The Perdii broke and fled towards the woods. Ostaran rode two down, then swung his mount and cantered back to where Connavar sat his horse, a chestnut gelding close to sixteen hands.
‘I thank you, Rigante,’ said Ostaran. ‘I had resigned myself to drinking at the table of Taranis. Aiya! But it is good to be alive!’
‘As I recall,’ said Conn, guiding his mount alongside his leader, ‘the Scholar said to avoid open conflict.’
‘Ah so he did. I had forgotten.’ Ostaran rode away, then dismounted and walked among the dead and the dying. Three badly wounded Perdii warriors were despatched swiftly. Others who were more lightly wounded were allowed to gather their weapons and walk off to the woods. The man Ostaran had struck with his fist guard was merely stunned, and was coming round as Ostaran reached him.
‘I think the Scholar will appreciate a live prisoner,’ said Connavar.
Ostaran was kneeling by the warrior, his knife at the man’s throat. This man is Keltoi,’ he said. ‘He may not be my tribe, but I’ll be damned if I’ll hand him over to Jasaray’s torturers. Anyway, he wouldn’t tell them anything.’ He glanced down at the wounded man. ‘You wouldn’t, would you?’
The man shook his head. ‘See?’ said Ostaran. Taking the warrior by the arm, Ostaran helped him to stand. ‘You’d better find your friends,’ the Gath leader told him. The Perdii cast around for his fallen sword, found it, then walked slowly towards the woods.
Connavar shook his head, his eyes glinting with anger. ‘A strange way to fight a war,’ he said. ‘Why have you let them live?’
‘This is how wars should be fought,’ said Ostaran. ‘Men against men, equally matched. Valiant hearts, ferocious fighting, and victory tempered with mercy. These Stone men take all the glory from battle. They are like an avalanche. No heroics, just a vile and deadly mass that rolls over everything in its path. I dislike them. I truly do.’
‘Then why do you fight alongside them?’
Ostaran grinned. ‘Happily I dislike the Perdii more. Arrogant bastards.’
‘You have blood on your face,’ Connavar told him.
‘It is not mine, thank Daan,’ said Ostaran, wiping his hand across his face. Lifting his mailshirt he fished a small bone comb from the pocket of his under-tunic and carefully combed his drooping blond moustache. ‘How do I look?’ he asked.
‘Very handsome. Now shall we search for sign of the enemy army?’
Ostaran stepped in, laying his hand on the Rigante’s shoulder. ‘You know you are altogether too serious, young Connavar. It will not make a dust speck of difference whether we locate them or not.
This is their land. They will find us. They will fight and they will die. The Stone army cannot be beaten.’
Connavar said nothing. Vaulting onto his horse he rode along the line of the woods, keeping out of range of any hidden archers. Ostaran watched him go. Recovering his cloak the Gath leader mounted and rode back to where his men were waiting. His black-bearded brother, Arix, was looking nervous, as well he might.
‘How is it that the Rigante led the rescue?’ he asked the big man.
Arix shrugged. He would not meet Ostaran’s gaze. ‘Don’t know, brother. He just took control.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘Good, though, wasn’t it?’ Some of the men laughed. Ostaran ignored them.
‘I’m alive, of course it was good. But with me apparently lost, you should have been in command. You should have led.’
‘I don’t like leading,’ said Arix. ‘Anyway, Demonblade does it better.’
‘He does it better?’ mimicked Ostaran. ‘He’s not one of us. He’s a foreigner.’ Swinging round in the saddle he pointed at another black-cloaked rider. ‘Why did you follow him down, Daran?’
‘He told us to,’ answered the slim, redheaded Daran. ‘Didn’t you want us to rescue you, Osta?’
‘Of course I wanted you to rescue me, idiot. I’m just trying to understand how a Rigante can take command of a troop of Gath riders.’
‘It’s like Arix said,’ continued Daran, ‘he’s good at it. Like last week when he called out to stop us fording that stream. That was a Perdii ambush. We would have ridden straight into it.’ Several of the men murmured agreement.