She couldn't watch him eat and moved away to gather flowers. When he had finished she returned to him.
'Put on your mask,' she said. 'Someone might come by.'
His bright blue eyes burned into hers, then he looked away and pulled on the mask.
'Someone just did,' he said sadly.
22
Towards the middle of the morning bugles sounded in the enemy camp and some, ten thousand warriors began to move purposefully around the wagons — pulling ladders clear, tying ropes to grappling hooks, hitching shields in place.
Ananais ran to the wall where Lake was bent over the giant bow, checking the ropes and ties.
The army lined up across the valley, sunlight flashing from swords and spears. A drum-beat began and the force moved forward.
On the wall, defenders licked dry lips with dry tongues and wiped sweating palms on their tunics.
The slow drum-beat echoed in the mountains.
Terror hit the defenders like a tidal wave. Men screamed and jumped from the wall, rolling on to the grass below.
'The Templars!' screamed Decado. 'It's only an illusion.'
But panic continued to well up in the Skoda ranks. Ananais tried to rally them, but his own voice was shaking with fear. More men leapt from the walls as the drums grew closer.
Hundreds of men now streamed back, skidding to a halt as they saw the woman standing before them in her rusty mailshirt.
'We don't run!' bellowed Rayvan. 'We are Skoda! We are the sons of Druss the Legend. We don't run!'
Drawing a shortsword, she walked through them towards the walls. Only a handful of men remained by the ramparts, and these were ghost-faced and trembling. Rayvan mounted the steps, fear growing as she reached the battlements.
Ananais staggered towards her, holding out his hand which she accepted gratefully.
'They can't beat us!' she said through gritted teeth, her eyes wide.
The Skoda men turned and saw her standing defiantly at the centre. Gathering their swords they moved forward again, pushing against the wall of fear before them.
Decado and The Thirty fought back against the force, holding a shield around Rayvan.
And then the fear vanished!
The Skoda warriors surged back to the walls, angry now. Shamed by the courage of the warrior woman who led them, they stood their ground, determination on every face.
The drum-beat stopped. A bugle sounded.
With a savage roar ten thousand warriors surged forward.
Lake and his workers hauled back the bowstrings on the two weapons, filling their bowls with filed lead shot. At fifty paces Lake lifted his arm. At forty he dropped it and tugged the release. The arm whipped forward. The second machine let fly a moment later.
The first ranks of the enemy were scythed down and a great cheer rose from the defenders. Taking up their bows, the Skoda men sent volley after volley of arrows into the charging warriors. But they were heavily armoured and they held their shields before them.
Ladders thudded against the wall and grappling-hooks sailed over the ramparts.
'Now it begins!' said Ananais.
The first warrior to reach the ramparts died with Ananais' sword in his throat. As he fell, he dislodged the man below him.
And then they were over and the battle became hand-to-hand.
Decado and The Thirty fought together as a unit to the right of Ananais. Not one warrior gained the ramparts there.
But to the left the invaders forged an opening. Ananais charged among them, cutting and slashing, hacking and slaying. Like a lion among wolves he hammered his way through their ranks, and the Skoda men gathered behind him roaring their defiance. Slowly they pushed back the soldiers. At the centre Rayvan plunged her blade into a warrior's chest, but as he fell he lashed out, his sword slicing her cheek. She stumbled as another man ran at her and Lake, seeing his mother's danger, hurled his dagger to hit the assailant hilt-first, behind the ear. He half-fell and dropped his sword, whereupon Rayvan finished him with a two-handed cut to the neck.
'Get away from here, mother!' yelled Lake.
Decado, hearing the cry, left The Thirty and ran to Rayvan, helping her to her feet.
'Lake is right,' he said. 'You are far too important to risk yourself here!'
'Behind you!' she yelled, as a warrior leapt over the wall with axe raised. Decado spun on his heel and lunged. His sword skewered the man's chest — and snapped. Two more warriors climbed into view and Decado dived forward, scooping up the fallen axe and rolling to his feet. He blocked an overhead cut, then back-handed the warrior from the wall. The second man lanced his blade into Decado's shoulder but Lake, running in behind, hammered his sword through the attacker's skull.
The attackers drew back.
'Get the wounded from the wall,' shouted Ananais. 'They'll return at any moment.'
Ananais moved along the wall, hastily checking the wounded and dead. At least a hundred men would fight no more. Ten more attacks like this and they were finished.
Galand made his way from the far left, meeting Ananais at the centre.
'We could do with a thousand more men and a higher wall,' said Galand sourly.
'They did well. Losses will be fewer next time. The weakest of our men fell during this assault.'
'Is that all they are to you?' snapped Galand. 'Units with swords. Some good, some bad?'
'There is no time for this, Galand.'
'You make me sick!'
'I know Parsal's death. .'
'Leave me alone!' said Galand, pushing past him.
'What was that about?' asked Thorn, climbing the rampart steps. A bandage had been wrapped around a shallow cut to his head.
'I don't know.'
'I brought some food,' said Thorn, handing Ananais a loaf filled with creamed cheese. Ananais had taken one bite when the drums began beating once more.
Five attacks were launched and repulsed before dusk, and one night attack was turned back with heavy losses among the Drenai.
Ananais remained on the wall until two hours before dawn, but Decado assured him no further attacks were planned and the general finally staggered away from the ramparts. Valtaya had a room in the hospital, but he resisted the impulse to go to her; instead he moved into the trees and fell asleep on a grassy knoll.
Four hundred men had been removed from the battle; the wounded overflowed the hospital and had been laid on blankets on the grass around the building. Ananais had sent for reinforcements, two hundred and fifty men of the reserve force.
At Tarsk, he learned from Acuas, the losses had been fewer, but then only three attacks had been launched. Turs, the young warrior who led the Tarsk troops, had done well by all accounts.
It was now obvious that the main thrust would be aimed at Magadon. Ananais hoped the Joinings would not be sent in tomorrow, but in his heart he knew that they would be.
Across from the hospital buildings a young warrior tossed in his sleep as the nightmare grew. Suddenly he stiffened and a strangled scream died in his throat. His eyes opened and he sat up, reaching for his knife. Reversing the blade, he slowly pushed it into his chest between the ribs until it sliced into his heart. Then he withdrew it and stood up. No blood ran from the wound. .
Slowly he walked to the hospital building, staring through the open window. Inside Valtaya was working into the night, fighting to save the worst of the wounded.
He moved away from the window to the woods beyond, where some two hundred refugees had pitched their makeshift tents. By a camp-fire sat Rayvan, cradling a babe and talking to three women.