Antikas felt a tingling sensation begin in the wound, heat flaring from it. It was mildly uncomfortable, but not at all painful. After some minutes Ulmenetha removed her hand, then, with a small knife, cut the stitches and pulled them clear. Antikas touched the cut. It was almost healed. More than this he felt curiously rejuvenated, as if he had slept for several hours.
'You are very talented, lady,' he said.
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'You should see me knitting a rug,' she answered, rising to stand before him. She repeated the Healing Prayer on the smaller chest wounds, then reached up to pull clear the blood-stained satin strip around his brow. 'Bend your head,' she ordered him. Antikas obeyed.
As she healed the cut she spoke again. 'You are a lucky man, Antikas. Had the blow been two inches lower you would have lost an eye.'
'Strangely, the more I practise the luckier I get,' he said.
Ulmenetha stepped back from him, and appraised her work. Satisfied she moved back to the fire and sat down. 'Had you remained at the bridge you might have saved Dagorian,' he said. Ulmenetha shook her head.
'His internal injuries were far beyond my powers.' So saying she turned away from him. Kebra handed him a clean, folded tunic of off-white wool. Antikas thanked him. Lifting it to his nose he smiled. 'Scented rosewood,' he said. 'How civilized. You are a man after my own heart.'
'Probably not,' said Kebra.
Antikas slipped on the shirt. The arms were too long, and he folded back the cuffs. 'Well, Nogusta,' he said, 'what now? What do your visions tell you?'
'We go to the ghost city,' answered Nogusta. 'That is all I can say. I do not yet know the outcome of this quest. But all questions will be answered in Lem.'
The child sleeping beside Bison suddenly cried out and sat up. The girl beside her awoke, and took her in her arms. 'What is wrong, Sufia?' she asked, stroking the child's blond hair.
'I had a dream. Demons in my dream. They were eating me up.' The child began to cry. Then she saw Antikas, and her eyes widened.
'Hello,' said Antikas, giving her his best smile. Sufia let
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out a wail and buried her head in Pharis's chest. 'I've always had a way with children,' said Antikas, drily.
The noise awoke Bison, who gave a great yawn, then belched loudly. He too saw Antikas, and looked around for Dagorian. Rising he scratched at his groin then moved to the fire, where he belched again. 'Killed 'em all, did you?' he asked Antikas.
'One of them. A huge beast came from the forest and slaughtered the others.'
Fear showed in Bison's face. 'Is it still alive?'
'No. It fell into the river and drowned.'
'Well, that's a relief,' said Bison. 'Almost makes up for the fact that you survived. Where is the lad, Dagorian?'
'He died.'
Bison absorbed the information without comment, then swung to Kebra. 'Is there any broth left?'
'No, Antikas ate the last of it.'
'What about the biscuits?'
'A few left,' said Kebra. 'But we are saving them for the morning. The children can have them for breakfast.'
Antikas removed his sword belt, and laid it beside him. There are four more Krayakin,' he said. 'Believe me, Nogusta, that is four too many. I fought one. He had a sense of honour, and removed his armour to fight me. He was faster than any man I have ever known. I am not sure I could defeat another, and I certainly could not defeat more than one.'
'What then do you suggest?' asked Nogusta.
'I have no suggestions. What I am saying is that I treated them too lightly. I thought of them merely as men, and there is no man more skilled than I. But they are not men. Their reflexes are astonishing, and their strength prodigious.'
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'And yet we must face them,' said Nogusta. 'We have no choice.'
'Whatever you say,' said Antikas. He stretched out beside the fire, then glanced up at Bison. 'We could always send him against them,' he said. 'His body odour would fell an ox.'
Bison glared at him. 'I'm beginning to really dislike you, little man,' he said.
Breakfast was a sorry affair, with the last of the oatcake biscuits being shared by Sufia, Pharis and Conalin. Pharis offered hers to the queen, but Axiana smiled and shook her head. Bison grumbled about starvation as he saddled the horses.
As she finished her food little Sufia climbed onto Ulmenetha's lap. 'Did you sleep well, in the end, little one?' asked the priestess.
'Yes. I didn't dream no more. It's very cold,' she added, snuggling close. The last of the wood had long burnt away, and the temperature in the cave was dropping fast.
'We are going down into the valleys today,' Ulmenetha told her. 'It will be much warmer there.'
'I'm still hungry.'
'We are all hungry.' Sufia gave a nervous glance across at Antikas. 'He looks like a demon,' she said. Antikas heard her and gave her a grin. She scowled at him from the perceived safety of Ulmenetha's lap.
'I am not a demon,' said Antikas. 'I am earth born, as you are.'
'What does that mean?' Sufia asked the priestess.
'It means that we come from the earth, whereas demons are born of the wind. We are solid. We can touch things. Demons are like the wind. They can blow against us, but they cannot live and breathe as we do.'
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Pharis came and sat alongside them. 'If that is true, how can the Krayakin fight us? Are they not solid?'
'There is an old story,' said Antikas, 'that my father used to tell. It is part of Ventrian history and myth. Once there were two Windborn gods, great and powerful. They floated above the earth, and watched the deer and the lion, the eagle and the lamb. They were envious of them, and their ability to walk the land. These gods had many Windborn subjects, and they too looked upon the earth with jealousy. One day the two gods - who did not like one another . . .'
'Why didn't they like one another?' asked Sufia.
'That's not important. Anyway . . .'
'I think it is important,' said Pharis. 'Why would gods not like one another?'
Antikas suppressed his irritation. 'Very well, let us say that one of the gods was evil, the other good. One was a lord of chaos and destruction, while the other loved the light, and delighted to see things grow. They were like night and day.'
'All right,' said Pharis. 'I can understand that. Go on.'
'Thank you. One day these gods decided to use their great power to cast a spell that would allow their people, the Illohir, to take on fleshly forms. These spirit beings floated down to the earth, and wherever they landed they drew matter to themselves, creating bodies that could walk upon the earth.'
'How did they do that?' asked Sufia.
'I don't know how they did it,' snapped Antikas.
'I do,' said Ulmenetha. 'All matter is made up of tiny molecules - so tiny that the human eye cannot see them. They literally drew these molecules to them, like so many bricks and built their bodies.'
'There,' said Antikas to Sufia. 'Does that satisfy you?'
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The child looked mystified. Axiana, who had been listening to the tale, walked across to them, the babe asleep in her arms. Antikas rose and bowed to her. She responded with a smile. 'I too heard this story,' she said, softly. There is great beauty in it. Some of the Windborn landed in forests, and drew their strength from the trees. They became Dryads, protectors of woodland, their souls entwined with the trees they loved. Others came down in the mountains, building their forms from the rocks and stones. These were the High Trolls. Some groups emerged near living creatures, like wolves. Because they drew particles from everything around them they became Shape-Shifters, manlike during the day, but becoming wolves at night. All over the world the Illohir took on different forms, and rejoiced in their new-found freedom.'
'Did any become birds?' asked Sufia.
'I expect that they did,' said Axiana.
'That means Bison is a demon,' said Sufia, 'because he once had big white wings and flew over mountains.'
'Must have been really big wings,' said Antikas.
Conalin joined them. 'If they were all so happy why did they start a war with people?'
Ulmenetha answered him. 'They weren't all happy. Some of the Windborn had landed in places that were . . . unclean. Battlefields, graveyards, scenes of violence or terror. What they drew into themselves was dark and fearsome. These became the Hollow Tooths, who suck blood from sleepers. Or the Krayakin, who live for war and slaughter.'
'And these were the ones who started the war?' persisted Conalin.
Antikas took up the story again. 'Yes. The real problem was in the nature of the spell which brought the
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Windborn to the earth. They were . . . are . . . creatures of spirit, and though they could build their bodies with magick, they could not hold them together for long. They could not feed as we do, and, as the years passed, some of the Illohir began to wither away, and return to the air. Those that remained needed to find a new source of nourishment. We were that nourishment. The Illohir began to feed on human emotions. The Dryads, the fauns, and other creatures of the forest found they could draw energy from human happiness and joy. That is why there are so many stories of wild celebration involving fauns and humans. Fauns were said to have invented wine, to further enhance human joy. But the darker demons fed on terror and dismay - as you saw back in Usa. It was said that the fear and pain inspired in a human tortured to death could feed a demon for years. And because they had magick - which gave them domination over us - they treated us like cattle, as a food source. Mankind suffered through many centuries under their rule, until at last three human kings rebelled against them. The war was long and terrible, the battles many.'
'How did we win?' asked Conalin.
'No-one really knows,' Antikas told him, 'for it was so long ago, and there are so many legends. However, Kalizkan told me that Emsharas the Sorcerer - himself a demon - betrayed his own people and cast a great spell that banished all his brethren from the earth. He made them Windborn again, and locked them away in a great void.'
'And now they are coming back,' said Conalin.
Nogusta stepped forward. 'It is time to ride,' he said.
For the first hour they rode in single file along the
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narrowing ridge road, Nogusta leading, followed by Kebra and Conalin. Ulmenetha was walking, and holding to the bridle of the queen's mount. Behind her came Bison, also walking, and leading the horse ridden by Pharis and Sufia. Antikas Karios rode at the rear, leading the two spare horses. The wind was cold, hissing over jagged rocks, whipping snow into their faces.
By noon they had reached the highest point and Nogusta drew rein, scanning the road ahead. It dipped gently, curving round a mountain towards an area of high timber several hundred feet below them. From here Nogusta could see a waterfall and a river emptying into a wide lake. Ducking his head against the wind he urged Starfire on. The road widened, and Antikas Karios rode past the others, drawing rein alongside the black warrior.
'We need to rest the horses,' shouted Antikas. Nogusta nodded and pointed to the distant falls.
Til scout the area,' said Antikas, and rode on ahead.
There were patches of ice on the road, and the queen's horse slipped. Axiana lurched in the saddle, and found herself staring down into a deep abyss. Grabbing the saddle pommel with her free hand she righted herself in the saddle. The sudden jerk woke the babe. But, safe and warm in his blanket, he went straight back to sleep.
Kebra spotted movement in the trees below. Several small deer moved out of the trees. Taking his bow he also rode alongside Nogusta. Til see you at the falls,' he said, and followed Antikas Karios down the mountain.
They journeyed on for another hour before reaching the falls. It was still cold here, for they were several thousand feet above the valley floor, but the thick stand of trees dispersed the wind, and there was enough dead wood to light a good fire. Kebra returned with a deer,
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which he had already skinned and quartered, and soon the smell of roasting meat filled the air.
Nogusta ate swiftly, then walked away from the group to stand at the edge of the falls. Antikas Karios joined him there. 'I see you ride the king's horse,' he said. 'I thought it was dying.'
'It had a lung infection caused by poor stabling.'
'It was a fine beast once,' said Antikas. 'But it is old now.'
'Old it may be, Antikas, but it will outrun any horse among the Ventrian cavalry, and it would ride through the fires of Hell for a rider it trusted.'
'Trusted? It is just a horse, black man. No more, no less. A beast of burden.'
Nogusta did not reply. 'I think it is time to tell me what you have seen,' said the Ventrian.
Nogusta swung back towards him. 'You want to know if you live or die?'
'No. Time will tell about that. But you are carrying a great weight. I can tell. It might be better if you shared it.'
Nogusta thought about it for a moment. 'My Gift,' he said, at last, 'is not precise. If it were I would have saved my family from massacre. What I see are sudden, vivid scenes. You remember the king's birthday celebrations? I was talking to Dagorian. I saw him fighting you in the final of the sabres. I could not see if he was winning or losing. The vision lasted a heartbeat only. But then I saw him beside you again, on a bridge. He was sitting against the wall, badly wounded. I had no way of knowing where that bridge was, or when in the future the event would take place. All I knew was that Dagorian would probably die alongside you. Indeed, you may have been the one to cause the wound.'
'I understand,' said Antikas. 'So now tell me what else you have seen.'
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For a moment Nogusta did not speak, and stood staring out over the lake. 'I have seen the death of a friend,' he said, at last, dropping his voice. 'And the question that haunts me is this, can I change his destiny? Could I have prevented Dagorian from standing on that bridge with you? And if I had would you have won alone?'
'Probably not. Dagorian took out three soldiers. Ten would have been too many - even for me.'
'That is what I thought,' said Nogusta. 'Which could mean that, although I could change the future and save my friend, by doing so I might bring about the return of the demons.'
'Alternatively, by changing the future you might bring about the opposite,' Antikas pointed out. 'Have you ever tried to alter events, based on your visions?'
Nogusta nodded. 'I saw a wagon crushing a child to death outside an inn. I knew the inn, and I could tell the event was to happen just before dusk. I went to the area, seeking out the child. I waited at the inn. She came on the second day, and I spoke with her. I told her to beware of running out in front of wagons. I went every day for a week, and we talked often. Then, one afternoon, she was running towards me when I saw a wagon turn the corner. I shouted to her, and she stopped running. The wagon missed her.'
'Then you can alter the future for the good,' said Antikas.
Nogusta shook his head. 'No. I thought I had accomplished the task. The following day she was struck by another wagon and killed. But that was not the worst of it. She was running to meet me, because she enjoyed our conversations. Had I not sought her out she might never have been outside the inn at all.'
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'It is all very complicated,' said Antikas. 'I am glad that I do not have visions. I do have one observation, however. The Demon Lord needs to sacrifice the babe in order to bring about the end of the Spell. If the child were to die before the sacrifice the Spell would be thwarted.'
'That has occurred to me,' admitted Nogusta.
'And what conclusion did you reach?'
'Whatever destiny holds in store for me it will not be as a killer of children. What the Demon Lord plans is evil. I do not believe that the way to fight great evil is to commit a lesser one. My role now is to protect the child. That I will do.'
'You are very rigid in your thinking,' Antikas pointed out. 'Kill one
babe to save the world? It seems a small price to pay.'
'It is not a question of scale,' said Nogusta. 'If it were then ten thousand babes would be a small price for such a great reward. It is a question of right and wrong. That child may prove to be one of the greatest men ever born, a peacemaker and a builder, a prophet or a philosopher. Who can say what wonders he may bring about?'
Antikas chuckled. 'More likely he will be another Skanda, full of vanity and arrogance.'
'Is that your advice then, Antikas Karios, to kill the child?'
'Answer me this first,' responded the Ventrian. 'If your vision told you that the babe was certain to fall into the clutches of the Demon Lord, would you reconsider?'
'No. I will defend it to the last drop of my blood. Now answer my question.'
'I am no longer a general, Nogusta. I am merely a man. You are in command here. As long as you live I will follow your orders, and I too will defend the child to the last.'
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'And if I do not live, and you survive me?'
'I will do whatever I think is right by my own principles. Does that satisfy you?'
'Of course.'
Antikas smiled and began to turn away. Then he stopped. 'You are a romantic, Nogusta, and an idealist. I have often wondered how men like you find happiness in such a corrupt and selfish world.'
'Perhaps one day you will find out,' Nogusta told him.
Antikas returned to the camp. Conalin was rubbing down the horses, while Bison sat by the fire eating roast meat, the juices running down his chin and staining his already filthy tunic. Antikas moved to where Axiana was sitting with Ulmenetha and the young girl, Pharis. The priestess was holding the sleeping babe, and the queen was daintily picking at her food.
'A far cry from palace banquets,' observed Antikas, making a deep bow.
'And yet very welcome, sir,' she told him. Axiana's dark eyes met his gaze. 'We thank you for coming to our assistance.'
'My pleasure, highness.'
As Antikas moved away Ulmenetha leaned in to the queen. 'Do you trust him, child?' she asked.
Gemmell, David - Drenai 08 - Winter Warriors (v1.0) Page 30