Deri looked up at the pedestal where the statue of the Aspect had been. 'We were told the fountain pointed directly towards Six Temples. Could they have torn it down intentionally?'
'They tore it down because they're godless wretches who have for¬saken their sanity,' Gort growled. 'They are animals, not men. They act as their instincts tell them – they do not have the forethought to lead us into a trap.'
'Animals can still possess cunning, sir, Derl said, before he caught sight of Gort's furious expression and added quickly, 'but only the insane desecrate a shrine, of course. Mehar, why have those damned skirmishers not come to report to the general yet?'
Mehar jumped. 'I will summon them at once, sir.'
'Don't bother,' Major Deri said dismissively. 'I wouldn't trust them anyway.' He stood up in his stirrups and turned to look back up the Bearwalk. Gort did likewise. Halfway up they could see the torches of the cavalry company he'd ordered to follow behind, to protect
I heir line of retreat. They would hold there, with another positioned
here, within eyeshot: no great defence, but enough to summon help
if required.
One lancer broke off and made his way over, offering a sloppy salute to the general. Gort glared at the insolent cavalryman, but said nothing. The man was so pale, his face drained of energy and slack with fatigue that he looked about ready to fall from his saddle. The dark rings around his eyes were a strange contrast to the feverish glow within.
'Woren, which road takes us to Six Temples?' Deri asked.
The lancer looked around at his surroundings as though astonished at being there. Slowly, he raised a finger and indicated two of the streets, wavering between the two. He opened his mouth to speak, but managed nothing more than an exhausted sigh.
Strange, thought Gort, the man must be a native of Scree, but is he the only one we could find? He looks touched by fever, or madness, maybe – is this what has happened to the rest of the city?
'Well?' Deri demanded.
'That way curves round to the east,' Woren said dully, indicating the Ieft-hand road. 'The other goes straight, leave it at the Corn House and past that to the north edge.'
'Right.' Deri turned to his commander. 'Sir, I suggest we head for the east, since the road is better; we don't want to be confined if we are attacked.'
Gort nodded. 'Send the skirmishers off, lancers behind.' He leaned lorward in his saddle, staring intently at the street they were about to take. Did he see a movement in the darkness there, a flash of skin even whiter than Woren's? Or was that just his own fear?
'Mehar, as soon as we're within the outer ring of Six Temples, block as much oi the south and west as you can so our hacks aren't exposed; use everything you can find, unless it's been blessed, and everything we've brought in the carts.' He didn't notice his left hand going to the hilt of his sword and tightening around the grip.
He spoke up so all the men nearby could hear, hoping conviction would swell into courage. 'This whole city may have turned against the Gods, but while there are still temples here, our oath to defend them binds us.'
Isak took the lead as they ran back through the corridors of the palace. The handful of soldiers they met were dispatched without breaking stride. The sounds of destruction echoed in their wake: men dying, the distant crashes of the fire Vesna had set raging out of control. Isak didn't care how much noise they made now.
When they reached the postern gate there were no guards waiting, and when they checked, they could see the remaining guards on the wall were leaving their posts and fleeing for the far side of the palace. They could hear the roar of flames echoing through the passageways they had run through. Outside, orange shards were leaping higher and higher into the night sky.
Without further delay, Isak charged through the open gate and down the stepped gardens until he was once again in the lee of the building where he'd left Major Jachen and the ranger, Jeil.
The troops he'd left behind were already mounted and formed up, ready to leave at a moment's notice. Only Jachen, Jeil and Suzerain Saroc were on foot, and as soon as Isak rounded the corner they ran forward, leading their horses.
'My Lord, we have to hurry,' Saroc said, his voice muffled by a black'iron helm with a red chalice painted on the left cheek. The plate armour accentuated his short stature; he would have appeared comical had it not been for the massive axe resting easily in the crook of his arm.
'What's happened?' Isak asked, sheathing his sword and swinging up into Toramin's saddle. His huge charger danced on the spot, the emerald dragons on its flanks rippling as he did so.
'Jeil went to check on the decoy troops. The mobs have found them. We need to get you away to safety before they move further this way.'
Isak didn't move. 'And what about the decoy troops?'
Jachen stepped forward. 'They're surrounded, my Lord. There's nothing we can do for them.'
'And that's it?' Isak asked in astonishment. 'You're happy to leave them to it?'
'There is nothing we can do, my Lord,' Jachen repeated. 'There are thousands attacking them. We're not enough to help – and the sight of you will drive them into a greater frenzy.'
'So you suggest we abandon them? Leave men you've fought along¬side to be torn apart by a mob?' Isak roared. 'Or is it simply that you're as much a coward as I've been told?'
'My Lord,' exclaimed Suzerain Saroc, 'it is not a question of coward¬ice; Major Jachen has a duty to the tribe, and that must come first.'
'Come before the lives of five hundred men and the most loyal suzerain in the tribe?' Isak turned to Count Vesna, but he remained silent. 'Vesna, have you got nothing to say about this?'
'My Lord…' His voice tailed off.
His face-plate was up, and Isak could see the helplessness on his lace. At last he realised what the count had been talking about in Tor Milist: good men were dying when they shouldn't have had to. To Isak's surprise, Count Vesna said nothing more. 'You can't agree with them,' Isak gasped, almost pleading. He felt a clammy horror sweeping over him. He'd had a change of heart in Tor Milist; was he now going to leave these men to die, without even a word?
'1- Lord Isak, duty must come first,' Vesna said eventually.
'Duty? Will even you not follow my orders? Isak growled, his shock t urning now to anger.
The other suzerains, Nelbove and Fordan, had dismounted and come to add their voices to the argument, hut Isak''. obvious fury kept them silent.
'Well? What about it, my loyal subjects? Ate you going to follow me, or does one of you want to be the first to try to forct me to run?" Isak's voice was tight with fury. Eolis remained In Its scabbard, hut that meant little; they all knew he could draw n In the blink 1)1 an eye.
'My Lord,' said Major Jachen, moving a hall step forward.
Isak whirled to meet the man and saw naked feai in Jachen's eyes, yet the former mercenary refused to buckle. A spark ol defiance re-mained and he forced himself to stand tall and match Isak's relentless gaze. 'My Lord, they are loyal to death. They will follow you.'
'Well, what are we waiting for then?' Isak snapped.
'You'll have to cut me down first, my lord.'
Isak faltered, surprise overriding anger momentarily. 'What?'
'They'll follow you to death if you ask them to-'
'And you won't?' Isak cut in angrily. 'Last time I looked, you were also under my command.'
'Do you remember the first time we met?' Jachen said with fatalistic calm. 'You asked me if I'd have the guts to face you down if I thought you were wrong.'
Isak thought for a moment. 'So this is you clouting me round the head, is it? You've picked a bloody stupid time to grow a spine, Major Ansayl.'
Jachen ignored the jibe. 'I am in command of your personal guard. My first duty is to the tribe – and that is to keep you safe. You said it yourself: you're a white-eye, and you don't always make the best decisions, and you need a commander who'll tell you when you're plain wrong.'