Ananais and Rayvan walked back to the ramparts hand in hand, and the men there cheered themselves hoarse. As they reached the steps he swept her to his shoulder and carried her up to the wall.
'Put me down, you lummox!' she yelled.
'Just carrying you over the threshold,' he explained.
Men swarmed around them and the noise of their laughter drifted to the Legion camp.
Ceska called Dank to him.
'What is happening?' he demanded.
'I don't know, sire.'
'They are laughing at me! Why have your men not taken the wall?'
'They will, sire. At dawn, I promise you!'
'If they do not, you will suffer, Dank. I am tired of this pestilential place. I want to go home.'
For three bloody hours the battle continued on the morning of the fourth day, but the Legion could not gain the wall. Ananais could scarce contain his joy, for even through his weariness he could sense the battle had swung. Without the Joinings the Legion fought mechanically, reluctant to risk their lives, while the men of Skoda battled with fresh heart and confidence. The heady wine of victory pounded in Ananais' veins and he laughed and joked with the men, hurling curses at the fleeing enemy soldiers.
But just before noon a marching column was seen to the east, and the laughter died.
Twenty officers rode into Ceska's camp, bringing with them five hundred arena Joinings from Drenan, specially-bred beasts standing eight feet tall — blended from the souls of men, bears of the north, apes of the east, lions, tigers and the grey timber-wolves of the west.
Ananais stood very still, his blue eyes scanning the horizon.
'Come on, Tani,' he whispered. 'By all that's holy, don't let it end like this.'
Rayvan joined him with Balan, Lake and Galand.
'There is no justice,' spat Rayvan. Silence greeted her comment, a silence that spread the length of the wall.
The giant Joinings did not hesitate in the camp but advanced in a wide line, their officers behind them.
Thorn tugged Ananais' sleeve. 'Got a plan, general?' he asked. Ananais glanced down at the old man, biting back the bitter reply as he saw the fear etched into Thorn's face. The man was grey and tight-lipped.
'No plans, my friend.'
The beasts did not charge but ambled forward bearing huge clubs, saw-edged swords, maces and axes. Their eyes were red as blood and their tongues lolled from gaping maws. They advanced in silence, a soul-sapping silence which ate away at the courage of the defenders. Men began to stir along the line.
'You must think of something to say, general,' urged Rayvan.
Ananais shook his head, his eyes bleak and empty. Once more he felt himself standing in the arena, tasting the bitterness of unaccustomed fear. . watching the portcullis gate slowly lift… hearing the crowd fall strangely silent. Yesterday he could have faced these awesome beasts. But to have been in sight of victory — to have it so close that he could feel its sweet breath upon his brow. .
One soldier leapt from the wall and Rayvan swung round.
'Olar! This is no time to leave!'
The man stopped and hung his head.
'Come back and stand with us, lad. We will all go down together — that's what makes us what we are. We're Skoda. We're family. We love you.'
Olar looked up at her, tears falling, and drew his sword.
'I wasn't running away, Rayvan. I was going to stand with my wife and son.'
'I know, Olar. But we must try at least to hold the wall.'
Lake nudged Ananais. 'Draw your sword, man!' But the giant did not move. He was no longer with them, but was fighting once more in a stone arena in another time.
Rayvan pulled herself up to stand on the battlements.
'Stand steady, my boys! Think on this: help is on the way. Turn back these creatures and we have a chance!'
But her voice was drowned in the terrifying blood-roar of the Joinings as they finally broke into a run. Behind them came the Legion.
Rayvan scrambled back as the beasts reached the wall. They needed no ropes and ladders — at full run they leapt, scrambling over the fifteen-foot rampart.
Shining steel met snarling fangs and ripping talons, but the first of the defenders were swept away. Rayvan thrust her sword into a gaping mouth and the Joining fell back, its teeth snapping the blade. Ananais blinked, dragging himself back to the present. Both his swords flashed in the bright sunshine. A beast towered over him but, stepping inside the first vicious sweep of an axe, Ananais plunged his right-hand sword into the creature's belly, twisting as the blade rammed home. A ghastly howl came from the Joining and it slumped forward, blood drenching the black-garbed warrior. Ananais pushed the beast clear, wrenching his blade from its body as another came to him, swinging a mace. He dropped his right-hand sword, took a double-handed grip on the left and sliced the blade through the creature's arm. Its taloned hand flew into the air, still clutching the mace as, screaming in pain and fury, it leapt at Ananais. The warrior ducked and drove his sword two-handed into the beast's belly as it went over him; it tore the sword from his hands.
Balan leapt from the battlements and ran back some twenty paces. Turning, he knelt on the grass and closed his eyes. Somewhere in all this pain and horror there had to be a purpose and a triumph. Yesterday the combined force of The Thirty had turned the Joinings back into men. Now there was only Balan.
He emptied his mind of all thought, reaching for the serenity of the Void, building his lack of thought into a channel to the beasts. He reached out. .
And recoiled from the blood-lust and fury. Steeling himself he reached out once more.
Hate! Terrible, burning, all-consuming hate. He felt it and burned with it, hating the Joinings, their masters, Ananais, Rayvan and the world of untainted flesh.
No. Not hate. No hate. The horror washed over and past him. He was untouched, unsullied. He would not hate a man-made monster, nor even the man who had made them so.
The wall of hatred was all around him, but he pushed back.
He could not find a single memory to jolt the beasts, for they were not ex-Dragon, but he used the only emotion he could be sure they had known as men.
Love.
Love of a mother in a cold frightening night; love of a wife when all around you prove false; love of a daughter given so freely in a swift hug, in the first smile of a babe; love of a friend.
Growing in power, he sent out his feelings like a wave upon sand.
On the walls the carnage was terrible.
Ananais, bleeding from a dozen cuts and slashes, watched in horror as a Joining leapt at Rayvan and bore her from the battlements. He jumped after them. She twisted in the air and the Joining landed on its back with Rayvan above it. Her weight hammered the air from its lungs and, seeing her chance, she rammed her dagger into its neck, rolling clear as the beast lashed out with its talon. It reared drunkenly to its feet and Ananais plunged his blade into the creature's back.
Above them the line broke and the beasts swept on over the battlements. The Skoda survivors broke and ran, but the Joinings surged after them, hacking them down.
Suddenly the beast closest to Balan staggered, dropping its sword and holding its head. A howl of despair filled the air and everywhere the Joinings fell back as the Skoda warriors watched in disbelief.
'Kill them!' shouted Galand, running forward and hacking his sword through a furry neck. The spell broke and the Skoda men fell upon the dazed beasts, cutting them down in scores.
'No,' whispered Balan. 'You fools!'
Two Joinings turned on the kneeling priest. A mace thundered down, smashing him from his feet, then talons ripped away his chest and his soul was torn screaming from his flesh.