David Gemmell. Winter Warriors

The vision changed. Suddenly it was night, and two moons hung in the sky, one a crescent, the other full. And he saw himself standing by the tree line on a hillside beneath alien stars. A woman was walking towards him. It was Ushuru. And she was smiling.

This vision also faded, and Nogusta found himself floating high above a plain. He saw the Drenai infantry commit themselves to an attack on the Cadian centre. Skanda was leading the charge. As the Cadians reeled back a trumpet sounded and Skanda signalled to Malikada for the cavalry to attack the right. But Malikada did not move, and the cavalry remained, hold­ing to the hill.

Nogusta could see the despair in Skanda’s eyes; the disbelief and the dawning realization of betrayal and defeat.

And then the slaughter began.

Nogusta awoke in a cold sweat, his hands trembling. Bison and Kebra were asleep, and the dawn light was creeping above the mountains. Pushing aside his blankets the black warrior rose soundlessly. Kebra stirred and opened his eyes.

‘What is wrong, my friend?’

‘Skanda is dead. And we are in peril.’

Kebra pushed himself to his feet. ‘Dead? That cannot be.’

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‘He was betrayed by Malikada and the Ventrians. They stood by while our comrades were slaughtered.’ Slowly, remembering every image, he told Kebra of his visions.

The bowman listened in silence. ‘The betrayal and the battle I can understand,’ he said, when Nogusta had finished. ‘But demonic riders with eyes of blood? What is that supposed to mean? It can’t be real, can it? Any more than walking with Ushuru beneath two moons.’

‘I do not know, my friend. But I think the riders will come. And I will face them.’

‘Not alone you won’t,’ said Kebra.

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Chapter Six

All her life Ulmenetha had known many fears. Her mother’s sickness and death had filled her with a terror of cancer that caused awful nightmares, and left her trembling in her bed, her face and body bathed in cold sweat. Small, scurrying rodents inspired a sense of dread in her, leaving her incapable of movement. But most of all the death of her beloved Vian had made her fear love itself, and to run for the sanctuary of the convent.

She sat now in her room, staring up at the stars, con­templating the nature of fear.

For Ulmenetha terror began the moment control was lost. She had been powerless when her mother was dying. She could only watch in silent anguish as the flesh shrivelled away and the spirit fled. As a consequence Ulmenetha had worried over Vian, making sure he ate well, and was always dressed in warm clothes when the winter winds blew. He had laughed at her coddling. Ulmenetha had been preparing an evening meal when word reached her he was dead. While searching for a lost sheep he had slipped on the ice and fallen from the high ridge. There was nothing she could have done to prevent it, but that did not stop the guilt from eating its way into her soul. It was she who had urged him to find the sheep. Guilt, remorse and sorrow had overwhelmed her.

So she had run from her fears, and even taken the extra precaution of becoming fat, in order that men

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would no longer find her attractive. All this so that she would never again suffer the true terrors of life.

Yet here she was, sitting in a palace bedroom, with the demons closing in.

What can I do, she asked herself? The first answer, as always, was to run, to leave the palace and make the long journey back to Drenan and the convent. The thought of running, putting these fears behind her, was immensely seductive. She had money, and could book passage on a caravan to the coast, and then take a ship to Dros Purdol. Sea air on her face. The thought of flight brought calm to her mind.

Then she pictured Axiana’s face, the large, childlike eyes, and the sweet smile. And with it the memory of Kalizkan’s rotting, maggot-ridden flesh.

I cannot leave her! The panic began again. What can you do against the power of demons, whispered the voice of flight. You are a fat priestess with no arcane skills. Kalizkan is a sorcerer. He could blast your soul from your overweight body. He could consign you to the Void. He could send assassins to plunge their knives into your obese belly!