David Gemmell - The King Beyond the Gate

'In southern Ventria an entire community lives on a volcanic island. Every ten years or so it spews ash, dust and burning rock, killing hundreds. Yet they stay, always convincing themselves that the worst is over.

'But do not torment yourself, Rayvan. You have done all that you could. More than could have been asked for.'

She sagged back in her seat and shook her head. 'I could have succeeded. About four thousand people are going to die down there. Horribly! And all because I started a war I could not win.'

'Nonsense!' said Ananais. 'Why are you doing this to yourself, woman? The war began because Ceska's men poured into the mountains and massacred innocent people. You merely defended your own. Where the Hell would we be if we just allowed such atrocities to occur? I don't like the situation; it smells worse than a ten-day-dead pig in summer, but it's not my doing. Nor is it yours. You want blame? Blame the people who voted him into power. Blame the soldiers who follow him still. Blame the Dragon for not putting him down when they could. Blame his mother for giving birth to him. Now, enough of this! Every man and woman down there had a choice, given to them freely. Their fate is in their hands. You are not responsible.'

'I don't want to argue with you, Darkmask. But somewhere along this dreadful line someone must claim responsibility. The war is not of my making, as you say. But I elected myself to lead these people and every one of them that dies will be on my head. I would have it no other way. Because I care. Can you understand that?'

'No,' said Ananais bluntly. 'But I accept it.'

'I understand it,' said Decado. 'But your care must now be for those people who have trusted you and moved to the mountains. What with refugees from outside Skoda, and the city folk, we will have over seven thousand people up there. There will be problems with food, sanitation, sickness. Lines of communication must be set up. Stores, supplies and medicines. That all takes organisation and manpower. And every man we lose to that side of the war is one fewer warrior standing against Ceska.'

'I shall be there to organise that,' said Rayvan. 'There are maybe twenty women I can call on.'

'With respect,' said Ananais, 'you will also need men. Penned up like that, tempers can flare and some people will become convinced they are getting less than their ration. Many of the men among the refugees are cowards — and often that makes them bullies. There will be thieves, and among so many women there will be men who seek to take advantage.'

Rayvan's green eyes blazed. 'All that I can handle, Darkmask. Believe it! No one will question my authority.'

Beneath his mask Ananais grinned. Rayvan's voice had an edge of thunder and her square chin jutted pugnaciously. She was probably right, he thought. It would be a brave man who went against her. And all the brave men would be facing a more formidable foe.

During the days that followed Ananais divided his time between the small army manning the outer mountain ring, and the setting-up of a passable fortress on the inner ring. Minor trails into the valleys were blocked and the main entrances — the valleys of Tarsk and Magadon — hastily walled with boulders. Throughout the long hours of daylight the mountain-hardened men of Skoda added to the fortifications, rolling huge boulders from the hills and wedging them into place across the mouths of the valleys. Slowly the walls increased in size. Pulleys and wooden towers were erected by skilled builders and larger rocks were lifted by ropes and swung into place, cemented by ti mix of clay and rock-dust.

The main builder — and wall architect — was a Vagrian immigrant named Leppoe. He was tall, dark, balding and indefatigable. Men walked warily around him, for he had an unnerving habit of looking through a man, ignoring him totally as his mind wrestled with some problem of stress or structure. And then, with the problem solved, he would smile suddenly and become warm and friendly. Few workers could keep up with his pace and often he would work long into the night, planning refinements or taking over as foreman of a work party and pushing his men hard under the moonlight.

As the walls neared completion, Leppoe added yet another refinement. Planks were laid and cunningly fitted to create ramparts, while the outer walls were smeared with mortar and smoothed, making it more difficult for an enemy to scale them.

Leppoe had two of Lake's giant bows placed near the centre of each wall; these were tested for range and spread by Lake himself and the twelve men he had trained to handle them. Sacks of lead shot for slings were placed by the weapons, along with several thousand arrows.

'It all looks strong enough,' Thorn told Ananais. 'But Dros Delnoch it is not!'

Ananais strode along the ramparts of Madagon, gauging the possible lines of attack. The walls negated Ceska's cavalry, but the Joinings would have no trouble in scaling them. Leppoe had worked miracles getting them up to fifteen feet in height, but it was not enough. Lake's weapons would create havoc to within thirty feet of the walls, but nearer than that they would be useless.

Ananais sent Thorn to ride the two miles across the valley to Tarsk. Then he despatched two other men to run the same distance. It took Thorn less than five minutes to make the journey, while the runners took almost twelve.

The general's problem was a tough one. Ceska was likely to strike at both valleys simultaneously and if one was overrun, the second was doomed. Therefore a third force had to be held in check somewhere between the two, ready to move the instant a breach looked likely. But walls could be breached in seconds and they didn't have many minutes. Signal fires were useless, since the Skoda range loomed between the valley mouths.

However, Leppoe solved the problem by suggesting a triangular system of communication. By day, mirrors or lanterns could be used to send a message back into the valley, where a group of men would be constantly on the lookout. Once the message was received, the group would relay it back to the second valley in the same way. A force of five hundred men would camp between the valleys and once a signal was received, they would ride like the devil. The system was practised many times, both in daylight and in darkness, until Ananais was convinced it had reached its peak of efficiency. A call for help could be transmitted and a relief force arrive within four minutes. Ananais would have liked to halve the time, but he was content.

Valtaya had moved back into the mountains with Rayvan and taken control of the medical supplies. Ananais missed her terribly; he had a strange feeling of doom which he could not shake off. He was never a man to give a great deal of thought to death; now it plagued him. When Valtaya had said goodbye the previous night, he had felt more wretched than at any time in his life. Taking her in his arms, he had fought to say the words he felt, desperate to let her know the depth of his love for her.

'I… I will miss you.'

'It won't be for long,' she said, kissing his scarred cheek and averting her eyes from the ruined mouth.

'You… er… look after yourself.'

'And you.'

As he helped her to her horse, several other travellers cantered towards the hut and he scrambled to replace his mask. And then she was gone. He watched her until the night swallowed her.

'I love you,' he said at last, too late. He tore the mask from his face and bellowed at the top of his voice.

'I LOVE YOU!' The words echoed in the mountains as he sank to his knees and hammered the ground with his fist. 'Damn, damn, damn! I love you!'

Tenaka, Subodai and Renya had an hour's start on the tribesmen, but this was gradually whittled back for, despite the strength of the Drenai mounts, Tenaka's horse now carried double. At the top of a dusty hill Tenaka shaded his eyes with his hand and tried to count the riders giving chase, but it was not easy for a swirling dust-cloud rose up around them.