They sat in pleasant silence for a while and Conalin gazed around the enormous building. 'What was this place?' he asked.
'I don't know,' admitted Kebra. 'But it has the feel of a temple, don't you think?'
'I have never been in one,' said Conalin. Sufia was sitting on the floor close by, rubbing at the stones with the ragged sleeve of her dress.
'There's pictures on the floor,' she said, happily.
Ulmenetha moved to her side, kneeling down. 'They are called mosaics,' she told the child. 'They are created with lots of coloured stones.'
'Come look!' Sufia called out to Conalin. He did so. There was no way of telling what the original mosaic had depicted, for many of the coloured stones had been shattered by falling masonry from the ceiling, the rest covered by the dust of centuries. There was a tiny patch of blue, and a line of red. It could have been a flower, or a section of sky.
'It's very pretty,' he told her.
'I shall clean it all up,' she said, with the confidence of the very young, and began to scrub at a tiny section.
Tt will take you weeks,' he said, staring around the vast temple.
'Weeks,' she repeated. 'That's all right.' She rubbed at the stones for a few more seconds then sat back. T'm hungry now.'
Conalin picked her up, and kissed her cheek. 'Then let us find you some food,' he said. Perching her on his shoulders he walked back out into the sunlight. Pharis was sitting on the steps. Off to the left was a line of seven wagons. Cookfires had been lit close by, and
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the three of them moved off in search of a meal.
As they approached the cookfires an elderly soldier called out to them. The man had a wicked scar upon his face, and a black patch over what had once been his right eye. Beside him was a trestle table, stacked with pewter plates. 'You look in need of something hot and savoury,' he said. Moving to a huge, black cooking pot he ladled thick stew into three deep plates and handed them to the youngsters. 'Take some spoons,' he said, 'but bring them back, with the plates, when you're finished. Then I've some honey cakes for you.'
Conalin thanked the man. The soup was thick and nourishing, though with too much salt for the boy's liking. But he was famished, and consumed it with relish. The old soldier did not wait for them to return the utensils, but came over with a plate of honey cakes. Sufia grabbed two, then looked anxiously up at Conalin, waiting for a rebuke. When none came she happily devoured them.
'Why did you come here?' Conalin asked the soldier.
'White Wolf brought us,' said the man.
'Yes, but why?'
'He didn't say. Just offered us twenty gold pieces a man. Said there might be a battle.'
'There will be,' said Conalin.
'Good. Wouldn't want to come all this way for nothing,' said the soldier. Collecting the plates and spoons he moved away. Moments later other soldiers began to file past the cookfires, and soon the area was crowded. Everyone seemed at ease, and many of the soldiers took time to speak with the youngsters. Conalin was confused.
'They seem to be looking forward to fighting,' he said to Pharis. 'I don't understand it.'
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'It is what they do,' replied the girl. 'It is what they are. We should take some food back to the queen.' 'Can I carry it?' asked Sufia. 'Of course you can, little one.' 'I won't spill any,' she promised. 'Not even a drop.'
Axiana watched as four veteran soldiers erected Banelion's tent at the far end of the temple. Simple furniture was carried in, a hinged bed, several canvas-backed chairs and a folding table. Then they swept the floor inside and laid simple rugs upon it. Not once did the men look at her. It was as if she was invisible. While they were working the youngsters returned. The blonde child, Sufia, brought her a bowl of soup. She thanked her with a smile, and turned away from the soldiers while she ate.
Some distance away Antikas Karios and Kebra were sitting beside the sleeping figure of Nogusta. The black man's wounds were healing, but his continuing weakness was a source of concern.
As Axiana finished her meal the tall, slim, armoured figure of Banelion entered the temple, followed by two soldiers carrying a wooden chest. The White Wolf approached the queen and bowed low. 'I am pleased to see you safe, your highness,' he said. 'My tent is yours, and I took the liberty of bringing some spare clothes for you.' Gesturing the men forward he had the chest placed on the dais before her, and opened. The first item she saw was a dress of sky blue satin. 'I do not have an eye for fashion, your highness,' said Banelion, 'but I borrowed these from a noble lady in Marain. It is a small town, and there was little to choose from.'
'It was kind of you, sir, and I thank you.' Ulmenetha appeared alongside her, taking the sleeping baby from the queen's arms. Axiana reached out and stroked the
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dress. It was wonderfully soft. Then she noticed - against the clean pure satin - how dirty her hands were. For the first time in days she felt embarrassment.
'There is an antechamber just beyond where the tent is placed,' said Banelion. 'There is a spring there. Some of my men have prepared a fire, and warmed some water. When you are ready you and your maidservant can refresh yourselves. I brought a small amount of scented oil with me to perfume the water.'
Before Axiana could reply another soldier entered, carrying a rough made crib, and a small, woven mattress. Setting it beside the queen he placed the mattress within it. 'Best I could do in the time, my lady,' he said, with a bow. Ulmenetha placed the babe within it. The child settled contentedly on the mattress, his sleep undisturbed.
The unexpected kindness left Axiana close to tears. She smiled at the soldier. 'You are most kind.' The man blushed and backed away.
The White Wolf gazed down at the babe, a far-away look in his eye. Then he straightened. 'There are some clothes for an infant at the bottom of the chest,' he said.
'You seem to have thought of everything,' said Axiana. 'I am most grateful. But tell me, how is it that you are here in our hour of need? We are a long way from the sea.'
He glanced at Ulmenetha. 'First Kalizkan appeared to me in a dream, then this lady came. She told me of your peril, and the threat to your son. She asked me to bring my men to this city. I did so willingly. And, if it is humanly possible I shall take you on to Drenan.'
Axiana sat quietly for a moment, gathering her thoughts. For the last few days she had been like a straw in the wind, swept along without the benefit of choice. Her life as a queen had meant less than nothing in the
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wilderness, and she had given birth to her child while kneeling in the mud like a peasant. But, here and now, was the moment of decision. Was she still a queen? Would her son live to find his destiny. She looked into the pale eyes of the White Wolf and saw the strength there, the iron will that had carried Skanda to a score of victories. 'And if I do not wish to go to Drenan?' she said, at last.
'Drenan would be safest,' he said.
'You swore an oath to Skanda. Do you accept his son as his rightful heir?'
'I do, lady.'
'Then I ask you again, as the mother to the king, what if I do not wish to go to Drenan?'
She knew this was difficult for him. Continued war between the two nations was more than likely. If Axiana remained in Ventria the Drenai would almost certainly declare independence. If she went to Drenan the Ventrians would find another emperor. At least with her and the child in Drenan the Drenai would have legitimate cause to reinvade Ventria. She held to his iron gaze without flinching. He smiled. 'If not Drenan,' he said, 'then I will escort you to wherever you wish to travel. You are not my hostage, your highness, nor my prisoner. I am your servant, and will do whatever you bid.'
Axiana rose. 'I will think on what you have said, general. But first I would like to bathe and lay aside these garments of travel.' He bowed and one of the soldiers stepped forward to lead the queen and Ulmenetha towards the antechamber.
The White Wolf strode to where Nogusta lay. Antikas Karios and Kebra rose. Bane
lion gave Antikas a cold look, then knelt beside the wounded warrior. Nogusta
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opened his eyes as Banelion took his hand. 'Am I always to rescue you, my boy?' he said, fondly.
'It would seem so. It is good to see you, general.' Nogusta's smile faded. 'Bison didn't make it.'
'I know. The priestess showed me his death in a dream. It was valiant, and no less than I would have expected from him. He was an obdurate man, and I liked him not at all. But he had heart. I admired that.'
Nogusta relaxed and closed his eyes. 'It is not over, general. There are three thousand Ventrians riding with the Demon Lord. They think he is Malikada.'
'I wish he was,' said Banelion, sourly. 'I'd have dearly-loved to slit his treacherous throat.'
'A feeling I am sure he would have reciprocated,' said Antikas Karios. The White Wolf ignored him.
'I am not troubled by the numbers of the enemy,' he told Nogusta. 'I am more concerned that they are being duped. Ulmenetha tells me that if the Demon Lord is successful the soldiers riding with him will - like Malikada - be possessed and destroyed. It is bad enough having to kill men in a good cause. But those Ventrians are going to die for the wrong reasons.'
'Good of you to concern yourself,' said Antikas, his words edged with sarcasm.
Once again Banelion ignored him. 'Rest now,' he told Nogusta. 'Regain your strength. I will do all that needs to be done.' Then he rose and his pale eyes rested, for a moment, on Antikas. 'I watched you fight alongside Dagorian on the bridge,' he said. 'I loved that boy, and it was good of you to say that prayer for him. I am not a religious man, but I would like to think that a light did appear for him, and lead him to your palace.' Without waiting for a response he strode away, calling his soldiers after him.
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'He hates me, yet he praises me,' whispered Antikas. 'Truly he is a strange man.'
'Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't,' said Kebra. 'One rarely knows what the White Wolf is thinking. That's what makes him the best. There's never been a general like him.'
'You think he genuinely cares about what happens to the Ventrian troops?'
'Oh yes,' Kebra told him. 'He does not revel in slaughter. There is no battle madness in him.'
Antikas looked down. Nogusta was sleeping again. He knelt beside the black man and looked closely at his face. A thin sheen of sweat lay upon the skin, and snow white bristles were showing on his shaven head. 'It is easy to forget how old he is,' said Antikas, with a sigh. He looked up and smiled at Kebra. 'I watched him fight Cerez, and I marvelled at his skill. I thought him to be around forty years of age. Had I known he was this old I would have bent my knee to him.'
Glancing down once more he saw the talisman on Nogusta's chest begin to glow, the silver moon in the golden hand, shining like a tiny lantern.
'What does that mean?' asked Antikas.
'Evil is near,' said Kebra, lifting his hand and making the sign of the Protective Horn.
The White Wolf stood outside the ruins and once more cast his eyes over the landscape. There was a line of hills to the left and right, thinly covered by trees and brush, but the ground was flat and uncluttered between the hills. The Ventrian army was mainly cavalry, and he pictured all possible lines of attack.
He glanced back at the ruins. They could, of course, decline a pitched battle here, and move around the ruins,
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coming at him from all sides, but he thought this unlikely. Cavalry could not operate effectively in the ruins themselves, and by spreading themselves thin they would hand the advantage to the Drenai foot soldiers. No, the best chance of victory for the enemy lay in a direct frontal assault, seeking to sunder the line and scatter the defenders.
Banelion summoned his officers to him, and began to give out orders. They listened without comment, then moved back to their men.
The sun was sinking towards the mountain peaks, and there was perhaps an hour before dusk.
Ulmenetha walked out to stand alongside the old man. 'How is Nogusta?' he asked.
'A little better, I think.'
'Good. It is bad enough that Dagorian had to die. I dearly want Nogusta to survive.'
'Did you mean what you said to the queen?' she asked him, her frank blue eyes meeting his iron gaze.
'I always mean what I say,' he told her. 'I think she would be safer in Drenan, but I am her servant, and it is not for me to gainsay her wishes.'
'But you do foresee problems if she decides to remain in Ventria?'
'Of course. The Drenai nobles will either elect a new king, or declare for a new republic. As for the Ventrians - will they accept Skanda's heir, without an army to back his claim? I doubt it.' He raised his arm and gestured to the surrounding land. 'But then the mountains will still be here, and the rivers will run to the sea. It does not matter to Nature who rules or who dies. However, these are problems for another day.'
'Indeed they are,' she agreed. 'I have not thanked you
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for coming to our aid. I do so now. My gratitude is more than my words can convey.'
'You needn't thank me, lady. All my life has been occupied by thoughts of duty and responsibility. I am too old to change now.'
'Even so you have pledged most of your fortune to the men who now follow you. Not many would have done that.'
'I think you would be surprised at how many would do exactly that. It has become fashionable to believe that all actions have a cynical base. That's what comes of believing the lies of politicians. I have lived long, Ulmenetha, and I have seen much. There is among many people a desire to help others. Perhaps it is this which binds us all together. Dagorian and Bison gave their lives to protect the mother and child. They did it willingly, with no thought of profit.'
'You say that, and yet your men have followed you here for the promise of gold. Is this not at odds with your philosophy?'
'Not at all. I offered them the gold because a soldier is worth his pay. But had I been penniless and asked them to follow me, most would have. Now let us speak of more pressing matters. I have seen your magick, but not your power. Is there any way in which you might help us tonight?'
'I cannot kill,' she explained. 'Land magick is of a healing nature. If I drew fire from the land and used it against the Ventrians the power would vanish from me instantly.'
'I was not thinking about using it against a human foe,' he said.
'There is nothing I can do to hurt Anharat. He is too powerful.'
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Banelion fell silent, staring out once more over the battleground. 'There is no doubt that we can withstand their charges,' he said. 'They will impale themselves on our spears, seeking to break through. They will not succeed. But I would like to avoid unnecessary casualties.'
'I do not see how that can be achieved,' she admitted.
'I think I do,' he told her, 'but I do not know whether your power can achieve it.'
Nogusta awoke just before dusk. His mouth was dry and his left shoulder throbbed with pain. He winced as he sat up. The interior of the temple was gloomy now, save for two lanterns which burned in a tent by the far wall. Nogusta pushed himself to his feet, and, for a moment, felt light headed and dizzy. Twenty feet away Conalin was sitting on some rubble, drinking water from a pottery cup. Nogusta called him over.
The black man sat down as the boy moved alongside. 'I want you to take Bison's sword,' he said.
'Why?'
'If the enemy breaks through then we will be the last line of defence.'
Conalin gazed up at the black warrior, noting his weakness. 'I'll get you some water,' he said. The boy ran off to the antechamber and returned with a full cup of cool, clear water. Nogusta drank gratefully. Then he handed Conalin the scabbarded short sword. The boy flipped the belt around his waist, but it was too big. Using his dagger Nogusta made a new hole and shortened the sword belt. Conalin buckled it into place.
'Draw it,' said Nogusta. The boy did so.
'It
is heavier than I thought,' said Conalin.
'Remember it is a stabbing blade, not a cleaver. When
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your enemy is close thrust towards the heart. Let me see you practise.' Conalin made several clumsy lunges. 'That's good,' said Nogusta. 'We'll make a fine swordsman of you, given time. But thrust off your lead foot. That will put your body weight behind the movement.'
Conalin grinned, and tried again. This time the thrust was smooth and swift. He looked at Nogusta. 'Your talisman is glowing,' he said.
'I know.'
Pharis and Sufia ran in to the doorway of the temple. 'They're here! So many!' shouted Pharis. They ran back outside.
Conalin went to join them, but Nogusta called him back. 'I want you to wait with me,' he said, softly.
'I just wanted to see them.'
'It is important that you stay.' Nogusta turned away from the boy and climbed to the octagonal dais, then sat back upon the stone altar placed there. 'This is one of the oldest buildings anywhere in the world. Most of the city was built after it. Like the palace back in Usa it was said to have been erected in a single night by a giant. I don't believe it, of course, but it is a pretty tale when heard in full.' He took a deep breath. 'This wound is bothersome,' he said.
'Why do you not want to see the battle?' asked Conalin, stepping up to the dais. 'Antikas, Kebra and Ulmenetha are all there. Why should we not go?'
'I have seen battles, Conalin. I had hoped never to see another. Kebra tells me you want to work with horses. Is that right?'
'Yes, I do.'
'It is my plan to return to the northern mountains of Drenan and find the descendants of the herds my father raised. I will rebuild our house. It was set in a beautiful
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location. My wife loved it there, especially in spring, when the fruit trees were in blossom.'
'Did she die?'
'Yes, she died. All my family died. I am the last of my line.' He could see that the boy was anxious to leave, and decided to distract him. 'Would you like to see some magick?' he asked.
'Yes.'
Carefully Nogusta lifted the talisman from around his neck and looped it over the boy's head. It settled neatly into place around his neck. 'Where is the magick?' said the boy.
Gemmell, David - Drenai 08 - Winter Warriors (v1.0) Page 34
