‘You heard what Morak said. Unharmed,’ objected Baris.
‘I’ve never known a woman harmed by it yet,’ responded Jonas.
Miriel, her arms and shoulders pinned, arched her back then sent her right foot slamming up between the forester’s legs. Jonas grunted and slumped to his knees. Baris slapped her face, grabbed her hair and hauled her to her feet. ‘Don’t give up, do you?’ he snarled, slapping her again, this time with the back of his hand. Miriel sagged against him.
That’s better,’ he said. Her head came up sharply, cannoning against his chin. He stumbled back, then drew his knife, his arm arcing back for the throw. Miriel, still
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half-stunned, threw herself to her right, rolling to her knees. Then she was up and running.
Another man jumped into her path, but she swerved round him, and almost made the clearing before a stone from a sling ricocheted from her temple. Falling to her knees she tried to crawl into the undergrowth, but the sound of running feet behind her told her she was finished. Her head ached, and her senses swam. Then she heard Angel’s voice.
‘Time to die, my boys.’
Miriel awoke in her own bed, a water-soaked cloth on her brow, her head throbbing painfully. She tried to sit up, but felt giddy then sick. ‘Lie still,’ said Angel. ‘That was a nasty strike. You’ve a lump the size of a goose egg.’
‘Did you kill them?’ she whispered weakly.
‘No. Never seen men run so fast. They sent up a cloud of dust. I have a feeling they knew me – it was very gratifying.’
Miriel closed her eyes. ‘Don’t tell my father I went out without weapons.’
‘I won’t. But it was stupid. What were you thinking of-the dream?’
‘No, not the dream. I just … I was just stupid, as you say.’
‘The man who never made a mistake never made anything,’ he said.
‘I’m not a man!’
‘I’d noticed. But I’m sure it holds true for women. Two of the men were bleeding, so I’d guess you caused them some pain before they downed you. Well done, Miriel.’
That’s the first time you’ve praised me. Be careful. It might go to my head.’
He patted her hand. ‘I can be a mean whoreson, I know that. But you’re a fine girl – tough, strong, willing. I don’t want to see your spirit broken – but I don’t want to see your body broken, either. And I know only one way to teach. I’m not even sure I know that very well.’
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She tried to smile, but the pain was growing and she felt herself slipping into sleep.
Thank you,’ she managed to say. “Thank you for being there.’
From his high study window Dardalion saw the troop of lancers slowly climbing the winding path, twenty-five men in silver armour, cloaked in crimson, riding jet-black horses, their flanks armoured in chain-mail. At their head rode a man Dardalion knew well. Against the sleek, martial perfection of his men Karnak should have looked comical; overweight and dressed in clothes of clashing colours – red cloak, orange shirt, green trews tied with blue leggings and below them black riding boots, edged with a silver trim. But no one laughed at his eccentric dress. For this was the hero of Dros Purdol, the saviour of the Drenai.
Karnak the One-eyed.
The man’s physical strength was legendary, but it paled against the colossal power of his personality. With one speech he could turn a motley group of farmers into sword-wielding heroes who would defy an army. Dardalion’s smile faded. Aye, and they would die for him, had died for him – in their thousands. They would go on dying for him.
Vishna entered the study, his spirit voice whispering into Dardalion’s mind, ‘Will their arrival delay the Debate, Father?’
‘No.’
‘Was it wise to instruct Ekodas to argue the cause of right?’
‘Is it the cause of right?’ countered Dardalion, speaking aloud and swinging to face the dark-bearded Gothir nobleman.
‘You have always taught me so.’
‘We shall see, my boy. Now go down and escort the Lord Karnak to me. And see that his men are fed, the horses groomed. They have ridden far.’