tribesmen. It made no sense to Rabalyn. Would the Nadir not ride over the men attacking them on foot? Would they not be trampled to death?
Rabalyn had been afraid to ask these questions.
All he knew now was that this might be his last night alive, and he found himself staring longingly at the beauty of the night sky, wishing that he could sprout wings and fly away from his fears.
Druss had walked back to the rock wall, stretched himself out, and fallen asleep. It was incomprehensible to Rabalyn that a man facing a battle could just sleep. He found himself thinking of Aunt Athyla, and the little house back in Skepthia. He would willingly have given ten years of his life to be back at home, worrying about nothing more than a scolding from old Labbers for not doing his homework. Instead he had a sword belted at his side, and a curved bow with a quiver of black-feathered arrows.
Time drifted by, and the fear did not subside. It swelled in his belly, causing the trembling to worsen. Skilgannon came back with Diagoras, and they woke Druss. The old man sat up and winced. Rabalyn saw him rubbing at his left arm. His face seemed sunken and grey. Then the brothers approached. Once again Nian was holding on to the sash at Jared’s belt.
‘Are we going to fight now?’ asked Nian.
‘Soon. But we must be quiet,’ answered Jared, patting his brother on the shoulder.
Diagoras and the twins left the company then, walking back down the road and out of sight. Skilgannon came and knelt beside Rabalyn. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.
‘Good,’ lied Rabalyn, not wishing to shame himself by admitting his terror. Skilgannon looked at him closely.
‘Follow me. I’ll show you where I want you to shoot from.’
Rabalyn pushed himself to his feet. His legs were unsteady. As he made to follow Skilgannon Druss called out to him. ‘You’ve forgotten the bow, lad.’ Blushing with embarrassment Rabalyn swept up the bow and the quiver and ran to catch Skilgannon. They walked to the site of a recent landslide, where several huge boulders had fallen across the road.
Skilgannon scrambled up the first, hauling Rabalyn up behind him. ‘There is good cover here, Rabalyn. Do not show yourself too often. Shoot when you can, then duck back.’
‘Where will Garianne be?’
‘She’ll be on the ground below you. She is a better shot.’ He smiled. ‘And less likely to send an arrow through one of us. Keep your shafts aimed at the centre of the riders.’
‘The centre. Yes.’
‘Are you frightened?’
‘No. I am fine.’
‘It is not a crime to be frightened, Rabalyn. I am frightened. Diagoras is frightened. Anyone with any intelligence would be frightened. Fear is necessary. It is there to keep us alive; to warn us to avoid danger. The greatest instinct we have is for self-preservation. Every ounce of that instinct is telling us that it would be safer to run than to stay.’
‘Then why don’t we run?’ asked Rabalyn, with more feeling than he intended.
‘Because it would only save us today. Tomorrow the enemy would still be coming, and the terrain would be more suitable for them than for us.
So here we stand. Here we fight.’
‘We could die here,’ said Rabalyn miserably.
‘Yes, we could die. Some of us may anyway. Keep yourself safe here. Do not venture down for any reason. You understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good.’
‘Is Druss all right?’
Skilgannon looked away. ‘I am concerned about him. Something is troubling him. I cannot worry about that now. The Nadir will be here soon, and I must ride to meet them.’
‘I thought you were going to stand with Druss.’
‘I will. Try not to shoot me as I ride back.’
Skilgannon climbed down the boulders, leaping the last few feet to the ground. Garianne was waiting at the bottom, her crossbow hanging from her belt, a Nadir bow in her hands. Rabalyn heard Skilgannon speak to her. ‘Protect Old Uncle,’ he said.
Then he was gone. Moments later he rode by them.
The dawn was breaking.
Skilgannon rode back along the rocky road, moving past the fissure in which Diagoras, Jared and Nian were hidden. As he did so Nian called out. ‘There’s Skilgannon! Hello!’ As he rode on Skilgannon heard Jared telling his brother to keep quiet. Anger flared fleetingly in his heart, and then the dark humour of the situation relaxed him. Diagoras was right. A simpleton, a mad woman and a frightened boy made up half of Skilgannon’s army. Then there was Druss. Old and weary. Somewhere the old gods were laughing.
He slowed his horse on a steep downward stretch, then halted him where the road widened. Looking down over the edge he could see the Nadir on a bend of the road far below. There were only nineteen of them.
This was a small relief. The men he wounded must have been more badly hurt than he had guessed.
Lifting the stolen Nadir bow from his saddle horn he notched an arrow.
It was unlikely that he would cause any damage from this range, but he wanted them to know he was there. Drawing back the string he let fly. The arrow flew straight, but his aim was faulty. It struck the road just ahead of the lead rider. The Nadir drew rein, and glanced up just as Skilgannon loosed a second shaft. This also missed. ‘Good morning, my children,’ he called down. Several of the riders drew their own bows, sending black shafts hissing towards him. The elevation made the range too great, the arrows falling short. ‘You need to come closer,’ he shouted. ‘Come up here.’
He sent another arrow hissing through the air. This one sliced through a warrior’s forearm. The Nadir heeled their mounts and galloped towards the sharp bend in the road that would bring them to him.
He waited calmly, another arrow notched. He was getting used to the bow now. It was far more powerful than he had first supposed. As the Nadir rounded the bend he sent a shaft at the lead warrior. The man tried to swerve his mount, but only succeeded in making it rear. The arrow sliced into the pony’s throat, and it fell.
Swinging the gelding Skilgannon rode up the road, the Nadir close behind. Arrows flew by him. Up ahead he could see Druss standing, axe in hand. Then Garianne stepped into sight. She shot an arrow that flew past Skilgannon. Then another. Coming alongside Druss he threw himself from the saddle, slapping the gelding on the rump and sending him running back along the trail.
Drawing both swords he turned and ran at the oncoming tribesmen. An arrow tore through the collar of his jerkin, slicing the skin. Druss bellowed a war cry and charged into the Nadir, his axe cleaving through a man’s chest, catapulting him from the saddle. Skilgannon plunged his sword through the belly of another. The Nadir threw aside their bows and grabbed for their swords. Skilgannon cut and thrust. A pony swung into him, hurling him from his feet, but he came up fast. Druss hammered his axe into another warrior. Skilgannon heard loud shouts coming from behind the milling Nadir horsemen, and knew that Diagoras and the others had attacked from the rear. The Nadir tried to reform, but the new attack unnerved some of the ponies, which, in trying to escape, came too close to the edge. Four Nadir horsemen plunged over the side. Some of the tribesmen jumped from their saddles and began to fight on foot.
Skilgannon killed one with a reverse cut across his throat. A second leapt in. An arrow appeared in his chest and he stopped in his tracks, before dropping to his knees. Three horsemen rode at Druss. Skilgannon saw the old warrior stagger as he waited to meet them. Then he fell to his knees.
The riders thundered past him towards Garianne.
She shot the first. Then the other two were on her. One threw himself from his mount. He and Garianne went down together. Skilgannon wanted to go to her aid, but he was himself now being attacked. Blocking wild cuts and slashes from two tribesmen he backed away — then leapt forward and to the right. The Sword of Day clove through the first Nadir’s breastbone, while the Sword of Night blocked an overhand cut from the second warrior. The first Nadir went down, his hands grabbing at the sword impaling him, trying to drag Skilgannon down with him. Releasing his grip on the hilt Skilgannon parried a fresh attack from the second man, then killed him with
