‘What are your orders, Shakul?’ The beast took a step towards him, but Skilgannon did not back away. He looked up into the creature’s enormous eyes. ‘Your orders?’ he repeated.
Shakul hesitated. The beast was torn between his desire to rend flesh and kill, and his training to be obedient to the wishes of humans. ‘Take woman,’ he said, at last.
‘Where?’
‘Corvin. Captain.’
‘Corvin is dead. Both your officers are dead. There is no-one to take the woman to. You now have a decision to make.’
Skilgannon saw the beast’s golden eyes flicker. His head tilted, and he gave a low growl. Skilgannon quelled the urge to speak again. It was best to keep matters simple and wait. The moment was pivotal.
Shakul swung to look at the remaining Jiamads, who were standing now, calmly awaiting his orders. Then the great beast glanced at the bodies of the Jiamads on the cave floor. His head shook, as if insects were buzzing around his eyes. ‘You soldier?’ he asked.
‘I am Skilgannon.’
Shakul began to sway, his golden eyes on the swords in Skilgannon’s hands. His talons opened and closed. Skilgannon sensed he was about to attack.
‘We could kill each other,’ said Skilgannon. ‘Or not. You choose.’ Shakul wavered. He glanced up at the woman with the deadly bow, then at the axeman standing ready. Skilgannon waited. And the tension eased.
‘Corvin dead?’
‘Yes.’
‘You kill Corvin?’
‘Yes.’
‘Fight no more,’ said Shakul. ‘We go.’
‘Do no harm to the villagers, Shakul,’ said Skilgannon. ‘Either go back to your regiment or head north.
No more killing here. Do I have your word?’
‘Word?’ The beast was uncertain.
‘Your promise. No harm to Skins.’
‘No harm,’ said the beast, at last. Lifting a mighty arm he gestured at the waiting Jiamads, and they shuffled forward past him, towards the hole they had made in the rear wall. Shakul was the last to leave.
He swung towards Skilgannon and looked into his eyes. But he said nothing. Then he too left the cave.
By the far wall the young man in red groaned and sat up. ‘I’m not dead,’ he said.
Then the young woman climbed down from the shadows of the rock shelf and turned towards Skilgannon.
He felt as if his heart had stopped beating.
‘Jianna!’ he whispered.
Just before the rear wall crashed in, and the Jiamads burst through, Askari had emptied her quiver, laying her remaining shafts on the shelf beside her. Then she had notched one to the string, and prepared to fight for her life. There was no fear in her, no regret, just a fierce determination to survive; to kill every enemy that came at her.
When the Jiamads did rush through she realized there was to be no escape. There were too many, and they were too swift. At best she could kill three, then the others would swarm over the rock shelf and drag her down.
She watched Stavut make his suicidal leap down into them, and saw his body hurled against the rock wall. Even then there was no regret, and fear was absent from her. Coolly she loosed three shafts and reached for a fourth.
Then the miracle happened. Two warriors rushed into the fray, one black-bearded and powerful, bearing a glittering double-headed axe, the second tall and lean, bearing two shining swords, one pale gold, the other moonlight silver.
In the brief battle that followed two Jiamads were slain, and a third cut deeply across the face. Askari notched another arrow to the string. Then the tall warrior called out: ‘Hold, Harad!’ He glanced up at her, and she felt the shock of his sapphire gaze. ‘Loose no more shafts,’ he ordered. Then he called for the Jiamad leader to step forward. What followed seemed almost dreamlike to Askari. The beast obeyed him, and the two talked. Then, amazingly, the Jiamads filed out of the cave. For several heartbeats she remained where she was in the high shadows, staring down at the swordsman. She had only known one lord, and that was Landis Kan. He had authority and power. But not like this man. At his word all action had ceased, the power of his personality overlaying the violence and bloodlust. His accent was strange, each word carefully enunciated. It sounded almost like poetry. She heard Stavut groan, and saw him sit up. ‘I am not dead,’ he said, the words echoing in the silence. Trust Stavut to voice the obvious, she thought. Replacing her shafts in her quiver, she hooked it over her shoulder and climbed down from the rock shelf. Turning towards her rescuers she was about to thank them when she saw all colour fade from the swordsman’s face. He was staring at her in shock. In his sapphire eyes she saw both pain and longing.
‘Jianna?’ he whispered.
The intensity of the stare was uncomfortable and Askari decided to press on. ‘I am Askari the Huntress,’ she said. ‘This is my friend, Stavut. We thank you for your help.’
The swordsman struggled for words, then his expression darkened. Askari thought she saw anger there. ‘Better see to your friend,’ he said coldly, then turned away and walked to the rear of the cave and vanished into the darkness beyond. The axeman approached her. ‘I am Harad. That is. . was. .
Skilgannon.’
‘It seems he finds it easier to talk to beasts than to women,’ she said.
‘Who doesn’t?’ muttered Harad, with feeling. There was something in the rawness of the man’s honesty that made Askari smile.
She moved to Stavut, crouching down beside him and examining his head. There was a large lump just into the hairline above his temple. The skin was split, and oozing blood.
‘You have a hard skull, Stavi.’
‘I feel sick,’ he said, ‘and the cave seems to be moving.’
‘Lie down,’ she ordered. Fetching two blankets she rolled one for a pillow, then covered him with the second. For the first time she felt the chill in the cave and shivered. The small lantern did not give out much heat, and she prepared a fire. Once it was blazing she sat down beside it, holding out her hands to the flames. Harad joined her. He was not a talkative man, but she discovered that he and Skilgannon had come from the village. It lifted her heart to know that Kinyon had survived. But what she really desired was information about the man with the sapphire eyes.
‘Is he coming back?’ she asked Harad. The big man shrugged. ‘Have you been friends for long?’
‘No. A few days. Landis Kan asked me to show him the high country. You have any food here?’
‘There is some salt-dried beef in my pack. You are welcome to it. I am not hungry.’
Harad accepted the gift and sat silently chewing the meat. The lack of conversation became irritating, and Askari stood, gathered up her bow, and left the cave, wandering down the darkened tunnels, emerging at last to the rock ledge on the cliff face. Skilgannon was there, sitting quietly in the morning sunshine.
‘Your friend Harad is not a talkative man,’ she said.
‘One of the qualities I like about him,’ he said.
‘Have I done something to anger you?’
‘Not at all,’ he said, with an apologetic smile. ‘Please join me. The view from here is very pleasant.’
Askari settled down alongside the swordsman, and stared out over the treetops and the flowing hills beyond. The sky was bright and clear, the air fresh and cool.
‘What you did in that cave was astonishing.’
‘I was lucky. We have all been lucky,’ he added. He seemed friendlier now, but she noticed he did not look at her.
‘Are you one of the Legend people?’
‘I don’t know what that means.’
‘From the north. The ones who hold to the ancient ways of the Drenai?’
‘No. I am from Naashan, across the sea.’
‘I have not heard of that place. But I guessed from your voice you were from Outside.’
‘Something tells me you would like Naashan if you saw it.’ He took a deep breath. ‘You grew up in these mountains?’ Askari nodded. ‘And Landis Kan visits you often?’
‘He seems to have taken a liking to me,’ she told him. ‘It makes me uncomfortable.’
‘Do you know why the beasts were hunting you?’
‘Because I killed one back at the village,’ she said.
He shook his head. ‘No. Kinyon said they came to the village seeking you.’
‘That makes no sense. I have no enemies. Not here and not Outside.’
‘Landis Kan has the answers. I shall wring them from him,’ he said, his voice angry once more. She found herself staring at his profile and suddenly shivered.
‘Have we met before?’ she asked him.
‘Not in this lifetime.’
The silence grew. At last Askari pushed herself to her feet. ‘You seem uncomfortable in my company, Skilgannon,’ she said, a note of sadness in her voice.
‘It is not your fault,’ he said, with a sigh. Taking a deep breath he looked up into that familiar face. His breath caught in his throat as he did so. But he stumbled on. ‘A long time ago I loved a woman with all my heart. You are. . very like her. That. . likeness. . stabs at my soul.’
‘Jianna,’ she said, sitting down once more. He saw her tension ease. Then she lifted her hands, pulling her hair back from her head and raising her face to the sun. It was such a simple gesture, and it tore into him with knives of fire. He had first seen it a thousand years ago, in the house he shared with the gardener, Sperian, and his wife, Molaire. Anger rose again, and he looked away, struggling for calm. He had been uneasy with the actions of Landis Kan, in bringing him back from the dead. Then he had discovered Harad, and that uneasiness had coalesced into rage. Now, though, he felt as if his memories and his life had been violated. The living forms of Druss the Legend and Jianna the Witch Queen were beside him again, and far from being uplifted by the experience, he was filled with burning regrets.
‘Are you a friend of Landis Kan’s?’ she asked him.
‘A friend? No. In fact I am beginning to dislike him immensely.’
‘I used to like him,’ she said. ‘He came often to my mother’s house, and would sit chatting to me. He talked of distant lands, and said he would like to take me there. As a child I looked forward to his visits.’