Gemmell, David - Drenai 08 - Winter Warriors (v1.0)

by Winter Warriors (v1. 0) [lit]

  There was no sign of pursuit, and the talisman was no longer glowing.

  What kind of an animal was strong enough to cut a man in half, fast enough to chase a horse as swift as Starfire, and evil enough to cause a reaction in his talisman?

  Nogusta had no answer.

  All he knew was that this beast stood between the wagon and the bridge.

  And there was no other known route to safety.

  Axiana was sleeping as the wagon slowly lumbered along the old road. Ulmenetha laid her now slender hand on the queen's brow. Axiana's life force was strong, radiating from her. The priestess leaned back against a pillow of empty sacks and stared up at the blue sky. The sensation of waking from her long life with Kalizkan had been disorientating in the extreme. The old wizard had

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  told her that time had no meaning where they sat, but she had not understood it fully until she woke. It was as if she had slept for decades. The memories of the flight from the palace seemed to belong to another life, a dis­tant existence. Ulmenetha had struggled to recall them. Equally she could not quite remember the fat, frightened woman she had been.

  The girl, Pharis, was holding the infant, and the child Sufia was asleep beside her.

  'Isn't he beautiful?' said Pharis. 'So small, so sweet.' 'He is beautiful,' agreed Ulmenetha. 'And so are you.' The girl glanced up, confused. Her face was thin, pinched and dirty, and her filthy hair hung in greasy rat's tails. Her clothes were rags and there were sores upon her bony shoulders. 'I am not mocking you, Pharis,' said Ulmenetha. 'You have great love within you, and that is a virtue of great beauty. Be sure to support the babe's head, for his neck is not strong.'

  'I will,' she said, happily. 'I am holding a king!' 'You are holding an infant. Titles are bestowed by men, and no title would concern him now. What he needs is love and his mother's milk.'

  Ulmenetha glanced back to where Kebra and Conalin were riding behind the wagon. The boy was riding close to Kebra, listening to the bowman. With the talent Kalizkan had inspired in her Ulmenetha could see so much more than the naked eye would allow. Conalin had been starved of affection all his life, and had never known the love of a father. Kebra was a quiet, lonely man, frightened to commit himself to a wife and family. The two were perfect for one another. She transferred her gaze to Dagorian. The young officer was well to the rear, leading the five spare horses. He was full of fear, and fighting to maintain his courage.

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  You should have remained a priest, thought Ulmenetha, for you are a gentle soul.

  Rising she climbed across to sit beside Bison. He glanced at her and gave a crooked smile. 'How's my boy doing?' he asked.

  'He is sleeping. Where did you learn to birth a child?'

  'Here and there. The camp followers always used to call for me when a babe was due. Only ever had one die on me. Cord strangled it. Almost happened with our little prince. Apart from that, though, the camp whores thought I was a good-luck omen at a birth.'

  The wagon emerged onto open ground and in the distance Ulmenetha could see the awesome majesty of the canyon. 'How did you get so thin?' asked Bison.

  'It is a long story. How did you get so ugly?' She said it with a smile and Bison chuckled.

  'I was born ugly,' he said, 'but I was also born strong. I'm still strong. Stronger than most men half my age.'

  'How old are you?'

  'Fifty,' he lied.

  'You are sixty-six,' she said, 'and I see no reason to be ashamed of the fact. And you are quite right, you are stronger than most men half your age. You are also a better man than you like to admit. So let's have no more stupidity.'

  'Well, I am stupid,' he said. 'Always have been. Nogusta and Kebra they talk about things I don't under­stand. Honour and such like. Philosophy. Goes over my head like a flight of geese. I'm just a soldier. I don't know anything else. I don't want to know anything else. I eat when I'm hungry, piss when my bladder's full, and rut when I can afford the price. That's all life is for me. And it's all I want.'

  'That is just not true,' said Ulmenetha. 'You have

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  friends, and you stand by them. You have ideals, and you live by those. You are not terribly honest, but you are loyal.' She fell silent and studied his profile, then focused as Kalizkan had taught her. Vivid images appeared in her mind, bright with colour. Random scenes from Bison's life sped across her vision. Honing her concentration she slowed them. Most were what she would have expected, lust or violence, drunkenness or debauchery. But, here and there, she found more edifying scenes. She spoke again. 'Six years ago you came upon four men raping a woman. You saved her, and received two stab wounds which almost killed you.'

  'How do you know that? Did Kebra tell you?'

  'No-one needed to tell me. I know many things now, Bison. I can see more clearly than I ever have before. In fact, more clearly than I would wish to. What is your greatest dream?'

  'I don't have dreams.'

  'When you were a child. What did you dream of?'

  'Flying like a bird,' he said, with a wide, gap-toothed grin. 'I'd spread my wings and soar through the sky, feel the wind in my face. I'd be free.'

  The child, Sufia, came climbing over the backrest. 'Did you really have wings?' she asked Bison, as she scrambled onto his lap.

  'I had great big wings,' he said. 'White wings, and I flew over mountains.'

  'I'd like big wings,' said Sufia. 'I'd like white wings. Will you take me flying with you?'

  'I don't fly any more,' he said, ruffling her blond hair. 'When you get old and fat you lose your wings.' He glanced at Ulmenetha. 'Isn't that right?'

  'Sometimes,' she agreed.

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  Sufia snuggled up against Bison, holding on to his heavy, black woollen jerkin. He glanced at Ulmenetha. 'Children like me. They're not so bright, are they?'

  'Children can make mistakes,' she agreed. 'But, in the main, they know a protector.' Ulmenetha gazed fondly down upon the child. Her heart was weak, and, under normal circumstances, she would be unlikely to reach puberty. Reaching out she laid her hand on Sufia's head, and, for the first time, released the power that Kalizkan had taught her. 'There is a force in all of us,' Kalizkan had told her. 'The Chiatze call it tshi. It is invisible, and yet terribly potent. It maintains our lives and our health. It helps us to repair damaged tissue.'

  'Why did it not work for you?' she asked.

  'Man is not intended to be immortal, Ulmenetha. The cancer came on too fast, and too powerfully. However, mastery of the tshi is an invaluable tool for a healer.'

  Ulmenetha focused her energies, flowing her own tshi into the child.

  'Your hand is very hot,' said Sufia. 'It's nice.'

  Ulmenetha relaxed as she felt the child's fluttering heart grow stronger. It was not healed as yet, but it would be.

  'I preferred you with more meat on you,' said Bison. 'But you do look younger.' He was about to speak again but Ulmenetha gave him a warning glance.

  'Remember,' she said, 'no more stupidities.'

  'If you don't ask you don't get,' he said, with a grin.

  Up ahead she saw Nogusta walking his horse towards them. Ulmenetha could sense his concern. The black warrior was a powerful man, not given to despair and negative thoughts. But now his spirits were at a low ebb. Dagorian, Kebra and Conalin rode around the wagon to meet him. Bison hauled on the reins. Swiftly Nogusta

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  told them of the killings at the cabin, and the beast that had pursued him.

  'Did you get a look at it?' asked Bison.

  'No,' said Nogusta. 'Had I waited a heartbeat longer I would have been as dead as the two lovers I found.'

  'You're sure it wasn't just a bear?' said Bison.

  'If so it is the mother of all bears. But no, I do not think it a creature of this world. Nothing I know of - or have heard of - could cut a grown man in half with one sweep.'

  'What do we do then?' asked Dagorian. 'Find another way through?'

  Nog
usta drew in a deep breath. 'I do not see that we can. Firstly the maps do not show a second route. Secondly - even if there are other routes - if the beast was sent against us specifically there may be others of his kind guarding them. And last, but by no means least, we do not have the strength or the weapons to fight, on open ground, the warriors trailing us. And they must be getting close now.'

  'Well, this is all very jolly,' snapped Bison. 'What more bastard luck can we expect? An outbreak of plague among us?'

  'What choices do we have?' asked Kebra. 'We can't go back, we can't go forward, and if we stay here the Krayakin will kill us. For once I'm in agreement with Bison - luck seems to be running against us.'

  'We are still alive,' said Nogusta. 'And we do have choices. The question is, which one gives us the best hope of success.'

  'We cannot go back,' said Ulmenetha. 'Therefore we must face the beast.'

  'With what?' queried Bison.

  'With magick and with lances,' she said.

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  'I like the sound of the magick part,' said Bison.

  'What do you have in mind, lady?' asked Kebra.

  'Explanations will need to wait. One group of the Krayakin are less than two hours behind us. Ride back to the trees and fashion three long lances. Make sure the wood is stout and strong.'

  Kebra swung his horse and rode back to the woods. Dagorian followed him, but Nogusta hesitated.

  'Take the wagon on into the canyon, but do not leave the main road,' Ulmenetha ordered Bison. He glanced at Nogusta for confirmation. The black man nodded. Then he too rode to the woods.

  'If you can kill it with magick,' said Bison, 'why do we need lances?'

  'I cannot kill it,' she told him. 'What I can do is cast a spell that masks our scent and renders us almost invis­ible.'

  'Almost invisible?'

  'If the beast is close he will see a disturbance in the air around us - like a heat haze.'

  T don't want to go near any beasts,' wailed Sufia. Bison lifted her to his shoulder.

  'No beast can get you while old Bison is here,' he said. 'I'll bite his head off.'

  'You haven't got any front teeth,' she pointed out.

  'No, but I've got tough old gums,' he said, with a chuckle.

  The lances they cut were around 8 feet long, strong but unwieldy. Nogusta and Kebra strapped knives to the tips, and Nogusta added more twine around the lower haft, creating a hand grip. Dagorian's lance was more primitive, 7 feet in length the wood sharpened to a jagged point. As the wagon rolled slowly along the ridge

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  road Nogusta and Kebra rode ahead, the bases of their lances resting on the saddle stirrups. There was little conversation. Axiana, Pharis and Sufia sat in the wagon, Conalin with them, his horse tied to the rear.

  'I could have cut a lance,' said the boy.

  'You don't have the skill with horses yet,' said Bison. 'When horses get frightened they take a deal of handling. You couldn't do that and wield a lance.' Conalin was unconvinced, but he said no more.

  The light was fading as they neared the lower road. Nogusta and Kebra drew rein and the black warrior turned his mount and rode back to the wagon. He was about to ask when Ulmenetha needed to cast her spell, but she signalled him to silence. He was momentarily confused. Then she asked him. 'How is your chest?'

  'My chest? It is fine.'

  'No sensation of heat? How strange, for there should be.'

  For a moment he thought she had lost her senses. Then he felt the talisman glowing. Ulmenetha touched her lips then her ear. Nogusta understood immediately. They were being observed, and overheard.

  'I am feeling much better,' he said. 'I think it must have been a spring chill.'

  'Spring chill?' said Bison. 'What the ... ?' Ulmenetha's hand came down upon his in a sharp pinch.

  'Do not speak,' she said, softly. Bison cast a glance at Nogusta and was about to disobey Ulmenetha when Kebra's horse suddenly reared, half pitching the bowman from the saddle. Dropping his lance Kebra clung to the pommel. The horse backed away.

  Upon the road ahead a glowing figure had appeared, almost 7 feet high, black wings spreading from its shoulders, like a massive cloak fluttering in the breeze.

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  The face was dark, wide at the brow, narrow at the chin, an inverted black triangle with a wide gash of a mouth, and high slanted eyes, burning like coals.

  'It is only an image,' whispered Ulmenetha. But Nogusta did not hear her. He drew a throwing knife and hurled it with all his might. The blade flashed through the dusk air, cutting through the apparition and clatter­ing to the road beyond.

  'You cannot harm me, human,' said the demon. The black wings spread wide and it rose into the air, floating close to the wagon. The creature peered inside, his gaze fixed to the babe carried by Axiana. Sufia screamed and buried herself under some blankets. The horses were growing uneasy. The demonic creature hovered for a moment, then drew back. 'It is not necessary for you all to die,' he said. 'What will it achieve? Can you stop me? No. Why then do you struggle on? Behind you - oh so close behind you - are my Krayakin. Ahead is a gogarin. Do you need me to explain the nature of such creatures? Or do the legends persist?'

  'It was a beast with six legs,' said Nogusta. 'It was said to weigh as much as three tall horses.'

  'Five would be closer,' said the apparition. He floated close to Nogusta, the burning eyes glittering. 'Yes, you look like him,' he said, and Nogusta could feel the hatred in the voice. 'The last of his mongrel line.' He moved away again. 'But I was speaking of the gogarin. It is a creature unlike all others upon this earth. Eternally hungry it will eat anything that lives and breathes. Nothing can approach it, for it radiates terror. Strong men fall to their knees at its approach, spilling their urine to drench their leggings. You cannot defeat it with your pitiful spears. I watched you flee from it earlier today. You, at least, understand what I am saying. Your heart

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  was beating like a war drum - and that was without seeing the beast. Soon you will see it. And then you will all die.'

  'What is the alternative you offer?' asked Nogusta.

  'Merely life. For you have already lost. Had you the smallest chance of success I might offer riches, or per­haps even an extra hundred years of youth. I know that would appeal to your bald friend. But I need offer nothing more. The babe is mine. Leave it and its mother by the roadside. Then you can travel on to wherever you choose. My Krayakin will not harm you, and I will draw the gogarin back from this place. You also have my word that no harm will befall the queen.'

  'I do not believe you,' said the warrior.

  'I do not blame you for that,' the apparition told him, 'but it is the truth. I can also say that I will not be dis­pleased should you reject my offer. You cannot stop me taking the babe, and it will give me great pleasure to see you die, Nogusta. Your ancestor - of cursed memory -visited a great evil upon my people, ripping their souls from the joys of this planet, and consigning them to an eternity of Nothing. No breath, no touch of flesh upon flesh, no hunger, no pain, no emotion - no life!' The apparition fell silent for a moment, and seemed to be struggling to contain his anger. 'Ride on,' he said, at last. 'Ride on and die for me. But do you really wish to take your friends to their deaths? They do not carry your blood guilt. They did not betray their race. Do they not deserve a chance to live?'

  'My friends can speak for themselves,' said Nogusta.

  The winged demon floated close to Bison. 'Do you wish to live?' he asked him. Ignoring the demon Bison lifted his buttocks from the driver's seat and broke wind thunderously.

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  'By Heaven, that's better,' he said. 'Are we moving on, or what?'

  'I think we should,' said Ulmenetha, 'the stench is overpowering.'

  'It was those wild onions,' said Bison, apologetically.

  'Not from you . . . fool!' she snapped.

  The demon drew back and hovered before Nogusta. Starfire whinnied and backed away. Nogusta calmed him.
'I would like to stay to watch you die,' said the apparition. 'But the body I have chosen waits for me some miles back - with the Ventrian army. Be assured, however, your passing will be painful. Not as painful, you understand, as I made it for your family. You should have seen them trying to flee the flames. Your wife was running along a corridor, her hair and her dress ablaze. Her screams were delightful. Her flesh burned like a great candle.'

  There was a sudden gust of wind, and the apparition disappeared.

  'That was Anharat, the Demon Lord,' said Ulmenetha. 'He it was who possessed Kalizkan, and brought such evil to the city.'

  Nogusta did not respond at first. His face was streaked with sweat, and his face was set. When he did speak his voice was colder than the tomb. 'He killed my family. He watched them burn.'

  'He has killed many families. Thousands upon thou­sands,' said Ulmenetha. 'His evil is colossal.' Nogusta took a deep, calming breath.

  'What did he mean about my ancestor?'

  'He was talking about Emsharas - his own brother. He it was who cast the first Great Spell.'

  'His brother? Are you saying that my ancestor was a demon?'

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  'I have no answers for you, Nogusta. Little is known of Emsharas, save that he is considered the Father of Healers, and that his magick was holy. He was certainly of the Illohir, the Windborn.'

  'Then I have demon blood in my veins?'

  'Forget about demons!' she snapped. 'That is not important now. Why do you think he came to us? It was to instil fear, to cause torment and disquiet. You must overcome such thoughts. Any anger or rage you feel will only add to our danger, increasing the chances of the gogarin to sense our presence.'

  'I understand,' said Nogusta. 'Let us move on.'

  'When we reach the foot of the slope,' said Ulmenetha, 'you must ride close to the wagon. The spell will only extend a few feet. We must be as quiet as possible.' Nogusta nodded, then rode ahead and retrieved his lance and the thrown dagger.

  'Can we kill this gogarin if necessary?' Bison asked Ulmenetha.

  'I don't know.'

  'Could he really give me another hundred years of youth?'

  'I don't know that either. Does it matter?'

  'Nice thought,' said Bison, lifting the reins and snap­ping them down to the backs of the waiting team. They lurched forward and the wagon moved slowly on down towards the canyon floor.