David Gemmell - The King Beyond the Gate

'Get away from here, mother!' yelled Lake.

Decado, hearing the cry, left The Thirty and ran to Rayvan, helping her to her feet.

'Lake is right,' he said. 'You are far too important to risk yourself here!'

'Behind you!' she yelled, as a warrior leapt over the wall with axe raised. Decado spun on his heel and lunged. His sword skewered the man's chest — and snapped. Two more warriors climbed into view and Decado dived forward, scooping up the fallen axe and rolling to his feet. He blocked an overhead cut, then back-handed the warrior from the wall. The second man lanced his blade into Decado's shoulder but Lake, running in behind, hammered his sword through the attacker's skull.

The attackers drew back.

'Get the wounded from the wall,' shouted Ananais. 'They'll return at any moment.'

Ananais moved along the wall, hastily checking the wounded and dead. At least a hundred men would fight no more. Ten more attacks like this and they were finished.

Galand made his way from the far left, meeting Ananais at the centre.

'We could do with a thousand more men and a higher wall,' said Galand sourly.

'They did well. Losses will be fewer next time. The weakest of our men fell during this assault.'

'Is that all they are to you?' snapped Galand. 'Units with swords. Some good, some bad?'

'There is no time for this, Galand.'

'You make me sick!'

'I know Parsal's death. .'

'Leave me alone!' said Galand, pushing past him.

'What was that about?' asked Thorn, climbing the rampart steps. A bandage had been wrapped around a shallow cut to his head.

'I don't know.'

'I brought some food,' said Thorn, handing Ananais a loaf filled with creamed cheese. Ananais had taken one bite when the drums began beating once more.

Five attacks were launched and repulsed before dusk, and one night attack was turned back with heavy losses among the Drenai.

Ananais remained on the wall until two hours before dawn, but Decado assured him no further attacks were planned and the general finally staggered away from the ramparts. Valtaya had a room in the hospital, but he resisted the impulse to go to her; instead he moved into the trees and fell asleep on a grassy knoll.

Four hundred men had been removed from the battle; the wounded overflowed the hospital and had been laid on blankets on the grass around the building. Ananais had sent for reinforcements, two hundred and fifty men of the reserve force.

At Tarsk, he learned from Acuas, the losses had been fewer, but then only three attacks had been launched. Turs, the young warrior who led the Tarsk troops, had done well by all accounts.

It was now obvious that the main thrust would be aimed at Magadon. Ananais hoped the Joinings would not be sent in tomorrow, but in his heart he knew that they would be.

Across from the hospital buildings a young warrior tossed in his sleep as the nightmare grew. Suddenly he stiffened and a strangled scream died in his throat. His eyes opened and he sat up, reaching for his knife. Reversing the blade, he slowly pushed it into his chest between the ribs until it sliced into his heart. Then he withdrew it and stood up. No blood ran from the wound. .

Slowly he walked to the hospital building, staring through the open window. Inside Valtaya was working into the night, fighting to save the worst of the wounded.

He moved away from the window to the woods beyond, where some two hundred refugees had pitched their makeshift tents. By a camp-fire sat Rayvan, cradling a babe and talking to three women.

The dead man walked towards them.

Rayvan looked up and saw him — she knew him well.

'Can you not sleep, Oranda?'

He did not reply.

Then Rayvan saw the knife and her eyes narrowed. When the man knelt beside her, she looked into his eyes. Blank and dead, they stared back unseeing.

The knife flashed up and Rayvan twisted and dived, turning her body to protect the sleeping babe as the blade raked her hip. Letting the child roll clear, she blocked the next blow with her forearm and smashed a right cross to the man's chin. He fell, but rose again. Rayvan pushed herself to her feet. The other women were screaming now and the babe had begun to wail. As the corpse approached, Rayvan backed away; she could feel the blood oozing down her leg. Then a man ran forward, holding a blacksmith's hammer which he brought down savagely on the dead man's head. The skull cracked, but still no expression crossed his face.

An arrow flashed into the dead man's chest; he merely gazed down at it and then slowly pulled it clear. Galand ran forward just as the corpse reached Rayvan. As the knife came up, Galand lashed out and the knife-arm sailed from the body. The corpse staggered. . And fell.

'They want you dead pretty badly,' said Galand.

'They want us all dead,' replied Rayvan.

'Tomorrow they will get their wish,' he observed.

Valtaya finished stitching the nine-inch cut on Ray-van's hip and then smeared a thick ointment along the wound.

'It will help to prevent an ugly scar,' said Valtaya, covering the wound with gauze.

'A matter of indifference to me,' said Rayvan.

'When you get to my age, no one is going to notice a scar on the hip — if you take my meaning?'

'Nonsense, you are a handsome woman.'

'Exactly. It is a rare man who notices a handsome woman. You are Darkmask's lover, are you not?'

'Yes.'

'Known him long?'

'No, not long. He saved my life.'

'I see.'

'What do you see?'

'You are a nice girl, but maybe you take debts too seriously.'

Valtaya sat down beside the bed, rubbing her eyes. She was tired, too tired for sleep.

'Do you always make snap judgements of people you meet?'

'No,' said Rayvan, sitting up carefully and feeling the pull of the stitches. 'But love is in the eyes and one woman knows when another woman is in love. When I asked you about Darkmask you showed your sadness. And then you said he had saved your life. It was not difficult to reach the obvious conclusion.'

'Is it so wrong to want to repay someone?'

'No, it isn't wrong — especially now. Anyway, he is a fine man.'

'I have hurt him,' said Valtaya. 'I didn't mean to, I was tired. Most times I try to ignore his face, but I told him to put on his mask.'

'Lake caught a glimpse of him once without his mask. He told me Ananais' face was hideously scarred.'

'There is no face,' said Valtaya. 'The nose and upper lip have been ripped away and the cheeks are a mass of scar tissue. One scar will not heal and oozes pus. It is a horror! He looks like a dead man. I have tried… I can't. .' Tears fell and the words died.

'Don't think badly of yourself, my girl,' said Rayvan softly, leaning forward and patting her back. 'You tried — most women would not even have done that.'

'I am ashamed of myself. I told him once that a face was not a man. It was the man I tried to love, but the face keeps coming back to haunt me.'

'You were not wrong. The answer lies in your words — the man you tried to love. You took on too much.'

'But he's so noble and so tragic. He was the Golden One… He had everything.'

'I know. And he was vain.'

'How can you know that?'

'It's not hard. Consider his story: the rich young patrician who became a Dragon general. But what happened then? He entered himself in the arena games, and there he killed people to thrill the crowds. Many of the men he fought were prisoners, forced to fight and die. They had no choice, he did. But he couldn't stay away from the applause. There is nothing noble in that. Men! What do they know? They never grow up.'

'You are being very hard on him — he is willing to die for you!'

'Not for me. For himself. He is after revenge.'