David Gemmell - The Winter Warriors

But today — with the help of the Source, and the courage of the fifty men riding behind him — he would put an end to both the hatred and the object of it. His scouts had spotted them 3 miles from the ruins of Lem, and Nayim was less than half a mile behind them.

Soon they would see the pursuing riders. Nayim could picture it. The fleeing group would lash at their mounts in a last, desperate attempt to evade capture. But their tired horses would soon be overhauled by the powerful mounts of the lancers. Nayim half hoped that Antikas Karios would beg for his life. Yet even as the thought occurred he knew it would not be so. Antikas, for all his vileness, was a man of courage. He would attack them all.

Nayim was no more than a capable swordsman. He would have to be sure to hang back when the attack began. While not afraid to die he did not wish to miss the capture of Antikas Karios.

His sergeant, Olion, rode alongside him, his white cape fluttering in the breeze. There was a mud stain upon the cape. Olion was a superb horseman, and a fine soldier, but incapable of smartness, no matter what disciplinary measures were taken against him. The high, curved helm of bronze and the ceremonial cape had been designed to add grandeur to the armour of the Lancers. But for Olion, short, stocky, and round shouldered, his face endlessly marked by angry red spots, the end result was comic.

Nayim glanced at the man as he rode alongside. Yet another boil was showing on the nape of Olion's neck. 'The lads are worried, sir,' said the sergeant. 'I don't like the mood.'

'Are you telling me that fifty men are frightened of tackling one swordsman?'

'It's not about them, sir. In fact they'll be relieved to see a little action. No, it's not that, sir.'

'Spit it out, man. You'll not lose your head for it.'

'I could, sir, if you take my meaning?'

Nayim understood perfectly. His face hardened. 'I do indeed. Therefore it will be better to say nothing. Ride up to the top of the slope there and see if you can see them yet.'

'Yes, sir.' Olion galloped off towards the south-east. Nayim glanced back. His men were riding in columns of twos behind him, the butts of their lances resting on their stirrups. Signalling them to continue at their present pace he flicked his heels and rode after Olion.

At the top of the slope he hauled in his mount, and found himself gazing over the distant, ruined city of Lem. Said to be one of the greatest cities ever built it was now a place of ghosts and lost memories. The huge walls had been eroded by time, brought down by earthquakes, many of the stones removed to build houses at the far end of the valley. What remained of the north wall stood before the ghost city like a row of broken teeth.

Then he saw the riders, still around a half mile ahead. At this distance he could not make out individuals, but he could see that their horses were tiring, and they were still some way from the city. Once his men caught up they would ride them down within minutes.

'Be swift and say what you have to say,' he told Olion. 'For then we must do our duty.'

'This is all wrong, sir. The men know it. I know it. I mean, what happened back in the city? There are thousands dead, by all accounts. That's where we ought to be. And why bring the whole army into this wilderness. There's no-one to fight, sir. So why are we here?'

'We are here because we are ordered to be,' said Nayim, anxious to capture the runaways.

'And what about supplies, sir? According to the quartermaster we only have enough food to bring us to Lem. What are we supposed to do then? We've not even been put on half rations. Come the day after tomorrow there'll be no food at all for three thousand men. It's madness!'

'I'll tell you what madness is, Olion, it is a soldier in the army of Malikada who starts spouting mutinous words.' Nayim tried to make the threat sound convincing, but he could not. He sharedàthe man's concern. 'Listen,' he said, in a more conciliatory tone. 'We will do our duty here, then return the prisoners to Malikada. We saw the tracks of elk a few miles back. Once we have the prisoners secured you can lead a unit after them. Then at least we'll eat well tonight.'

'Yes, sir,' said the man, dubiously.

Nayim cast a nervous glance back. The lancers were almost within earshot. 'I take it there is something else? Make it quick!'

'Why is the queen running away? Malikada is her cousin. They have always been close, so it's said. And why would a general like Antikas Karios be helping her?'

'I don't know. Perhaps we shall ask Antikas when we take him.'

As the troops drew reins behind him Nayim raised his arm. 'Follow me!' he shouted.

Picking up the pace he cantered his mount along the old road, swiftly closing the distance between himself and the fleeing riders. A red-headed youngster riding the last horse looked back, then kicked his mount into a run.

Now the chase was on. Nayim drew his sabre. He could see Antikas Karios now, riding a huge black gelding. The man swung his horse, and, for a moment, Nayim thought he would charge them. Instead he galloped back to the rear of his group, urging them on. Nayim gently drew back on his reins, allowing some of his men to overtake him.

The silver-haired bowman swung in the saddle, sending a shaft flashing towards him. Nayim swayed and ducked. He heard a man cry out behind him. Glancing back he saw the arrow jutting from a rider's shoulder.

Nayim was anxious to catch the runaways before they entered the ruins, for once there Antikas and the others could dismount and take cover. They would not last long, but it would cost him men. One of the reasons why Nayim was a popular commander was that he was careful with the lives of his soldiers. No reckless charges, no seeking after glory. He was a professional soldier who always thought out his strategies.

They were closing fast now. Up ahead Antikas Karios was now leading a second horse upon which sat a young woman in a blue dress. It was with some surprise that Nayim recognized the queen. He had always seen her in gowns of silk and satin, looking like a goddess from myth. Now she was merely a woman on a slow horse.

Only around 40 yards separated them now. Antikas would have no time to seek cover, for they would catch him at the city walls!

Suddenly one of his men shouted a warning. Nayim soon saw why.

Armed men were pouring from the ruins of the city, forming a deep fighting line before the broken gates. They were Drenai soldiers, wearing full-faced helms and sporting long, red cloaks. Hundreds of them, moving smoothly into place with the easy discipline of veterans. Nayim could scarce believe his eyes.

The Drenai army had been destroyed. How then could this be?

Then he realized with shock that he was charging down towards them. Hauling on the reins he held up his arm. All around him his men slowed their mounts.

The fleeing group rode towards the fighting line, which parted smoothly before them, allowing them access to the city.

Ordering his men to wait Nayim rode slowly forward. 'Where is your commander?' he called out. Silence greeted his words. He scanned the line, calculating numbers. There were close to a thousand men in sight. It was inconceivable!

The line parted once more and a tall, thin old man walked out to stand before him.

Nayim felt a sudden chill touch him, as he gazed into the cold eyes of the White Wolf.

As soon as he rode past the old city wall Conalin jumped down from his horse and ran back, scrambling up a jutting stump of stone and squatting down to watch the soldiers. They looked terrifyingly impressive in their bronze breastplates, full-faced bronze helms and crimson cloaks. Their spears were held steady, and their shields presented a strong wall between Conalin and those who had sought to kill him. For the first time in his young life he felt utterly safe. What force on earth could penetrate such a wall of men. He wanted to leap up and dance, to shout his scorn at the waiting Ventrian riders. They looked so puny now. Conalin glanced up at the blue sky, and felt a cool breeze upon his face.