David Gemmell - Dark Moon

Rising once more, she tugged off her shirt and leggings, throwing them across the room. Lifting the empty jug, she hurled it at the wall where it burst into scores of jagged fragments.

Hearing the noise, a servant entered, and stood staring open-mouthed at the naked woman. 'Get out!' she bellowed. The man turned and fled.

Karis staggered to the balcony window, pushing it open. The cold struck her as she walked out and leaned over the rail, staring down at the snow-covered courtyard below. Brushing the snow from the rail, she hooked her leg over it. A strong hand grabbed her, dragging her back into the room. Swinging, she aimed a punch at Necklen's grey-bearded face, but he blocked her arm and threw her to the couch.

'What are you doing?' she cried. 'Get out of here!'

Necklen turned to a servant who stood cowering by the door. 'Fetch me a jug of water and some bread and cheese,' he ordered. Then he knelt by Karis. 'Let's get you to bed,' he said. Her fist snaked out, but sailed harmlessly over his shoulder. Ducking into her, he hauled her upright and half-carried her to the bedroom.

She fell back on the bed, and noticed that the ceiling was gently revolving.

'I want to dance,' she said. 'I want another drink.' She struggled to sit up, but Necklen pushed her back.

'You just lie there, princess, until we can get some food into you.'

Karis swore at him, loud and long, using every gutter insult she knew. Necklen sat silently throughout the tirade. The ceiling was spinning faster now, and something horrible was happening to her stomach.

Groaning, she rolled to the edge of the bed, where Necklen held an empty bowl beneath her and she retched violently. And passed out . . .

When she awoke the room was dark, a single candle flickering on the table beside her bed. She sat up.

Her mouth tasted vile, and her head pounded. There was a jug of water on the bedside table and she filled a goblet and drank deeply.

'Are you feeling better?' asked Necklen. The old soldier was sitting in a chair in the shadows. He rose and moved to the bed.

'I feel like death,' she told him.

'The thaw has begun, Karis. Spring is almost here.'

'I know,' she said wearily.

'This is no time to be dancing naked on balconies. Giriak told me how you stood on the rail at Morgallis. He thought you were mad, but I told him you were merely eccentric. Eccentric and unique - and far too easily bored.' Tearing off a chunk of bread, he handed it to her. Karis chewed on it without enthusiasm. 'Everyone here is relying on you, princess.'

'You think I don't know that? And don't call me princess!'

Necklen chuckled. 'I've known many commanders during my life - steady ones, reckless ones, cowardly ones. But you are an original, princess. You can't be read. With you it is all instinct. I had a horse like you once: sweet as a berry one moment, vicious and deadly the next. Highly strung, he was. But a thoroughbred, faster than the wind, stronger than a bull. And fearless. Rode through fire for me, he did. I loved that horse, but I never understood him.'

'What are you prattling on about?' demanded Karis, swinging from the bed. She groaned as the pounding in her head increased.

'Drink some more water.'

'Shemak's Balls, but you sound like my mother!' Karis drank another goblet, then ate more bread. Glancing up, she grinned at him. 'But I love you, old man!'

'So I should hope.'

She saw that the bandage around the stump of his left wrist was seeping blood. 'Oh, Hell, did I do that?'

'You didn't mean to; you were thrashing around a little. It will heal. Now, to more important matters. I have sent scouts out to the north and south-east. And the Weapon Maker wants to know if you will be there when they set up the catapult.'

'Damn right I will! . . . How are you getting on with him?'

'At first he seems a pompous bastard, but his heart is in the right place. I like him. And he knows his craft, by heaven!'

'Don't try to steal his oatcakes,' warned Karis.

Necklen laughed aloud. 'He makes them himself, you know. They are damn good. He let me have one from a fresh batch. Just the one, mind!'

Karis lay back. 'How long before the dawn?'

'Another couple of hours.'

'I'll sleep,' she said. 'Will you wake me at dawn?'

'I'll be here.' Reaching out, she took his hand and squeezed it gently. He kissed her fingers, then covered her with a blanket. 'May your dreams be sweet,' he said. 'And don't forget to say your prayers.'

'Thank you, mother,' she said, with a smile. He blew out the candle and walked back into the main room, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

Duke Albreck was tired, his eyes bloodshot and gritty. Pushing away the mass of papers before him he rose, opened the door to the gardens and stepped through into the moonlight. The fresh cold air revitalized him and he shivered with pleasure. A servant announced the arrival of the soldier, Necklen, and the Duke returned to the warmth of his rooms. The old soldier looked wary.

'How is she?' asked Albreck.

'Very well, sir. She is resting,'

Albreck had never known how to communicate with ordinary people. It was as if their minds worked at a different level; they were rarely at their ease with him, nor he with them. 'Sit you down, man,' he said. 'I see your wound is bleeding again. I shall send my surgeon to you.'

'It's stopped now, sir. Scar tissue broke, is all.'

'You are a brave man,' said Albreck. 'Karis tells me you have served her before, and know her well.'

'Can't say as I know her that well,' answered Necklen, guardedly. 'She's good, though. The best there is.'

'I think that is a fair estimate,' agreed the Duke. 'However, the pressures here are very great. The burdens are onerous. Sometimes even the best find such situations ... intolerable. There are many stories about Karis. She has become something of a legend during these last few years. One man told me she once danced naked through a town, following a victory. Is it true?'

'There's always lots of stories about generals,' said Necklen. 'Might I ask where this is leading?'

'Oh, I think you know where it is leading,' said Albreck.

'This is my city, my responsibility. It is threatened with death and destruction, by an enemy more powerful and more evil than any it has faced in its long history. I have no right to ask you for honesty, Necklen. You are not sworn to me. But I would value it, nonetheless. Karis is a great fighter, and a fine tactician. She has courage, I don't doubt that. But is she steady? For that's what we need.'

Necklen sat silently for a moment, staring into the fire. 'I am not a skilled liar, my lord - never felt the need to acquire the skills - so I'll tell you plain. Karis isn't like anyone I've ever known. She's a mass of opposites, tough and tender, caring and callous. And she has a love of wine - ay, and men. She pushes herself too hard sometimes, and then she drinks. Too much, usually.' Necklen shrugged. 'Despite that there is a greatness in her. That will carry her through, don't you worry none about that. When the Daroth are before the walls, you'll see that greatness shine. I promise you that.'

The Duke smiled thinly. 'I hope that you are right. I am a capable swordsman, but I was never a soldier.

Nor did I wish to be one. My skill lies in judging men. Women, I am glad to say, remain a mystery to me.'

'A wondrous mystery,' said Necklen, with a grin.

'Quite so.' In that one, small moment, there was a flicker of camaraderie. The Duke felt it, and drew back.

Necklen sensed the change of mood and rose from his chair. 'If that is all, my lord?'

'Yes. Yes, thank you. Stay close to her. See that she doesn't... push herself too hard.'

'I'll do my best, sir.' As he left, the Duke leaned forward, lifting a sheaf of papers, and returned to his reading.