Refugees poured from the tents as the word spread and several women gathered flowers which they turned into garlands. Wine was brought forth. Word even reached the hospital, where Valtaya had just finished working; she wandered out into the night, unsure of her feelings.
Ananais and Rayvan walked back to the ramparts hand in hand, and the men there cheered themselves hoarse. As they reached the steps he swept her to his shoulder and carried her up to the wall.
‘Put me down, you lummox!’ she yelled.
‘Just carrying you over the threshold,’ he explained.
Men swarmed around them and the noise of their laughter drifted to the Legion camp.
Ceska called Dank to him.
‘What is happening?’ he demanded.
‘I don’t know, sire.’
‘They are laughing at me! Why have your men not taken the wall?’
‘They will, sire. At dawn, I promise you!’
‘If they do not, you will suffer, Dank. I am tired of this pestilential place. I want to go home.’
*
For three bloody hours the battle continued on the morning of the fourth day, but the Legion could not gain the wall. Ananais could scarce contain his joy, for even through his weariness he could sense the battle had swung. Without the Joinings the Legion fought mechanically, reluctant to risk their lives, while the men of Skoda battled with fresh heart and confidence. The heady wine of victory pounded in Ananais’ veins and he laughed and joked with the men, hurling curses at the fleeing enemy soldiers.
But just before noon a marching column was seen to the east, and the laughter died.
Twenty officers rode into Ceska’s camp, bringing with them five hundred arena Joinings from Drenan, specially-bred beasts standing eight feet tall -blended from the souls of men, bears of the north, apes of the east, lions, tigers and the grey timber-wolves of the west.
Ananais stood very still, his blue eyes scanning the horizon.
‘Come on, Tani,’ he whispered. ‘By all that’s holy, don’t let it end like this.’
Rayvan joined him with Balan, Lake and Galand.
‘There is no justice,’ spat Rayvan. Silence greeted her comment, a silence that spread the length of the wall.
The giant Joinings did not hesitate in the camp but advanced in a wide line, their officers behind them.
Thorn tugged Ananais’ sleeve. ‘Got a plan, general?’ he asked. Ananais glanced down at the old man, biting back the bitter reply as he saw the fear etched into Thorn’s face. The man was grey and tight-lipped.
‘No plans, my friend.’
The beasts did not charge but ambled forward bearing huge clubs, saw-edged swords, maces and axes. Their eyes were red as blood and their tongues lolled from gaping maws. They advanced in silence, a soul-sapping silence which ate away at the courage of the defenders. Men began to stir along the line.
‘You must think of something to say, general,’ urged Rayvan.
Ananais shook his head, his eyes bleak and empty. Once more he felt himself standing in the arena, tasting the bitterness of unaccustomed fear . . . watching the portcullis gate slowly lift … hearing the crowd fall strangely silent. Yesterday he could have faced these awesome beasts. But to have been in sight of victory – to have it so close that he could feel its sweet breath upon his brow . . .
One soldier leapt from the wall and Rayvan swung round.
‘Olar! This is no time to leave!’
The man stopped and hung his head.
‘Come back and stand with us, lad. We will all go down together – that’s what makes us what we are. We’re Skoda. We’re family. We love you.’
Olar looked up at her, tears falling, and drew his sword.
‘I wasn’t running away, Rayvan. I was going to stand with my wife and son.’
‘I know, Olar. But we must try at least to hold the wall.’
Lake nudged Ananais. ‘Draw your sword, man!’ But the giant did not move. He was no longer with them, but was fighting once more in a stone arena in another time.
Rayvan pulled herself up to stand on the battlements.
‘Stand steady, my boys! Think on this: help is on the way. Turn back these creatures and we have a chance!’