David Gemmell. Winter Warriors

At the top of the slope he hauled in his mount, and found himself gazing over the distant, ruined city of Lem. Said to be one of the greatest cities ever built it was now a place of ghosts and lost memories. The huge walls had been eroded by time, brought down by earthquakes, many of the stones removed to build houses at the far end of the valley. What remained of the north wall stood before the ghost city like a row of broken teeth.

Then he saw the riders, still around a half mile ahead. At this distance he could not make out individuals, but

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he could see that their horses were tiring, and they were still some way from the city. Once his men caught up they would ride them down within minutes.

‘Be swift and say what you have to say,’ he told Olion. ‘For then we must do our duty.’

‘This is all wrong, sir. The men know it. I know it. I mean, what happened back in the city? There are thou­sands dead, by all accounts. That’s where we ought to be. And why bring the whole army into this wilderness. There’s no-one to fight, sir. So why are we here?’

‘We are here because we are ordered to be,’ said Nayim, anxious to capture the runaways.

‘And what about supplies, sir? According to the quarter­master we only have enough food to bring us to Lem. What are we supposed to do then? We’ve not even been put on half rations. Come the day after tomorrow there’ll be no food at all for three thousand men. It’s madness!’

‘I’ll tell you what madness is, Olion, it is a soldier in the army of Malikada who starts spouting mutinous words.’ Nayim tried to make the threat sound convincing, but he could not. He shared the man’s concern. ‘Listen,’ he said, in a more conciliatory tone. ‘We will do our duty here, then return the prisoners to Malikada. We saw the tracks of elk a few miles back. Once we have the prisoners secured you can lead a unit after them. Then at least we’ll eat well tonight.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said the man, dubiously.

Nayim cast a nervous glance back. The lancers were almost within earshot. ‘I take it there is something else? Make it quick!’

‘Why is the queen running away? Malikada is her cousin. They have always been close, so it’s said. And why would a general like Antikas Karios be helping her?’

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‘I don’t know. Perhaps we shall ask Antikas when we take him.’

As the troops drew reins behind him Nayim raised his arm. ‘Follow me!’ he shouted.

Picking up the pace he cantered his mount along the old road, swiftly closing the distance between himself and the fleeing riders. A red-headed youngster riding the last horse looked back, then kicked his mount into a run.

Now the chase was on. Nayim drew his sabre. He could see Antikas Karios now, riding a huge black geld­ing. The man swung his horse, and, for a moment, Nayim thought he would charge them. Instead he galloped back to the rear of his group, urging them on. Nayim gently drew back on his reins, allowing some of his men to overtake him.

The silver-haired bowman swung in the saddle, send­ing a shaft flashing towards him. Nayim swayed and ducked. He heard a man cry out behind him. Glancing back he saw the arrow jutting from a rider’s shoulder.

Nayim was anxious to catch the runaways before they entered the ruins, for once there Antikas and the others could dismount and take cover. They would not last long, but it would cost him men. One of the reasons why Nayim was a popular commander was that he was care­ful with the lives of his soldiers. No reckless charges, no seeking after glory. He was a professional soldier who always thought out his strategies.

They were closing fast now. Up ahead Antikas Karios was now leading a second horse upon which sat a young woman in a blue dress. It was with some surprise that Nayim recognized the queen. He had always seen her in gowns of silk and satin, looking like a goddess from myth. Now she was merely a woman on a slow horse.