David Gemmell. Winter Warriors

‘Why didn’t you keep it?’ asked Conalin. ‘You are still young enough to sire sons. You could take a wife.’

‘It is done,’ said Nogusta. ‘And I am pleased. You are a fine lad, brave and intelligent. If you wish to come back to Drenan with me we will build the house together. Then we can hunt the horses.’

‘Will Kebra come too?’

‘I hope that he will.’

From outside came the sound of war horns blaring. Axiana emerged from her tent, wearing a shimmering dress of blue satin. Her dark hair was drawn up, and a string of pearls had been braided there. Pharis gasped to see her. The queen approached Nogusta. She was hold­ing the sleeping babe close to her chest.

‘If I am to die,’ she said, ‘I shall die looking like a queen.’

Conalin felt heat upon his chest. The talisman was glowing with a bright light now. A sudden vision came to him. A man in black armour moving through the ruins.

‘What did you see?’ asked Nogusta.

‘The last of the Krayakin is coming,’ said Conalin.

‘He will soon be here,’ said the warrior.

‘You knew?’

‘It was the last of my visions. You now have the gift. Use it wisely.’

‘You cannot beat him. You are wounded and weak.’

‘A great evil is coming,’ said Nogusta. ‘You will need all your courage. Never lose heart. You hear me, boy? Never lose heart!’

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The Ventrian cavalry appeared on the hills on either side, lancers in their white cloaks and curved bronze helms, light cavalry with wicker shields and wooden spears, mounted archers in garish red shirts, and heavily armoured swordsmen in black cloaks and breastplates of burnished bronze.

The Drenai soldiers waited. Not a man moved. They stood silently their spears pointing towards the sky, their long, rectangular shields held to their sides.

The White Wolf glanced to left and right, and felt a surge of pride in the fighting men who stood ready. The sun was dipping low now, the sky golden, the mountains crowned with fire. At the centre of the Ventrians came Anharat-Malikada, riding a white stallion. He raised his arm, ready to order the attack.

‘Prepare!’ bellowed the White Wolf. A thousand shields swept up, and a thousand spears dropped down to face the enemy. The movement was perfectly co­ordinated.

The Ventrians rode slowly down from the hills, creating a fighting wedge.

Anharat galloped his horse to the front of the line, then drew rein.

From the highest point of the ruined wall Ulmenetha watched him. Her concentration grew as she summoned the power of the land, feeling it swell inside her. Her body began to shake, and she felt her heart beating faster and faster. Still the power flowed into her. Pain, terrible pain burst in her head and she cried out. But even through the pain she continued to draw on the power of the earth. Tears flowed, and her vision misted. Raising her arms she released the fire of halignat.

A huge ball of white flame flew from her hands screeching above the Drenai defenders, and passing

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through the Ventrian riders. Not one of them was harmed, though their horses reared in panic. The blazing halignat swept on, curling around Anharat, swelling into a white globe that hid him from his army. Slowly the halignat faded away. Anharat’s horse was unharmed, and the Demon Lord laughed aloud.

T am safe,’ he told the officers around him. ‘Attack now, and kill them all!’

But no-one moved. Anharat looked at the closest man. His eyes were wide, and he was staring in horror. ‘What is it, man?’ he said. He looked at the others. They were all staring at him. Several made the sign of the Protective Horn.

Then he saw the White Wolf walking towards him. Antikas Karios was beside him, and the silver-haired bowman, Kebra. ‘There is the enemy!’ he shouted, lifting his arm to point at the three warriors. Only then did he see what had terrified his men. The flesh of his hand was grey and rotting. The halignat had burned away the spell, and the body of Malikada was decaying fast.

‘He is not Malikada,’ he heard Antikas shout. ‘He is a demon. Look at him!’