Premian ran forward. 'Get back, you fools!' he yelled. 'Save the wagons!'
Using their cloaks, the Lancers beat at the flames, but it was useless. The dry timbers had caught now and the fires raged on, unstoppable. Premian ordered the five remaining wagons pulled clear, then sent out riders to gather the wagon horses which, having picked up the scent of water, were walking slowly towards the pool. Ten of the drivers were also found, hiding in a gully, and were brought before Premian. 'You ran,' he said, 'from seven Nadir warriors. Now half our wagons are gone. You have put the entire army in peril by your cowardice.'
'They came screaming out of the steppes, in a cloud of dust,' argued one man. 'We thought there was an army of them.'
'You will take your places on the remaining wagons, see them loaded and the water delivered back to the camp. Once there, you will face the Lord Gargan. I don't doubt your backs will feel the weight of the lash. Now get out of my sight!'
Swinging away from them, Premian thought through the mathematics of the situation. Five wagons with eight barrels each. Some fifteen gallons could be stored in each barrel. In these conditions a fighting man needed, minimally, around two pints of water per day. By this rough estimate he calculated that one barrel could supply sixty men with water. Forty barrels would be barely enough for the men, let alone the horses. And horses for only one day . . . From now on there would need to be a constant shuttle between the camp and the pool.
Still, he reasoned, it could have been worse. Had he not reacted when he did, all the wagons would have been lost. But the thought did not cheer him. Had he left a guard force with them in the first place, the Nadir attack would have failed.
His thinking was interrupted by the sound of savage laughter and the hacking of sword-blades. The white-scarfed Nadir leader had been beheaded and dismembered. Furious, Premian ran into the jeering group. 'Stand to attention!' he bellowed, and the men shuffled nervously into a line. 'How dare you?' stormed Premian. 'How dare you behave like savages? Can you have any idea what you look like at this moment? Would any of you wish to be seen by your loved ones, prancing about and waving the limbs of a dead warrior above your heads. You are Gothir! We leave this . . . barbarity to lesser races.'
'Permission to speak, sir?' asked a lean soldier.
'Spit it out.'
'Well, the Lord Gargan said all Nadir were to have their hands cut off, didn't he, sir?'
'That was a threat made to frighten the Nadir, who believe that if they lose a limb they will be devoid of that limb throughout eternity. It was not a threat, I believe, that the Lord Gargan intends to carry out in reality. I may be wrong in this. But here and now, I am in command. You will dig a grave for that man, and place his limbs alongside him. He was my enemy, but he was brave and he gave his life for a cause he believed in. He will be buried whole. Am I understood?'
The men nodded. 'Then get to it.'
Jomil approached Premian and the two walked away from the surly group. 'That wasn't wise, sir,' said Jomil, keeping his voice low. 'You'll get the name of a Nadir-lover. Word'll spread that you're soft on the enemy.'
'It doesn't matter a damn, my friend. I shall be resigning my commission the moment this battle is , over.'
'That's as maybe, sir - but, if you'll pardon my bluntness, I don't think the Lord Gargan was making an idle threat. And I don't want to see him putting you on trial for disobedience.'
Premian smiled and looked into the old soldier's grizzled face. 'You are a fine friend, Jomil. I value you highly. But my father told me never to be a part of anything that lacked honour. He once said to me that there was no greater satisfaction for a man than to be able to look in a mirror while shaving, and be proud of what he saw. At this moment I am not proud.'
'I think you ought to be,' said Jomil softly.
It was three hours after noon and still the enemy had not attacked. The foot soldiers were sitting in the camp, many of them using their cloaks and swords to form screens against the harsh heat of the blazing sun. The horses of the Lancers were picketed to the west. Most stood forlornly with heads down, others had sunk to the ground for want of water.
Shading his eyes, Druss saw the five water wagons returning and gave a low curse under his breath. Gothir soldiers ran to the wagons, surrounding them.
Talisman climbed to the ramparts and stood beside Druss. 'I should have sent more men with Kzun,' he said.
Druss shrugged. 'As I recall, they set out last night with fourteen wagons. Your man did well. There'll be scarce enough water in those wagons and they'll not last a day. The horses alone need more than those wagons will supply.'
'You've been in sieges before?' asked Talisman.
'Aye, laddie. Too many.'
'Then what is your appraisal?'
'I think they'll throw everything at us. They can't play a waiting game. They have no engineers to mine the walls; they have no battering ram to smash the gates. I think they'll send in every man they have, Lancers and foot. They'll storm this wall by sheer weight of numbers.'
'I think not,' said Talisman. 'It is my belief that they will try a three-pronged attack. This western wall will take the brunt, but I think they will also try to breach the gates, and one other wall. They will try to stretch us. Only if that fails will they risk the final assault.'
'We'll know soon enough,' said Druss. 'If they do what you surmise, how will you combat it?'
Talisman smiled wearily. 'Our options are limited, Druss. We just hold as best we can.'
Druss shook his head. 'You've got to assume some of their soldiers will get through to the ramparts, and perhaps down into the compound itself. Our reaction to that will be crucial. Gut instinct tells a man to tackle the nearest enemy, but in that situation such instincts are liable to prove fatal. If a wall is breached the first option must be to seal the breach. The men already inside are a secondary consideration.'
'What do you suggest?'
'You already have a small reserve force ready to fill in the gaps. Draw more men to it, and split them into two groups. If the enemy take a section of wall, one group must join the defenders to win it back. The second group can attack those who have penetrated inside. We only have one outer perimeter. There is nowhere to fall back to, so these ramparts must be held. No defender must leave his post on them, no matter what he sees in the compound below. The walls, Talisman! Nothing else matters.'
The young Nadir nodded. 'I take your point, axeman. It will be relayed to the men. Did you know that the tribes have been drawing lots to see which group should have the privilege of standing beside you today?'
Druss chuckled. 'So that's what they were doing? Who did I get?'
'The Sky Riders. They are greatly pleased. It is rare for a gajin to be so popular.'
'You think so?' Druss hefted his axe. 'I'm usually popular at times like this. Could be the song of the soldier, could it not? When war and the fear of war comes upon people, they revere the warrior. Once it has passed he is forgotten, or reviled. It never changes.'
'You don't sound bitter about it,' Talisman pointed out.
'I don't get bitter at the falling of the sun, or the cold north wind. They are facts of life. I once took part in a raid that rescued a score of rich farmers from Sathuli tribesmen. Oh, they waxed eloquent about how heroic we were, how they would honour us always. There was a young soldier with us who lost an arm that day. He was from their town. Within six months he and his family had almost starved to death. Facts of life.'
'And did they die?'
'No. I went back to the Sentran Plain and spoke to the leader of the farmers. Reminded him of his obligations.'
'I am not surprised that he listened,' said Talisman, looking into Druss's cold blue eyes. 'But you will not find that with us. Nadir memories are long. You are the Deathwalker; your legend will live on with us.'
'Legends. Pah! I have enough of legends. If I had half the courage of a farmer I would be at home with my wife, looking after my lands.'
'You have no son
s?'
'None. Nor will have,' said Druss coldly. 'No. All I will leave behind are those damned legends.'
'Some men would die for your fame.'
'A lot of men have,' observed Druss.
The two warriors stood in silence for a while watching the Gothir surrounding the water wagons. 'You regret being here?' Talisman asked.
'I try not to regret anything,' replied Druss. 'There's no point in it.' Twenty Sky Rider tribesmen trooped up to the ramparts, standing by quietly as the two men spoke. Druss glanced at the first, a hawk-faced young man with brown eyes. 'Were you one of those who leapt the chasm?' he asked him.
The man gave a wide grin and nodded.
'I would like to hear about that,' said Druss. 'Later, when we've seen off the Gothir, you can tell me of it.'
'I shall, Deathwalker.'
'Good. Now gather round, my boys, and I'll give you a few tips about siege warfare.'
Talisman left the ramparts. As he reached the compound below he could hear laughter coming from the men around Druss. Lin-tse joined him. 'I should be there, Talisman. With my men on the wall.'
'No.' Talisman told him to pick forty warriors from among the other tribes. 'You will lead the first group, Gorkai the second.' Then he outlined Druss's battle plan for a wall breach defence.
A young warrior moved past them, heading for the north wall. Talisman called him back. 'What is your name?' he asked.
'Shi-da, general.'
'You were a friend of Quing-chin's?'
'I was.'
'I saw you wounded yesterday - in the belly and chest.'
'It was not as deep as I feared, general. The surgeon has healed me. I can fight.'
'There is no pain?'
'Aye, there is pain. The stitches are tight. But I will stand with the Fleet Ponies, general.'
'Let me see the wound,' said Talisman, leading the man to the shade and sitting him on the table set there. Shi-da doffed his goatskin jerkin. There was blood on the bandage wrapped around his waist. The young warrior started to unravel it but Talisman stopped him.
'The wound is bound well. Do not disturb it. Fight well today, Shi-da.'
The young man nodded, his face grim, then walked away.
'What was that about?' asked Lin-tse.
'Every one of the wounded is back on the walls today,' said Talisman. 'Truly the poet is a fine surgeon. I saw Shi-da struck - I would have sworn the blade passed almost all the way through him.'
'You think he has found the Eyes of Alchazzar?' whispered Lin-tse.
'If he has, then I will take them.'
'I thought you said that Druss needed them?'
'Druss is a fighting man I admire above all others. But the Eyes belong to the Nadir. They are part of our destiny and I cannot allow them to be taken by gajin.'
Lin-tse laid his hand on Talisman's arm. 'If we survive here, my brother, and if Sieben has the jewels, you know what will happen if you try to take them. Druss will fight for them. He is not a man to be frightened by weight of numbers. We will have to kill him.'
'Then we will kill him,' said Talisman, 'though it would break my heart to do so.'
Talisman poured water from a stone jug, drained the clay cup and walked away with Lin-tse to the newly built wall around the gates. Niobe stepped from the shadows behind them and made her way to the hospital.
Sieben was sitting with Zhusai. They were laughing together, and Niobe was surprised to find a ripple of anger within herself at the sight of them. The Chiatze woman was slim and beautiful, her clothes of white silk adorned with mother of pearl. Niobe was still wearing Sieben's blue silk shirt, but it was stained now with the blood of the wounded and with sweat from her own tired body. Sieben saw her, and a broad smile showed on his handsome face. He walked across the deserted room and hugged her. 'You are a vision,' he said, kissing her.
'Why is she here?' asked Niobe.
'She has offered to help with the wounded. Come, say hello.'
Taking Niobe by the hand, he led her to Zhusai. The Chiatze woman looked nervous under Niobe's piercing gaze as Sieben introduced them.
'I should have offered help before,' said Zhusai to Niobe. 'Please forgive me.'
Niobe shrugged. 'We need no help. The po-et is very skilled.'
'I am sure that he is. But I know much of the tending of wounds.'
'She will be valuable,' put in Sieben.
'I do not want her here," said Niobe.
Sieben was surprised, but he masked it and turned to Zhusai. 'Perhaps, my lady, you should change your clothes. Blood will ruin that fine silk. You can return to us when the battle has started.'
Zhusai gave a short bow of her head and walked from the room.
'What is the matter with you?' Sieben asked Niobe. 'Are you jealous, my dove?'
'I am not a dove. And there is no jealousy. Do you not know why she is here?'
'To help. That is what she said.'
'You are in much danger, po-et.'
'From her? I do not think so.'
'Not just from her, fool. Every Nadir knows the story of the Eyes of Alchazzar, the purple jewels of power. Talisman thinks you have found them and so do I. There were men dying here yesterday who are now standing on the walls.'
'Nonsense. They were . . .'
'You don't lie to me!' she snapped. 'I hear Talisman. He says that if you have the jewels he will take them, he says that they will kill Druss if he interferes. You give jewels to Talisman - then you are safe.'
Sieben sat down on the newly scrubbed table. 'I can't do that, my love. Druss made a promise to a dying man, and Druss is a man who lives by his word. You understand? But I won't keep them, I promise you that. If we survive here - which is doubtful at best - I will take them to Gulgothir and heal Druss's friend. Then I will return them to Talisman.'
'He will not allow it. That is why he sent the woman; she will watch you like a snake. You heal no more dying men, po-et.'
'I have to. That is what the power is for.'
'This is no time to be weak. Men die in battle. They go to the earth, they feed the land. You understand?' She looked deep into his blue eyes and knew she was not convincing him. 'Fool! Fool!' she said. 'Very well. Keep them alive. But do not heal them so much that they walk from here. You hear what I say?'
'I do, Niobe. And you are right. I can't risk Druss being killed for them.' He smiled and, reaching out, pushed his fingers through her dark hair. 'I love you. You are the light in my life.'
'And you are a trouble to me,' she said. 'You are no warrior, and you are soft like a puppy. I should have no feelings for a man like you.'
'But you do, don't you?' he said, drawing her in to an embrace. 'Tell me!'
'No.'
'You are still angry with me?'
'Yes.'
'Then kiss me and feel it fade.'
'I don't want it to fade,' she said, pulling away. Outside a battle horn sounded. 'It begins again,' sighed Sieben.
The Gothir infantry formed into three groups of about two hundred men. Druss watched them carefully. Only two of the groups contained ladder-bearers. 'The third group is going for the gates,' he said, to no-one in particular.
Behind the infantry more than five hundred Lancers waited on foot in two lines, their lances discarded and their sabres in their hands. A slow drumbeat sounded and the army moved forward, slowly. Druss could feel the fear in the men around him.
'Don't think of numbers,' said Druss, 'all that counts is the number of ladders — and they have fewer than thirty. Only thirty men can reach the wall at any time; the rest will be milling around below, useless. Never be cowed by numbers alone.'
'Do you not know fear, axeman ?' asked Nuang Xuan.
Druss turned and grinned. 'What are you doing here, old man? You are wounded.'
'I am as tough as a wolf, as strong as a bear. How close am I to my hundred?'
'By my reckoning you need more than ninety more.'
'Pah, you obviously miscounted.'
&
nbsp; 'Stay close to me, Nuang,' said Druss softly. 'But not too close.'
'I will be here at day's end, and the Gothir dead will be a mountain,' promised Nuang.
Archers ran through the enemy lines sending scores of shafts at the defenders, who ducked down below the battlements. No-one was struck. The drum-beat quickened, and Druss could hear the sound of running men drowning out the drums. Ladders clattered against the wall and a man to Druss's left started to rise but Druss dragged him down. 'Not yet, laddie. The archers are waiting.'
The warrior blinked nervously. Druss knelt for ten more heartbeats, then launched himself upright, the great axe shining in the sunlight. As he reared up, a Gothir warrior reached the top of the ladder and Snaga thundered down to smash the man's skull.
'Climb and die!' roared Druss, sending a reverse cut into the bearded face of a second warrior.
All around him the Nadir were hacking and slashing at the attackers. Two Gothir soldiers reached the ramparts, but were cut down instantly. A Nadir warrior fell with an arrow jutting from his temple.
On the wall above the gate, Talisman watched as Druss and the Sky Riders fought to contain the western ramparts. The second Gothir force had swung to the north wall, where Bartsai and his Curved Horn were battling to hold them.
Axes smashed into the gates, splintering the ancient wood. Nadir defenders threw rocks down upon the enemy soldiers milling below, but the sounds of tearing wood continued.
'Be ready!' Talisman warned the men of the Fleet Ponies. Notching arrows to their bows, they knelt on the ramparts and the newly built curved wall inside the gates. In that moment Talisman felt a fierce pride surge through him. These men were Nadir, his people! And they were fighting together against the common enemy. This is how it should be, thought the young man. No more slavelike obedience to the cursed gajin. No more running from the threat of their Lancers, their punitive raids, their slaughters.
Suddenly the gates were breached and scores of men pushed through, only to be confronted by an eight-foot wall.
'Now! Now! Now!' yelled Talisman. Arrows lanced into the crowded mass below. So closely packed were they, with others pushing from behind, that few Gothir could raise their shields. Shafts tore into them and rocks pelted them. As Talisman strained to lift a jagged boulder, two men helped him and they pitched the stone over the ramparts and down into the death pit. Panicked now, the Gothir fought to retreat, trampling their own wounded.