“Does anyone here remember Reynar on the battlefield?” Gray looked around and chuckled. “Of course not. Oh dear, does that make me the oldest here? I suppose it does. He was not as wild as Pryce here, nor as ferocious as our friends Leon or Uvoren. When he fought, it was as though each action was undertaken not to slay the enemy, but to preserve his peers. To be sure, he cut down as many foemen as any other man in battle, but his blows and parries were as frequently in service of the men either side of him, as against those before him. On many occasions, fighting on his left, I knew I was about to die and Reynar’s sword preserved me, sometimes at the expense of his own wounds. He appeared to trust me; I did not feel protected or watched by him and yet, on several occasions when I was too tired or my skill was not enough, I was delivered just in time by Reynar. He must always have been aware of me; me, and the man on his right, whoever that happened to be. In him, I thought I had seen the ultimate incarnation of a warrior. One who fights for love of his peers rather than love of glory. You had to watch him closely to know it; he did not speak of such things and most only saw the celebrated warrior. But I believe that by the end I knew him well, and that I was correct in my assessment.
“Well, on my third campaign with Reynar, the Sutherners succeeded in capturing one of our fire-throwers, tank fully charged with sticky-fire. They retreated to the town of Eskanceaster and we followed, determined to recapture it before they had an opportunity to discern the recipe for sticky-fire and make their own. It was a task given specially to four of us: myself, Reynar and another pair of guardsmen. We were to enter the night before the main assault in great secrecy, find the fire-thrower and make sure it could not be used against our forces.
“We made it over the walls and advanced to the keep, where we believed it was being held. The keep is surrounded by a moat and can only be entered by a single bridge; there was one way in, and that was where they had positioned the fire-thrower. We could see it was manned by a pair of soldiers, ready to immolate anyone who tried to cross the bridge and gain entrance.
“We watched them for a time, knowing we would not have time to rush their defences before they turned on the sticky-fire. Then one of our number, who had been an engineer before he was a guardsman, spotted that they had overcharged the tank. They had pumped too much air into it,” he explained in answer to Roper’s questioning look. “He could tell from the way they couldn’t push the pump down any more. The pressure was too high, meaning they would not be able to shut off the sticky-fire once they had turned it on. They had one shot, then the tank would be empty.
“We decided to try to panic them into firing early and then wait until they had emptied the tank. We showed ourselves and though they raised an alarm, they did not fire. They were cautious and, try as we might, we could not make them fire before we were within full range of the weapon. We could hear the garrison coming and we were running out of time. Then Reynar,” Gray stopped suddenly, brow furrowed, and drew a deep breath. He shook his head and continued. “Reynar handed me his sword, bade me take care of it and ran onto the bridge. He was sprinting for the fire-thrower, though he must have known he would never have made it. They turned it on.” Gray stopped again and took a spoonful of hoosh. He looked up at Roper and gave a depleted smile. “On that bridge, Reynar was finished. There was so much fire that afterwards we saw no trace of his body. Just empty armour and an upturned helmet. All I remember is him running head on into that jet of flame, raising a hand as though to shield himself from its heat.
“Reynar did that for us. He did what he had to, because we were running out of time. We waited for the thrower to empty, for the flames to die away and then crossed the bridge and tipped it into the moat. We managed that and escaped thanks only to Reynar, who was awarded his fourth Prize for that. When he handed me his sword, I did not realise what he was about to do because I could detect in him no fear. When he laid down his life, I believe Reynar was close then to achieving my dream. Though, of course, I do not know what he was feeling as he ran into the flames. He did
