David Gemmell. Winter Warriors

‘I had a dream. Demons in my dream. They were eat­ing me up.’ The child began to cry. Then she saw Antikas, and her eyes widened.

‘Hello,’ said Antikas, giving her his best smile. Sufia let

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out a wail and buried her head in Pharis’s chest. ‘I’ve always had a way with children,’ said Antikas, drily.

The noise awoke Bison, who gave a great yawn, then belched loudly. He too saw Antikas, and looked around for Dagorian. Rising he scratched at his groin then moved to the fire, where he belched again. ‘Killed ’em all, did you?’ he asked Antikas.

‘One of them. A huge beast came from the forest and slaughtered the others.’

Fear showed in Bison’s face. ‘Is it still alive?’

‘No. It fell into the river and drowned.’

‘Well, that’s a relief,’ said Bison. ‘Almost makes up for the fact that you survived. Where is the lad, Dagorian?’

‘He died.’

Bison absorbed the information without comment, then swung to Kebra. ‘Is there any broth left?’

‘No, Antikas ate the last of it.’

‘What about the biscuits?’

‘A few left,’ said Kebra. ‘But we are saving them for the morning. The children can have them for break­fast.’

Antikas removed his sword belt, and laid it beside him. There are four more Krayakin,’ he said. ‘Believe me, Nogusta, that is four too many. I fought one. He had a sense of honour, and removed his armour to fight me. He was faster than any man I have ever known. I am not sure I could defeat another, and I certainly could not defeat more than one.’

‘What then do you suggest?’ asked Nogusta.

‘I have no suggestions. What I am saying is that I treated them too lightly. I thought of them merely as men, and there is no man more skilled than I. But they are not men. Their reflexes are astonishing, and their strength prodigious.’

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‘And yet we must face them,’ said Nogusta. ‘We have no choice.’

‘Whatever you say,’ said Antikas. He stretched out beside the fire, then glanced up at Bison. ‘We could always send him against them,’ he said. ‘His body odour would fell an ox.’

Bison glared at him. ‘I’m beginning to really dislike you, little man,’ he said.

Breakfast was a sorry affair, with the last of the oatcake biscuits being shared by Sufia, Pharis and Conalin. Pharis offered hers to the queen, but Axiana smiled and shook her head. Bison grumbled about starvation as he saddled the horses.

As she finished her food little Sufia climbed onto Ulmenetha’s lap. ‘Did you sleep well, in the end, little one?’ asked the priestess.

‘Yes. I didn’t dream no more. It’s very cold,’ she added, snuggling close. The last of the wood had long burnt away, and the temperature in the cave was dropping fast.

‘We are going down into the valleys today,’ Ulmenetha told her. ‘It will be much warmer there.’

‘I’m still hungry.’

‘We are all hungry.’ Sufia gave a nervous glance across at Antikas. ‘He looks like a demon,’ she said. Antikas heard her and gave her a grin. She scowled at him from the perceived safety of Ulmenetha’s lap.

‘I am not a demon,’ said Antikas. ‘I am earth born, as you are.’

‘What does that mean?’ Sufia asked the priestess.

‘It means that we come from the earth, whereas demons are born of the wind. We are solid. We can touch things. Demons are like the wind. They can blow against us, but they cannot live and breathe as we do.’

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Pharis came and sat alongside them. ‘If that is true, how can the Krayakin fight us? Are they not solid?’

‘There is an old story,’ said Antikas, ‘that my father used to tell. It is part of Ventrian history and myth. Once there were two Windborn gods, great and powerful. They floated above the earth, and watched the deer and the lion, the eagle and the lamb. They were envious of them, and their ability to walk the land. These gods had many Windborn subjects, and they too looked upon the earth with jealousy. One day the two gods – who did not like one another . . .’