Gemmell, David – Dark Moon

‘I have been watching your progress,’ she said, ‘and it is my belief that you have been wrongly overlooked for promotion.’ Even Avil had started to believe the stories of his carelessness. Now, however, someone in authority had seen his true worth. ‘I need a good scout to give me an accurate estimate of enemy numbers,’ she had said. ‘I want you to observe them. See how they make camp, observe their actions.’

‘Why is it important to see how they make camp?’ he had asked.

‘A good army is disciplined. Everything they do indicates how well they are led. A lazy general will be lax, the camp disorganized. You understand?’

‘Yes, General. Of course. How stupid of me!’

‘Not stupid at all,’ she assured him. ‘A sensible man asks questions – that is how he learns.’ A huge hound padded over to him, resting his head in Avil’s lap. ‘He likes you,’ said Karis.

‘I know him. This is Stealer. He hangs around the barracks and steals scraps.’

Karis had laughed. She was not a great beauty, he thought, but there was about her an earthy quality that made a man think of nakedness and a warm bed. In that moment he understood one of her nicknames: some of the men called her ‘The Whore of War’. Avil found his eyes wandering to her breasts; she was wearing a thin, woollen shirt and he could see their outline. ‘You have heard, of course, about our magician?’ she asked, dropping her voice.

‘Everyone is talking about the slaughter of the Daroth,’ he said, dragging his gaze from her body and trying to look into her eyes.

‘We have three sorcerers,’ she told him.

‘Three?’

‘Their powers are astonishing. One can bring fire from the sky. They were trained by the Eldarin. Naturally this must not be spoken of. You understand?’

‘Yes, General. .. well, no. Would it not ease the fears of the people to know we have such power?’

‘Indeed it would. But if the Daroth were to find out just how strong we are, then they might not come within the range of our spells.’

‘Oh, I see. But surely they already know about the slaughter, and the magical forest?’

‘I don’t doubt that they do. That was unfortunate – but we had to protect our refugees. However, the Daroth know of only one sorcerer and one great spell. They probably believe they can overcome us despite his abilities. That is when the other two will wreak their terrible spells.’

She had offered him a second goblet of wine then. It was heady stuff. He told her of his plans and ambitions, and of his life back on the farm. She seemed fascinated

by everything he said. No-one had ever been fascinated before. He told her this, and that his comrades called him dull. Karis assured him that he was far from dull. In fact, she had enjoyed his company immensely, and when he returned from his scouting mission they must meet again.

Avil was smitten. Her last words came back to haunt him now, as he sat at the feet of the Daroth general. ‘Be very careful, Avil. If the mission goes wrong, do not allow yourself to be taken alive. They must not find out about our plans.’

‘You can trust me, General. I will say nothing. I will cut my own throat before I betray you.’

Luck had deserted him yet again – for the last time. He had crept close to the Daroth camp, sure that he was unobserved; but then this terrible pain had struck his head and he had passed out. When he awoke he was in the centre of a circle of Daroth warriors. Their faces were blank, alien and unreadable, but Avil knew of their foul practices and his fear weakened his bladder. He felt the warm urine soaking his leggings and, for a moment at least, shame outweighed his terror.

‘Give us your name.’ said a deep voice. Avil jerked and gazed around, trying to identify the speaker.

‘I am Avil,’ he said, his voice trembling.

‘You are frightened, Avil.’

‘Yes. Yes, I am.’

‘Would you like to be released to return to your city?’

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