David Gemmell. Winter Warriors

Ulmenetha looked into his face, recognizing it from her lorassium vision. Fear surged again in her. The scene in the woods, four men – three old, one young – pro­tecting the queen from a hidden evil. Dagorian was the young man from the dream. ‘Why are you here?’ demanded Ulmenetha.

‘I came to kill Kalizkan.”

‘He is with the army,’ said Ulmenetha. ‘Now let us get out of this dreadful place.’

The sun was shining outside and the queen’s carriage was still there, the driver stretched out asleep on the grass. Ulmenetha looked up at the bright, clean, blue of the sky with a gratitude she could scarce believe.

As the group approached the coachman yawned and stretched. Seeing the queen he scrambled to his feet and bowed.

‘At your bidding, your highness,’ he said.

‘Take us to the palace,’ ordered Ulmenetha.

Helping the queen into the carriage she glanced back at the two girls and the boy. All three were badly under-

nourished, clothed in rags. ‘Get in,’ she ordered them.

‘Where you taking us?’ asked the boy, suspiciously.

‘Somewhere safer than this,’ Ulmenetha replied.

They crowded in, followed by Dagorian. As the carriage moved away the young officer leaned in close to Ulmenetha. ‘There is nowhere safe in the city,’ he said, keeping his voice low.

‘What do you suggest?’

‘We must get to the coast, and find a ship. And we must do it before Malikada returns. We should head for the mountains.’

‘There are forests there,’ whispered Ulmenetha.

‘You fear forests?’ he asked, surprised by her reaction.

‘The white crow will be there,’ she told him. He was confused, but she turned away from him.

As the carriage made its way along the broad avenues Axiana saw the crowds milling. ‘What is happening?’ she asked. ‘Why is everyone gathering so?’

‘They have heard the news, highness. They are wonder­ing what will happen to them now,’ Dagorian explained.

‘The news? What news?’ she asked, mystified. Dagorian blinked, and transferred his gaze to Ulmenetha. She too was none the wiser.

The officer rubbed his hand over his stubbled jaw. ‘I am truly sorry, your highness. But word has reached the city that our army was defeated by the Cadians.’

‘That is not possible,’ said Axiana. ‘Skanda is the greatest warrior alive. You must be mistaken. This is just a rumour.’

Dagorian said nothing, but his gaze met that of Ulmenetha. The queen was looking out of the window again. Ulmenetha mouthed a question.

‘The king?’

Dagorian shook his head. ‘Then we must brave the forest,’ said Ulmenetha.

158

Irritation crept into Malikada – a small, dark cloud in the clear blue sky of his joy. He stood on the hillside gazing down on the Drenai dead. Stripped now of armour and weapons, gone was their arrogance and their might. They were merely pale corpses, ready to be rolled into the huge pit being dug by Ventrian soldiers.

It was Malikada’s moment of triumph. The army which had destroyed the empire of his ancestors was now ruined. He had always known revenge would be sweet, but had never guessed just how exquisite the taste would be.

Yet it was marred.

He swung to the swordsman, Antikas Karios. ‘Now we will rebuild Ventria,’ he said. ‘And we will burn away the Drenai presence.’

‘Yes, my lord,’ replied Antikas, dully.

‘What is wrong with you, man? Do you have the toothache?’

‘No, my lord.’

Then what?’

‘They fought well and bravely, and it does not sit well with me that we betrayed them.’

Malikada’s irritation flared into anger. ‘How can you talk of betrayal? That would be their perspective. We fought them, you and I. We risked our lives to prevent Skanda’s victories. The old emperor was weak and in­decisive, and yet we stood by him. We served him faithfully and well. At the last Skanda conquered us. We had two choices, Antikas. You remember that? We could have died, or we could have gone on fighting a different kind of war. We both chose the latter. We have remained true to our own cause. We are not traitors, Antikas. We are patriots.’

‘Perhaps so, Lord. But this leaves a bad feeling in my stomach.’

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