David Gemmell. Winter Warriors

The captain licked his dry lips. ‘This is madness,’ he said. ‘What is your purpose here?’

‘I have already told you my purpose. Now attack – or be gone!’

The captain dragged back on the reins and wheeled his horse. Dagorian could see that none of the Ventrian soldiers seemed willing to enter the fray. Such was the awesome – and justified – reputation of the man facing them. Still they dismounted and drew their swords, for they were brave men and disciplined.

‘Remember,’ whispered Antikas, ‘stay to the right.’

‘I shall.’

‘Are your hands trembling?’

‘No.’

‘Good. That is of some relief to me – for I cannot really take ten men alone.’ He grinned at Dagorian then drew both his swords, one of shining steel, one darker than the pit, and stepped up to take his place on the left.

The bridge was wide enough for four warriors to walk abreast and still leave room to swing a sword. The Ventrians advanced slowly, picking their way through the rocks. Antikas stood very still. As they got closer he suddenly leapt at them with an ear-splitting battle cry. His steel sword swept out slashing through a soldier’s throat, then the black blade sliced through the chest of a second man, killing him instantly. The Ventrians surged

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forward. Three made it past the swordsman. Dagorian jumped forward. The black blade licked out and a man died. A sword pierced Dagorian’s shoulder. He fell back. The swordsman stumbled over a rock and lost his balance. Dagorian killed him with a straight thrust to the heart. Then Dagorian was struck again, this time by the third soldier. He felt as if he had been kicked by a horse, and could not, at first, locate the wound. Ignoring it he leapt to the attack, blocking a wild cut and sending a riposte that swept through the man’s ribs. He fell with­out a sound.

Dagorian looked up to see Antikas battling furiously, his blades a blur as he cut and parried. There was blood on his face and left arm, but five men were down. Only the captain and one other remained.

Antikas ran at them – and they turned and fled.

They did not get far.

The four warriors of the Krayakin blocked the bridge. Two of them stepped forward and slew the fleeing soldiers.

‘Hardly sporting,’ called out Antikas Karios. ‘Do you often kill your own men?’

‘You fight well, human,’ came a muffled voice. ‘And I see you have found a Storm Sword. It should be an interesting encounter.’

‘All at once – or one at a time. I care not,’ said Antikas.

The sound of laughter greeted his challenge. Then the tallest of the warriors stepped forward. ‘I like you, human,’ he said. ‘But there is blood running into your eyes. Move back and tie a scarf around your brow. I will await you.’

Antikas grinned then backed away to where Dagorian was sitting with his back to the bridge wall. ‘Taking a rest, Drenai?’ he asked. Then his smile faded as he saw the blood soaking Dagorian’s tunic.

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‘Do not concern yourself with me,’ said Dagorian, with a weak smile. ‘Do as he bid.’ Antikas had been cut just above his left eyebrow. The gash was around 2 inches long and blood was dripping into his eye. With his dagger he slashed through his shirt sleeve, then ripped it clear. Tearing a strip from it he bound his brow.

‘Terrible thing to do to a good shirt,’ he said. ‘My tailor would be most annoyed.’

Then he rose and glanced down at Dagorian. ‘Don’t go away,’ he said. ‘I shall be back soon.’

‘I don’t think I’m going anywhere,’ said Dagorian. ‘Take the Storm Sword. I have a feeling you’ll need it.’

Armed with the two black blades Antikas strode back to the centre of the bridge. ‘What is your name?’ he asked the tall warrior.

‘I am Golbar,’ replied the Krayakin.

‘Come then, Golbar, let us dance a jig.’

‘Bear with me, human,’ said Golbar, removing his gauntlets. Slowly he removed the black armour, unbuck­ling the breastplate and the shoulder guards, the greaves and the forearm protectors. Lastly he removed his helm. His hair was white, his eyes dark, his skin pale. Drawing his sword he turned to one of his comrades, who threw him a second. He caught it cleanly and advanced across the stones. Antikas watched his movements. They were quick and graceful.