons could be stored in each barrel. In these conditions a fighting man needed, minimally, around two pints of water per day. By this rough estimate he calculated that one barrel could supply sixty men with water. Forty barrels would be barely enough for the men, let alone the horses. And horses for only one day. . From now on there would need to be a constant shuttle between the camp and the pool.

Still, he reasoned, it could have been worse. Had he not reacted when he did, all the wagons would have been lost. But the thought did not cheer him. Had he left a guard force with them in the first place, the Nadir attack would have failed.

His thinking was interrupted by the sound of savage laughter and the hacking of sword-blades. The white-scarfed Nadir leader had been beheaded and dismembered. Furious, Premian ran into the jeering group. 'Stand to attention!' he bellowed, and the men shuffled nervously into a line. 'How dare you?' stormed Premian. 'How dare you behave like savages? Can you have any idea what you look like at this moment? Would any of you wish to be seen by your loved ones, prancing about and waving the limbs of a dead warrior above your heads. You are Gothir! We leave this. . barbarity to lesser races.'

'Permission to speak, sir?' asked a lean soldier.

'Spit it out.'

'Well, the Lord Gargan said all Nadir were to have their hands cut off, didn't he, sir?'

'That was a threat made to frighten the Nadir, who believe that if they lose a limb they will be devoid of that limb throughout eternity. It was not a threat, I believe, that the Lord Gargan intends to carry out in reality. I may be wrong in this. But here and now, I am in command. You will dig a grave for that man, and place his limbs alongside him. He was my enemy, but he was brave and he gave his life for a cause he believed in. He will be buried whole. Am I understood?'

The men nodded. 'Then get to it.'

Jomil approached Premian and the two walked away from the surly group. 'That wasn't wise, sir,' said Jomil, keeping his voice low. 'You'll get the name of a Nadir-lover. Word'll spread that you're soft on the enemy.'

'It doesn't matter a damn, my friend. I shall be resigning my commission the moment this battle is, over.'

'That's as maybe, sir — but, if you'll pardon my bluntness, I don't think the Lord Gargan was making an idle threat. And I don't want to see him putting you on trial for disobedience.'

Premian smiled and looked into the old soldier's grizzled face. 'You are a fine friend, Jomil. I value you highly. But my father told me never to be a part of anything that lacked honour. He once said to me that there was no greater satisfaction for a man than to be able to look in a mirror while shaving, and be proud of what he saw. At this moment I am not proud.'

'I think you ought to be,' said Jomil softly.

It was three hours after noon and still the enemy had not attacked. The foot soldiers were sitting in the camp, many of them using their cloaks and swords to form screens against the harsh heat of the blazing sun. The horses of the Lancers were picketed to the west. Most stood forlornly with heads down, others had sunk to the ground for want of water.

Shading his eyes, Druss saw the five water wagons returning and gave a low curse under his breath. Gothir soldiers ran to the wagons, surrounding them.

Talisman climbed to the ramparts and stood beside Druss. 'I should have sent more men with Kzun,' he said.

Druss shrugged. 'As I recall, they set out last night with fourteen wagons. Your man did well. There'll be scarce enough water in those wagons and they'll not last a day. The horses alone need more than those wagons will supply.'

'You've been in sieges before?' asked Talisman.

'Aye, laddie. Too many.'

'Then what is your appraisal?'

'I think they'll throw everything at us. They can't play a waiting game. They have no engineers to mine the walls; they have no battering ram to smash the gates. I think they'll send in every man they have, Lancers and foot. They'll storm this wall by sheer weight of numbers.'

'I think not,' said Talisman. 'It is my belief that they will try a three-pronged attack. This western wall will take the brunt, but I think they will also try to breach the gates, and one other wall. They will try to stretch us. Only if that fails will they risk the final assault.'

'We'll know soon enough,' said Druss. 'If they do what you surmise, how will you combat it?'

Talisman smiled wearily. 'Our options are limited, Druss. We just hold as best we can.'

Druss shook his head. 'You've got to assume some of their soldiers will get through to the ramparts, and perhaps down into the compound itself. Our reaction to that will be crucial. Gut instinct tells a man to tackle the nearest enemy, but in that situation such instincts are liable to prove fatal. If a wall is breached the first option must be to seal the breach. The men already inside are a secondary consideration.'

'What do you suggest?'

'You already have a small reserve force ready to fill in the gaps. Draw more men to it, and split them into two groups. If the enemy take a section of wall, one group must join the defenders to win it back. The second group can attack those who have penetrated inside. We only have one outer perimeter. There is nowhere to fall back to, so these ramparts must be held. No defender must leave his post on them, no matter what he sees in the compound below. The walls, Talisman! Nothing else matters.'

The young Nadir nodded. 'I take your point, axeman. It will be relayed to the men. Did you know that the tribes have been drawing lots to see which group should have the privilege of standing beside you today?'

Druss chuckled. 'So that's what they were doing? Who did I get?'

'The Sky Riders. They are greatly pleased. It is rare for a gajin to be so popular.'

'You think so?' Druss hefted his axe. 'I'm usually popular at times like this. Could be the song of the soldier, could it not? When war and the fear of war comes upon people, they revere the warrior. Once it has passed he is forgotten, or reviled. It never changes.'

'You don't sound bitter about it,' Talisman pointed out.