David Gemmell - The Winter Warriors

In the back of the wagon were several empty sacks. With his dagger he sliced two strips from one of them. Leaping to the ground he blindfolded the horses. Back in the driver's seat he cracked the whip. Reluctantly the team moved on. He could feel them faltering again as the heat swelled, but lashed them both with the whip and shouted at the top of his voice. The horses powered into the traces and the wagon rolled past the burning building and out into the road beyond.

Swinging them to the right he took them at speed down towards the Avenue of Kings.

Another mob was gathered there, but they scattered as the wagon bore down on them. One man ran forward and leapt at him. His face was a twisted mask of hatred, his eyes staring wide. Dagorian lashed out with his foot, kicking the attacker in the chest, and pitching him to the street. Up ahead a group of men tried to block his way, but the horses were galloping now, and would not be stopped. A hurled knife thudded into the backrest behind him, but then he was clear of them, and the palace gates were in sight.

They were open. And no guards could be seen.

Dagorian drove through, then dragged on the reins, hauling the horses to a stop.

Jumping down he struggled with the wrought-iron gates, pulling them closed.

They would not hold firm against a mob, he knew. Mounting the wagon again he drove it to the main doors.

The sky was lightening as he ran into the building, and up the long, winding staircase. The queen was awake now, and dressed in a simple woollen gown of blue, edged with white cotton.

'We must go quickly,' said Dagorian. 'The mob will soon be here.'

'Go? Where should I go? I am the queen. They will not harm me,' said Axiana. 'They are my people and they love me.' Her slender fingers touched the sleeve of her gown. 'And I will not wear this revolting outfit. It scratches my skin.'

'A mob does not know of love,' said Dagorian. 'They are outside killing each other, raping and looting. It will not be long before they realize that true riches can be found here.'

'My cousin Malikada will be back soon. He will protect me,' said Axiana.

'Please, my dove,' urged Ulmenetha, 'trust me! Your life is in danger, and we must flee the city.'

'The nobility are not given to panic, Ulmenetha. And certainly not in the face of peasant unrest.'

'It is not merely unrest ,' Dagorian told her. 'The mobs are possessed.'

'Possessed? That cannot be!'

'It is true, highness. I swear it. I discovered the demons while investigating a series of murders. I believe Kalizkan summoned them. I have seen mobs before, and I have been out there among those demented people. There is a difference, believe me.'

'You are saying this to frighten me,' insisted Axiana.

Ulmenetha approached the queen. 'What he says is true, my dove. I have known about these demons for some time. I also know that Kalizkan is a walking corpse. He too is possessed. You saw the creature at his house. It was a zhagul . A dead man. I think we should listen to Dagorian and follow him to the mountains.'

'I will not!' insisted Axiana, drawing back, her eyes fearful. 'Malikada will protect me. I will tell him of Kalizkan's evil and he will punish him.'

Ulmenetha stepped in close and put her hands on Axiana's shoulders. 'Be calm,' she said, softly. 'I am here. All will be well.' Her right hand lifted, as if to stroke the queen's brow. Dagorian saw a blue light radiate from her palm. Axiana fell forward into Ulmenetha's arms. The priestess lowered her to a couch. 'She will sleep for several hours,' she said.

'You are a sorceress?' whispered Dagorian.

'I am a priestess!' she snapped. 'There is a difference. The little magic I know is used for healing. Now carry her down — and be careful with her.'

Dagorian lifted Axiana to his arms. Despite her pregnancy she was not heavy and he carried her to the wagon, lifting her to the tailboard. Ulmenetha settled her down, rolling an empty sack for a pillow, and covering her with a blanket. Pharis and Sufia scrambled aboard, and Conalin climbed to the driver's seat. Dagorian stepped up to sit beside him.

Dagorian drove the wagon to the royal stables, and there saddled a warhorse of some seventeen hands. 'Can you drive the wagon?' he asked Conalin. The boy nodded.

'Good. Then I will clear a way to the East Gate. If I go down do not stop. You understand?'

'Oh, I won't stop,' said Conalin. 'You can count on that.'

'Then let's go.'

The Avenue of Kings was deserted now, and eerily quiet. Dagorian led the way, the sound of his horse's hoof beats like slow beating war drums. He drew his sabre and scanned the Avenue. There was not a sign of life.

The dawn sun cleared the mountains.

The wagon moved on. After half a mile they saw a group of men sitting quietly by the roadside. They were blood smeared, their clothing stained by smoke. They looked up at the wagon, but made no hostile moves. Their eyes were dull, and they seemed weary beyond reckoning.

Dagorian sheathed his sabre.

They reached the gate and found themselves waiting in a line of some twenty wagons and coaches, all filled with fleeing families and their possessions. The gate arch was narrow, and it was taking time to manoeuvre the wagons through. A group of riders arrived from outside the city, but could not pass, and Dagorian heard the beginnings of an angry exchange.

Dismounting he tethered his horse and was about to climb onto the wagon when he heard the voice of Antikas Karios, ordering a wagon driver to draw his vehicle aside. Ducking down below the wagon he waited until the group cleared the gate, and thundered their mounts towards the palace.

The wait now to leave the city seemed interminable. Two impatient drivers moved forward at the same time. One of the horses reared, and lashed out at the opposing team. Both drivers leapt down and began a heated argument. Dagorian's patience snapped. Vaulting to the saddle he rode to the shouting men. Drawing his sabre he held the blade to the neck of the first. 'Back off,' he said, 'or I'll gut you like a fish!' The argument died instantly. The man scrambled back to his wagon and hauled on the reins, reversing his team. Swinging in the saddle Dagorian shouted to Conalin. 'Drive through!'

And then they were out onto open ground.

Conalin headed the horses up the long slope towards the mountains. Dagorian rode alongside, constantly looking back, expecting at any moment to see pursuers galloping after them. 'Give them a touch of the whip!' he ordered Conalin. The boy did so and the horses broke into a run. In the back of the wagon Ulmenetha was thrown to one side. The child Sufia began to cry. Ulmenetha gathered her close. There is nothing to fear,' she said, soothingly. The horses were breathing heavily as they reached the crest of the hill, dropping down on the other side. Out of sight of the city Dagorian ordered Conalin to slow down and continue following the road south and west.

The officer rode back to the rise and dismounted. Minutes later he saw Antikas Karios and his men leave the city. For one dreadful moment he thought they were heading in pursuit, but they turned due west along the merchant road.

How long before they realized their mistake? An hour? Less?

Back in the saddle he caught up with the wagon. Axiana was conscious now, and sitting silently, staring out over the mountains. Dagorian hitched his horse to the wagon and climbed aboard. 'We have lost them for now,' he told Ulmenetha. 'Where are the maps?'

Ulmenetha passed him the first. It was an old, dry scroll, which he carefully unrolled. The city depicted was vastly smaller than the metropolis Usa had become, but the mountain roads were clearly marked. They formed part of a trade route to the ghost city of Lem, zoo miles south. Built around the wealth of nearby silver mines — which had failed more than 200 years ago — Lem was now an abandoned series of ruins. Dagorian studied the map carefully. They would travel south for just over a hundred miles, then swing to the west for another 70 miles, crossing the Carpos mountains and picking up the coast road to Caphis. It was not the nearest of the ports, but the route was less well travelled, and should help them avoid the dangers of bandits and rebel tribesmen. Merchants were constantly harassed by such bands around the closest port, Morec.