There is only one port on the coast — well, more of a fishing settlement, really — but there is a jetty. I stopped there two years ago after returning from a campaign in Sherak. As I recall there is a mountain road leading to the old silver mines.’
‘A pass would suit us,’ said Skilgannon. ‘Somewhere narrow. That would level the odds.’
‘You might be expecting too much,’ said Decado. ‘In my experience there is rarely only one pass through any mountain range. If we form up in one, what is to stop the Guard from finding another and encircling us?’
‘First let us find a pass. Then we’ll argue about how to hold it,’ Skilgannon told him.
Angling his horse he set off towards a tower of red rock that rose like a spear above the surrounding high ground. Dismounting, he walked round the base of the tower, then levered himself up, seeking out hand- and footholds. Decado and Alahir watched him as he climbed ever higher.
Once on the face Skilgannon moved with care. The holds were good, but he was aware that the rock was soft stone and he tested each hold before applying his full weight. Several times as he gripped what seemed a solid spur the rock would crumble and fall away. Higher he went, until he was some two hundred feet above the rocks below. He glanced down. Decado and Alahir had dismounted, and were watching him keenly.
At last he levered himself over the lip of the peak, and sat staring down over the land below. From here he could see the sharp breaks in the mountains signifying passes. Decado had been right. There were several. He could not tell from this vantage point which of them might be blind canyons, but he could see the main pass, and just glimpse the sea in the far distance. He sat for a while, gathering his strength for the return climb, and continued to study the land ahead. When he had finally committed the scene to memory he eased himself back over the edge and climbed carefully down. Despite his skills, he was relieved when his feet touched solid ground.
He told the waiting men what he had seen and sent Alahir back to fetch the rest of the force, directing him to head due east towards the deep V-shaped cut in the mountains. ‘Decado and I will scout the various passes, and see which offers the best chance of success.’
As Alahir rode away Decado shook his head. ‘You are the most optimistic man I have ever met, kinsman. Do you really believe these country boys can beat the Guard?’
‘It hardly matters what I believe. We cannot run, and we cannot hide. Therefore we fight. And when I fight, Decado, I win. Be it an army or a single man.’
‘Unlike most people I love arrogance,’ said Decado happily. ‘It is so refreshing. I feel the same way.
There’s not a man born of woman who could survive me in a duel. And you know what that means, don’t you?’
‘Tell me.’
‘One of us is wrong.’
‘Or both of us,’ said Skilgannon. ‘How fortunate we are on the same side.’
Decado chuckled. ‘Fortune is a fickle beast at best,’ he said.
Skilgannon walked to his horse and mounted. ‘Tell me all you can of the Guard, their training methods, their tactics, their weapons,’ he said, as Decado moved to his own mount.
Decado swung himself into the saddle. ‘Mounted or on foot they always attack,’ he said. ‘And like you, kinsman, they never lose.’
Unwallis had experienced many ambitions in his long life. Most had been fulfilled. One would never be fulfilled. For some reason that he could not understand, none of the many women in his life had ever conceived children by him. It had always been a mild regret. Until now.
He lay in the royal bed, Jianna curled up alongside him, her head on his shoulder, her thigh across his own. She was, at this moment, entirely childlike, and Unwallis felt a strong paternal affection for the sleeping queen. He lay there quietly, stroking her long, dark hair. Intellect told him this feeling was merely an illusion. The women lying in his arms was a ruthless tyrant, with the deaths of nations on her conscience. But in the dark of the tent his intellect faded back, allowing his emotions to roam free.
An hour passed. Unwallis began to doze. Then something caused him to wake suddenly. His eyes flared open.
He found himself looking into the grey face of a Shadow, looming over the bed. A knife blade pricked the skin of his shoulder, and he fell back. The paralysis came swiftly. Two other Shadows moved alongside. He saw Jianna jerk and try to swing her legs from the covers. With a swiftness the eye could not follow they were upon her.
Unwallis, paralysed, could do nothing to help her. He could not even close his eyes when he saw a cold, grey dagger blade plunge into Jianna’s heart. Her body fell back to the sheet, her dead eyes staring into Unwallis’s frozen orbs. Then the Shadows dragged the Queen’s corpse from her bed.
Unwallis did not see them take her from the tent. He lay, his unclosed eyes becoming dry and painful, for several agonizing hours. Finally he was lifted up by Agrippon. A surgeon was beside the bed.
Together they lifted Unwallis into a sitting position. Slowly the feeling came back to his arms, and with it a terrible pounding pain in his skull.
When at last he could speak he uttered a single word. ‘Jianna.’
‘Shadows struck down the guards,’ said Agrippon. ‘We can find no trace of her.’
‘She was killed,’ said Unwallis. ‘Stabbed through the heart. They took her body away.’
Alahir stretched out on the rocky ground at the water’s edge and removed his helm and hauberk. The sun was warm, but there was a breeze whispering through the rocks, cooled as it passed over the pool.
All around him the Legend Riders, save for the men scouting the eastern roads, were relaxing. Beyond them the horses, watered now, were tethered in the shade of the western rock face.
Gilden joined him. The veteran had doffed his armour, and was dressed only in a simple grey knee-length tunic. He did not look like a soldier now, more like a grim-faced teacher. ‘That tunic has seen better days,’ observed Alahir.
Gilden glanced down. ‘It was once green, I think,’ he said. Then he sat down, reached into the water and splashed his face. Leaning over he gazed into the depths. ‘I wonder how deep it is.’
‘Amazing that it is here at all,’ said Alahir. ‘Is it just trapped rainfall, do you think?’
‘Hard to say,’ Gilden told him. ‘Desert tanks like these can be connected to perpendicular wells -
even underground lakes. I think that’s why the ancients angled the road so close to the cliffs here. It would have made a fine resting place on the journey from the sea to the interior. Merchants could water their horses and rest, before the long haul to Gulgothir or Gassima.’ He glanced across to the other side of the pool, some thirty feet away, where Askari was sitting alongside the brooding Harad. ‘Beautiful girl.
That Stavut is a lucky man.’
‘I am not sure how lucky any of us are,’ said Alahir. ‘We are about to face the Eternal Guard, and a few hundred Jems.’
Gilden did not reply. He cast his eyes around the area. ‘Where is Stavut?’
‘The pack went off with Skilgannon and Decado. They are scouting the other passes, trying to see whether the Guard can find a way round us.’
Gilden laughed. ‘A part of me hopes they miss us completely.’
‘I know the feeling,’ agreed Alahir. ‘But then what would we do, my friend? Ride home and die facing yet another regiment — or two, or ten?’
‘There is that.’
Askari rose and walked round to sit with them. ‘The water is cool and yet no-one is swimming,’ she said. ‘Why is that?’