David Gemmell - The King Beyond the Gate

He had not spoken to Renya since their fight in the forest, yet he thought of her constantly. Far from removing her from his mind by turning on her, he had succeeded only in bringing himself fresh misery. And yet he was incapable of crossing the gulf he had opened between them. He glanced back to where she rode alongside Ananais, laughing at some jest; then turned away.

Ahead, like dark demons out of the past, twenty riders waited in a line. They sat their horses immobile, black cloaks flapping in the breeze. Tenaka reined his mount some fifty paces from the centre of their line and his companions rode alongside.

'What in Hell's name are they?' asked Ananais.

'They are seeking me,' answered Tenaka. 'They came at me in a dream.'

'I don't wish to appear defeatist, but there are rather too many for us to handle. Do we run?'

'From these men you cannot run,' said Tenaka tonelessly as he dismounted.

The twenty riders followed course, walking forward slowly through the mist, and it seemed to Renya they moved like the shades of the dead on a ghostly sea. Their armour was jet, helms covered their faces, dark swords were in their hands. Tenaka went forward to meet them, hand on sword-hilt.

Ananais shook his head. A strange trancelike state had come upon him, leaving him a powerless observer. He slid from the saddle, drew his own sword and joined Tenaka.

The Dark Templars halted and their leader stepped forward.

'We have no commission to kill you yet, Ananais,' he said.

'I don't die easily,' said Ananais. He was about to add an insult, but the words froze in his mouth as a terrible fear struck him like a blast of icy air. He began to tremble and the urge to run rose in him.

'You die as easily as any other mortal,' said the man. 'Go back! Ride away to whatever doom awaits you.'

Ananais said nothing; he swallowed hard and looked at Tenaka. His friend's face was bone-white, and it was obvious that the same fear washed over him.

Galand and Parsal moved alongside them, swords in hand.

'Do you think to stand against us?' said the leader. 'A hundred men could not stand against us. Listen to my words and hear the truth — feel it through your terror.'

The fear increased and the horses grew skittish, whinnying their alarm. Scaler and Belder leapt from the saddles, sensing the beasts were about to bolt. Pagan leaned forward, patting his horse's neck; the beast settled down, but its ears were flat against its skull and he knew it was close to panic. Valtaya and Renya jumped clear as their horses bolted, then helped the village woman, Parise, to dismount.

Shielding her baby who had begun to scream — Parise lay down on the ground, shaking uncontrollably.

Pagan dismounted and drew his sword, walking forward slowly to stand beside Tenaka and the others. Belder and Scaler followed.

'Draw your sword,' whispered Renya, but Scaler ignored her. It was all he could do to muster enough courage to stand alongside Tenaka Khan. Any thoughts of actually fighting beside him were buried under the weight of his terror.

'Foolish,' said the leader, contemptuously, 'like lambs to the slaughter!' The Dark Templars advanced.

Tenaka struggled to overcome his panic, but his limbs felt leaden as his confidence drained away. He knew dark magic was being used against him, but the knowledge was not enough. He felt like a child stalked by a leopard.

Fight it! he told himself. Where is your courage?

Suddenly, as in his dream, the terror passed and strength flowed to his limbs. He knew without turning that the white knights had returned, this time in the flesh.

The Templars halted their advance and Padaxes cursed softly as The Thirty moved into sight. Outnumbered now, he considered his options. Calling on the power of the Spirit, he probed his enemies, meeting a wall of force that resisted his efforts. . Except around the warrior at the centre — this man was no mystic. Padaxes was no stranger to the legends of The Thirty — his own temples had been built to parody theirs — and he recognised the rune on the man's helm.

A non-mystic as leader? An idea formed in his mind.

'Much blood will be shed here today,' he called, 'unless we settle this as captains.'

Abaddon grasped Decado's arm as he moved forward. 'No, Decado, you do not understand his power.'

'He is a man, that is all,' answered the other.

'No, he is far more — he has the power of Chaos. If someone must fight him, let it be Acuas.'

'Am I not leader in this force of yours?'

'Yes, but. .'

'There are no buts. Obey me!' Pulling himself free Decado moved on, halting a few feet away from the black-armoured Padaxes.

'What do you suggest, Templar?'

'A duel between captains, the loser's men leaving the field.'

'I want more,' said Decado coldly. 'Far more!'

'Name it.'

'I have studied much of the ways of mystics. It is… was. . part of my former calling. It is said that in ancient wars champions carried the souls of their armies within them, and when they died their armies died.'

'That is so,' said Padaxes, disguising his joy.

'Then that is what I demand.'

'It shall be so. I swear it by the Spirit!'

'Swear nothing to me, warrior. Your oaths count for nothing. Prove it!'

'It will take a little time. I shall conduct the rites first and trust your word that you will follow,' said Padaxes. Decado nodded and walked back to the others.

'You cannot do this thing, Decado,' said Acuas. 'You doom us all!'

'Suddenly the game is not to your liking?' snapped Decado.

'It is not that. This man, your enemy, has powers you do not possess. He can read your mind, sense your every move before you make it. How on earth can you defeat him?'

Decado laughed. 'Am I still your leader?'

Acuas flicked a glance at the former Abbot. 'Yes,' he said, 'you are the leader.'

'Then when he has finished his ritual, you will align the life force of The Thirty to mine.'

'Tell me this before I die,' said Acuas gently. 'Why are you sacrificing yourself in this way? Why do you doom your friends?'

Decado shrugged. 'Who can say?'

The Dark Templars fell to their knees before Padaxes as he intoned the names of the lower demons, calling on the Chaos Spirit, his voice rising to a scream. The sun breasted the eastern horizon, yet strangely no light fell upon the plain.

'It is done,' whispered Abaddon. 'He has kept his word and the souls of his warriors are within him.'

'Then do likewise,' ordered Decado.

The Thirty knelt before their leader, heads bowed. Decado felt nothing, yet he knew they had obeyed him.

'Dec, is it you?' called Ananais. Decado waved him to silence and advanced to meet Padaxes.

The black sword hissed forward, to be parried instantly by the silver steel in Decado's hand. The battle had begun. Tenaka and his companions watched in awe as the warriors circled and struck, blades clashing and clanging.

Time wore on and desperation became apparent in every move Padaxes made. Fear crept into his heart. Though he anticipated his opponent's every move, such was the speed of the assault that it availed him nothing. He mind-pulsed a terror-thought but Decado laughed, for death held no terror for him. And then Padaxes knew his doom was sealed, and it irked him greatly that a mortal man could bring about his death. Launching a final savage assault, he experienced the horror of reading Decado's mind at the last moment, seeing the riposte in the fraction of a second before it was launched.

The silver steel whiplashed his own sword aside and buried itself in his groin. He sank to the ground, his lifeblood pumping to the grass. . and the souls of his men died with him.

Sunlight blazed through the darkness and The Thirty rose to their feet, amazed that life still flowed in their veins.