David Gemmell - The King Beyond the Gate

Muttering under his breath, Subodai moved along the line. A young woman ran forward as he freed her and threw herself at Tenaka's feet.

'If I am truly your wife, then what of my son?'

'Release the children also,' said Tenaka.

Only the six men remained now, close relatives of the dead warlords.

'This is a new day,' Tenaka told them. 'I give you this choice. Promise you serve me and you live. Refuse and you die!'

'I spit on you, half-blood,' shouted one man. Tenaka stepped forward, held out his hand for Subodai's sword and with one sweep severed the man's neck.

Not one of the five remaining prisoners spoke, and Tenaka moved along the line, killing them all. He called Ingis to him and the two men sat quietly in the shadows of the tent.

There they stayed for three hours while the Khan outlined his plans. Then Tenaka slept.

And while he slept twenty men ringed his tent, swords in hand.

Parsal continued to crawl, dragging himself through the long grass. The pain from his mutilated leg had faded from the searing agony of the previous afternoon to a throbbing ache which occasionally flared, causing him to lose consciousness. The night was cool, but Parsal was sweating freely. He no longer knew where he was going, only that he had to put as great a distance between himself and the horror as he could.

He crawled over an area of earth pitted with pebbles, and a sharp stone dug into his leg. Groaning, he rolled over.

Ananais had told them to hold on for as long as they could, then to draw back and make for Maga-don. He had then gone to another valley with Galand. The events of the afternoon kept flooding Parsal's mind and he could not push them away. . With four hundred men he had waited in a tiny pass. The cavalry had come first, thundering up the incline with lances levelled. Parsal's archers had cut them to pieces. The infantry were harder to repel, well-armoured and with their round bronze shields held high. Parsal had never been the swordsman his brother was but, by all the gods, he had given a good account of himself!

The Skoda men had fought like tigers and Ceska's infantry were forced back. That was the point when he should have ordered his men to withdraw.

Foolish, foolish man! '

But he had been so uplifted. So proud! Never in his life had he led a fighting force. He had been turned down for the Dragon, while his brother had been accepted. Now he had repelled a mighty enemy.

And he waited for one more attack.

The Joinings had surged forward like demons of the pit. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget that charge. The beasts sent up a terrifying wall of sound, howling their blood-lust as they ran. Giant monsters with slavering maws and blood-red eyes, sharp talons and bright, bright swords.

Arrows scarce pierced their flesh and they swept aside the fighting men of Skoda as a grown man scatters unruly children.

Parsal gave no order to run — it was unnecessary. The Skoda courage vanished like water on sand and the force scattered. In his anguish Parsal ran at a Joining, aiming a mighty blow for the beast's head, but his sword bounced from the thick skull and the creature turned on him. Parsal was thrown back and the Joining dived, its great jaws closing on Parsal's left leg and ripping the flesh from the bone. A gallant Skoda fighter leapt to the beast's back, driving a long dagger into its neck; it turned away from Parsal to rip the throat from the warrior. Parsal rolled clear over a rise and tumbled down and down into the valley. And so his long crawl began.

He knew now that there was no victory for the Skoda men. Their dreams were folly. Nothing could stand against the Joining. He wished he had stayed on his farm in Vagria, far away from this insane war.

Something seized his leg and he sat up, waving a dagger. A taloned arm smashed it from his grip and three Joinings squatted around him — their eyes gleaming, saliva dripping from open maws.

Mercifully he blacked out.

And the feeding began.

Pagan edged forward until he was less than one hundred yards from.the western quarter of the city. His horse was hidden in the woods behind him. Smoke from the burning buildings was swirling like mist and it was hard to see for any distance. Bodies were being dragged from the city by groups of Joinings, and the feast started in the meadows beyond. Pagan had never seen the beasts before and he watched them in grim fascination. Most were over seven feet tall and mightily muscled.

Pagan was at a loss. He had a message for Ananais from Scaler — but where would he now deliver it? Was the dark-masked warrior still alive? Was the war over? If it was, then Pagan must change his plan. He had sworn to kill Ceska and he was not a man to take an oath lightly. Somewhere among this army was the tent of the emporer — all he had to do was find it and gut the son of a whore.

That was all!

The deaths of Pagan's people weighed heavily on him and he was determined to avenge them. Once he killed Ceska, the emperor's shade would be consigned to the Land of Shadow to serve the slain. A fitting punishment.

Pagan watched the beasts feed for a while, noting their movements, and learning all he could against the day when he must fight them. He was under no illusion — the day would come. Man against beast, head to head. The beast might be strong, swift and deadly. But then Kataskicana the King had earned the title Lord of War. For he was too strong, swift and deadly. But added to this, he was cunning.

Pagan eased his way back into the woods. Once there he froze, his wide nostrils flaring. His eyes narrowed and he slid his axe into his hand.

His horse was standing where he had left it, but the beast was quivering in fear, its ears flat against its skull and its eyes wide.

Pagan delved into his leather tunic, pulling clear a short, heavy throwing-knife. Licking his lips, he scanned the undergrowth. Hiding places close by were few; he was in one such, which left three other obvious places. So, he reasoned, he was facing a maximum of three opponents. Did they have bows? Unlikely, for they would have to stand, draw and loose at a swiftly moving target. Were they human? Unlikely, for the horse was terrified and mere men would not create such fear.

So then — a possible three Joinings crouched in the bushes ahead of him.

His decision made, Pagan stood up and walked towards his horse.

A Joining leapt from the bushes to his right and another rose from the left. They moved with incredible speed. Pagan spun on his heel, his right arm flashing down; the knife plunged into the right eye-socket of the first beast. The second was almost upon him when the black man dropped to his knees and dived forward, crashing into the creature's legs. The Joining pitched over him and Pagan rolled lashing the axe-blade deep into the beast's thigh. Then he was up and running. He tore the reins clear of the branches and vaulted to the saddle as the Joining ran at him. As Pagan leaned back in the saddle, tugging on the reins, the horse reared in terror, its hooves lashing at the beast and catching it full in the face. The Joining went down and Pagan heeled away his horse through the woods, ducking under overhanging branches. Once clear, he galloped to the west.

The gods had been with him, for he had seriously miscalculated. Had there been three Joinings he would have been dead. He had aimed the knife for the beast's throat, but so swift had been its charge that he had almost missed the target altogether.

Pagan slowed his horse as the burning city fell away behind him.

All over the lowlands would be the scouts of Ceska. He had no wish to gallop into a greater danger than that from which he fled. He patted the horse's neck.

He had left Scaler with the Cheiam. The new Earl of Bronze had grown in stature and his plans for taking the fortress were well-advanced. Whether or not they would work was another matter, but at least Scaler was tackling them with confidence. Pagan chuckled. The young Drenai was more than convincing in his new role and Pagan could almost believe that he really was the legendary Earl.