‘We are moving too slowly,’ said Angel. ‘It will be dawn soon.’
Belash nodded. ‘I agree, but many are old. They can move no faster.’
‘They could if they left those carts behind.’
Anshi Chen sniffed loudly, then hawked and spat. ‘Their possessions are their lives,’ he said. ‘You would not understand that, Drenai, for yours is a land of plenty. But each of those carts carries far more than you see. A lantern of bronze may be just a light in the dark to you, but it might have been made by a great-grandfather a century ago, and prized ever since. Every item has a value far greater than you can comprehend. Leaving them behind would be a knife in the soul to any family here.’
‘It is not a knife in the soul that concerns me,’ said Angel. ‘It is a knife in the back. But this is your war.’ Swinging the horse’s head he rode back along the line.
There were more than three hundred people filing on to the valley floor, and he guessed it would be another two hours before the last of them reached the fortress. He thought of Senta and Miriel back at the wall, and Waylander on his lonely journey to Gulgothir.
The stars were fading now, the sky lightening.
And his unease grew.
*
The white-haired Innicas moved back from the shelter of the boulder to where his brother knights waited. ‘Now,’ he told them. “The moment is here.’ Gathering the reins of his black stallion he vaulted into the saddle, drawing the black sword from the scabbard at his side. One hundred warriors mounted their horses and waited for his order. Innicas closed his eyes, seeking the Communion of Blood. He felt the flowing of the souls, tasted their anger and their need, their bitterness and their desires. ‘Let not one Nadir live,’ he whispered. ‘All dead. Gifts to the Lord of All Desires. Let there be pain. Let there be fear and anguish. Let there be despair!’ The souls of his knights fluttered in his mind like black moths, circling the dark light of his hatred. ‘What do we need?’ he asked them.
‘Blood and death,’ came the reply, hissing in his mind like a host of snakes.
‘Blood and death,’ he agreed. ‘Now let the spell grow. Let fear flow out over our enemies like a flood, a raging torrent to drown their courage.’
Like an invisible mist the spell rolled out, drifting over rock and shale, down on to the valley, swelling, growing.
The one hundred Knights of Blood ended the communion and rode from their hiding-place, fanning out into a fighting line, swords at the ready.
*
Angel felt the cold touch of fear, his mind leaping back to the day at the cabin when the Brotherhood had first appeared. Dragging on the reins he swung the horse to face the south, and saw the enemy silhouetted against the sky, their black cloaks flowing in the breeze, their swords raised high. Belash saw them at the same time, and shouted to Anshi Chen.
As the spell of fear roiled over them women and children began to wail and run, scattering across the valley. Some threw themselves to the ground, covering their heads with their hands. Others merely stood, frozen in terror. Shia was walking in the centre of the column when the spell struck. With trembling hands she lifted her bow from her shoulder and clumsily notched an arrow to the string.
Angel felt the mute boy’s arms tighten around him. Swinging in the saddle he lifted the child, lowering him to the ground beside a hand-drawn cart. The child looked up at him, his eyes wide and fearful. Angel drew his sword and forced a smile. The child pulled his stick from his belt and waved it in the air.
‘Good lad!’ said Angel.
The thirty Nadir outriders galloped their mounts to where Belash and Anshi Chen were waiting. Angel joined them. “Their spell of fear will not hold once the killing starts!’ said Angel. ‘Trust me!’
‘There are too many of them,’ muttered Anshi Chen, his voice trembling.
‘There’ll be less before long,’ snarled Angel. ‘Follow me!’ Kicking his horse into a gallop he charged at the black line.