Pagan helped the children down. ‘Wait here for me,’ he said and rode down into the plain once more. Five times he made the journey, and by the last Ceorl and the remaining four older boys had almost reached the rocks as he rode out. Jumping from the saddle, he handed the reins to the boy.
‘Take the horse up into the bowl and wait there for me.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Do as I say, child!’
Ceorl stepped back a pace. ‘I just wanted to help.’
‘I’m sorry, boy! Keep your dagger handy -1 intend to hold them here, but if they come through use your dagger on the youngest children. You understand?’
‘I don’t think that I can,’ Ceorl faltered.
‘Then do as your heart bids you. Good luck, Ceorl!’
‘I … I don’t really want to die.’
‘I know. Now get up there and comfort them.’ Pagan pulled his axe clear of the saddle and untied his bow and a quiver of arrows. The bow was of Vagrian horn and only a very strong man could draw it. Pagan settled himself down on the trail, watching the east.
It was said that the Kings of the Opal Throne always knew when their day was done.
Pagan knew.
He strung his bow and removed his tunic, letting the night air cool his body.
In a deep voice he began to sing the Song of the Dead.
*
At a prearranged meeting place Ananais and his captains sat together discussing the day’s action. Once thrown back from the first ring of mountains, the Skoda force had split into seven, moving to high ground and ambushing the invading force as they swarmed into the heights. Hit-and-run raids harassed Ceska’s troops, slowing the advance, and Skoda casualties had been remarkably light – with the exception of Parsal’s force, of which not one man had escaped.
‘They are moving faster than we had estimated,’ said Katan. ‘And their numbers have been swelled by Delnoch troops.’
‘I’d say there were as many as fifty thousand in the invading force,’ said Thorn. ‘We can forget about holding anywhere but Tarsk and Magadon.’
‘We shall keep hitting them,’ maintained Ananais. ‘How long can you hold the power of those damned Templars, Katan?’
‘I think even now they are finding ways through.’
‘Once they do, our raids could become suicidal.’
‘I know that well, Darkmask. But we are not dealing here with an exact science. The battle in the Void is unceasing, but we are being pushed back.’
‘Do your best, boy.’ said Ananais. ‘All right – we shall hit them for one more day, then pull everyone back to the walls.’
‘Do you get the feeling we are spitting into the eye of a hurricane?’ asked Thorn.
Ananais grinned. ‘Maybe, but we’ve not lost yet! Katan, is it safe to ride?’
The priest closed his eyes and the men waited for several minutes. Then Katan jerked suddenly, his eyes flaring open.
‘To the north,’ he said. ‘We must go now!’
The priest lurched to his feet, half-fell, recovered and ran to his horse. Ananais followed him.
‘Thorn!’ he shouted. ‘Take your men back to the group. The rest of you follow me!’
Katan led them in a headlong gallop to the north, followed by Ananais and twenty warriors. It was almost dawn and the tips of the mountains to their right were bathed in red.
The priest lashed his mount and Ananais, close behind, bellowed, ‘You’ll kill the beast, you fool!’ Katan ignored him, bending low over the horse’s neck. Ahead was an outcropping of rock; Katan dragged on the reins and leapt from the saddle, racing into a narrow cleft. Ananais drew his sword and followed him.
Inside the cleft lay two dead Joinings, black-feathered arrows jutting from their throats. Ananais ran on. Another dead beast, shot through the heart. He rounded a bend and heard the sound of bestial growling and the clash of steel on steel. Hurdling three more bodies, he turned a corner with sword raised. Two dead Joinings lay before him, a third live beast was attacking Katan, and two others were engaged in a grim struggle with a man Ananais could not see.