It would be a relief to see action and might even clear his head. Military men, the scout had said. That would make a change from witless villagers hacking about with hoes and axes.
Reaching the crest of a range of hills, Argonis gazed down over a rolling plain almost at the foot of the Skoda range. The scout rode alongside as Argonis shielded his eyes and studied the riders below.
'Ours, sir?' queried the scout.
'No. Delnoch issue red cloaks, or blue for officers — never white. I think they are Vagrian raiders.'
At that moment the column below broke into a canter heading for the sanctuary of the mountains.
'At the gallop!' yelled Argonis, drawing his sabre, and one hundred black-garbed horsemen set off in pursuit, hooves drumming on the hard-packed earth.
With the advantage of the slope, and the fact that they were cutting towards the enemy at an angle, the gap swiftly narrowed.
Excitement swept through Argonis as he bent low over his horse's neck, the morning breeze fanning his face, his sabre glinting in the sunlight.
'No prisoners!' he screamed. He was close enough now to see individual riders and to note that three were women. Then he saw the black man riding alongside one of them, obviously encouraging her — she was not sitting well in the saddle and appeared to be holding something in her arms. Her companion leaned over in the saddle and snatched the bundle from her; with both hands on the reins her mount picked up speed. Argonis grinned — what a futile gesture, for the Legion would be upon them before they reached the mountains.
Suddenly the white-cloaked riders wheeled their mounts. It was a spectacular example of discipline, for they made the move in perfect unison and before Argonis could react they had turned and were charging. Panic struck at Argonis' heart. Here he was, out in front leading the chase, and now thirty madmen were bearing down on him. He dragged on the reins and his men followed suit, confused and uncertain.
The Thirty hit them like a winter storm, silver blades flashing and slicing. Horses reared and men screamed as they fell from the saddle. Then the white-cloaked riders wheeled once more and galloped away.
Argonis was furious. 'After them!' he yelled, but wisely held back his own mount as his men thundered in pursuit. The mountains were nearer now and the enemy had begun the long climb to the first valley. A horse stumbled and fell, pitching a blonde woman to the grass; three riders spurred their horses at her. A tall man dressed in black, his face masked, swung his horse and raced to intercept. Argonis watched fascinated as the masked man ducked under a wild cut and disembowelled the first rider, swinging in the saddle to block an overhead cut from the second. Spurring his horse he cannoned into the third, downing horse and man.
The woman was up now and running. The masked man parried an attack from the second rider, and slashed the man's throat with a reverse cut. Then he was clear. Sheathing his sword, he galloped his horse towards the woman, leaning over in the saddle. His arm swept down to circle her waist and sweep her up in front of him, then they were gone into the Skoda range.
Argonis cantered back to the site of the battle. Thirty-one members of his force were down; eighteen dead, another six mortally wounded.
His men returned, dejected and demoralised. The scout, Lepus, approached Argonis and dismounted. Saluting swiftly, he held Argonis' mount as the officer slid from the saddle.
'Who in Hell's name were they?' asked Lepus.
'I don't know, but they made us look like children.'
'Is that what your report will say, sir?'
'Shut your mouth!'
'Yes, sir.'
'We will have a thousand Legion riders here in a few days. Then we will smoke them out — they cannot defend an entire range. We shall see those white-cloaked bastards again.'
'I'm not sure that I want to,' said Lepus.
Tenaka pulled his mount to a stop by a winding stream that trickled through a grove of elm on the western side of the valley. He swung in the saddle, seeking Ananais; he could see the warrior walking his horse, Valtaya sitting side-saddle behind him. They had made it without losing a single member of their party, thanks only to the spectacular skills of The Thirty.
Dismounting, Tenaka left his horse to graze; he loosened the saddle cinch and patted the beast's neck. Renya rode alongside and leapt from her saddle, her face flushed and her eyes bright with excitement.
'Are we safe now?' she asked.
'For the moment,' he answered.
Ananais lifted his leg over the pommel of his saddle and slid to the ground, turning to lift Valtaya clear. She smiled at him and draped her arms over his shoulders.
'Will you always be on hand to save my life?'
'Always is a long time, lady,' he answered, his hands on her waist.
'Did anyone ever tell you that you have beautiful eyes?'
'Not lately,' he said, releasing her and walking away.
Galand watched the scene and then moved to Valtaya.
'I should forget it, girl,' he said. 'The man is not for winning.'
'But you are, eh, Galand?'
'I am, lass! But take your time before saying yes. I'm not exactly a great catch.'
Valtaya laughed. 'You are better than you think.'
'But it's "No" just the same?'
'I don't think you are looking for a wife, are you?'
'If only we had the time,' answered Galand seriously and reaching out, he took her hand. 'You are a fine woman, Val, and I don't think a man could do better. I wish I had known you in better days.'
'Times are what we make them. There are other nations in the world where men like Ceska are shunned. Peaceful nations.'
'I don't want to be a foreigner, Val. I want to live in my own land among my own people. I want. .' Galand's words tailed away and Valtaya saw the anguish in his eyes. She laid her hand on his arm and he looked away.
'What is it, Galand? What were you going to say?'
'It doesn't matter, lass.' He turned back to her, his eyes clear and his emotions masked. 'Tell me what you see in our scarred companion?'
'I don't know. That is a difficult question for a woman to answer. Come on, let us get some food.'
Decado, Acuas, Balan and Katan left the group at the camp-site and rode back to the mouth of the valley, pausing to gaze down on the green plain where the Legion were ministering to their wounded. The dead had been wrapped in blankets and tied across their saddles.
'You did well,' said Decado, lifting his helm and hooking it over his pommel.
'It was appalling,' said Katan.
Decado swung in the saddle. 'You chose to be a warrior. Accept it!'
'I know that, Decado,' answered the dark-eyes priest. He smiled ruefully and rubbed his face. 'But I cannot revel in it.'
'That's not what I meant. You have chosen to fight against evil and you have just won a small victory. The babe back there would now be dead, but for you and the others.'
'I know that, too. I am not a child. But it is hard.'
The four dismounted and sat on the grass, enjoying the sunshine. Decado removed his white cloak and folded it carefully. He closed his eyes, suddenly aware of a strange sensation like a cool breeze inside his head.
He tried to focus on it and became aware of subtle ebbs and flows within his mind, like the distant echo of rolling waves over shingle. He lay back, drifting and at peace, moving within himself towards the source of the sensation. He was not surprised when the whispering seas became faint voices, and he recognised that of Acuas.
'I still feel Abaddon could be wrong. Did you sense Decado's battle-lust as we struck the riders? The force was so powerful it almost infected me.'
'Abaddon says not to judge.' This from Katan.
'But he is the Abbot no longer.' Balan spoke.