‘To me, Dragon!’ yelled Ananais. One of the two Joinings turned on him, but he blocked a savage cut and plunged his sword into the beast’s belly. Its talons lashed out and he threw himself back as his men raced in, hacking and cutting. The beast went down under a score of blows. Katan despatched his opponent with consummate ease and ran forward to assist the warrior, but it wasn’t necessary. Pagan hammered his axe through the beast’s neck and sagged back to the path.
Ananais ran to him, to find Pagan’s body was a mass of wounds: his chest was ripped open, flesh hanging in bloody strips.
His left arm was almost severed and his face had been mauled.
The black man’s breathing was ragged, but his eyes were bright and he tried to smile as Ananais cradled his head in his lap.
‘There are children above,’ whispered Pagan.
‘We will fetch them. Lie still!’
‘For what, my friend?’
‘Just lie still.’
‘How many did I get?’
‘Nine.’
‘That’s good. I am glad you came – the other two would have been . . . difficult.’
Katan knelt beside Pagan, laying his hand on the bloody head. All pain vanished from the dying warrior.
‘I failed in my mission,’ said Pagan. ‘I should have gone after Ceska back at the city.’
‘I will get him for you,’ Ananais promised.
‘Are the children all right?’
‘Yes,’ Katan assured him. ‘We are bringing them out now.’
‘Don’t let them see me. It will frighten them.’
‘Have no fear,’ said Katan.
‘Make sure you have Melissa’s rag doll . . . she would be lost without it.’
‘We will make sure.’
‘When I was young I ordered men into the fire! I should not have done it. It is a lasting regret. Well, Darkmask, now we will never know, will we?’
‘I already know,’ said Ananais. ‘I could not have felled nine Joinings. I would not have thought it possible.’
‘All things are possible,’ said Pagan, his voice sinking to a whisper. ‘Except the passing of regret.’ He paused. ‘Scaler has a plan.’
‘Can it work?’ asked Ananais.
Pagan grinned. ‘All things are possible. He gave me a message for you, but it is useless now. He wanted you to know that ten thousand Delnoch men were on the march. But they arrived before I could.’
Ceorl pushed his way through to Pagan, kneeling by his side with tears in his eyes.
‘Why?’ he said. ‘Why did you do this for us?’
But Pagan was dead.
Ananais took the lad by the arm. ‘He did it because he was a man – a very great man.’
‘He didn’t even like children.’
‘I think you are wrong there, boy.’
‘He said so himself. We irritated him, he told me. Why did he let himself get killed for us?’
Ananais had no answer but Katan stepped forward.
‘Because he was a hero. And that is what heroes do. You understand?’
Ceorl nodded. ‘I didn’t know he was a hero – he didn’t say.’
‘Maybe he didn’t know,’ said Katan.
*
Galand took the death of his brother hard. He withdrew into himself, suppressing his emotions, his dark eyes giving no hint of the agony he felt. He led his men on several raids against Drenai cavalry, hitting them fast and withdrawing at speed. Despite his desire to wreak vengeance upon them he remained a disciplined warrior – not for Galand the reckless charge, only the calculated risk. Among his three hundred men, losses were light and they cantered to the walls of Magadon having left only thirty-seven of their comrades buried back in the hills.
There was no gate at Magadon and the men released their horses and scaled rope ladders let down by the defenders. Galand was the last to climb the ramparts and at the top he turned, gazing back to the east. Somewhere there the body of Parsal was rotting on the grassland. No grave, no marker.
The war had claimed Galand’s daughter and now his brother.
Soon it would claim him, he mused.
Strange how the thought struck no terror in him.
Among his men were another forty who had suffered wounds. He went down with them to the timber hospital where Valtaya and a dozen women tended them. Galand waved to the blonde woman and she smiled, then returned to her work stitching a shallow cut in a warrior’s thigh.