Winter Warriors (33 page)

“Do you like what you see?” his father had asked. It was a strange question. He was seeing himself.

“Of course I do. It’s me!”

Then his father had said: “Are you proud of what you see?” Nogusta could not answer that. His father had smiled. “That is the true secret that carries a hero to deeds other men can only envy. You must always be able to look in a mirror and feel pride. When faced with peril, you ask yourself, If I run, or hide, or beg or plead for life, will I still be able to look into a mirror and feel pride?”

Stepping into the saddle, Nogusta rode on. The ridge road dipped steeply, and Starfire’s hooves slipped on the stone. Riding with care, the black warrior reached the canyon floor and an old stone bridge that crossed the river. He was riding under the trees now and stopped to examine the map once more. There was a second bridge marked some three or four miles to the southeast. He decided to examine it before heading back to the wagon. There were still patches of snow on the hillsides, and the air was cool as he heeled Starfire forward. The old road ran alongside a steep incline, then disappeared around the flanks of the hill.

Knowing he could see more of the land from higher ground, Nogusta took hold of the pommel and ran the gelding up the slope. Starfire was breathing heavily as he crested the hill, and Nogusta paused to allow the gelding to catch his breath.

Then he saw the cabin, set back in the trees, its walls built of natural stone, its roof covered with earth. Climbing ivy clung to the walls, and flowering shrubs had been set beneath the windows. The area around the cabin was well tended, and
smoke drifted lazily from the stone chimney. Nogusta hesitated. He did not want to bring danger to any innocent mountain folk, but equally they would know the mountains and be able to advise him on the best route to Lem. Touching heels to Starfire, he rode forward, but the horse grew nervous as they cleared the trees, and backed away.

Nogusta spoke soothingly to the animal, stroking the long black neck. Once in the clearing before the cabin, he could see why Starfire was reluctant to approach the house. Partly hidden by a tall flowering shrub lay a blood-drenched body. He saw it was that of a man—or, rather, the remains of a man. The corpse was in two halves. Dismounting and holding on to the reins, Nogusta approached it, kneeling to examine the tracks around it. The earth was hard, and little could be seen. The man was around twenty years of age. In his right hand there was a rusty sword. He had known then that he was under attack and had faced his killer. Ragged talon marks showed across his chest and belly. He had literally been cut in half at the stomach by one violent slashing blow. Nogusta glanced to the right. Blood had spattered the ground at least twenty feet from the scene of death. No bear could have done this. Still holding on to the reins, Nogusta moved to the cabin. The door had been caved in, the thick timbers smashed to shards. To the right the door frame had been torn away, and a section of wall had caved in. Within the main room lay the partially consumed body of a woman.

Looping the reins over a fence rail, Nogusta entered the cabin. He had seen great horror in his life, from the murder of his wife and family to the victims of sacked cities and the awesome, bloody aftermath of great battles. But there was here, in this grim tableau, a sadness that touched him deeply. The cabin was old but had been lovingly restored by this young couple. They had turned a deserted ruin into a home. They had planted bright flowers, some of them inappropriate to forest soil, blooms that would never take root but would wither and die here. This young couple were not expert, but they were romantic and hardworking. Eventually they might have made a good living here. But something had come upon
them, something unexpected and deadly. The man had taken his sword and tried to defend his love. He had failed and had died knowing his failure.

The woman had hidden behind a strong locked door and had seen it smashed to shards. The beast had been too large to pass through the doorway and had caved in the wall. The woman had tried to run through to the back of the house. Talons had swept across her back, ripping her apart. Death for both of them had been mercifully swift.

Nogusta returned to the sunlight and scanned the clearing. The blood was almost dry, but the attack on these people was very recent. He gazed at the tree line. There was a broken sapling there. Nogusta ran across the clearing. Here the earth was softer, and he saw the footprint, three times as long as that of a man, flaring wide at the toes. Talons had made deep gouges in the earth. The sapling, as thick as a man’s arm, had been snapped cleanly, and a large bush had been uprooted by the charging beast. Back across the clearing Starfire whinnied. He pawed at the ground, his ears flat to his skull. Nogusta moved to the horse, unlooping the reins. The breeze shifted. Starfire reared suddenly. Taking hold of the pommel, Nogusta vaulted to the saddle. He felt heat flare against his chest and realized the talisman he wore was beginning to glow.

Beyond the cabin, to the north, he saw tall trees swaying and heard the splintering of wood. A hideous screeching began, and the ground trembled beneath the horse. Swinging Starfire, he let the horse have its head. Starfire needed no urging and launched himself into a run. Behind them something colossal burst from the undergrowth. Nogusta could not risk glancing back, as Starfire was galloping over rough ground toward the trees. But he could hear the beast bearing down upon them with terrible speed. Ducking under a low branch, he headed for the road, urging the gelding on. Starfire was tired now, but his hooves pounded the ground and he quickened. Nogusta rode down the incline at a breakneck pace, Starfire slithering to his haunches. Only brilliant horsemanship kept Nogusta from being hurled from the saddle.
Then they were on flat ground and riding toward the ridge road. There Nogusta swung Starfire once more.

There was no sign of pursuit, and the talisman was no longer glowing.

What kind of an animal was strong enough to cut a man in half, fast enough to chase a horse as swift as Starfire, and evil enough to cause a reaction in his talisman?

Nogusta had no answer.

All he knew was that this beast stood between the wagon and the bridge.

And there was no other known route to safety.

Axiana was sleeping as the wagon slowly lumbered along the old road. Ulmenetha laid her now-slender hand on the queen’s brow. Axiana’s life force was strong, radiating from her. The priestess leaned back against a pillow of empty sacks and stared up at the blue sky. The sensation of waking from her long life with Kalizkan had been disorientating in the extreme. The old wizard had told her that time had no meaning where they sat, but she had not understood it fully until she woke. It was as if she had slept for decades. The memory of the flight from the palace seemed to belong to another life, a distant existence. Ulmenetha had struggled to recall them. Equally she could not quite remember the fat, frightened woman she had been.

The girl Pharis was holding the infant, and the child Sufia was asleep beside her.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” said Pharis. “So small, so sweet.”

“He is beautiful,” agreed Ulmenetha. “And so are you.” The girl glanced up, confused. Her face was thin, pinched, and dirty, and her filthy hair hung in greasy rats’ tails. Her clothes were rags, and there were sores on her bony shoulders. “I am not mocking you, Pharis,” said Ulmenetha. “You have great love within you, and that is a virtue of great beauty. Be sure to support the babe’s head, for his neck is not strong.”

“I will,” she said happily. “I am holding a king!”

“You are holding an infant. Titles are bestowed by men,
and no title would concern him now. What he needs is love and his mother’s milk.”

Ulmenetha glanced back to where Kebra and Conalin were riding behind the wagon. The boy was riding close to Kebra, listening to the bowman. With the talent Kalizkan had inspired in her Ulmenetha could see so much more than the naked eye would allow. Conalin had been starved of affection all his life and had never known the love of a father. Kebra was a quiet, lonely man, frightened to commit himself to a wife and family. The two were perfect for one another. She transferred her gaze to Dagorian. The young officer was well to the rear, leading the five spare horses. He was full of fear and fighting to maintain his courage.

You should have remained a priest, thought Ulmenetha, for you are a gentle soul.

Rising, she climbed across to sit beside Bison. He glanced at her and gave a crooked smile. “How’s my boy doing?” he asked.

“He is sleeping. Where did you learn to birth a child?”

“Here and there. The camp followers always used to call for me when a babe was due. Only ever had one die on me. Cord strangled it. Almost happened with our little prince. Apart from that, though, the camp whores thought I was a good-luck omen at a birth.”

The wagon emerged onto open ground, and in the distance Ulmenetha could see the awesome majesty of the canyon.

“How did you get so thin?” asked Bison.

“It is a long story. How did you get so ugly?” She said it with a smile, and Bison chuckled.

“I was born ugly,” he said, “but I was also born strong. I’m still strong. Stronger than most men half my age.”

“How old are you?”

“Fifty,” he lied.

“You are sixty-six,” she said, “and I see no reason to be ashamed of the fact. And you are quite right; you are stronger than most men half your age. You are also a better man than you like to admit. So let’s have no more stupidity.”

“Well, I am stupid,” he said. “Always have been. Nogusta
and Kebra, they talk about things I don’t understand. Honor and suchlike. Philosophy. Goes over my head like a flight of geese. I’m just a soldier. I don’t know anything else. I don’t want to know anything else. I eat when I’m hungry, piss when my bladder’s full, and rut when I can afford the price. That’s all life is for me. And it’s all I want.”

“That is just not true,” said Ulmenetha. “You have friends, and you stand by them. You have ideals, and you live by those. You are not terribly honest, but you are loyal.” She fell silent and studied his profile, then focused as Kalizkan had taught her. Vivid images appeared in her mind, bright with color. Random scenes from Bison’s life sped across her vision. Honing her concentration, she slowed them. Most were what she would have expected, lust or violence, drunkenness or debauchery. But here and there she found more edifying scenes. She spoke again. “Six years ago you came upon four men raping a woman. You saved her and received two stab wounds that almost killed you.”

“How do you know that? Did Kebra tell you?”

“No one needed to tell me. I know many things now, Bison. I can see more clearly than I ever have before. In fact, more clearly than I would wish to. What is your greatest dream?”

“I don’t have dreams.”

“When you were a child. What did you dream of?”

“Flying like a bird,” he said with a wide, gap-toothed grin. “I’d spread my wings and soar through the sky, feel the wind in my face. I’d be free.”

The child Sufia came climbing over the backrest. “Did you really have wings?” she asked Bison as she scrambled onto his lap.

“I had great big wings,” he said. “White wings, and I flew over mountains.”

“I’d like big wings,” said Sufia. “I’d like white wings. Will you take me flying with you?”

“I don’t fly anymore,” he said, ruffling her blond hair. “When you get old and fat, you lose your wings.” He glanced at Ulmenetha. “Isn’t that right?”

“Sometimes,” she agreed.

Sufia snuggled up against Bison, holding on to his heavy black woolen jerkin. He glanced at Ulmenetha. “Children like me. They’re not so bright, are they?”

“Children can make mistakes,” she agreed. “But in the main they know a protector.” Ulmenetha gazed fondly down upon the child. Her heart was weak, and under normal circumstances she would be unlikely to reach puberty. Reaching out, she laid her hand on Sufia’s head and for the first time released the power that Kalizkan had taught her. “There is a force in all of us,” Kalizkan had told her. “The Chiatze call it
tshi
. It is invisible and yet terribly potent. It maintains our lives and our health. It helps us repair damaged tissue.”

“Why did it not work for you?” she asked.

“Man is not intended to be immortal, Ulmenetha. The cancer came on too fast and too powerfully. However, mastery of the
tshi
is an invaluable tool for a healer.”

Ulmenetha focused her energies, flowing her own
tshi
into the child.

“Your hand is very hot,” said Sufia. “It’s nice.”

Ulmenetha relaxed as she felt the child’s fluttering heart grow stronger. It was not healed yet, but it would be.

“I preferred you with more meat on you,” said Bison. “But you do look younger.” He was about to speak again, but Ulmenetha gave him a warning glance.

“Remember,” she said, “no more stupidities.”

“If you don’t ask, you don’t get,” he said with a grin.

Up ahead she saw Nogusta walking his horse toward them. Ulmenetha could sense his concern. The black warrior was a powerful man, not given to despair and negative thoughts. But now his spirits were at a low ebb. Dagorian, Kebra, and Conalin rode around the wagon to meet him. Bison hauled on the reins. Swiftly Nogusta told them of the killings at the cabin and the beast that had pursued him.

“Did you get a look at it?” asked Bison.

“No,” said Nogusta. “Had I waited a heartbeat longer, I would have been as dead as the two lovers I found.”

“You’re sure it wasn’t just a bear?” said Bison.

“If so it is the mother of all bears. But no, I do not think it a creature of this world. Nothing I know of—or have heard of—could cut a grown man in half with one sweep.”

“What do we do, then?” asked Dagorian. “Find another way through?”

Nogusta drew in a deep breath. “I do not see that we can. Firstly, the maps do not show a second route. Secondly, even if there are other routes, if the beast was sent against us specifically, there may be others of his kind guarding them. And last but by no means least, we do not have the strength or the weapons to fight on open ground the warriors trailing us. And they must be getting close now.”