David Gemmell - The Winter Warriors

Back over the canyon she flew, until, far below, she saw the camp-site.

Pain struck her like an arrow, claws digging into her spirit flesh. Instantly she produced the fire of halignat, which blazed around her. The claws withdrew, but she could sense a presence close by. Hovering in the air she gazed around her, but could see nothing.

'Show yourself,' she commanded.

Just outside the white fire, so close that it shocked her, a figure materialized. It was that of a man, with ghost-white hair, and a pale face. His eyes were blue and large, his mouth thin lipped and cruel. 'What do you want of me?' she asked him.

'Nothing,' he told her. 'I want only the child.'

'You cannot have him.'

He smiled then. 'Six of my brothers have returned to the great void. You and your companions have done well, and have acted with great courage. I admire that. I always have. But you cannot survive, woman.'

'We have survived so far,' she pointed out.

'By flight. By running into the wilderness. Think about where you are heading. To a ghost city, whose walls have long since crumbled. A stone shell offering no sanctuary. And what is behind you? An army who will reach the city by dusk tomorrow. Where then will you run?'

Ulmenetha could think of no answer. 'You seek to protect a flower in a blizzard,' he said. 'And you are ready to die to do so. But the flower will perish. That is its destiny.'

'That is not its destiny,' she told him. 'You and your kind have great powers. But they have not prevailed so far. As you say six of your brothers have gone. The rest of you will follow. Nogusta is a great warrior. He will kill you.'

'Ah, yes, the descendant of Emsharas. The last descendant. An old man, tired and spent. He will defeat the Krayakin and the army of Anharat? I think not.'

Ulmenetha remembered the Demon Lord's words as he floated above the wagon. He had looked at Nogusta and said, 'Yes, you look like him, the last of his mongrel line.' Ulmenetha smiled and looked into the eyes of the Krayakin. 'Do you not find it strange that the descendant of Emsharas should be here now, defying you as his ancestor defied you? Does it not cause you concern? Does it not have a feeling of destiny at work?'

'Yes, it does,' he admitted. 'But it will not alter the outcome. He has no magick. He is not a sorcerer. All his gifts stem from the talisman he wears. It can turn aside spells, but cannot deflect a sword blade.'

'Your evil will not conquer,' she said.

He seemed genuinely surprised. 'Evil? Why is it you humans always speak of evil as something that exists outside of yourselves? Do your cattle think of you as evil because you devour them? Do the fish of the ocean see you as evil? Such arrogance. You are no different to the cattle, and we are not evil for feeding upon you. You wish to hear my view of evil? The actions of Emsharas, banishing his people to a soulless hell, void of sound and smell, of taste and joy. I see our return as no more than simple justice.'

'I will not debate with you, demon,' she told him, and yet she did not move away.

'Not will not , woman. Cannot! By what right do you deny us a chance at life under the moon and stars?'

'I do not deny you,' she said. 'But by what right do you seek to kill a child?'

'Kill? Another interesting concept. Do you believe in the soul?'

'I do.'

'Then we kill nothing. All we do is end the mortal existence of humans. Their souls go on. And since their mortal existence is fragile and short-lived anyway, what have we really taken from them?'

'Your kind are immortal. You can never know the value of what you so casually remove from others. Death is alien to you. Yes, I believe in the soul, but I do not know if it is immortal. All I know is the pain you cause to those who are left behind. The misery and the despair.'

He smiled again. 'These things you speak of are our food source.'

'There is no point in this conversation,' she told him.

'Wait! Do not go yet!'

In that moment, as she looked into his eyes, Ulmenetha saw a moment of panic. Why did he want her to stay? Could it be she was reaching him, in some indefinable way. She relaxed and prepared to talk on. Then, though he tried to hide it, she saw the triumph in his eyes. And she knew! She was the only one among the group who could use magick. His only purpose was to detain her.

Spinning away from him she sped for her body.

It was too late. Three Krayakin burst from the bushes and charged into the camp.

Drasko stepped into the clearing, Mandrak to his left, Lekor to his right. Their swords were in their hands, and Drasko felt the long forgotten surging of battle fever in his veins. The bald giant who had killed Nemor ran at him. Drasko spun and plunged his sword through the man's ribs, then backhanded him across the face, hurling the giant to the ground.

On the far side of the fire a hawk-eyed swordsman leapt to his feet. Drasko saw that he carried two Storm Swords. Beyond him a silver-haired man had rolled to his left, coming up with a bow, and notching an arrow to the string. Opening his hand Drasko tossed a small, black crystal globe across the clearing, then closed his eyes.

The explosion was deafening, and Drasko's eyes, even through tightly closed lids, were hurt by the blinding light which followed. Opening his eyes he saw that the swordsman had been hurled across the clearing and was lying, stunned, beside a tall pine. The bowman was sprawled some distance from him. The queen had also been caught by the blast, and was lying unconscious by the bushes, the babe beside her. A red-headed youngster came running from the trees, grabbing the hand of a skinny girl and dragging her away. Drasko had no interest in them.

He turned towards the queen. At that moment the blond-haired woman lying beside her lunged to her feet. The holy fire of halignat burst around his helm. He staggered back. The priestess advanced, holy fire blazing from her fingers. Instantly all was confusion. A fireball enveloped Mandrak, who fell back into the undergrowth. Then Lekor hurled a knife, that spun through the air, slamming hilt first into the woman's temple. She dropped to her knees, the fire extinguished. The stunned swordsman was stirring, and Drasko turned once more to where the queen lay unconscious.

Flipping open the visor of his helm he looked for the baby. It was nowhere in sight. The shock was immense. The infant could not have vanished. He knew enough of humans to know that newborn babes could not crawl! He glanced around. The giant human had also gone, and where he had fallen there was now only a bright red stain of blood upon the grass.

'The bald one has the child,' he told the others. 'Find him, kill him, and then return here.'

Lekor and Mandrak turned and ran back through the undergrowth, following a grisly trail of blood.

Drasko moved towards the swordsman. The man was on his knees now, sucking in great gulps of air.

'Gather your swords and face me,' said Drasko. 'It is long since I killed a Storm Swordsman.'

'Then face me, demon,' came a voice from behind.

Drasko spun on his heel and saw the black warrior, Nogusta standing by the camp-fire. He too held a Storm Sword. 'Very well, old one,' said Drasko. 'You shall be — as you humans say — the appetizer before the main course.'

Behind him Antikas Karios fell once more, then rolled to his side, his vision swimming.

Drasko leapt to meet Nogusta. The black man moved in, then swayed away from a wild cut. Their swords met, and lightning flared from the blades. The sound of clashing swords filled the clearing with savagely discordant music. As his vision cleared Antikas Karios watched the warriors circle one another, their blades shimmering in the sunlight, lightning leaping up from every exchange. He knew what Nogusta was going through, and, worse, he knew the end result.