‘True, he had powers. They all have. Compared with ordinary men, they are invincible. Deadly! But you, my dear Decado, are no ordinary man. You also have powers, but they lie dormant. When you fight you release those powers and they make you a warrior beyond compare. But add to this the fact that you fought not just for yourself, but for others, and you became invincible. Evil is never truly strong, for it is born of fear. Why did he fall so easily? Because he tested your strength and saw the possibility of death. At that moment, had he possessed true courage, he would have fought back. Instead he froze – and died.
‘But he will return, my son. In greater strength!’
‘He is dead.’
‘But the Templars are not. There are six hundred of them, and many more acolytes. The deaths of Padaxes and his group of twenty will have whip-lashed through their Order. Even now they will be mustering, preparing for the hunt. And they have seen us.
‘Throughout today I have felt the presence of evil. As we speak, they hover beyond the shield Acuas and Katan have placed over our camp.’
Decado shivered. ‘Can we win against them?’
‘No. But then we are not here to win.’
“Then why?’
‘We are here to die,’ said Abaddon.
*
Argonis was tired and not a little hung-over. The party had been fine and the girls … oh, the girls! Trust Egon to find the right women. Argonis reined in his black gelding as the scout galloped into view. He lifted his hand, halting the column.
The scout dragged back on his reins and his mount checked its run and reared, pawing the air. The man saluted.
‘Riders, sir – about forty of them, heading into Skoda. They’re well-armed and they seem military. Are they ours?’
‘Let us find out,’ said Argonis, lifting his arm and waving on the column. It was conceivable they were a scouting party from Delnoch, but in that case they would not head into the rebels’ lair – not with only forty men. Argonis glanced back, seeking reassurance, and received it as his eyes wandered over the hundred Legion riders.
It would be a relief to see action and might even clear his head. Military men, the scout had said. That would make a change from witless villagers hacking about with hoes and axes.
Reaching the crest of a range of hills, Argonis gazed down over a rolling plain almost at the foot of the Skoda range. The scout rode alongside as Argonis shielded his eyes and studied the riders below.
‘Ours, sir?’ queried the scout.
‘No. Delnoch issue red cloaks, or blue for officers – never white. I think they are Vagrian raiders.’
At that moment the column below broke into a canter heading for the sanctuary of the mountains.
‘At the gallop!’ yelled Argonis, drawing his sabre, and one hundred black-garbed horsemen set off in pursuit, hooves drumming on the hard-packed earth.
With the advantage of the slope, and the fact that they were cutting towards the enemy at an angle, the gap swiftly narrowed.
Excitement swept through Argonis as he bent low over his horse’s neck, the morning breeze fanning his face, his sabre glinting in the sunlight.
‘No prisoners!’ he screamed. He was close enough now to see individual riders and to note that three were women. Then he saw the black man riding alongside one of them, obviously encouraging her – she was not sitting well in the saddle and appeared to be holding something in her arms. Her companion leaned over in the saddle and snatched the bundle from her; with both hands on the reins her mount picked up speed. Argonis grinned – what a futile gesture, for the Legion would be upon them before they reached the mountains.
Suddenly the white-cloaked riders wheeled their mounts. It was a spectacular example of discipline, for they made the move in perfect unison and before Argonis could react they had turned and were charging. Panic struck at Argonis’ heart. Here he was, out in front leading the chase, and now thirty madmen were bearing down on him. He dragged on the reins and his men followed suit, confused and uncertain.