Gilden laughed aloud, and looked at Alahir. ‘We are not, er, great swimmers,’ Alahir told her, his face reddening.
Askari glanced at Gilden. ‘Am I missing something here?’
‘Indeed you are, lass.’
‘Oh, shut up, Gil!’ snapped Alahir.
‘Ours is a society of ancient values, some of which, to be frank, are startlingly stupid,’ said Gilden gleefully. ‘Women come in three groups, angelic maidens, wives, and whores. The first two groups are revered, the third enjoyed. Of course when I say enjoyed, it should be understood that this enjoyment comes with a sack of guilt.’
‘And this has something to do with swimming?’ asked Askari.
‘At any time the enemy may come in sight. You don’t want to be fighting in wet clothes. Therefore we would swim naked. And the Drenai cannot do that while you are here, you angelic maiden you.’ His laughter boomed out.
‘But you do not share this. . shyness?’ she said sweetly.
‘I have spent some time in the south, across the Delnoch mountains, so I have greater experience of other cultures.’
‘Good, then doff that threadbare tunic and show your comrades how well you swim.’
Now it was Alahir whose laughter rang out. Gilden reddened. ‘Ah, well,’ he temporized, ‘having said that, I never did quite throw off the shackles of my early training.’
Askari smiled. ‘So, the Legend Riders are really just shy boys, frightened of being seen naked?’ She swung to Alahir. ‘Are you shy, Earl of Bronze?’
‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘But I would really like to swim.’ Pushing himself to his feet he stripped off his shirt and leggings and dived into the water, sending up a mighty splash. All around the pool the Legend Riders hooted and clapped. Several other men stripped off and joined him.
The water was wonderfully cool and Alahir swam to the far side of the pool, where he rested his elbows on a rock and glanced up at Harad. He was sitting quietly, the great axe in his lap. ‘Join us, my friend,’ said Alahir.
‘I cannot swim,’ said Harad.
‘It is easy. Put aside the axe and come in. I will teach you in a matter of moments.’
Harad suddenly grinned. ‘Aye, that would be good,’ he said. Throwing off his clothes he waded into the water. ‘What do I do?’
‘Take a deep breath and lie back. The air in your lungs will keep you afloat.’
Harad leaned back. As his head touched the water he tried to stand. His foot slipped and he sank beneath the surface, coming up spluttering. Alahir was beside him in an instant. ‘Trust me,’ said Alahir. T
will support your back. Now breathe in deeply and we will get you to float.’
Askari watched the two men, and swung to Gilden. ‘You are old to be a soldier,’ she said.
‘Thank you for sharing that observation,’ he said sourly.
‘I meant no disrespect. Far from it. To have survived this long you must be very skilled.’
‘Lucky is all.’
‘You have family? Children?’
He chuckled. ‘I have these shy boys,’ he said. ‘They are my family. One day they will take my armour and bury me. Then they will sing songs over my grave. It is enough for me.’
‘The sky is too blue to be talking about graves and death,’ she pointed out. Rising to her feet she stripped off her clothes. ‘Come, Gilden, swim with me,’ she said, holding out her hand. He hesitated for a moment, then sighed and stood. Pulling his tunic over his head he displayed a body with many scars, across his chest and shoulders, and upper thighs. Askari took his hand, and drew him into the water.
Just then Skilgannon and Decado rode through the gap in the rocks that ringed the pool and dismounted. Alahir saw them, left Harad happily floating, and waded to the bank. Decado moved away from them, stripping off his clothes and diving into the water. Skilgannon looked tired. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face gaunt. ‘Perhaps you should get in too,’ offered Alahir.
‘We found three other passes that could be used to get behind us,’ said Skilgannon, ‘and we don’t have enough men to adequately defend them all. There may be even more that I couldn’t find. Once down into the low canyons it is like a warren. Stavut is still checking them.’
‘They will come at us head on first,’ said Alahir. ‘It is the way of the Guards. See the enemy, kill the enemy. They have great belief in their martial supremacy.’
‘I agree. It matches everything Decado told me.’
‘Then what is worrying you?’
Skilgannon grinned. ‘You mean apart from being outnumbered four to one? If we are cut off then I will not be able to reach the temple site, and this whole venture will have been for nothing.’
‘There is nothing there,’ Alahir pointed out. ‘We have seen that for ourselves.’ His body almost dry in the bright sunshine he picked up his tunic and slipped it on, and then his leggings. ‘So, let’s just finish off these Guards and head back for Siccus.’
‘The magic is still emanating,’ said Skilgannon. ‘It must be there.’
‘I know nothing about magic, Skilgannon, but if the temple is gone, perhaps they took the source somewhere else. Another country. Over the sea.’
‘True,’ admitted Skilgannon wearily. ‘But the prophecy said I would find the answer. And I am here -
not across the sea.’ Taking the reins of the two mounts he led them to the far side of the pool.
Alahir helped him with the unsaddling and they rubbed the beasts down. Then Skilgannon gestured for Alahir to follow him and they walked back through the deep cut in the rocks that led out to the trail. It was some thirty feet wide here, dropping steeply away to the north. Skilgannon walked to the edge.
From here they could see the great crater where the temple mountain once stood. Skilgannon stared at the distant ring. Heat waves were shimmering over it. Reluctantly he turned away. ‘We have an advantage here,’ he said to Alahir. ‘The ground dips away to the east, which means the enemy will be coming at us uphill. The cliffs and the precipice mean they cannot flank us.’ He walked on down the old road, which narrowed to around fifteen feet at the bend, where it swung away sharply before continuing down to the canyon below. ‘They will have no time to form up properly for a charge,’ he continued. ‘The formation will break at this point, where only five or six riders can stay abreast of one another. Once past this they will be in arrow range. I can’t see them risking their horses against trained bowmen on high ground.’
‘No,’ agreed Alahir. ‘They will dismount and come at us fast on foot.’
‘Or send in their beasts.’
‘I think they will hold back the beasts at first,’ said Alahir.
‘Why so?’
‘I don’t wish to sound arrogant, but we are the elite, Skilgannon. The Legend Riders have a reputation. I think the Guards will want to test that. Once we bloody their noses then they’ll send the beasts.’
‘That sounds right to me,’ admitted Skilgannon, walking once more to the edge. He gazed down. ‘It is only half a mile to the canyon floor, but the enemy, following a winding uphill road, will have to travel four, perhaps five, times that far. I don’t know how long they will have been without water, but even with supplies their mounts will be tired, and the warriors will be hot, their mouths dry, their eyes gritty.’
They stood in silence. Alahir gazed at the winding road, picturing the Eternal Guard in their black and silver armour, their high plumed helms. Skilgannon was right. The road, some hundred and fifty paces from the entrance to the rock pool, was too narrow for them to form up for a charge. They would have to attack in relative disorder, trying to create a strong formation even as they ran towards the bowmen.
Moving to the narrow point he turned and began to run back up the slope, counting as he did so.