There was no sign of pursuit, and the talisman was no longer glowing.
What kind of an animal was strong enough to cut a man in half, fast enough to chase a horse as swift as Starfire, and evil enough to cause a reaction in his talisman?
Nogusta had no answer.
All he knew was that this beast stood between the wagon and the bridge.
And there was no other known route to safety.
Axiana was sleeping as the wagon slowly lumbered along the old road. Ulmenetha laid her now slender hand on the queen’s brow. Axiana’s life force was strong, radiating from her. The priestess leaned back against a pillow of empty sacks and stared up at the blue sky. The sensation of waking from her long life with Kalizkan had been disorientating in the extreme. The old wizard had
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told her that time had no meaning where they sat, but she had not understood it fully until she woke. It was as if she had slept for decades. The memories of the flight from the palace seemed to belong to another life, a distant existence. Ulmenetha had struggled to recall them. Equally she could not quite remember the fat, frightened woman she had been.
The girl, Pharis, was holding the infant, and the child Sufia was asleep beside her.
‘Isn’t he beautiful?’ said Pharis. ‘So small, so sweet.’ ‘He is beautiful,’ agreed Ulmenetha. ‘And so are you.’ The girl glanced up, confused. Her face was thin, pinched and dirty, and her filthy hair hung in greasy rat’s tails. Her clothes were rags and there were sores upon her bony shoulders. ‘I am not mocking you, Pharis,’ said Ulmenetha. ‘You have great love within you, and that is a virtue of great beauty. Be sure to support the babe’s head, for his neck is not strong.’
‘I will,’ she said, happily. ‘I am holding a king!’ ‘You are holding an infant. Titles are bestowed by men, and no title would concern him now. What he needs is love and his mother’s milk.’
Ulmenetha glanced back to where Kebra and Conalin were riding behind the wagon. The boy was riding close to Kebra, listening to the bowman. With the talent Kalizkan had inspired in her Ulmenetha could see so much more than the naked eye would allow. Conalin had been starved of affection all his life, and had never known the love of a father. Kebra was a quiet, lonely man, frightened to commit himself to a wife and family. The two were perfect for one another. She transferred her gaze to Dagorian. The young officer was well to the rear, leading the five spare horses. He was full of fear, and fighting to maintain his courage.
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You should have remained a priest, thought Ulmenetha, for you are a gentle soul.
Rising she climbed across to sit beside Bison. He glanced at her and gave a crooked smile. ‘How’s my boy doing?’ he asked.
‘He is sleeping. Where did you learn to birth a child?’
‘Here and there. The camp followers always used to call for me when a babe was due. Only ever had one die on me. Cord strangled it. Almost happened with our little prince. Apart from that, though, the camp whores thought I was a good-luck omen at a birth.’
The wagon emerged onto open ground and in the distance Ulmenetha could see the awesome majesty of the canyon. ‘How did you get so thin?’ asked Bison.
‘It is a long story. How did you get so ugly?’ She said it with a smile and Bison chuckled.
‘I was born ugly,’ he said, ‘but I was also born strong. I’m still strong. Stronger than most men half my age.’
‘How old are you?’
‘Fifty,’ he lied.
‘You are sixty-six,’ she said, ‘and I see no reason to be ashamed of the fact. And you are quite right, you are stronger than most men half your age. You are also a better man than you like to admit. So let’s have no more stupidity.’
‘Well, I am stupid,’ he said. ‘Always have been. Nogusta and Kebra they talk about things I don’t understand. Honour and such like. Philosophy. Goes over my head like a flight of geese. I’m just a soldier. I don’t know anything else. I don’t want to know anything else. I eat when I’m hungry, piss when my bladder’s full, and rut when I can afford the price. That’s all life is for me. And it’s all I want.’