The first of the horsemen came into view. He wore a full-faced helm of gleaming black metal, a black breastplate and a blood-red cloak. Behind him came seven identical warriors, each riding black geldings, none less than sixteen hands high. Senta stood and strolled to where Waylander and the others were standing.
The horsemen reined in before the cabin, the horses forming a semi-circle around the the waiting men. No one spoke and Senta felt his skin crawl as he scanned the black knights. Only their eyes could be seen, through thin rectangular slits in the black helms. The expressions were all the same – cold, expectant, confident.
Finally one of them spoke. Senta could not tell which one, for the voice was muffled by the helm.
‘Which of you is the wolfshead Dakeyras?’
‘I am,’ replied Waylander, addressing the rider directly before him.
‘The Master has sentenced you to death. There is no appeal.’
The knight reached a black gauntleted hand to his sword-hilt, drawing the blade slowly. Waylander started to lift the crossbow -but his hand froze, the weapon still pointing at the ground. Senta looked at him, surprised, and saw the muscles of his jaw clench, his face redden with effort.
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Senta drew the first of his sabres and prepared to attack the horsemen, but even as the blade came clear he saw one of the horsemen glance towards him, felt the man’s cold stare touch him like icy water. Senta’s limbs froze, a terrible pressure bearing down on him. The sabre sagged in his hand.
The black knights dismounted and Senta heard the whispering of steel swords being drawn from scabbards. Something bounced at his feet, rolling past him. It was the whetstone Belash had been carrying.
He struggled to move, but his arms felt as if they were made of stone.
And he saw a black sword rising towards his throat.
Inside the cabin Miriel lifted Kreeg’s crossbow from the wall, flicking open the winding arms and swiftly rotating them, drawing the string back to the bronze notch. Selecting a bolt she pressed it home and swung back towards the door.
A tall knight stepped into the doorway, blocking out the light. For a moment only she froze. Then the bow came up.
‘No,’ whispered a sibilant voice in her mind.
A terrible lethargy flowed into her limbs and she felt as if a stream of warm, dark water was seeping through the corridors of her mind, drawing out her soul, emptying her memories. It was almost welcome, a cessation of fear and concern, a longing for the emptiness of death. Then a bright light flared, deep within her thoughts, holding back the black tidal wave of warm despair. And she saw, silhouetted against the light, the silver warrior who had rescued her as a child.
‘Fight them!’ he ordered. ‘Fight them, Miriel! I have opened the doorways to your Talent. Seek it! And live!’
She blinked, and tried to aim the crossbow, but it was so heavy, so terribly heavy . . .
The black knight walked further into the room. ‘Give me the weapon,’ he said, his voice muffled by the helm. ‘And I will give you joys you have not yet even dreamed of.’ As he
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approached Miriel saw Waylander on his knees in the dust of the clearing, a black bladed sword raised above his head.
‘No.r she shouted. The crossbow tilted to the right. She squeezed the bronze trigger. The bolt slashed through the air, plunging into the black helm and disappearing up to the flights. The black knight toppled forward.
Outside, Waylander, suddenly free of the spell, threw himself to the left as the sword hissed down. Hitting the ground on his shoulder he rolled and let fly the first of his bolts. It took the swordsman under the right armpit, cleaving through to the lungs.
A dark shadow fell across him. Waylander rolled again – but not swiftly enough! A black sword flashed for his face. The hound sprang across the fallen man, its great fangs closing on the swordsman’s wrist. Belash took one running step then launched himself feet-first at the knight, cannoning the man from his feet. The Nadir landed lightly and hurled himself on the assailant, driving his knife under the chinstrap of the black helmet and up into the man’s brain.