‘You have no slaves.’
‘I can find them again. Thirty women on foot in the mountains will pose me no problem.’
‘Hunting is not easy with a slit throat,’ pointed out Shadak, adding an extra ounce of pressure to the sword-blade, which pricked the skin of Harib’s neck.
‘True,’ agreed the Ventrian, glancing up. ‘What do you suggest?’ Just as Shadak was about to answer he caught the gleam of triumph in Harib’s eyes and he swung round. But too late.
Something cold, hard and metallic crashed against his skull.
And the world spun into darkness.
*
Pain brought Shadak back to consciousness, harsh slaps to his face that jarred his teeth. His eyes opened. His arms were being held by two men who had hauled him to his knees, and Harib Ka was squatting before him.
‘Did you think me so stupid that I would allow an assassin to enter my tent unobserved? I knew someone was following us. And when the four men I left in the pass did not return I guessed it had to be you. Now I have questions for you, Shadak. Firstly, where is the young farmer with the axe; and secondly, where are my women?’
Shadak said nothing. One of the men holding him crashed a fist against the hunter’s ear; lights blazed before Shadak’s eyes and he sagged to his right. He watched Harib Ka rise and move to the brazier where the coals had burned low. ‘Get him outside to a fire,’ ordered the leader. Shadak was hauled to his feet and half carried out into the camp. Most of the men were still asleep. His captors pushed him to his knees beside a camp-fire and Harib Ka drew his dagger, pushing the blade into the flames. ‘You will tell me what I wish to know,’ he said, ‘or I will burn out your eyes and then set you free in the mountains.’
Shadak tasted blood on his tongue, and fear in his belly. But still he said nothing.
An unearthly scream tore through the silence of the night, followed by the thunder of hooves. Harib swung to see forty terrified horses galloping towards the camp. One of the men holding the hunter turned also, his grip slackening. Shadak surged upright, head butting the raider who staggered back. The second man, seeing the stampeding horses closing fast, released his hold and ran for the safety of the wagons. Harib Ka drew his sabre and leapt at Shadak, but the first of the horses cannoned into him, spinning him from his feet. Shadak spun on his heel to face the terrified beasts and began to wave his arms. The maddened horses swerved around him and galloped on through the camp. Some men, still wrapped in their blankets, were trampled underfoot. Others tried to halt the charging beasts. Shadak ran back to Harib’s tent and found his swords. Then he stepped out into the night. All was chaos.
The fires had been scattered by pounding hooves and several corpses were lying on the open ground. Some twenty of the horses had been halted and calmed; the others were running on through the woods, pursued by many of the warriors.
A second scream sounded and despite his years of experience in warfare and battle, Shadak was astonished by what followed.
Alone, the young woodsman had attacked the camp. The awesome axe shone silver in the moonlight, slashing and cleaving into the surprised warriors. Several took up swords and ran at him; they died in moments.
But he could not survive. Shadak saw the raiders group together, a dozen men spread out in a semi-circle around the black-garbed giant, Harib Ka among them. The hunter, his two short swords drawn, ran towards them yelling the battle-cry of the Lancers. ‘Ayiaa! Ayiaa!’ At that moment arrows flashed from the woods. One took a raider in the throat, a second glanced from a helm to plunge home into an unprotected shoulder. Combined with the sudden battle-cry, the attack made the raiders pause, many of them backing away and scanning the tree line. At that moment Druss charged the enemy centre, cutting to left and right. The raiders fell back before him, several tumbling to the ground, tripping over their fellows. The mighty blood-smeared axe clove into them, rising and falling with a merciless rhythm.