For two days Ananais walked among-the Skoda fighters, organising them into fighting units of twenty and pushing them hard. There were five hundred and eighty-two men, most of them tough and wolf-lean. Men to match the mountains. But they were undisciplined and unused to organised warfare. Given time, Ananais could have produced a fighting to equal anything Ceska could send against them. But he did not have time.
On his first morning with the grey-eyed Lake, he mustered the men and checked their weapons. there were not one hundred swords among them. 'It's not a farmer's weapon,' said Lake. 'But we've plenty of axes and bows.' Ananais nodded and moved on. Sweat trickled under his mask, burning at the scars that would not heal, and his irritation grew.
'Find me twenty men who could make leaders,' he said, then walked swiftly back to the crofter's cottage he had made his quarters. Galand and Parsal followed him.
'What's wrong?' asked Galand as the three men sat down in the cool of the main room.
'Wrong? There are nearly six hundred men out there who will be dead in a few days. That is what's wrong.'
'A little defeatist, aren't you?' said Parsal evenly.
'Not yet. But I am close,' admitted Ananais. 'They are tough and they are willing. But you cannot send a mob against the Legion. We don't even have a bugle. And if we did, there is not one man out there to understand a single call.'
'Then we shall have to cut and run — hit them hard and move away,' proposed Galand.
'You were never an officer, were you?' said Ananais.
'No. I didn't come from the right background,' snapped Galand.
'Whatever the reason, the simple fact is that you were not trained to lead. We cannot hit and run because that would mean splitting our force. Then the Legion would come after us piecemeal and we would have no way of knowing what was happening to the rest of the army. Equally, it would allow the Legion to enter Skoda and embark on a killing campaign against the cities and villages.'
Then what do you suggest?' asked Parsal, pouring water from a stone jug and passing the clay goblets to the other two.
Ananais turned away and lifted his mask, noisily sipping the cool water. Then he turned back to them. 'To be truthful, I don't know yet. If we stay together they will cut us to pieces in a single day. If we split up, they will cut the villagers to pieces. The choices are not attractive. I have asked Lake to supply me with rough maps of the terrain. And we have maybe two days to drill the men so that they will respond to rudimentary calls — we will use hunting horns and work out simple systems. Galand, I want you to go among the men and find the best two hundred — I want men who will stand firm against horsemen. Parsal, you check the bowmen. Again I want the best brought together as one unit. I shall also want to know the finest runners. And send Lake to me.'
As the two men left, Ananais gently removed the black leather mask. Then he filled a bowl with water and dabbed the red, angry scars. The door opened and he swung round, turning his back on the newcomer. Having settled the mask in place, he offered Lake a chair. Rayvan's eldest son was a fine-looking man, strong and lean; his eyes were the colour of a winter sky and he moved with animal grace and the confidence of the man who knows he has limits, but has not yet reached them.
'You are not impressed with our army?' he said.
'I am impressed by their courage.'
'They are mountain men,' said Lake, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his long legs on to the table top. 'But you did not answer my question.'
'It was not a question,' replied Ananais. 'You knew the answer. I am not impressed. But then they are not an army.'
'Can we turn back the Legion?'
Ananais considered the question. With many another man he would have lied, but not with this one. Lake was too sharp.
'Probably not.'
'And will you still stay?'
'Yes.'
'Why?'
'A good question. But I cannot answer it.'
'It seemed simple enough.'
'Why will you stay?' countered Ananais.
'This is my land and they are my people. My family brought them to this.'
'Your mother, you mean?'
'If you like.'
'She is a fine woman.'
'Indeed she is. But I want to know why you will stay.'
'Because it is what I do, boy. I fight. I'm Dragon. Do you understand?'
Lake nodded. 'So the war between good and evil does not concern you?'
'Yes, it does, but not greatly. Most wars are fought for greed but we are luckier here — we fight for our lives and the lives of the people we love.'
'And the land,' said Lake.
'Rubbish!' snapped Ananais. 'No man fights for dirt and grass. No, nor mountains. Those mountains were here before the Fall and they will be here when the world topples again.'
'I don't see it that way.'
'Of course not — you're young and full of fire. Me — I'm older than the sea. I have been over the mountain and looked into the eye of the Serpent. I have seen it all, young Lake. And I am not too impressed.'
'So! We understand one another, at least,' said Lake, grinning. 'What do you want me to do?'
'I want men sent now to the city. We have only seven thousand arrows and that is not enough. We have no armour — get some. I want the city scoured. We need food, oats, meal, dried beef, fruit. And I want horses — up to fifty. More if you can get them.'
'And how will we pay for all this?'
'Give them notes.'
'They will not accept promises from dead men.'
'Use your head, Lake. They will accept — because if they don't, you will take what you want. Any man who refuses will be branded a traitor and dealt with accordingly.'
'I am not going to kill a man because he won't let us rob him.'
"Then go back to your mother and send me a man who wants to win,' stormed Ananais. .
The weapons and food began to arrive on the morning of the third day.
By the morning of the fourth day Galand, Parsal and Lake had chosen the two hundred men Ananais had requested to stand against the Legion. Parsal had also organised the finest of the archers into a single group of just under one hundred.
As the sun cleared the eastern peaks, Ananais gathered the men together in an open meadow below the camp. Many of them now carried swords, by courtesy of the city armourer. All the archers carried two quivers of arrows, and even the occasional breastplate was to be seen among Ananais' new foot soldiers. With Parsal, Lake and Galand flanking him, Ananais climbed to the back of a cart and stood with hands on hips, eyes scanning the warriors seated around him.
'No fine speeches, lads,' he told them. 'We heard last night that the Legion is almost upon us. Tomorrow we will be in position to greet them. They are heading for the lower eastern valley, which I am told you call the Demon's Smile.
'There are about twelve hundred fighting men, all well-armed and well-horsed. Two hundred of them are archers — the rest lancers and swordsmen.' He paused to let the numbers sink in and watched men exchange glances, noting with pleasure the absence of fear in their faces.
'I have never believed in lying to the men under my command, and so I tell you this: our chances of victory are slim. Very slim! It is important we understand that.
'You know me by reputation. As yet you do not know me as a man. But I ask you to listen to what I say now, as if your own fathers were whispering in your ears. Battles are won in many cases by the actions of a single man. Each one of you could represent the difference between victory and defeat.
'Druss the Legend was such a man. He turned the battle for Skein Pass into one of the greatest Drenai victories of all time. But he was just a man — a Skoda man.
'On the day one of you, or ten of you, or a hundred of you, will turn the battle. A moment's panic, or a single second of heroism.' He paused again and then lifted his hand, one finger pointing to the sky. 'One single second!'