The Legend of the Deathwalker

Chapter Eleven

Druss awoke to see the dawn sunlight shining through the window of the tomb. Never had he been happier to witness the birth of a new day. Sieben moved alongside him, and Nosta Khan edged forward, blocking the sunlight. 'Speak!' said the shaman. 'Did you succeed?'

'Aye,' muttered Druss, sitting up. 'They were united.'

'Did you ask about the Eyes of Alchazzar?'

'No.'

'What?' stormed the shaman. 'Then what was the purpose of this insane journey?'

Ignoring him, Druss stood and walked to where Talisman lay sleeping. Laying a huge hand on the young man's shoulder, Druss called to him. Talisman's dark eyes opened. 'Did we win?' he asked.

'We won, laddie, after a fashion.' Quietly Druss told him about the appearance of the angels, and the second separation.

Talisman pushed himself to his feet. 'I hope she finds him,' he said, and walked from the building, followed by Nosta Khan.

'Their gratitude brings a tear to my old eyes,' said Sieben sourly.

Druss shrugged. 'It is done. That is what counts.'

'So, tell me all.'

'I don't think so, poet. I want no songs about this.'

'No songs — you have my word of honour,' lied the poet.

Druss chuckled. 'Maybe later. For now I need some food, and a long, slow drink of cool water.'

'Was she beautiful?'

'Exceptionally. But she had a hard face,' said Druss, striding away. Sieben followed him out into the sunlight as Druss stood, gazing up at the rich blue of the sky. 'The Void is an ugly place, devoid of colour save for the red of flame, and the grey of stone and ash and sky. It is a chilling thought that we must all walk it one day.'

'Chilling. Absolutely,' agreed Sieben. 'Now the story, Druss. Tell me the story.'

Above them on the ramparts, with Gorkai and Nosta Khan beside him, Talisman gazed down at Druss and the poet. 'He should have died there,' said Nosta Khan. 'His life force was almost gone. But it surged back.'

Talisman nodded. 'I have never seen the like,' he admitted. 'Watching Druss and Oshikai together, battling demons and monsters. . it was awesome. From the moment they met they were like sword brothers, and when they fought side by side it seemed they had known each other for an eternity. I could not compete, shaman. I was like a child among men. And yet I felt no bitterness. I felt. . privileged.'

'Aye,' whispered Gorkai, 'to have fought beside Oshikai Demon-bane is privilege indeed.'

'Yet we are no closer to the Eyes,' snapped Nosta Khan. 'A great warrior he may be, but he is a fool, Shaoshad would have told him had he but asked!'

'We will find them, or we won't! I'll lose no more sleep over it,' said Talisman. Leaving the shaman, he moved down the rampart steps and crossed the open ground to the lodging house.

Zhusai was asleep in the bed and Talisman sat beside her, stroking her hair. Her dark eyes opened, and she gave a sleepy smile. 'I waited until Gorkai told me you were safe; then I slept.'

'We are all safe,' he told her, 'and Shul-sen will haunt you no more.' He fell silent. Sitting up, she took his hand, and saw the sorrow in his eyes.

'What is it, Talisman? Why so sad?'

'Their love lasted an eternity,' he said, his voice low. 'Yet for us there will be no joining. All my life I have longed to help the Uniter band our people together. I thought there was no greater cause. You fill my mind, Zhusai. I know now that when the Uniter takes you I will not be able to follow him. I could not.'

'Then let us defy the prediction,' she said, taking him in her arms. 'Let us be together.'

Gently but firmly he took hold of her arms, drawing away from her. 'I cannot do that either. My duty forbids it. I shall tell Nosta Khan to take you away from here. Tomorrow.'

'No! I will not go.'

'If you truly love me you will, Zhusai. I need to clear my mind for the battle ahead.' Rising, he left her and returned to the compound. For the next hour he toured the fortifications, checking the repairs to the ramparts. Lastly he sent Quing-chin and three riders to scout for the enemy.

'Do not engage them, my friend,' he told Quing-chin. 'I need you here when the battle begins.'

'I will be here,' the warrior promised. And he rode from the fort.

Gorkai approached Talisman. 'You should take the woman,' he said softly.

Talisman turned on him angrily. 'You were listening?'

'Yes. Every word,' agreed Gorkai amiably. 'You should take her.'

'And what of duty? What of the fate of the Nadir?'

Gorkai smiled. 'You are a great man, Talisman, but you are not thinking this through. We won't survive here, we are all going to die. So if you wed her, she will be a widow in a few days anyway. Nosta Khan says he can spirit her away. Good. Then the Uniter will wed your widow. So how will destiny be changed?'

'What if we win?'

'You mean what if the puppy-dog devours the lion?' Gorkai shrugged. 'My view on that is simple, Talisman. I follow you. If the Uniter wants my loyalty, then let him be here fighting with us! Last night you united Oshikai and Shul-sen. Look around you. There are men here of five tribes. You have united them — that's enough of a Uniter for me.'

'I am not the man prophesied.'

'I do not care. You are the man that's here. I am older than you, boy, and I have made many mistakes. You are making one now, regarding Zhusai. True love is rare. Take it where you find it. That is all I have to say.'

Druss sat quietly on the ramparts, gazing around at the defenders as they continued their work on the walls, carrying rocks to hurl down on advancing infantrymen. There were now just under two hundred fighting men, the bulk of them refugees from the Curved Horn. Nuang Xuan had sent his people to the east, but several women remained behind, Niobe among them. The old man waved at Druss, then climbed the broken steps to the ramparts. He was breathing heavily when he reached the top. 'A fine day, axeman,' he said, drawing in a deep breath.

'Aye,' agreed Druss.

'It is a good fort now, yes?'

'A good fort with old gates,' said Druss. 'That's the weak spot.'

'That is my position,' said Nuang, his face devoid of expression. 'Talisman has told me to stand among the defenders at that point. If the gate is breached we are to fill it with bodies.' He forced a smile. 'A long time since I have known such fear — but it is a good feeling.'

Druss nodded. 'If the gate is breached, old man, you will find me beside you.'

'Ha! Then there will be plenty killing.' Nuang's expression softened. 'You will be fighting your own people again. How does this sit with you?'

Druss shrugged. 'They are not my people, and I do not go hunting them. They are coming for me. Their deaths are on their own heads.'

'You are a hard man, Druss. Nadir blood, maybe.'

'Maybe.' Nuang saw his nephew, Meng, below and called out to him. Without a word of farewell the old man strolled back down the steps. Druss transferred his gaze to the west and the line of hills. The enemy would be here soon. He thought of Rowena, back at the farm, and the days of work among the herds, the quiet of the nights in their spacious cabin. Why is it, he wondered, that when I am away from her I long for her company, and when I am with her I yearn for the call to arms? His thoughts ranged back to his childhood, travelling with his father, trying to escape the infamy of Bardan the Slayer. Druss glanced down at Snaga, resting against the battlement wall. The dread axe had belonged to his grandfather, Bardan. It had been demon-possessed then, and had turned Bardan into a raging killer, a butcher. Druss, too, had been touched by it. Is that why I am what I am, he thought? Even though the demon had long since been exorcized, still its malice had worked on him through the long years when he searched for Rowena.

Not normally introspective, Druss found his mood darkening. He had not come to the lands of the Gothir for war, but to take part in the Games. Now, through no fault of his own, he was waiting for a powerful army, and desperate to find two healing jewels that would bring Klay back to health.

'You look angry, old horse,' said Sieben, moving alongside him. Druss looked at his friend. The poet was wearing a pale blue shirt, with buttons of polished bone. His baldric was freshly polished, the knife-handles gleaming in their sheaths. His blond hair was newly combed, and held in place by a headband at the centre of which an opal was set.

'How do you do it?' asked Druss. 'Here we are in a dust-blown wilderness, and you look as if you've just stepped from a bathhouse?'

'Standards must always be maintained,' said Sieben, with a broad grin. 'These savages need to see how civilized men behave.'

Druss chuckled. 'You lift my spirits, poet. You always have.'

'Why so gloomy? War and death are but a few days away. I would have thought you would have been dancing for joy.'

'I was thinking of Klay. The jewels aren't here, and I can't keep my promise to him.'

'Oh, don't be too sure of that, old horse. I have a theory — but we'll say no more of it until the time is right.'

'You think you can find them?'

'As I said, I have a theory. But now is not the time. Nosta Khan wanted you to die, you know, and you almost did. We cannot trust him, Druss. Nor Talisman. The jewels are too important to them.'

'You are right there,' grunted Druss. 'The shaman is a loathsome wretch.'

'What's that?' exclaimed Sieben, pointing to the line of hills. 'Oh, sweet Heaven, they are here!'

Druss narrowed his eyes. A line of Lancers in bright armour were riding single file down the hillside. A cry went up on the walls and warriors ran from the com-pound to take their places, bows in hand.

'They are riding ponies,' muttered Druss. 'What in Hell's name. .?'

Talisman and Nosta Khan came alongside Druss. The riders beyond broke into a gallop and thundered across the plain with their lances held high. On each lance was a spitted head.

'It is Lin-tse!' shouted Talisman. The Nadir defenders began to cheer and shout as the thirty riders slowed to a canter and rode along the line of the wall, lifting their lances and showing their grisly trophies. One by one they thrust the lances into the ground, then rode through the newly opened gates. Lin-tse jumped from his pony and removed the Gothir helm. Warriors streamed from the walls to surround him and his Sky Riders.

Lin-tse began to chant in the Nadir tongue. He leapt and danced, to wild cheering from the warriors. On the battlements above Sieben watched in fascination, but could understand none of the words. He turned to Nosta Khan. 'What is he saying?'

'He is telling of the slaughter of the enemy, and how his men rode the sky to defeat them.'

'Rode the sky? What does it mean?'

'It means the first victory is ours,' snapped the shaman. 'Now be silent so I can listen.'

'Irritating man,' muttered Sieben, sitting back alongside Druss.

Lin-tse's story took almost a quarter of an hour to complete, and at the close the warriors swept in around him, lifting him shoulder-high. Talisman sat quietly until the roar of noise died down. When Lin-tse was lowered to the ground, he walked to Talisman and gave a short bow. 'Your orders were obeyed,' he said. 'Many Lancers are dead, and I have their armour.'

'You did well, my brother.'

Talisman strode to the rampart steps and climbed them, swinging back to stare down at the gathered men.

'They can be beaten,' he said, still speaking Nadir. 'They are not invincible. We have tasted their blood, and we will taste more. When they come to despoil the Shrine we will stop them. For we are Nadir, and our day is dawning. This is but the beginning. What we do here will become part of our legends. The story of your heroism will spread on the wings of fire to every Nadir tribe, every camp and village. It will bring the Day of the Uniter closer. And one day we will stand before the walls of Gulgothir, and the city itself will tremble before us.' Slowly he raised his right arm, with fist clenched. 'Nadir we!' he shouted. The warriors followed him, and the chant was taken up.

'Nadir we,

youth bom,

blood letters,

axe urielders,

victors still.'

'Chills the blood, rather,' observed Sieben.

Druss nodded. 'He's a clever man. He knows there are disasters to come, and he's filling them with pride at the outset. They'll fight like devils for him now.'

'I didn't know you could understand Nadir?'

'I can't. . but you don't need to be a linguist to understand what's happening here. He sent out Lin-tse to blood the enemy. To give them a victory. To bond them together. He's probably just told them they are all heroes, and that together they can withstand any force. Something like that.'

'And can they?'

'No way to judge, poet. Not until the first deaths. A fighting force is like a sword-blade. You can't test it until it has passed through fire.'

'Yes, yes, yes,' said Sieben irritably, 'but apart from the war-like analogies, what is your feeling? You know men. I trust your judgement.'

'I don't know these men. Oh, they are ferocious, right enough. But they are not disciplined — and they are superstitious. They have no history of success to fall back upon, to lift them in the dark hours. They have never defeated the Gothir. Everything depends on the first day of battle. Ask me again if we survive that!'

'Damn, but you are gloomy today, my friend,' said Sieben. 'What is it?'

'This is not my war, poet. I have no feeling for it, you know? I fought alongside Oshikai. I know that it doesn't matter a damn to him what happens to his bones. This is a battle over nothing, and nothing will be achieved by it, win or lose.'

'I think you may be wrong there, old horse. All this talk of a Uniter is important to these people. You say they have no history of success to fall back upon — well, perhaps this will be the first for them.' Sieben hoisted himself to the wall and sat looking at his friend. 'But you know all this. There's something more, isn't there, Druss? Something deeper.'

Druss gave a wry smile, then rubbed his huge hand over his black beard. 'Aye, there is. I don't like them, poet. It is that simple. I have no affinity with these tribesmen. I don't know how they think, or what they feel. One thing is for damned sure, they don't think like us.'

'You like Nuang, and Talisman. They are both Nadir,' Sieben pointed out.

'Yes, I know. I can't make sense of it.'

Sieben chuckled. 'It's not hard, Druss. You are Drenai, born and raised — the greatest race on earth. That's what they told us. Civilized men in a world of savages. You had no trouble fighting alongside the Ventrians, but then they are like us, round-eyed and tall. We share a common mythology. But the Nadir are descended from the Chiatze and with them we share nothing that is obvious. Dogs and cats, Druss. Or wolves and lions if you prefer. But I think you are wrong to believe they don't think like us, or feel like us. They just show things differently, that's all. A different culture base.'

'I am not a bigot,' said Druss defensively.

Sieben laughed. 'Of course you are, it is bred into you. But you are a good man, Druss, and it won't make a damn bit of difference to the way you behave. Drenai teachings may have lodged in your head, but you've a fine heart. And that will always carry you through.'

Druss relaxed, and felt the tension flow from him. 'I hope you are right,' he said. 'My grandfather was a butchering killer; his atrocities haunt me still. I never want to be guilty of that kind of evil. I never want to be fighting on the wrong side. The Ventrian War was just, I believe that, and it meant something. The people now have Gorben as a leader, and he is as great a man as I ever met.'

'Perhaps,' said Sieben doubtfully. 'History will judge him better than you or I. But if you are concerned about this current. . vileness, put your mind at rest. This is a Shrine, and here lie the bones of the greatest hero the Nadir have ever known. This place means something to all their people. The men who are coming serve a mad Emperor, and they seek to despoil this place for no other purpose than their desire to humiliate the tribes, to keep them in their place. The Source knows how I hate violence, but we are not on the wrong side in this, Druss. By Heaven, we're not!'

Druss clapped him on the shoulder. 'You're beginning to sound like a warrior,' he said, with a wide grin.

'Well, that's because the enemy haven't arrived yet. When they do, you'll find me hiding in an empty flour barrel.'

'I don't believe that for a moment,' Druss told him.

In a small room alongside the makeshift hospital, Zhusai sat quietly as Talisman and Lin-tse discussed the raid. The two men were physically very different; Lin-tse was tall, his solemn face showing his mixed-blood ancestry — the eyes only barely slanted, the cheek and jaw-bones heavy. His hair too was not the jet-black of the Nadir, but tinged with auburn streaks. Talisman, his hair drawn back into a tight pony-tail, looked every inch the Nadir warrior — his skin pale gold, his face flat, the dark eyes expressionless. And yet, thought Zhusai, there was a similarity that was not born of the physical; an aura almost that spoke of brotherhood. Was it, she wondered, the shared experience in the Bodacas Academy, or the desire to see the Nadir free and proud once more? Perhaps both, she thought.

'They will be here tomorrow afternoon. No later,' said Lin-tse.

'There is nothing more we can do. The warriors are as ready now as they will ever be.'

'But will they hold, Talisman? I have never heard much that is good of the Curved Horn. And as for the Lone Wolves. . well, they seem nervous without their leader. And I see the groups do not mix at all.'

'They will hold,' Talisman told him. 'And as for what you have heard of the Curved Horn, I wonder what they have heard of the Sky Riders. It is not our custom to think well of tribal enemies. Though I note you have not mentioned the Fleet Ponies. Could that be because our friend Quing-chin leads them?'

Lin-tse gave a tight smile. 'I take your point. The axeman looks like a fighting man.'

'He is. I have walked the Void with him, my friend, and believe me he is awesome to behold.'

'Even so I feel uncomfortable with a gajin within the walls. Is he a friend?'

'To the Nadir? No. To me? Perhaps. I am glad that he is here. He has an indomitable feel about him.' Talisman stood. 'You should go and rest, Lin-tse. You have earned it. I wish I could have seen you and your men leap the chasm. Truly you were Sky Riders in that moment. Men will sing of it in years to come.'

'Only if we survive, general.'

'Then we must, for I would like to hear that song myself.'

Lin-tse rose and the two men gripped hands. Then Lin-tse bowed to Zhusai and left the room. Talisman slumped back to his seat.

'You are more tired than he,' Zhusai admonished him. 'It is you who needs to rest.'

Talisman gave a weary smile. 'I am young and full of strength.'

Zhusai crossed the room and knelt beside him, her arms resting on his thighs. 'I will not go with Nosta Khan,' she said. 'I have thought long on this. I know it is the custom for a Nadir father to choose the husband for his daughter, but my father was not Nadir and my grandfather had no right to pledge me. I tell you this, Talisman, if you make me leave then I shall wait for news of you. If you die. .'

'Do not say it! I forbid it!'

'You can forbid me nothing,' she told him quietly. 'You are not my husband; you are my guardian. No more. Very well, I shall not say it. But you know what I will do.'

Angrily he grabbed her shoulders, lifting her. 'Why are you torturing me in this way?' he shouted. 'Can you not see that your safety would give me strength; give me hope?'

Relaxing in his arms, she sat down on his lap. 'Hope? What hope for Zhusai with you dead, my love? What would the future hold? Marriage to an un-named man with violet eyes? No, not for me. It will be you, or no-one.'

Leaning forward she kissed him, and he felt the soft warmth of her tongue on his lips. His mind screamed at him to pull away from her, but arousal swept over him and he drew her close, returning the kiss with an ardour he had not known he possessed. His hand slid over her shoulder, feeling the softness of her white silk shirt and the flesh beneath. His palm followed the contours of her body, down over her left breast, the hardness of the nipple causing him to slow, and stroke it between thumb and forefinger.

He did not hear the door open, but felt the warm flow of air from outside. Drawing back, he swung his head to see Nuang Xuan. 'This a bad time, hey?' said the old warrior, with a wink.

'No,' answered Talisman, his voice thick. 'Come in.' Zhusai rose, then leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He watched her walk from the room, following the sway of her slender hips.

Nuang Xuan sat down awkwardly on the wooden chair. 'Better to sit Nadir fashion on the floor,' he said, 'but I don't want to be looking up at you.'

'What do you require of me, old one?'

'You wish me to guard the gate — but I desire to stand alongside Druss on the wall.'

'Why?'

Nuang sighed. 'I think I will die here, Talisman. I do not object to this, for I have lived a long time. And I have killed many men. You doubt me?'

'Why would I doubt you?'

'Because it's not true,' said Nuang, with a wicked grin. 'I have killed five men in my life: three in duels when I was young, and two Lancers when they attacked us. I told the axeman I would kill a hundred on the walls. He said he would keep count for me.'

'Only a hundred?' queried Talisman.

Nuang smiled. 'I have not been feeling well.'

'Tell me the real reason you wish to stand beside him,' said Talisman.

Nuang's old eyes narrowed, and he took a deep breath. 'I have seen him fight and he is deadly. Many gajin will die around him. If I am there, men will see me fight. I cannot reach a hundred, but it will seem like it to those watching. Then, when they sing the songs of this defence, my name will live on. You understand?'

'Nuang and the Deathwalker,' said Talisman softly. 'Yes, I understand.'

'Why do you call him that?'

'He and I walked the Void. It is a good name for him.'

'It is very fine. Nuang and the Deathwalker. I like this. Can it be so?'

'It can. I shall also watch you, old man, and keep count.'

'Ha! I am happy now, Talisman.' Nuang stood and nibbed his buttocks. 'I don't like these chairs.'

'The next time we talk, we will sit on the floor,' promised Talisman.

Nuang shook his head. 'Not much talking left. The gajin will be here tomorrow. Is your woman staying here?'

'Yes.'

'As it should be,' said'Nuang. 'She is very beautiful and sex with her will aid you in the times ahead. Bear in mind, however, that her hips are very small. The first birth for such women is always hard.'

'I will bear that in mind, old one.'

Nuang strode to the door. He stopped there for a moment, then looked back at Talisman. 'You are very young. But if you live you will be a great man — I know these things.'

Then he was gone.

Talisman moved to a second door at the back of the room and emerged into the hospital. Sieben was spreading blankets on the floor, and a young Nadir woman was sweeping the dust from the room.

'All ready here, general,' said Sieben brightly. 'Plenty of thread and sharp needles. And bandages — and the most disgusting-smelling herbs I've ever come across. I would think the threat of them alone will have wounded men rushing back to the walls.'

'Dried tree fungus,' said Talisman. 'It prevents infection. Do you have any alcohol?'

'I do not have the skill to operate. There will be no need to get men drunk.'

'Use it for cleaning wounds and implements. This also helps to prevent infection.'

'Maybe you should be the surgeon,' said Sieben. 'You seem to know a lot more than I do.'

'We had lessons on military surgery at Bodacas. There were many books.'

As Talisman walked away, the Nadir woman approached him. Not conventionally pretty, she was devastatingly attractive. She moved in close. 'You are young for a general,' she said, her breasts touching his chest. 'Is it true what they say about you and the Chiatze woman?'

'What do they say?'

'They say she is pledged to the Uniter, and that you cannot have her.'

'Do they? And if it is true, how does that concern you?'

'I am not pledged to the Uniter. And no general should have to worry about both heads, above and below. It is said there is not enough blood in any man to fill both heads at the same time. Perhaps you should empty one, so that the other may function?'

Talisman laughed aloud. 'You are one of Nuang's women. . Niobe?'

'Yes. Niobe,' she said, pleased that he remembered her name.

'Well, Niobe, I thank you for your offer. It is a great compliment and it has lifted my spirits.'

'Is that a no or a yes?' she asked, bemused.

Talisman smiled, then swung away and walked out into the sunlight. As Niobe turned back to Sieben, the poet chuckled.

'By Heavens, but you are a brazen hussy. What happened to the warrior you had your pretty eye on?'

'He has two wives, and one pony,' she said. 'And bad teeth.'

'Well, don't despair, there are almost two hundred others to choose from.'

She looked at him, then cocked her head. 'There is no-one here. Come, lie with me.'

'There are men, my darling, who would feel hurt and humiliated to be second choice to a man with one pony and bad teeth. I, on the other hand, have no qualms about accepting such a graceless offer. But then the men of my family have always had a weakness for attractive women.'

'Do all the men in your family talk so much?' she asked, untying the cord belt and letting fall her skirt.

'Talking is the second-best talent we have.'

'What is the first?' she asked him.

'Sarcasm as well as beauty, sweet one? Ah, but you are an enchanting creature.' Stripping off his clothes, Sieben spread a blanket on the floor and drew her down upon it.

'You will have to be quick,' she said.

'Speed in matters of the loins is a talent that seems to have escaped me. Thankfully,' he added.

Kzun felt a roaring sense of exultation as he watched the two wagons burning. Leaping over the boulders he ran down to where a Gothir wagon driver, shot through the neck, was trying to crawl away. Plunging his dagger between the man's shoulders, Kzun twisted it savagely; the man cried out, then began to choke on his own blood. When Kzun rose up and let out a blood-curdling cry, the Curved Horn warriors rose from their hiding-places and ran down to join him. The wind shifted, acrid smoke burning Kzun's eyes. Swiftly he loped around the blazing wagons and surveyed the scene. There had been seven wagons in all, and a troop of fifteen Lancers. Twelve of the Lancers were dead — eight peppered with arrows, four slain in fierce hand-to-hand fighting. Kzun himself had killed two of them. Then the Gothir had turned the remaining wagons and fled. Kzun had longed to ride after them, but his orders were to remain at the pool, denying it to the enemy.

The Curved Horn men had fought well. Only one had a serious wound. 'Gather their weapons and armour!' shouted Kzun, 'then move back into the rocks.'

A young man, sporting a Lancer's white plumed helm, approached him. 'Now we go, hey?' he said.

'Go where?' countered Kzun.

'Where?' responded the man, mystified. 'Away before they come back.'

Kzun walked away from him, back up the boulder-strewn slope to the pool. Kneeling there, he washed the blood from his naked upper body. Then, removing the white scarf from his head, he dipped it into the water before re-tying it over his bald dome. The warriors gathered behind him.

Kzun stood and turned to face them. Scanning their faces, he saw the fear there. They had killed Gothir soldiers. Now more would come — many more. 'You want to run?' he asked them.

A slender warrior with greying hair stepped forward. 'We cannot fight an army, Kzun. We burned their wagons, hey? They will come back. Maybe a hundred. Maybe two. We cannot fight them.'

'Then run,' said Kzun contemptuously. 'I would expect no more from Curved Horn cowards. But I am of the Lone Wolves, and we do not run. I was told to hold this pool, to defend it with my life. This I shall do. While I live not one gajin will taste of the water.'

'We are not cowards!' shouted the man, reddening. An angry murmur rose up among the warriors around him. 'But what is the point of dying here?'

'What is the point of dying anywhere?' countered Kzun. 'Two hundred men wait at the Shrine of Oshikai, ready to defend his bones. Your own brothers are among them. You think they will run?'

'What would you have us do?' asked another warrior.

'I don't care what you do!' stormed Kzun. 'All I know is that I will stand and fight.'

The grey-haired warrior called his comrades to him and they walked away to the far side of the pool, squatting in a rough circle to discuss their options. Kzun ignored them. A low groan came from his left, and he saw the wounded Curved Horn warrior sitting with his back against the red rock, his blood-covered hands clenched over a deep belly wound. Kzun lifted a Lancer helmet and dipped it into the pool, then carried it to the dying man. Squatting down, he held the helmet to the warrior's lips. He drank two swallows, then coughed and cried out in pain. Kzun sat down beside him. 'You fought well,' he said. The young man had hurled himself upon a Lancer, dragging the soldier from his horse. In the fight that followed the Lancer had drawn a dagger and rammed it in the Nadir's belly. Kzun had rushed to his aid and slain the Lancer.

The sun rose above the red cliffs, shining down on the young man's face, and Kzun saw then that he was no more than fifteen years old. 'I dropped my sword,' said the warrior. 'Now I am going to die.'

'You died defending your land. The Gods of Stone and Water will welcome you.'

'We are not cowards,' said the dying boy. 'But we. . spend so much of our lives. . running from the gajin.'

'I know.'

'I am frightened of the Void. If. . I wait. . will you walk with me into the dark?'

Kzun shivered. 'I have been in the dark, boy. I know what fear is. Yes, you wait for me. I shall walk with you.' The youngster gave a tired smile, then his head fell back. Kzun closed the boy's eyes and stood. Spinning on his heel, he walked across to the far side where the warriors were still arguing. They looked up as he approached. Pushing through the circle, he stood at its centre. 'There is a time to fight,' he said, 'and a time to run. Think back over your lives. Have you not run enough? And where will you go? How far must you run to avoid the Lancers? The fighters at the Shrine will become immortal. How far must you run to escape the haunting words of their song?

'The enemy can fight only so long as they have water. This is the only deep pool. Every day that we deny them water gives our brothers a further chance of victory, and in this we become part of the Great Song. I am a man with no friends, no sword brothers. My youth was stolen from me in the Gothir mines, working in the dark, my body covered in sores. I have no wife, no sons. Kzun can make no gifts to the future. When I am dead, who will mourn for me? Not one. The blood of Kzun runs in no living creature. The Gothir put my spirit in chains, and when I slew the guards and freed my body my spirit remained, trapped in the dark. I think it is there still, living in the black filth, hiding in the dark tunnels. I could not. . cannot. . ever feel the sense of belonging that is at the heart of all we are. All that is left to me is a desire to see the Nadir — my people — walk straight and free. I should not have called you cowards, for you are all brave men. But your spirits too have been chained by the gajin. We are born to fear them, to run from them, to bow our heads. They are the masters of the world. We are vermin upon the steppes. Well, Kzun believes this no longer. Kzun is a lost and bitter man,' he said, his voice breaking. 'Kzun has nothing to lose. Your comrade back there is dead. He asked me if I would walk into the dark with him; he said his spirit would wait for me. I knew then that I would die here. I am ready for that. Perhaps I will be reunited with my spirit? But I will meet him on the dark road. And we will walk together into the Void. Any man among you who is not ready to do the same should leave now. I will not send him on his way with curses. Here is where Kzun stands. Here is where he will fall. That is all I have to say.'

Kzun walked back through the circle and on up into the rocks overlooking the steppes. The wagons were no longer burning, but smoke was rising still from the charred wood. Vultures had begun to tear at the corpses. Kzun squatted down in the shadows; his hands were trembling and fear rose in him, bringing bile to his throat.

An eternity in the dark beckoned and Kzun could imagine no greater terror. He glanced up at the clear blue sky. What he had told them was true — that when he died not one living creature upon the surface of the steppes would mourn for him. He had nothing save a scarred, hairless body and rotting teeth to show for his life. In the mines there were no luxuries like friendship. Each man struggled alone. When he was free, the legacy of the years in the dark haunted him still. He could no longer abide sleeping in tents with others, but needed the clean open air and the wondrous taste of solitude. There had been one woman he had yearned for, but he had never spoken of it. By then Kzun was a warrior with many ponies, and could have bid for her. He had not, and had watched in sick despair as she wed another.

He felt a hand upon his shoulder. The warrior with the greying hair squatted down beside him. 'You say you have no sword brothers. Now you have. We will stand with you, Kzun of the Lone Wolves. And we will walk the dark road with you!'

For the first time since he had been dragged to the mines Kzun felt the rush of hot tears to his cheeks. He bowed his head, and wept unashamedly.

Gargan, the Lord of Larness, reined in his massive grey stallion and leaned forward on the high pommel of his saddle. Ahead lay the buildings housing the Shrine of Oshikai Demon-bane. Behind him his troops waited: the eight hundred infantry standing in patient lines of four, the two hundred archers flanking the foot soldiers, while the Royal Lancers, in four columns of two hundred and fifty, fanned out on both sides. Gargan stared hard at the white walls, noting the V-shaped crack in the first. Shading his eyes the warrior scanned the defenders, seeking out the vile face of Okai. But at this distance they were all a blur.

Gargan's hands opened and closed, gripping the pommel so tightly that his knuckles shone white against the tan of his skin. 'I will take you, Okai,' he whispered. 'I will put you through ten thousand torments before you die.'

Raising his arm, Gargan called out for the herald. The young man rode alongside him. 'You know what to say. Do it! And try to stay out of bowshot. These savages have no understanding of honour.'

The soldier saluted and then rode his black gelding at a run towards the walls, drawing up in a cloud of red dust. The gelding reared and the herald's voice rang out. 'Know this, that the Lord Gargan, with the full authority of the God-King, has come to visit the Shrine of Oshikai Demon-bane. The gate will be opened within the hour, and the traitor Okai, known now as Talisman, will be brought before the Lord Gargan. If this is done, no harm will be offered to those within the Shrine.' He paused, allowing his words to sink in, then he called out again. 'If this is not done the Lord Gargan will have to consider all men inside the compound as traitors. The army will surround them and take them captive. Every man will have his hands cut off, his eyes put out, before being hanged. You will all walk the Void blind and maimed. These are the words of the Lord Gargan. You have one hour.'

Swinging his horse, the young Lancer rode back to the column.

Premian rode alongside Gargan. 'They'll not surrender, sir,' he said.

'I know,' replied Gargan.

Premian looked up into the general's hard face, seeing the glint of triumph there. 'We have only thirty ladders left, sir. An assault on the walls will be costly.'

'That's what soldiers are paid for. Prepare the camp, send out fifty Lancers to patrol the surrounding country. We'll launch the first attack at dusk. Concen-trate on the broken wall and then torch the gates.'

Gargan turned his horse and rode back through the men, while Premian ordered the troops to stand down and prepare camp. Gargan's tent had been destroyed in the fire, but a new one had been constructed from canvas sacking and cloth that had survived the blaze. The general sat his stallion as soldiers erected the tent, then dismounted and strode inside. His chairs had been destroyed but the pallet bed had survived. Gargan sat down, glad to be out of the blazing sun. Removing his plumed helm and unbuckling his breastplate, he stretched out on the bed.

A rider from the city had arrived the previous afternoon. There was great unrest in Gulgothir, according to the message from Garen-Tsen, but the secret police had arrested scores of nobles, and the situation was under control at the moment. The God-King was in hiding, guarded by Garen-Tsen's minions. Gargan was urged to complete his mission with all speed and return as soon as possible.

Well, he thought, we should take the Shrine by dawn. With luck he could be back in Gulgothir in ten days.

A servant entered the tent, bringing a goblet of water. When Gargan sipped it, the water was hot and brackish. 'Send Premian and Marlham to me,' he told the man.

'Yes, sir.' The officers arrived, saluted, then removed their helms, holding them under their arms. Marlham looked terribly tired, the iron-grey stubble on his cheeks adding ten years to him. Premian, though much younger, also looked weary, with dark rings under his pale blue eyes.

'How is morale?' Gargan asked the older man.

'Better now we are here,' he said. 'The Nadir are not known for their defensive abilities. Most of the men believe that once we have reached the ramparts they will run.'

'Probably true,' said Gargan. 'I want Lancers ringing the walls. They must not be allowed to escape — not one of them. You understand me?'

'I understand, sir.'

'I do not believe they will run,' put in Premian. 'They will fight to the death. This Shrine is their one great holy place.'

'That is not the Nadir way,' sneered Gargan. 'You don't understand these vermin — cowardice is built into them! You think they will care about Oshikai's bones once the arrows fly and cold steel scores their flesh? They won't.'

Premian drew in a deep breath. 'Okai will. He is no coward. He is a trained tactician — the best we ever saw at Bodacas.'

Gargan surged to his feet. 'Do not praise him!' he roared. 'The man murdered my son!'

'I grieved for your loss, general; Argo was a friend of mine. But that evil deed does not change Okai's talents. He will have banded those men together and he understands discipline and morale. They won't run.'

'Then let them stand and die,' shouted Gargan. 'I never yet met any ten Nadir who could outfight a single Gothir swordsman. How many men do they have? Two hundred. By dusk we'll have twice that many infantry storming the walls. Whether they stand or run is immaterial.'

'They also have the man, Druss,' said Premian.

'What are you saying? Is Druss a demi-god? Will he cast mountains down upon us?'

'No, sir,' said Premian evenly, 'but he is a legend among his own people. And we know, to our cost, that he can fight. He slew seven of our Lancers when they attacked the renegade camp. He is a fearsome warrior, and the men are already talking about him. No-one relishes going up against that axe.'

Gargan looked hard at the young man. 'What are you suggesting, Premian? That we go home?*

'No, sir. We have our orders, and they must be carried out. All I am saying is that we should treat them with a little more respect. In an hour our infantry will assault the walls. If they believe — wrongly — that the defence will be no more than token they will be in for a terrible surprise. We could lose a hundred men before dusk. They are already tired and thirsty; it would mean a bitter blow to morale.'

'I disagree, sir,' said Marlham. 'If we tell them that the assault will be murderous, then we risk instilling a fear of defeat in them. Such fears can prove self-fulfilling prophecies.'

'That's not what I am saying,' insisted Premian. 'Tell them the defenders are ready to lay down their lives, and that the battle will not be easy. Then impress upon them that they are Gothir soldiers, and no-one can stand against them.'

Gargan returned to the bed, where he sat in silence for several minutes. At last he looked up. 'I still think they will run. However, it would be a foolhardy general who did not allow for a margin of error. Do it, Premian. Warn them and lift them.'

'Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.'

'When the hour is up, release the prisoner. Send him towards their walls. When he is close enough for the defenders to see him, have three mounted archers cut him down.'

Premian saluted and replaced his helm.

'No words of condemnation, Premian?' asked Gargan.

'No, sir. I have no taste for such things, but the sight of him will unnerve the defenders. Of that there is no doubt.'

'Good. You are learning.'

Sieben gazed out at the Gothir army, and felt the cold touch of panic in his belly. 'I think I'll wait in the hospital, old horse,' he told Druss.

The axeman nodded. 'Probably best,' he said grimly. 'You'll soon have plenty to do there.'

On unsteady legs, Sieben walked from the ramparts. Nuang Xuan approached Druss. 'I stand with you,' he said, his face pale, his eyes blinking rapidly.

Around twenty Nadir were standing silently close by. 'What tribe are you?' Druss asked the nearest, a young man with nervous eyes.

'Lone Wolves,' he answered, licking his lips.

'Well,' said Druss good-naturedly, his voice carrying to the other men on the western wall. 'This old man with me has pledged to kill a hundred Gothir soldiers. I am to keep count. I don't want any of you Lone Wolves to get in his way. Killing a hundred takes great concentration!'

The young man swung to look at Nuang. Then he grinned. 'I kill more than him,' he said.

'That sounds like a wager in the offing,' said Druss. 'What is your name?'

'I am Chisk.'

'Well, Chisk, I have a silver piece that says when dusk falls old Nuang will have outscored you.'

The man looked downcast. 'I have no silver with which to gamble.'

'What have you got?' the axeman asked.

The Nadir warrior fished deep into the pocket of his filthy goatskin jacket, coming up with a small round charm inset with lapis lazuli. 'This wards off evil spirits,' he said. 'It is worth many pieces of silver.'

'I expect it is,' agreed Druss. 'You want to pledge it?'

The man nodded. 'I bet I kill more than you too,' said the Nadir.

Druss laughed and patted the man's shoulder. 'One bet per man is enough, lad. Any of you other Lone Wolves want to wager?'

Warriors pushed forward, offering ornate belts, curved daggers and buttons of carved horn. Druss accepted all offers.

A burly warrior with deep-set eyes tapped him on the arm. 'Who counts?' he asked 'No-one can watch us all.'

Druss smiled. 'You are all heroes,' he said, 'and men to trust. Count for yourselves. Tonight, when the enemy has skulked back to his camp, we'll get together and see who has won. Now get back to your positions. The hour is almost up.'

Nuang stepped in close. 'I think you lose a lot of silver, axeman,' he whispered.

'It's only money,' said Druss.

Talisman joined Druss. 'What is the commotion here?' he asked. Several of the warriors gathered around him, speaking in Nadir. Talisman nodded and gave a weary smile. 'They think you are a great fool,' he told Druss.

'It's been said before,' the axeman admitted.

Three riders came from the enemy camp, one of them dragging a prisoner. As they came closer they swerved their horses; the prisoner fell heavily, and struggled to rise.

'It is Quing-chin,' said Talisman, his voice flat, his expression unreadable.

The prisoner's hands had been cut off, the stumps dipped in black pitch. The rider leading him cut free the rope; Quing-chin stumbled on, turning in a half-circle.

'He has been blinded also,' whispered Nuang.

Several of the Nadir on the walls cried out to the maimed man. His head came up and he staggered towards the sound. The three riders let him approach, then notched arrows to their bows and galloped towards him. One arrow struck him low in the back, but he did not cry out. A second arrow plunged between his shoulder-blades. Quing-chin fell then, and began to crawl. A horseman drew reins alongside him, sending a third shaft deep into his back.

An arrow flew from the ramparts, falling well short of the riders.

'No-one shoot!' bellowed Talisman.

'A hard way to die,' whispered Nuang Xuan. 'That is what the enemy promises for all of us.'

'This was their moment,' said Druss, his voice cold and bitter. 'Let them enjoy it. In a little while we will have our moment. They will not enjoy that!'

A drum sounded in the enemy camp and hundreds of infantrymen began to move towards the western wall, the sun bright upon their silver breastplates and helms. Behind them came two hundred archers, arrows notched to the strings.

Druss swung to Talisman, who had drawn his sabre. 'No place here for you, general,' he said softly. 'I need to fight,' hissed Talisman. 'Just what they'd want. You are the leader, you cannot die in the first attack — the blow to morale would be savage. Trust me. Leave the wall. I won't let it fall.'

Talisman stood for a moment, then rammed his sabre back in its scabbard and turned on his heel.

'Right, lads,' shouted Druss. 'Keep your heads down, for they'll pepper us with arrows at first. Spread your-selves and put away your swords. When the ladder men reach the walls we'll pelt the whoresons with rocks. Then use daggers — they're better for the close work. Save the long blades for when they've reached the ramparts.'

The lines of infantry slowed, just out of bowshot, Druss knelt and watched the archers run through their ranks. Hundreds of shafts slashed through the air. 'Get down!' he yelled, and all along the wall the Nadir defenders ducked behind the crenellated battlements, Druss glanced back to the compound. Talisman and the reserve force of twenty men, led by Lin-tse, were out in the open as the shafts soared over the wall. One man was struck in the leg; the rest ran back to the cover of the lodging building. Out on the plain the infantry began to move, slowly at first and then, as they closed upon the wall, they raised their round shields before them and broke into a charge. Nadir arrows slashed at them and several men fell. The Gothir archers sent volley after volley over the heads of the infantry. Two Nadir bowmen were cut down.

The ladder-bearers reached the western wall. Druss knelt, wrapped his arms around a boulder as large as a bull's head and, with a grunt, heaved it to the battlements. A ladder thudded against the wall. Gripping the boulder between his hands, Druss hoisted it above his head and sent it sailing out over the wall. Seven men were on the ladder as the boulder struck the first, smashing his skull to shards. The huge rock hit the shoulder of the third man, snapping his collar-bone; he fell, dislodging three others. Rocks and stones rained down on the attackers, but they pushed on.

The first man reached the ramparts, his shield held above his head. Chisk ran forward, ramming his dagger through the man's eye, and with a choking cry he fell.

'One for Chisk!' shouted the Nadir. Two more men reached the ramparts. Druss leapt to his right, sending Snaga crashing through a wooden helm, and braining the second man with a reverse sweep. Nuang jumped forward, thrusting his dagger at the head of a climbing soldier. The blade gashed the man's forehead but he stabbed out with his own short sword, catching Nuang on the left wrist and scoring the flesh. Snaga crashed down on the man's shoulder, splitting his breastplate. Blood gushed from the wound and the climber fell away.

To Druss's left four Gothir soldiers had forced their way to the ramparts, forming a fighting wedge that allowed more men to reach the walls unopposed. Druss charged the group, Snaga sweeping down in a murderous arc. One man was cut down instantly; Druss shoulder-charged a second, spinning him from the ramparts to fall head first to the compound below; a third went down to a terrible blow which caved in his ribs. The fourth thrust his sword at Druss's belly. Nuang's blade hacked down, parrying the thrust, then swept up to slash through the soldier's neck. Dropping his sword, the Gothir soldier staggered back with blood pumping from his severed jugular.

Dropping his axe, Druss grabbed the dying man by throat and groin and heaved him high into the air. Spinning, he hurled the body at two more soldiers as they cleared the ramparts; both were thrown back from the walls. Nuang ran forward to plunge his sword into the open mouth of a bearded soldier who had just reached the top of the ladder. The blade smashed through the man's palate, emerging from the back of his neck. The sword was torn from Nuang's grasp as the man plum-meted to the ground.

Druss swept up a short sword lying on the ram-parts and tossed it to the old man. Nuang caught it expertly.

All along the western wall the Nadir struggled to block wave after wave of attackers.

Below, Talisman stood with Lin-tse and twenty warriors, trying to judge the best moment to launch fresh troops into the fray. Beside him Lin-tse waited with sword drawn. The defence was briefly breached: five soldiers hacking and cleaving a path to the steps. Lin-tse started forward, but Talisman called him back. Druss had attacked the men, cutting three down in as many heartbeats.

'He is terrifying,' said Lin-tse. 'Never have I seen the like.'

Talisman did not reply. The Lone Wolves were fighting like demons, inspired by the ferocious skills of the black-garbed axeman. On the other walls Nadir warriors watched in awed admiration.

'They are coming for the gates!' shouted Gorkai. 'They have fire buckets and axes.'

Talisman lifted his arm to show that he had heard, but made no move. More than a dozen of the defenders on the western wall were wounded. Five fought on, several others struggled down the steps, making their way to the hospital.

'Now!' he told Lin-tse.

The tall Sky Rider leapt forward, sprinting up the steps.

Axes thudded into the gate and Talisman saw Gorkai and the men of the Fleet Ponies hurling rocks over the battlements. Smoke seeped through the ancient wood. But, as Druss had suggested, they had soaked the gates every day and the fires quickly died away.

Talisman signalled to Gorkai to send back ten men to stand with him.

The battle raged on. Druss, covered in blood, stormed along the ramparts, leaping down to the fighting platform and scattering the Gothir warriors who had forced a way over the battlements. Talisman committed his ten men to help, then drew his sword and followed them in. He knew Druss was right about the crushing blow there would be to morale if he died. Equally, his men had to see him fight.

Climbing to the platform, he swept his sabre through the throat of a charging Gothir soldier. Two more ran at him. Druss smashed his axe through the shoulder of the first; then the old man, Nuang Xuan, gutted the second.

The Gothir fell back, taking their ladders with them.

A great cry went up from the Nadir. They jeered and waved their swords over their heads.

Talisman called Lin-tse to him. 'Get a count of the injured, and have the more seriously wounded men carried to the hospital.'

The Lone Wolves gathered around Druss, clapping him on the back and complimenting him. In their excitement they were speaking Nadir, and Druss understood not a word of it. He turned to the stocky Chisk. 'Well, laddie,' he said. 'How many did you kill?'

'I don't know. But it was many.'

'Did you beat this old man, do you think?' asked Druss, throwing his arm around Nuang's shoulder.

'I don't care,' shouted Chisk happily. 'I kiss his cheek!' Dropping his sword, he took the surprised Nuang by the shoulders and hugged him. 'We showed them how Nadir fight, eh? We whipped the gajin dogs.'

Nuang grinned, took a step, then fell to the ground with a surprised look on his face. Chisk knelt down beside him, dragging open the old man's jerkin. Three wounds had pierced Nuang's flesh and blood was flowing freely.

'Hold fast, brother,' said Chisk. 'The wounds are not bad. We get you to the surgeon, though, hey?' Two Lone Wolves helped Chisk to carry Nuang across to the hospital.

Druss strode from the wall to the well, drawing up a bucket of clear, cool water. Pulling an old cloth from his belt, he sponged the blood from his face and jerkin, then emptied the bucket over his head.

From the battlements came the sound of laughter. 'You could do with a bath too, you whoresons!' he shouted. Dropping the bucket back into the well, he drew it forth again, then drank deeply. Talisman joined him. 'We killed or wounded seventy,' said the Nadir leader. 'For the loss of nine dead and fifteen wounded. What next, do you think?'

'The same again, but with fresh troops,' said Druss. 'And before dark too. My guess is there will be at least two more attacks today.'

'I agree with you. And we will hold — I know that now.'

Druss chuckled. 'They're a fine bunch of fighters. Tomorrow it will be the gates — a concerted attack.'

'Why not tonight?'

'They haven't learned their lesson yet,' said Druss.

Talisman smiled. 'You are a good teacher, axeman. I am sure they will learn before the day is over.'

Druss took another long drink, then pointed to a group of men working at the base of the old tower. They were separating blocks of granite and hauling them clear of the rubble. 'What is the purpose of that?' asked the axeman.

'The gates will fall,' said Talisman, 'but we will have a surprise for the first troops to get through!'

Nuang Xuan lay quietly on the floor with his head on a pillow stuffed with straw, a single blanket covering him. The stitches in his chest and shoulder were tight, his wounds painful, yet he felt at peace. He had stood beside the axeman, and had killed five of the enemy. Five! Across the room a man cried out. Nuang carefully rolled to his side, seeing that the surgeon was stitching wounds in a man's belly; the wounded warrior thrashed out and Niobe grabbed his arms. Waste of time, thought Nuang, and within moments the injured man gave a gurgling cry and was still. The surgeon swore. Niobe dragged the corpse from the table, and two men carried a freshly wounded man to take his place.

Sieben pulled open the man's jerkin. He had been cut across the chest and deep into the side; the sword had broken off above the hip. 'I need pliers for this,' said Sieben, wiping a bloodied hand across his brow, leaving a smear of crimson. Niobe handed him a rusty pair and Sieben dug his fingers into the wound, feeling for the broken blade. Once he had it, he pushed the pliers against the split flesh and with a great wrench dragged the iron clear. Elsewhere in the room two other Nadir women were applying stitches or bandages.

Nosta Khan entered, looked around and then moved across the room, past Nuang and into the small office beyond.

Nuang could just make out the conversation that followed. 'I leave tonight,' came the voice of the shaman. 'You must prepare the woman.'

'She stays,' said Talisman.

'Did you not understand what I said about destiny?'

'It is you who are without understanding,' roared Talisman. 'You do not know the future, shaman. You have had glimpses, tantalizing and incomplete. Despite your powers you cannot locate Ulric. How hard should it be to find a violet-eyed leader? You cannot find the Eyes of Alchazzar. And you did not warn me they would take Quing-chin. Go from here if you must. But you travel alone.'

'You fool!' shouted Nosta Khan. 'This is no time for betrayal. Everything you live for hangs in the balance. If I take her, she lives. Can you understand that?'

'Wrong again, shaman. If you take her, she will kill herself — she has told me this and I believe her. Go. Seek out the man with violet eyes. Let him build on what we accomplish here.'

'You will die here, Talisman,' said Nosta Khan. 'It is written in the stars. Druss will escape, for I have seen him in the many futures. For you there is no place.'

'Here is my place,' responded Talisman. 'Here I stand.'

The shaman said more, but Huang did not hear it for the voices within were suddenly lowered.

Niobe knelt beside Nuang handing him a clay cup full of lyrrd. 'Drink, old father,' she said. 'It will put strength back into your ancient bones.'

'Ancient they may be, but my blood runs true, Niobe. Five I killed. I feel so strong I could even survive a night with you.'

'You were never that strong,' she said, patting his cheek. 'Anyway Chisk told us you killed at least a dozen.'

'Ha! Good men, these Lone Wolves.'

Rising, she moved back to the table. Taking a fresh cloth, she wiped the blood and sweat from Sieben's brow. 'You are working good,' she said. 'No mistakes.'

From outside came the screams of wounded men and the clash of swords. 'It is vile,' he said. 'All vile.'

'They say your friend is a god of battle. They call him the Deathwalker.'

'The name suits him.'

The doors opened'and two men were carried inside. 'More bandages and thread,' he told Niobe.

Outside on the walls Druss relaxed; the enemy had pulled back for the second time. Chisk came alongside him. 'You hurt, Deathwalker?'

'The blood is not mine,' Druss told him.

'You are wrong; your shoulder bleeds.'

Druss glanced down to the gash in his jerkin. Blood was leaking from it. Doffing the jerkin he examined the cut beneath, which was no more than two inches long, but deep. He swore. 'You hold this damned wall till I get back,' he said.

'Till the mountains crumble to dust,' promised Chisk. As Druss walked away he added, 'But you don't take too long, hey?'

Inside the hospital Druss called out to Niobe and she ran across to him. 'Don't bother Sieben with it,' he said. 'It's no deeper than a dog-bite. Get a needle and thread for me; I'll do it myself.'

She returned with the implements and a long stretch of bandage. The wound was just below the collar-bone and Druss fumbled his way through the stitching, drawing the lips of the gash together.

'You have many scars,' said Niobe, staring at his upper body.

'All men get careless,' he told her. The wound was beginning to throb now. Pushing himself to his feet, he strode from the room and out into the fading sunlight. Behind the gates some thirty warriors were manhandling blocks to form a semi-circular wall. The work was back-breaking and slow, yet no word of complaint came from them. They had erected a rough hoist and pulley on the ramparts, and the blocks of granite were being hauled into place, blocking the gates. Suddenly the pulley gave way and a huge block fell, hurling two men to the ground. Druss ran over to where they lay. The first was dead, his skull crushed, but the other man was merely winded. Pulling the corpse aside the other warriors continued with their work, their faces grim. The blocks were being laid four deep, forming a curved wall eight feet wide.

'They'll get a nasty shock as they come through,' said Lin-tse, striding down the rampart steps to join Druss.

'How tall can you get it?'

'We think twelve feet at the front, ten at the back. But we need a stronger hoist bar and supports.'

'Tear up the floorboards in the upper lodging-rooms,' advised Druss. 'Use the cross joists.'

Returning to the wall, Druss put on his jerkin and silver-skinned gauntlets. Talisman's man, Gorkai, joined him. 'The Curved Horn will stand with you for the next attack,' he said. 'This is Bartsai, their leader.' Druss nodded, then reached out and shook hands with the stocky Nadir.

'Well, lads,' he said, with a wide smile, 'do you fight as well as the Lone Wolves?'

'Better,' grunted a young warrior.

'Would you care to make a wager on that, laddie?'