Lightning speared the sky, illuminating the Keep which reared from the grey granite mountains like a broken tooth. Sarvaj stood and stretched. Turning, he gazed out over the harbour and the bay beyond. Vagrian triremes bobbed and swung on their anchors as the storm winds buffeted the bay. More than forty ships were now anchored at Purdol and Kaem’s army had swelled to almost 60,000 fighting men – a sign, so Karnak assured the defenders, of growing desperation among the Vagrians.
Sarvaj was not so sure. Nearly a thousand men had died during the last fourteen bloody days, with almost the same number removed from the fighting by grievous wounds. When the wind changed you could hear the screams from the hospital.
Elban, a fine rider, had his leg amputated after gangrene set in, only to die during the ghastly operation. Sidrik, the jester of the regiment, took an arrow through the throat. The names spilled over in Sarvaj’s mind, a rush of faces and jagged memories.
And Gellan seemed so tired. His hair shone with streaks of silver and his eyes were sunken and ringed with purple. Only Karnak seemed unchanged. Some of his fat had disappeared, yet he was still an awesome size. During a lull in the fighting the previous day he had wandered to Sarvaj’s section. , ‘Another day closer to victory,’ Karnak had said, a wide grin making him seem boyish in the dusk light.
‘I hope so,’ said Sarvaj, wiping his sword clean of blood and replacing it in its scabbard. ‘You’re losing weight, general.’
‘I’ll let you into a secret: a thin man couldn’t keep up this pace! My father was twice my size and he lived to be over ninety.’
“That would be nice,’ said Sarvaj, grinning. ‘I’d like to live to be twenty-five.’
‘They won’t beat us, they haven’t the guts for it.’
It had seemed politic to agree and Karnak had walked off in search of Gellan.
Now Sarvaj listened to the thunder; it seemed to be moving towards the east. Stepping over the sleeping soldiers, he picked his way to the eastern gate tower and climbed the winding stair. Even here men slept, choosing to keep dry. He trod on someone’s leg, but the man merely grunted and did not wake.
Walking out on to the high battlements, Sarvaj saw Gellan sitting on a stone seat staring out over the bay. The rain was now easing to a fine drizzle, as if some dark god had realised that dawn was but an hour away and the Vagrians needed good weather to scale the walls.
‘Do you never sleep?’ asked Sarvaj.
Gellan smiled. ‘I do not seem to have the need of it. I doze now and then.’
‘Karnak says we are winning.’
‘Fine. I’ll start to pack.’
Sarvaj slumped down beside him. ‘It seems as if we’ve been here forever – as if all that’s gone before is just a dream.’
‘I know the feeling,’ said Gellan.
‘Two men ran at me yesterday, and I killed them both while thinking about a dance in Drenan last year. It was a weird experience, as if my body had taken over and my mind was free to wander.’
‘Do not let it wander too far, my friend. We are none of us invulnerable.’
For a while they sat in silence and Gellan leaned his head back on the stone and dozed. Then Sarvaj spoke again.
‘Wouldn’t it be nice to wake up in Drenan?’
‘Farewell to the bad dream?’
‘Yes … Sidrik died today.’
‘I hadn’t heard.’
‘Arrow through the throat.’
‘Swift, then?’
‘Yes, I hope I go as swiftly.’
‘You die on me and I’ll stop your pay,’ said Gellan.
‘I remember pay,’ mused Sarvaj. ‘Wasn’t that something we used to get way back when the world was sane?’
‘Just think how much you’ll be worth when it’s over!’
‘Over?’ muttered Sarvaj, his humour disappearing as swiftly as the storm. ‘It will never be over. Even if we win, can you see us forgiving the Vagrians? We’ll turn their land into a charnel-house and see how they stomach it.’
‘Is that what you want?’
‘Right now? Yes. Tomorrow … probably not. What would it achieve? I wonder how Egel is faring?’