Waylander by David A. Gemmell

‘You haven’t slept,’ said Sarvaj.

‘No, I was thinking about the convoy. What we can’t steal, we must destroy; the Vagrians must be taught to suffer. I don’t understand the way they are conducting this war. If they left the farming villages alone there would always be sufficient supplies, but by raping and killing and burning they are making the land a wilderness. And it will turn on them. Come winter they will be on short rations and then, by all the Gods, we’ll hit them.’

‘How many wagons do you think there’ll be?’

‘For a force of two thousand? No fewer than twenty-five.’

‘So,’ said Sarvaj, ‘if we take the convoy without loss we’ll have around twenty escort riders, and three days in the open back to Skultik. That’s asking for a lot of luck.’

‘We are entitled to a little , my friend,’ replied Gellan.

‘Entitlement means nothing. I’ve lost at dice ten days in a row!’

‘And on the eleventh?’

‘I lose again. You know I never win at dice.’

‘I know you never pay your debts,’ said Gellan. ‘You still owe me three silver pieces. Get the men together – Jonat should be back soon.’

But it was mid-morning before Jonat and the others cantered into the clearing. Gellan strode to meet them as Jonat lifted his leg over the pommel and slid to the ground.

‘What news?’ he asked.

‘You were right, sir – there’s a convoy three hours to the east. Twenty-seven wagons. But there are fifty mounted guards and two outriding scouts.’

‘Were you seen?’

‘I do not believe so,’ replied Jonat stiffly.

‘Tell me of the ground.’

‘There’s only one spot to take them, but it’s close to Ostry and the infantry. However, the trail winds between two wooded hills; there’s plenty of cover on both sides and the wagons will move slowly, for the track is muddy and steep.’

‘How soon can we be there and in place?’

Two hours. But that will leave it very tight, sir. We might even arrive as the wagons enter the trees on the far side.’

‘That’s too damned tight,’ said Sarvaj, ‘especially since they have scouts out.’

The risks were too great, Gellan knew, yet Egel needed supplies desperately. What was worse, there was no time to plan, to think.

‘Mount up!’ he shouted.

As the troop thundered to the east, Gellan was cursing his shortcomings. What was needed before setting out was a powerful short speech to the men, something to fire their blood. But he had never been good with groups and knew the men felt him to be a cold, distant leader. Now he was uncomfortably aware that he was leading some of them – perhaps all – to their deaths on a harebrained attack best left to reckless, colourful men like Karnak or Dundas. How the men worshipped them – young, dashing and totally fearless, they led their Centuries against the Vagrians time and again, cutting and running, letting the enemy know there was still some fight in the Drenai.

They had little time for veterans like Gellan. Perhaps rightly so, he considered, as the wind tore at his face. I should have retired, he thought. He had made up his mind to quit this autumn, but there was no quiet retirement for a Drenai officer now.

They reached the wood in under two hours and Gellan called a swift meeting with his under-officers. Two of his best bowmen were dispatched to deal with the advance scouts, and then he split his force to left and right of the track. He himself took command of the right-hand slope, giving Jonat the left, ignoring Sarvaj’s disapproving glare.

With the orders given, the men settled down to wait and Gellan bit his lip, his mind racing round in infuriating circles as he struggled to find a flaw in his plan – a flaw he felt certain was there for all to see.

On the left-hand slope Jonat crouched behind a thick bush, rubbing at his neck to ease the tension. On either side his men waited, bows ready and arrows notched,.

He wished Gellan had given this command to Sarvaj; he felt ill at ease with the responsibility.