Too many . . .
Kiall brought Chareos a meal of dried meat and fruit, then sat in silence beside him.
What am I doing here? thought Chareos. What is this madness? The woman means nothing to me, this quest is of no consequence. What will it matter to the world in a thousand years if another Nadir Khan is born? He gazed down at the still, white form draped over the auction block and the men bearing down on her.
‘Do you have a plan?’ whispered Kiall. Chareos turned to the pale-faced young man.
‘Do you think me some god of war, Kiall? We can get in – possibly without being observed. But then there will be seventeen against seven – six if you discount Okas, who is no warrior. Now, let us assume we could defeat all seventeen, could we do it silently? No. Therefore the other warriors outside would be alerted. Can we defeat three hundred? Even you will know the answer to that.’
‘Then what do you suggest?’
‘I don’t know, boy!’ snapped Chareos. ‘Go away and let me think!’
The sky darkened, the moon shone bright. Idea after idea drifted into Chareos’ mind, there to be examined, dissected, discarded. Finally he called Finn to him and outlined his thoughts. The hunter listened, his face impassive.
‘Is this the only way?’ he asked, at last.
‘If you can think of a better plan, I’ll go along with it,’ answered Chareos.
Finn shrugged. ‘Whatever you say, Blademaster.’
‘I say we should all go home and forget this nonsense,’ said Chareos, forcing a smile.
That would win my vote,’ admitted Finn. ‘So why don’t we?’
Chareos shrugged and pointed down to the moonlit town, where the naked form of Tanaki was tied to the auction block.
‘We don’t know her,’ said Finn softly.
‘No, we do not. But we have seen her suffering. Do I sound as naïve and romantic as Kiall?’
‘Yes, but that is no bad thing, my friend. I share your view. Evil will never be countered while good men do nothing.’
‘Then we are a pair of fools,’ declared Chareos, and this time the smile was genuine. Finn reached out his hand and Chareos took it.
‘Win or lose, we achieve nothing that the world would understand,’ said Finn.
‘But then the world does not matter,’ answered Chareos, rising.
‘Indeed it does not,’ Finn replied. ‘It is good to understand that.’
It was close to midnight when Finn and Maggrig rode from the camp. Chareos, Harokas, Kiall and Beltzer slowly made their way down the slope towards the stockaded town. Okas remained in the woods, squatting cross-legged, his eyes closed. He began to chant softly and a mist rose from the grass, swirling out to cloak the four warriors as they moved into the open.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The mist rolled on and down like a ghostly blanket, shimmering in the moonlight. Chareos reached the rear wall of the stockade and located the iron portcullis. Beltzer moved alongside.
‘What now?’ whispered the giant.
‘We raise it?’
The iron grille was four feet wide and seven feet high. Beltzer handed his axe to Kiall and gripped the lowest bar. The muscles on his neck and shoulders swelled as he applied pressure: the gate creaked and rose an inch. Harokas and Chareos joined him: the gate rose another foot. ‘That is enough,’ hissed Kiall, dropping to his back and sliding under the gate.
Chareos turned to Beltzer. ‘Can you hold it there?’
The giant grunted. Chareos ducked down and rolled under to rise beside Kiall. The two men climbed the rampart steps; there were no sentries posted. Together Kiall and Chareos turned the wheel above the gate, tightening the rope and relieving Beltzer of his burden. Swiftly they returned to the gateway, where Beltzer struggled through followed by Harokas.
‘Now we wait,’ whispered Chareos.
From beyond the town came the sound of galloping hooves.
Finn rode headlong into the Nadir camp, scattering two fires. Warriors surged up from their blankets as his horse thundered by them. Finn swung the horse to a stop. Notching an arrow to his short hunting-bow, he sent a shaft slicing into a man’s throat.