Then Nogusta came galloping into sight. Dagorian saw his arm go back, then snap forward. A shining blade flashed through the air, sinking deep into the throat of a second rider. Vellian attacked Dagorian, but his blade was parried. Dagorian’s return cut missed him, but in swaying back Vellian almost lost his balance. His horse reared, hurling him to the ground. He landed heavily, and was stunned for a moment. Struggling to his knees he gathered his sabre and looked around him. All four of his men were dead.
Dagorian dismounted and approached him. Vellian stood his ground. From the trees came two other warriors, a bald giant with a white moustache, and an archer Vellian recognized as Kebra, the former champion. ‘It seems,’ said Vellian, ‘that the roles are now reversed.’
‘I have no wish to kill you,’ said Dagorian. ‘You may travel with us as our prisoner. You will be released when we reach the coast.’
‘I think not,’ said Vellian. ‘How could I fail to follow so bold an example.’
Leaping forward he launched an attack. Their blades clashed, again and again. Just for a moment he felt he could win, but then a murderous riposte from Dagorian sent a spasm of fire through Vellian’s chest. The sabre slid clear and the Ventrian sank to the ground.
He was lying now on the grass, looking up at the blue sky. ‘I would also have protected the queen with my life,’ he heard himself say.
‘I know.’
188
For Axiana the rest of the day had a dreamlike quality, both real and unreal. The lurching of the wagon over the narrow forest trail, and the smell of damp earth, and green leaves, were strong and vital. But as she gazed about her at the faces of her companions she felt a curious sense of detachment. Apart from little Sufia they all seemed so tense, their movements sharp, their eyes frightened. Well, not all, she realized, her gaze settling on the black warrior. There was no fear in those strange blue eyes.
Dagorian rode silently alongside the wagon, occasionally swinging in the saddle to study the back trail. There was little to be seen, for they were deep in the forest now, the trail snaking through the trees. Yet still he looked. The other three also rode silently. Twice the black man left the group, riding the huge gelding back along the trail. The other two had placed themselves on either side of the wagon, only dropping back when the trail narrowed, and the trees closed in.
Axiana remembered the bowman, Kebra. He it was who had lost the tournament, and caused Skanda such anger. And the other fellow – Kebra called him Bison -was a hulking brute with a drooping white moustache.
The queen had never before been in a forest. Her father had often hunted here. He had killed lion and bear, deer and elk. She recalled seeing the trophies from her window. The bodies had looked so sad, slung upon the back of the wagon.
Bear and lion.
The thought did not frighten her. All fear had gone now. She was floating in harmony, living in the moment.
‘How are you feeling?’ asked Ulmenetha, placing her hand on the queen’s arm. Axiana looked down at the hand. It was an impertinence to touch her, and yet she felt no anger.
189
‘I am well.’ Sunlight broke through the clouds, and speared through a gap in the trees ahead, slanted columns of gold illuminating the trail. ‘How pretty,’ said Axiana, dreamily. She saw the concern in Ulmenetha’s eyes, but did not understand it. ‘We should be getting back to the city,’ she said. ‘It will be dark soon.’
Ulmenetha did not reply, but moved in, drawing her close and cuddling her. She settled her head on Ulmenetha’s shoulder. ‘I am very tired.’
‘You rest, my dove. Ulmenetha will look after you.’
Axiana saw the five horses tied to the rear of the wagon, and her body tensed. Ulmenetha held her close. ‘What is wrong?’ asked the priestess.
‘Those horses . . . where did we get them?’
‘We took them from the soldiers who attacked us.’
‘That was just a dream,’ said Axiana. ‘No soldiers would attack me. I am the queen. No soldiers would attack me. No-one would lock me away. There are no walking dead men. It is all a dream.’ She began to tremble and felt Ulmenetha’s hand touch her face. Then she slid gratefully into darkness.