David Gemmell - Dark Moon

Tarantio shook his head. 'Not necessarily. You are a man of iron principles. Most are not. You know the values of loyalty and friendship, where others see only the price to be paid for such comradeship.

Merchants, town dwellers, farmers - all despise warriors. They see us as violent and deadly, and indeed we are. What we come to learn, however, is that life is often short and always unpredictable. We fight for gold, but we know that true friendship is worth more than gold, and that comradeship is above price.'

Forin sat silently for a moment, then he grinned. 'What has this to do with nakedness and maggoty cakes?'

'You do not value what they value. You would not buy what they buy. As to the nakedness, you have thrown off all that they are.'

'I like that,' said Forin. 'I like that a lot. What then does your dream mean?'

'It is a search for something that is lost to me.' Tarantio felt uncomfortable discussing it further, and changed the subject. 'I saw you and your men in that armour today. I see what you mean.'

'Ludicrous, isn't it?' agreed Forin, with a wide grin. 'But it works well. Especially the arm-plates; they are all individually hinged, allowing almost full movement. Incredible! I think I could take a Daroth wearing it.'

'You should be able to catch him unawares as he falls over laughing,' said Tarantio.

'Is there any wine left?' asked the giant, moving out to the kitchen without waiting for an answer. He came back with a jug and two goblets.

'Not for me,' said Tarantio. 'Drinking that will only give me more dreams.'

Forin filled a goblet and drained it in a single swallow. Wiping his beard with the back of his hand, he leaned back on the couch. 'What do you think of Vint?' he asked.

'In what way?'

'I was just wondering. He seems very .. . close with Karis.'

They are lovers, I should imagine.'

'What makes you say that?'

'Common knowledge. Karis always has a lover somewhere; she's that sort of woman.'

'What sort . . . exactly?' said Forin coldly, his green eyes narrowing.

The swordsman saw the anger there. 'Is there something here that I don't understand?' he countered.

'Not at all,' answered Forin, forcing a smile. 'As I said, I was just wondering.'

'Karis is an unusual woman, that's what I meant. Whenever I've served with her, she's had a different lover.

Sometimes more than one. But it does not affect her talents. She never seems to fall in love with any of them.'

'How many has she had?'

'Gods, man, how would I know? But Vint was one of them. Now he is again.'

Forin drained another goblet. 'I wish I'd never met her,' he said, with feeling.

Tarantio remained silent for a moment. 'When did you meet her?' he asked softly.

Forin glanced up. 'Is it that damned obvious?'

'What happened?'

This time Forin did not bother with the goblet but raised the jug to his lips, tilting it high until all the wine was gone. 'She came to me one night, asking questions about the Daroth. Then we... well, you know.

Something happened to me; she got into my blood somehow. Can't stop thinking of her.'

'Have you talked to her about it?'

'To say what? She avoids me, Chio, unless she is already in company. Why would she do that?'

'I'm the wrong man to ask. I have never understood women.'

'Have you ever been in love?' asked Forin.

'Yes,' said Tarantio, surprising himself.

'Well, I haven't. I don't even know if this is love. Maybe if I slept with her again, it would all fall into place and I'd be able to smile and say goodbye, and she'd vanish from my mind.'

'Ask him if she was good in bed,' suggested Dace.

'Maybe that is her problem too,' said Tarantio. 'Maybe she feels something strongly for you. I don't think she wants to fall in love, and usually picks men merely to satisfy a need - a physical need.'

'I've never known a night like it. Maybe never will again,' said Forin. He gave a long sigh. 'If this is love, I don't think I like it.' He lay back on the couch, and within minutes was snoring softly.

'What is wrong with you?' asked Dace. 'You could have asked for details.'

'Do you dream, Dace?'

'I've told you before that I don't.'

'I know. I believe it to be a lie. Why would you lie to me?'

'That is a premise built on a foundation of feathers.'

Tarantio returned to his bed and lay down, drawing the blankets over him. As he drifted into sleep he heard Dace whisper, 'Thank you, brother.'

'For what?' asked Tarantio sleepily.

'For not killing us.'

As the thaw continued, a sense of urgency surrounded all aspects of city life. Karis and Ozhobar met often, planning late into the night, testing new weapons in secret so that no knowledge of their purpose could leak out to the troops manning the walls. Vint led scouting missions to the north, watching for signs of the approach of the Daroth. Forin drilled his fifty soldiers constantly; always in full armour, until the heavy plate felt like a second skin. The Duke, Pooris and the other bureaucrats worked ceaselessly to prepare for the evacuation.

At last the day arrived - four days later than planned. Thousands of citizens assembled in the fields to the south of the city while the veteran officer, Capel, in charge of the exodus, tried to assemble the wagons into a convoy. There was a sense of joy about the proceedings, and safety beckoned for the refugees. Shira and Duvodas, having said farewell to the tearful Ceofrin, were in the last wagon to leave. They sat together on the driver's seat, waiting their turn. Duvo's hand absently strayed to the canvas pouch he wore, his fingers tracing the outline of the Pearl. I will bring you back, he promised silently, recalling the frozen figures in the silent city.

'It is a beautiful day,' said Shira.

'I don't think Capel would agree with you,' he answered, pointing to the grey-bearded officer as he rode up and down the line of wagons, seeking to instil some sense of order. The head of the convoy had set out almost three hours before, but the wagons in the rear were still waiting.

At last Duvodas received the signal to move, and he flicked the reins against the backs of the four oxen.

The beasts leaned in to the traces and the wagon jerked forward. The land was hilly at the start of the journey, and before they had gone more than a mile from the city they came upon the first casualty. A wagon, taking a turn too fast, had tipped over and slid down the slope. Furniture was strewn over the snow-patched grass, and one of the oxen was dead. Soldiers were cutting away the traces as Duvo and Shira drove up.

Hitching ropes to their rear axle they hauled the other wagon upright. The soldiers repacked it, and the journey continued. On the last of the high ground, Shira swung round to see the distant city of Corduin, brilliantly lit by sunshine. 'Oh look, Duvo! What a wonderful sight!' He glanced at her and saw that her eyes were moist, her

lips trembling. Putting his arm around her, he drew her to him.

'Your father will be fine.'

'I don't know. I just wish he had come with us.'

'So do I, my love. But, as he said, his life is in Corduin.' Cupping her face in his hands he kissed her. 'I will do everything in my power to make you happy for as long as we live. I will keep sickness from you and our son, and we will know great joy.'

'I already know great joy,' she said. 'From the moment you came into my life.'

The oxen had halted. Now Duvo rapped the reins and they moved on. For several hours they rode. As far as the eye could see, the line of wagons stretched out towards the south-west. Soldiers rode up and down the line, checking on the stragglers.

Towards mid-afternoon the rear of the line halted once more. To the right was a high cliff-face, to the left a wide-open section of gorse and heather. Duvo climbed down from the wagon. 'I'll see what's holding us up,' he said, loping off towards the south.