Dark Moon

'Indeed they are, Karis,' said Vint. The warrior swung to Ozhobar, and when he spoke his voice was flat and cold. 'You have nerve, fat man; I'll give you that. And because of your discovery, I will not kill you for your insolence.'

'Decent of you, I'm sure,' retorted Ozhobar.

The two warriors left the room. Karis rose, and Duke Albreck was delighted to see the glint in her eyes. 'We can lead the Daroth to the exit we prefer,' she said. 'We need a fighting force below ground.

They will attack the Daroth, then retreat before them. The Daroth will follow. If we can maintain a fighting retreat, we can ensure that we have ballistae, crossbow-men and catapults waiting for them above ground. The difficulty will be in preventing the Daroth from recognizing the plan; if our men are retreating towards a set exit, they may well suspect a trap.'

'I see the problem,' said the Duke. 'If our men are told of the plan, the enemy will read their minds. Yet if we don't tell the men which way to retreat, the scheme is doomed anyway.'

'Then what do you propose, Karis?' asked Pooris.

'I don't know yet. But I will, councillor. Be assured of that.'

Necklen poured himself a goblet of wine and sipped it. It was a fine vintage, yet its flavour was lost on the veteran. The stump of his left arm was throbbing, and he felt every inch his fifty-seven years. Normally he avoided mirrors but, fortified by the wine, he sat before the oval mirror set above the dresser and stared gloomily at his reflection. There was not much dark hair left in his almost silver beard, and his leathery skin was criss-crossed with wrinkles. Only the eyes remained alive and alert.

No-one knew exactly how old he was. He had always lied about his age, for few captains would have knowingly hired a mercenary over fifty. I hate being old, he thought. I hate the aches and the pains that come with the winter winds and snow. But most of all he hated the chasm it created between himself and Karis. He could still remember the day four years ago when he discovered - to his utter amazement - that he was in love with her. It was after the victory at the Boriane Pass, when she had wandered away to sit alone by a small waterfall. She was by the waterside, surrounded by daffodils, when he had taken her some food the camp cook had prepared, and was surprised to find her weeping.

'One usually weeps when one has lost a battle,' he said softly, sitting down beside her. Her dark hair had been tightly drawn back into a ponytail. Karis loosed the tie and shook her head. It was in that moment, her hair hanging free, tears in her eyes, that Necklen fell in love for the second time in his life.

Karis wiped her eyes. 'Stupid woman,' she said. 'I thought they would have surrendered. Outnumbered, outflanked, what else could they do? But no, they had to fight to the death. And for what? A little village that will still be there when we have all gone to dust.'

'They were brave men,' he conceded.

'They were fools. We are fools. But then war is a game made for fools.'

'And you play it so well, princess.'

She looked at him sharply. 'I don't think I like that term.'

'I'm sorry,' he had said, reddening. 'I haven't used it in years. It was what I used to call my daughter.' That was a lie; it was the pet name he had called Sofain, his wife.

'Where is she now?' asked Karis.

'Dead. She and my wife were visiting their family in the islands when the boat was caught in a storm. They were washed overboard.'

'I am truly sorry, Necklen. Did you love them very much?'

'It is curious, but I loved them more when they had died. You don't know how valuable love is, until something takes it from you.'

'How old was your daughter?'

'Five. Dark-haired like you. She would have been about your age now - young, and full of life. Married, probably, to some farmer.'

'And you would have been a doting grandfather with babies on your knee.' He chuckled at the thought. 'I need to swim,' she said. Rising, she had stripped off her boots, leggings and tunic and dived into the pool below the falls. Necklen had rarely felt as old as he did at that moment.

He was dragged from his reverie by the sound of the door opening. Karis moved across the room and sat down opposite the old warrior. He forced a cheerfulness he did not feel. 'You are looking brighter, princess,' he said. 'What can have changed your mood?'

'One more tactic against the Daroth,' she said. 'The last one.' She told him about the catacombs, and her plans for a rolling retreat to draw the enemy to a desired location.

'But if there are seventeen exits, the Daroth might split their force and not follow our men. Or they might read their minds and realize the trap.'

'Exactly! That is what we must work out. How do we misdirect the Daroth?'

'Well, firstly, is there a need? In the darkness of the catacombs, amidst the chaos of a rolling retreat, the Daroth may not be able to read minds.'

She shook her head. 'We cannot rely on that.' Moving to the table she spread out a map of the catacombs.

'Six of the exits emerge into the Great Park. Only one of these is surrounded by flat land where we could assemble all our ballistae, spreading them in a half circle around the exit. Then, when the Daroth emerge we can cut them to pieces.'

'There is a second problem there, princess: they will not emerge all at once. Let's say twenty scramble out, then charge the ballistae. We shoot, they fall, then fifty more emerge while we are reloading. We will also need a plan that allows the greatest number of Daroth to rise from the darkness - before we shoot.'

'One problem at a time, old one.' They talked on for more than an hour, discussing possible strategies, then Karis called a halt. 'I will sleep on it,' she said. Necklen rose to go, but she lifted her hand. 'Wait for a few moments, my friend,' she said.

'What else is troubling you?' he asked.

She gave a wistful smile. 'Nothing of great importance - not to the city anyway,' she told him. 'You once told me about your wife. Did you love her?'

'Ay, I did. She was a fine woman.'

'How did you know you loved her?'

The question took Necklen by surprise. 'I can't say I know what you mean, princess,' he said. 'How does anyone know? It just happens.' She looked disappointed, but said nothing and Necklen felt he had failed her. 'How do you feel when you are in love?' he asked.

She shrugged. 'I never have been.'

'But you've . . .' he faltered.

'Had a hundred lovers,' she finished for him. 'I know. I've always been careful. Never rutted with a man who touched my soul.'

'In Heaven's name, why?'

Karis half-filled a goblet with wine, then added water. But she did not drink; she merely stared into the wine's crimson depths. Necklen was about to ask her again when she looked up. 'I don't remember how old I was when I first saw my father punch my mother. But I was very small. I saw her thrown across a table, and lying upon the floor with blood seeping from her smashed lips. He kicked her then, and I began screaming. Then he struck me.'

'What has this to do with your falling in love? I don't see the connection.'

'You don't? She married for love. It destroyed her.'

'And you feel it would happen to you? Why should it?' he asked. 'You think all men are like your father?'

'Yes,' she answered, simply. 'They all want control. They see women as possessions, and I will not be possessed.'

'Forin,' he said. 'You are in love with Forin. He is the

last person you think of before going to sleep, and the first person you see in your mind's eye when you wake. Yes?' She nodded. 'Ah, princess, you are a fine, intelligent lass, and yet dumb as a jackass.

Of course love is dangerous and wild and irresponsible. By Heaven, that's what makes it so wonderful!'