I turned to the western parapet: the seven spikes were empty, but tied to iron rings set in the base of that low wall lay two pale-skinned women with golden hair. I could see no wounds to their bodies, which were clad in rags, but their hair was matted with blood.
Most pitiful of all were the three children, not one of them more than two years old. They cowered beside their mothers and began to scream hysterically as I approached.
The women made no sound at all, but stared at me with wide eyes as if their wits had fled. I knelt and drew my knife, cutting the ropes that bound their arms and legs.
They made no attempt to move, so I seized one of the women by the hand and pulled her gently to her feet. She stood there uncertainly.
The second woman was harder to lift; the moment she was on her feet she began to shake, and the children wailed even more loudly.
But not loud enough to drown out the sudden sound that came from the north bank of the river: it was the harsh threatening blare of a brass horn.
Garrett was now pointing at the furthest span, where the bridge met the distant bank. ‘Warriors!’ he cried. ‘They’re coming this way!’
I picked up one of the children and seized the arm of the nearer of the two women. ‘Come on!’ I shouted, and began to guide her towards the southern bank. The other woman began to hobble after us. Garrett picked up the remaining two children and carried them, one under each arm.
We’d hardly reached the next span when I saw figures pursuing us and shouting. At this rate we’d be overtaken long before we reached the bank. I released the woman’s arm and thrust the child into her arms. She stood there, cringing, as if expecting to receive a blow.
I tried to smile at her, but in truth it was more of a grimace.
‘That way!’ I shouted, pointing towards the bank. ‘Go on!’
She didn’t move, so I gave her a gentle push. But then Garrett was roaring and shouting and waving his arms at them all like a wild, demented giant. The women and their children recoiled at the sight, and at last began to retreat.
Together Garrett and I turned to face the approaching threat. He drew his longsword and glanced right and left, as if gauging the width from parapet to parapet. He gave a few swings with it and grunted in satisfaction.
‘How many are there?’ I asked.
‘Only nine,’ Garrett said, ‘so hardly worth the sharing. Let’s make it six for me and three for you.’
I unslung my bow, quiver, shield and short sword, setting the first two down close to the parapet. Then I hefted the sword and shield, attempting some practice swings.
‘First strike is mine,’ Garrett said. ‘Brawn before speed!’
I nodded, then stepped back, allowing him plenty of space to meet the first of our foes.
The longsword was more usually used from horseback, and the warrior elite carried two, one in each hand. On foot, it was a far more awkward weapon, and much depended upon rhythm, on using the weight of the sword like a pendulum. But Garrett was an expert with the weapon, and big and strong enough to wield it with devastating effect.
I watched the first warrior running towards Garrett; close to his side he held a spear with a barbed blade. His skin was very pale and he was dressed in skins decorated with animal skulls; his golden hair – the same colour as that of the women – hung in long braids threaded with what appeared to be teeth.
He was passing through a narrow section, with two others close behind. It was only as they emerged that I realized all three were actually sharing the same long spear, holding it like a battering ram.
The force of their combined weight against the massed ranks of an enemy would be formidable, but against the longsword of Garrett it was madness. He simply stepped aside and swung the sword with such force that it took the first man’s head clean off his body, the blade burying itself deep in the chest of the second.
The third released the spear shaft and stumbled to his knees, reaching for the axe at his side, so I stepped forward and despatched him with a swift stabbing blow to the throat. Garrett was still tugging his sword from the body of the second man, so I went forward to meet the next attack.
I waited with my legs slightly apart, balanced on the balls of my feet, my shield held high to protect my head. The warrior in the lead threw an axe at me. It spun over and over, and I deflected it easily. It soared over the parapet and I heard the splash as it hit the water.
Then, fighting my instincts, I whirled right, in amongst our attackers, splitting the first man’s forehead open with the sharp edge of my shield and killing another with a short chopping blow to the neck.
Both men cried out, but I still heard Garrett’s urgent shout of ‘Down!’ and immediately dropped to my knees – just in time to see the longsword flash in a murderous arc through the space where, only a second earlier, my own head had been.
Within seconds it was all over. Three times the blade of Garrett followed its deadly arc and, when I came to my feet, our enemies were all dead or dying.
But then, once again, we heard the blare of a horn from the far bank. Garrett turned and gazed into the distance, then shook his head. ‘There are too many of them,’ he said. ‘You go. I’ll hold them off as long as I can.’
I shook my head. ‘We’ll fight together,’ I insisted.
Garrett placed his longsword on the tiles at his feet and unslung the round shield from his back. ‘I’ll fight there,’ he said, pointing to the place where the parapets drew close together. ‘Only one can get to me at a time. But you go – there’s no choice. One of us has to return or our journey’s been for nothing.’
What Garrett said made sense, but I couldn’t bring myself to abandon him. I could see the enemy warriors racing towards us. After twenty I stopped counting. There were at least thirty of them. We were hopelessly outnumbered. If I stayed, we’d both die.
‘Then let me do it. I’ll hold them while you go,’ I said, trying one last time, but knowing that my words were wasted.
‘I dreamed this,’ cried Garrett. ‘I die here on this bridge. Even if I run, I’ll die before I reach the bank. At least you have a chance. Go now, before it’s too late! Take the map.’
He held it out, and I thrust it into the front of my shirt, and then turned to look at the enemy.
The first man was approaching the place where the bridge narrowed; Garrett lifted his short sword and shield, and stepped forward to meet him. There was the clash of metal upon metal; then a duller sound – that of a blade penetrating cloth, flesh and bone.
I turned and, leaving my bow and quiver behind but holding my shield and sword, began to run towards the southern bank. Ahead, the two women seemed to have halted on the edge of the bridge. Then, to my dismay, I realized that there were enemies on both banks – enemies that had perhaps watched us for some time, waiting until we were trapped at the centre of the bridge. But then I saw that these warriors, who gathered in a semicircle round the women, were darker-skinned and wore armour made of blue metal rings.
Then a blade flashed red in the morning sunlight, and I heard a woman scream. I increased my speed. There were four – maybe five of them. Not too many if I went in hard and fast.
One of them was holding a child up by its leg. I heard one of the women begin to shout, letting out a babble of words.
They were wasted. The child was tossed in a high arc into the water. The woman screamed, her voice high and thin; she sounded on the verge of insanity. The scream was cut off very suddenly, and then the two remaining children were thrown into the water, to be carried away by the current.
The warriors had been too busy with their butchery to notice me. Maybe it hadn’t been a trap after all. I suddenly realized that these men were different to the ones we had fought on the bridge. Those on the northern bank had been trying to rescue their women and children; we had prevented them, and even driven the prisoners towards their blue-clad enemies.
I saw the surprise on these other men’s faces as I lunged right and left with sh
ield and sword. Then I was past them, running up the slope towards a small grove of trees. Let them follow me. I’d welcome it after what they’d done. They were killers of women and children. There were only three left now – I’d pick them off one at a time. The fastest would die first.
The trees grew in a circle. No sooner had I entered the copse than I came to a sudden halt, astonished at what I saw.
There were five people there – four men and a woman. The men were tall, slim and dark-skinned, also dressed in that strange blue armour. Their noses were hooked and prominent, and their faces were all identical. The men flanked the woman, two on each side.
The woman was mounted on a creature unlike anything I’d ever seen before. It was similar in size to a horse, but its legs were thicker and it was almost twice as long. The wild boar might have been a distant cousin: it had a flat snout and sharp tusks that curved upwards, though its eyes looked almost human; they regarded me with a mixture of interest and malevolence. Its body was rounded, but muscles rippled beneath its grey hide, and upon its broad back, on a raised seat crafted from red leather, sat the woman, who stared at me with imperious eyes.
Fascinated, I lowered my sword and shield and studied her. She looked young, hardly out of her teens, but the expression on her face spoke of authority and purpose. Her skin was an astonishing pale green colour, but when I looked at her mouth – remembering tales of mythical creatures beyond the Barrier who were said to need no food, being able to absorb energy directly from the sun – I saw two rows of perfectly formed white teeth, while her lips were painted black – like those of the women in the gallery in Arena 13. Her long black hair was tied back. The belt tied around a dress of simple white cotton bore two ornamental daggers, each handle fashioned to resemble a ram’s head. And at her neck was a narrow black torc studded with small rubies.
Then I noticed the small tattoo on her forehead. It was the leaf of a silver tree fern. It brought back a vivid memory of the formation of the flying creatures.
I suddenly felt dizzy – hardly aware of what I was doing. All thoughts of what had just happened had been erased from my memory.
As if in a dream, I lifted my sword in salute and returned it to its scabbard.
The woman’s mouth smiled at me, but her expression was condescending. Then she extended her arm so that her forefinger was pointing directly at me. A purple spark left the tip and surged towards me.
Then I felt my heart lurch and stop; there was a sudden choking sensation in my throat, and I felt myself falling …
When I opened my eyes again, I was standing near the river, beside the woman and the strange creature she rode. My whole body was shaking and I felt cold. I looked down and saw that I was naked. They’d taken everything from me – my weapons, my chain-mail shirt, clothes and boots.
My memory had come back, and I remembered the map, and was suddenly filled with despair. They’d taken that too. Had all our struggles been for nothing? Had poor Garrett died in vain?
I noticed that my wrists were chained and fastened to the creature’s saddle. Another chain went around my neck, which was being pulled taut from behind, keeping me away from the beast, drawing the other two chains to their full extent.
When I tried to see who was pulling it, I felt something sharp jab me between the shoulder blades and a hot pain shot down my spine – a pain out of all proportion to the force used. It made me gasp and turn away immediately, but not before I’d glimpsed the dark blue chain mail worn by the woman’s attendants. All four were no doubt somewhere behind me.
The woman turned in her seat and looked down at me, and for the first time I saw the cruelty in her eyes.
The beast began to lumber towards the bridge and I was forced to follow, staggering along behind it. As it waddled along, I glanced to my left and saw a circle of pale-faced warriors standing close to the river. They were dressed like those we’d fought earlier, but their expressions were sullen and defiant. But then the woman looked down at them and, as one, they knelt on the grass and bowed low until their foreheads touched the ground.
We headed across the bridge; when we reached a section where it narrowed, the creature’s hide scraped against the stone.
When we reached the central span, to my horror and dismay I saw that Garrett’s head had been stuck on a spike on the parapet. I began to weep, and the woman turned in her saddle and gazed at me again with that cruel smile.
I thought of Garrett: he had dreamed of his death, and that dream had come to pass. He would never ride with a Genthai army. However, I would ensure that his memory lived on; that he hadn’t died in vain. My father’s map might be gone, but I still remembered what it showed. And I resolved to add new details whenever possible. Above all, I was now determined to live. I would survive and return to Midgard with knowledge that would ensure our victory.
Suddenly I was filled with new resolve, and my despair lifted. There was much to learn here, I thought. The warriors we’d fought on the bridge seemed hardly more than barbarians; they would pose no threat to a mounted Genthai army. But the blue-armoured people were a different proposition. What power had the woman used to make me lose consciousness? I wondered. What was its source?
Judging by those who now held me captive, not all who dwelt beyond the Barrier were equally powerful.
It was vital that I learn the extent of the threat they posed.
I had to escape and take that knowledge home.
LEIF THE SCHOLAR
The student must teach and the teacher must learn.
Only through that comes true knowledge.
The History of the Conflict by Eitel the Pessimist
LEIF
On the day following my capture, directly north of the river I was left with a small tribe of the blond-haired people we’d fought on the bridge. At first I thought I’d been handed over to be killed. Then, later, when they fed me generously, I thought slavery would be my fate.
I tried to be cooperative: I wanted to live, and to see Kwin again. How terrible it would be to die so far from home, so far from those I cared about.
However, I was fed well and given exercise, but enough rest to allow my feet to heal – walking without boots had given me blisters – although rarely released from my chains unless under close guard. My captors made no attempt to communicate with me. There were perhaps a couple of hundred in the tribe, living in caves and stone shelters in the lee of the low, rocky hills. They kept pigs and hunted daily; meat was the staple diet.
As the days passed and I settled into a routine, my spirits sank. I missed Garrett, and in my nightmares I saw his head on that spike. I thought only of escape. Reaching the High Wall seemed a hopeless task; I just wanted to return home with the knowledge I had.
My captors had given me skins to wear, but one morning they took me outside into the cold and stripped those clothes from me, driving me at spear-point into the forest. Once again it seemed as if I was facing death.
But then, ahead of me, I saw the woman sitting on the great beast, accompanied by the same four identical warriors in blue armour. Once more I was chained to the beast and we headed north.
Towards dusk we emerged from the trees and descended onto an arid plain which had not been marked on my father’s map. Its pale red dust was strewn with fragments of flint, and at its centre stood a saucer-shaped, rocky platform, bronze in colour, and embedded with myriad fragments of crystal, which glittered in the light of the dying sun.
As we approached, I made out thin, twisted spires, and at first I thought we were approaching a citadel like Hob’s. But then I saw that this was much smaller, little more than a roughly circular elevation supporting a number of crooked towers that reminded me of termite mounds. The whole structure seemed to have been shaped by something other than human hands.
My chains were removed and I was prodded at spear-point towards a narrow opening – a dark vertical crack in the rock wall. As I entered, I looked at the woman, but she was staring up at the largest of the
towers. Two of the blue-clad warriors stood in attendance on either side of the beast, while the remaining two escorted me inside.
I found myself in a dark, narrow passageway that led steeply down. There was some light, but it was impossible to detect its source and I was immediately aware of a humid warmth, which was welcome after the chill outside. It felt like a summer night, with a pleasant breeze.
I was also aware of sounds that were almost musical; it was as if they were linked to the breeze, even caused by the circulation of air. They rose and fell, a symphony of cries and wails and sighs, all tinged with sadness. I felt a sudden pain as I remembered Garrett, who had died so bravely.
Down and down we went, a spear-point never far from my back, until at last we entered a vast circular chamber. There were metal doors set around it; the nearest of these was opened and I was prodded inside, the door clanging shut behind me.
I heard the footsteps of my two captors receding, so I examined the door, but it had no handle on my side. I traced its cool metal edge with my fingers, but it fitted tightly against the wall and there was no way to get it open.
I turned and peered into the interior of my cell. Slowly my eyes adjusted to the gloom and I discovered that it wasn’t a cell at all but a narrow passageway like the one I’d followed earlier. This also led steeply downwards, and I stepped along warily until it opened out into a large square chamber, almost as big as the circular one I’d just left. It had no windows and, again, no visible source of illumination, but there was enough light to see by – though what I saw filled me with disquiet.
Set high in each of the four walls were metal rings, slightly thicker than a human forearm; at the very centre of the floor was a circular opening.
I approached this carefully, knelt at its edge and peered down. I saw stone steps spiralling down into the darkness, and a sudden irrational fear began to overpower me at the thought of what might be waiting there. My terror was that of a child stuck in a nightmare where all courage has fled and there is only the desperate need to awake.
The Warrior Page 7
