Gemmell, David – Dark Moon

At last the day arrived – four days later than planned. Thousands of citizens assembled in the fields to the south

of the city while the veteran officer, Capel, in charge of the exodus, tried to assemble the wagons into a convoy. There was a sense of joy about the proceedings, and safety beckoned for the refugees. Shira and Duvodas, having said farewell to the tearful Ceofrin, were in the last wagon to leave. They sat together on the driver’s seat, waiting their turn. Duvo’s hand absently strayed to the canvas pouch he wore, his fingers tracing the outline of the Pearl. I will bring you back, he promised silently, recalling the frozen figures in the silent city.

‘It is a beautiful day,’ said Shira.

‘I don’t think Capel would agree with you,’ he answered, pointing to the grey-bearded officer as he rode up and down the line of wagons, seeking to instil some sense of order. The head of the convoy had set out almost three hours before, but the wagons in the rear were still waiting.

At last Duvodas received the signal to move, and he flicked the reins against the backs of the four oxen. The beasts leaned in to the traces and the wagon jerked forward. The land was hilly at the start of the journey, and before they had gone more than a mile from the city they came upon the first casualty. A wagon, taking a turn too fast, had tipped over and slid down the slope. Furniture was strewn over the snow-patched grass, and one of the oxen was dead. Soldiers were cutting away the traces as Duvo and Shira drove up.

Hitching ropes to their rear axle they hauled the other wagon upright. The soldiers repacked it, and the journey continued. On the last of the high ground, Shira swung round to see the distant city of Corduin, brilliantly lit by sunshine. ‘Oh look, Duvo! What a wonderful sight!’ He glanced at her and saw that her eyes were moist, her

lips trembling. Putting his arm around her, he drew her to him.

‘Your father will be fine.’

‘I don’t know. I just wish he had come with us.’

‘So do I, my love. But, as he said, his life is in Corduin.’ Cupping her face in his hands he kissed her. ‘I will do everything in my power to make you happy for as long as we live. I will keep sickness from you and our son, and we will know great joy.’

‘I already know great joy,’ she said. ‘From the moment you came into my life.’

The oxen had halted. Now Duvo rapped the reins and they moved on. For several hours they rode. As far as the eye could see, the line of wagons stretched out towards the south-west. Soldiers rode up and down the line, checking on the stragglers.

Towards mid-afternoon the rear of the line halted once more. To the right was a high cliff-face, to the left a wide-open section of gorse and heather. Duvo climbed down from the wagon. ‘I’ll see what’s holding us up,’ he said, loping off towards the south.

As he neared a bend in the trail he saw a wagon some fifteen paces ahead, its left rear wheel shattered. Men were unloading boxes and furniture, lightening the load so that a spare wheel could be lifted into place. There were enough bodies for the work, and Duvo turned back and strolled along the line. Suddenly a woman screamed.

Duvo’s eyes sought her out. She was middle-aged and stout, and she was standing on the driver’s seat, pointing to the east. He turned. Half a mile away, across the gorse, a long line of riders was moving slowly forward. They rode huge horses, and the faces of the riders were bone-white. Other people began to shout. Then to run.

He started to sprint back towards his own wagon. As

it came into sight, he saw Shira standing up and waving to him – and behind her two Daroth riders, galloping along the trail. Fear welled in him, and he continued to run towards her.

One of the Daroth levelled a long spear. ‘No!’ Duvo screamed. ‘No!’

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