Back in the Keep, Danyal took the sisters up the winding stair to the tower and then sat them with their backs to the ramparts. From here the sound of battle was muted, and she took the sisters in her arms.
‘You are very frightened, Danyal,’ said Krylla.
‘Yes, I am. You’ll have to look after me,’ answered Danyal.
‘Will they kill us?’ asked Miriel.
‘No … I don’t know, little one.’
‘Waylander will save us; he always does,’ stated Krylla.
Danyal closed her eyes and Waylander’s face filled her mind: the dark eyes, deep-set under fine brows, the angular face and square chin, the wide mouth with the faintly mocking half-smile.
The scream of a dying man echoed above the clamour of the battle.
Danyal released the children and stood leaning out over the crenellated wall.
Waylander stood with a little knot of men trying to fight their way back to the Keep, but they were almost surrounded. She could look no more and slumped down beside the girls.
Inside the Keep Dardalion roused himself and groped for his swords. He felt less groggy now, awareness of imminent death overriding the pain. He moved to the doors and hauled them open. Outside the sun was so bright it brought tears to his eyes; blinking, he saw four men rush towards him.
Fear swamped him, but instead of forcing it back, he released it, hurling it with terrible power at the four soldiers. The mind blast staggered them. One fell clutching at his heart and died within seconds; another dropped his sword and ran screaming towards the breach. The remaining two – stronger men than most – merely backed away.
Dardalion advanced on the main group, eyes wide and startlingly blue, pupils almost invisible. Growing in strength, he hurled his fear into the blue-cloaked mass of attackers. Men screamed as it hit them and panic swept through the Vagrians like a plague. They swung round, ignoring the swords of the Drenai and faced the silver warrior advancing on them. A man at the front dropped to his knees shaking uncontrollably, then he pitched forward unconscious.
Later, under the most intensive questioning, not one Vagrian soldier could describe the terror he had felt, nor the awful menace that produced it … though most could recall the silver warrior who shone like white fire and whose eyes radiated death and despair.
The Vagrians broke and ran, dropping their weapons behind them.
The Drenai watched in awe as Dardalion followed them to the breach, his swords in his hands.
‘Gods of Light,’ whispered Jonat. ‘Is he a sorcerer?’
‘It looks that way,’ said Waylander.
The men broke ranks and ran to the priest, pounding him on the back. He staggered and almost fell, but two of the warriors hoisted him to their shoulders and he was carried back to the Keep. Waylander smiled and shook his head.
‘Dak?’ said a voice. ‘Is it you?’ And Waylander swung round to face Gellan. The officer looked older, his hair was thinning and his eyes were tired.
‘Yes, it is me. How are you, Gellan?’
‘You haven’t changed a jot.’
‘Nor you.’
‘What have you been doing with yourself?’
‘I’ve travelled a fair deal. I see you stayed with the Legion – I thought you wanted to be married and gone.’
‘I married and stayed,’ said Gellan and Waylander read the pain in the man’s face, though Gellan fought to disguise it. ‘It is good to see you. We will talk later, there is much to do.’
Gellan left him then, but the man who had first spoken to Waylander remained.
‘You are old friends?’ asked Sarvaj.
‘What? Yes.’
‘How long since you’ve seen him?’
‘Twenty years.’
‘His children died in the plague at Skoda and his wife killed herself soon after.’
Thank you for telling me.’
‘He’s a good officer.’
‘He always was, better than he knew.’
‘He was going to retire this year – he had bought a farm near Drenan.’
Waylander watched Gellan directing the men to aid the wounded and clear away the bodies of the slain. Others he sent to the battlements to watch for the Vagrians.
Leaving Sarvaj in mid-sentence, Waylander strolled back to the western wall ramparts to collect his crossbow. He found a Drenai warrior sitting beside it – the man who had saved him earlier with a well-timed arrow. In no mood for conversation, Waylander stepped past him and picked up the weapon.