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THE KING BEYOND THE GATE by David A. Gemmell

Pagan put his mouth close to Scaler’s ear and whispered: ‘It’s about ten paces to the first sleeping soldier. The next time a cloud passes the moon, move forward and lie down. When the clouds clear, sit up and stretch. Make sure the sentry sees you.’ Scaler nodded.

Minutes passed in silent tension until at last darkness fell once more. Immediately Scaler was up and moving, hitting the ground just as the moon shone clear again.

He sat up and stretched his arms wide, waving to the sentry. Then he stood, looked around and gathered up a lance from beside a sleeping warrior. Taking a deep breath he walked across the clearing, yawning.

‘Couldn’t sleep,’ he told the man. ‘Ground is damp.’

‘You should try standing here for a while,’ grumbled the sentry.

‘Why not?’ offered Scaler. ‘Go on – get some sleep. I’ll take the watch.’

‘Mighty large of you,’ said the man. Tm due to be relieved soon.’

‘Your choice,’ said Scaler, yawning once more.

‘I haven’t seen you before,’ said the man. ‘Who are you with?’

Scaler grinned. ‘Picture a man with the face of a pig with warts, and the brain of a retarded pigeon.’

‘Dun Gideus,’ said the man. ‘Bad luck!’

‘I’ve known worse,’ commented Scaler.

‘I’ve not,’ said the man. ‘I think there’s a special place where they breed the fools. I mean – why attack the Sathuli? As if there are not enough pox-ridden problems in the Skoda. Baffles me!’

‘Me too,’ said Scaler. ‘Still, as long as the pay comes through . . .’

‘You had yours then? I’ve been waiting four months,’ said the man, outraged.

‘It was a joke,’ said Scaler. ‘Of course I haven’t!’

‘Don’t joke about that, man. There’s enough trouble brewing as it is.’

A second sentry joined them. ‘Cal, is that the relief?’

‘No, he just couldn’t sleep.’

‘Well, I’m going to wake them up. I’ve had enough of standing around,’ said the second soldier.

‘Don’t be a fool,’ advised the first. ‘You wake up Gideus and we’ll be for a flogging!’

‘Why don’t you go off and get some rest?’ offered Scaler. ‘I can stand watch – I’m wide awake.’

‘Damn it, I think I will,’ said the first man. ‘I’m dead on my feet. Thanks, friend,’ he said, clapping Scaler on the shoulder before wandering away to lie down with the others.

‘If you want to put your head down in the forest, I’ll wake you when I see the relief getting ready,’ suggested Scaler.

‘No, thanks anyway. The last time a watchman was found asleep, Gideus had him hanged. Bastard! I won’t take that risk.’

‘Whatever you like,’ said Scaler indifferently, his heart hammering.

‘Bastards have cancelled leave again,’ said the sentry. ‘I haven’t seen my wife and youngsters in four months.’ Scaler eased his knife into his hand. ‘Farm’s not doing too well. Bastard taxes! Still, at least I’m alive, I suppose.’

‘Yes, that’s something,’ agreed Scaler.

‘Life’s a pig, isn’t it? Any time now they’re going to send us into the Skoda, killing a few more of our own. Life’s a pig and no mistake!’

‘Yes.’ Holding the knife behind his back, Scaler adjusted his grip, ready to hammer the blade into the man’s throat.

Suddenly the man swore. ‘I will take you up on that offer,’ he said. ‘This is the third night they’ve put me on watch. But promise you’ll wake me?’

‘I promise,’ said Scaler, relief washing over him.

But then Pagan moved from the shadow, whipping his knife across the other sentry’s throat. Scaler reacted instantly – his own blade slashing upwards, entering the man’s neck under the jaw-line and plunging on into the brain. He sank without a sound, but Scaler caught the look in his eyes as he died and looked away.

Pagan ran across to him. ‘Good work. Let’s free the prisoners and get away from here.’

‘He was a good man,’ whispered Scaler.

Pagan gripped him by the shoulders. ‘There are a lot of good men dead in Skoda. Get a hold . . . Let’s move.’

The two prisoners had watched the killings in silence. Both wore the robes of Sathuli tribesmen and had their faces part hidden by flowing burnooses. Pagan moved to them, his knife slashing through their bonds; Scaler joined them, kneeling by the first warrior as the man pulled the burnoose sash from his face and took a deep breath. His face was strong and dark, a curved nose above a full black beard; his eyes were deep-set and seemingly black in the moonlight.

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Categories: David Gemmell
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