The Paladin Chronicles Book bundle 1-4 by Neil Port - HTML preview

Sometimes Katarina would point out local sites and landmarks or tell him the history of the region or the history of the elves. He was surprised for the first time in his life to find a woman that seemed to understand the sort of thing that interested him, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her. She also seemed interested in whatever he could tell her about roads and boats and his life growing up in Peiraieús.

And, she didn't just feign interest as some women do.

She asked intelligent questions and soon was able to identify soil types and the pattern of run off from a hill. She began to demonstrate intelligent understanding of what he could do to improve the roads they were travelling on. The elves may give comparatively little attention to their roads, but they understood building and science well enough.

Sometimes the pair just rode in companionable silence.

The journey from Kutaisi to Elgard would take a week. Leonidas wished it would take three times that long.

"Kutaisi is our second largest city. It was once the capital of a separate elf kingdom," Katarina was explaining. "We call the western region ‘Kolkhís’, after its Greek name. In legend it was where Iason (Jason) and the Argonautai (Argonauts) came to find the Golden Fleece.

"Before the Aryan hordes this whole region had a thriving human population. After that time it was almost empty and we claimed it for ourselves."

"What happened to the original inhabitants?"

Katarina looked, unseeing, into the far distance. "They destroyed everything; the Aryans and the others that they drove before them. They came in wave after wave, like a plague over the face of the earth. With the farms, trading caravans destroyed and no crops planted, the survivors faced a great famine. The only ones who survived took refuge in the mountains." She shuddered. "It destroyed the Western Elves, who were greater than us, and now it is coming for us."

* * *

The elf lands, crossing the central mountains to Elgard

As they drew closer to the entrance to the Surami Pass (through the central Likhi Mountains) they rode past many old fortified towns and castle after castle of the elvish Dukes and minor nobles who had once dominated this land. Most of them seemed empty, abandoned, the fortifications neglected and falling down.

"Is that where we are headed, Katarina?" Leonidas pointed to the mountains, purple in the distance and heavy with snow.

They were crossing a meadow, surrounded by deciduous forest: beech, alder and hornbeam, all leafless in the winter. They could just see the approaching haze of rain, progressively coming closer. The low flying clouds looked like steam coming off the nearby smaller peaks.

Katarina nodded. "You can't see the entrance to the pass until we clear this hill. It will be colder in the mountains."

It was already cold enough. Leonidas shivered, pulling his extra heavy cloak around him.

Katarina laughed. "That makes you look like a bear riding a horse, Leonidas."

* * *

The Surami was a low pass through the central Likhi Mountains. The greatest danger for their horses was ice on slopes as the snow melted and refroze.

The Greeks in winter shod their horses with thick rawhide boots, sometimes re-enforced with hob-nails, but the elves said their horses were better left unshod. Leonidas never found out if this was true but they had long periods where they had to dismount and gingerly lead their horses. They made it without incident, but Leonidas could not help but worry about his men following behind with their heavy equipment.

After emerging from the pass, the road diverted north to join the valley of the Liakhvi River which they would follow until it joined the Mt'k'vari.

"The Mt'k'vari River," Katarina explained, "arises in the western part of lesser Kaukasos. It cuts its way through the Likhi Mountains then on to the Kaspian. Elgard lies on its banks. Its name means 'the river that eats its way through mountains'."

As they approached the capital, they were travelling through a hilly region. Every large town seemed to have a castle or fortress on a nearby hill but they seemed to be in better repair than in the West and they often saw teams of elves working on them. They began to get some glimpses of Elgard from a distance but it wasn't till they finally they rounded a corner on a slight rise that it was laid out below them.

"It is so beautiful!" Leonidas exclaimed. Katarina waited on her horse, smiling as he looked over her home city in wonder.

The mountains in the distance seemed to form an amphitheatre around the city. The sky was heavy with pewter clouds, and in the middle distance the sun shone through a break like a beam coming down from the heavens, lighting up a cluster of the colourfully painted elf houses.

This was a city, more than any other in the world, born of the mountains, the forest, and the river. It straddled the great river. The elves with their love of the trees and the mountains had first built their city on the rugged west bank. It made it look like the hills carrying their forests on their shoulders had marched like an attacking army into a city of brightly painted wooden shops and houses.

As the population had increased, they had simply built their houses taller and closer together, leaving their much loved forests and gardens undisturbed. With the elvish love of heights, the top floors were often twenty percent larger than the lower floors and supported by struts.

It resulted in a city like no other. Lots of brightly coloured wooden houses with struts and outside ladders and rope bridges stretching from top floors to top floor across streets like a network of spider webs. It was all adorned with gay pennants, lamps and flower pots

Over time the city had spread to the east bank and the river was crossed by a beautiful, deceptively fragile-looking bridge, arched up to allow boats underneath.

The hill tops were dotted with temples and fortified manor houses. Even from here Leonidas could see the fortifications had been allowed to run down, but there were elves working on them everywhere. Getting ready, he thought grimly.

Dominating the city was the great hill fortress, standing high above the west bank in grey stone, now in the dull shadow of the afternoon. It looked strong and beautiful with the flags and pennants of the city and of the Dragon King and Queen flying bravely from its battlements.

The road from the west curved around the base of the hill as far as the bridge where it split into three: one part leading east across the river, another following the river as it flowed south, and the third branch climbing zigzag up the steep hill to the main fortress.

The lower part of the great fortress was enclosed by stone walls and towers rising up from solid rock. Standing separate inside the walls was the great temple to the Earth Mother and behind that the hill continued up, rising to a dizzy peak high above, with a rock pinnacle tall and massive. On this stood the smaller upper fortress, completely unassailable, the road up to it hidden from view.

"The last truly great city of the elves," Katarina murmured softly.

"Are you sure you elves will need our help, Katarina?" Leonidas asked. "I can't see a bunch of horsemen taking this place easily."

"Not easily, no," Katarina replied grimly. "Fortifications are something we elves understand well enough, but we will be hard pressed against so many."

"I will do anything I can to help. Anything at all."

"Thank you, Leonidas." Her voice was husky with emotion. She gave him a tender, grateful smile.

"Katarina, I need to take this time to thank you for all the help you have been to me and Atiphates," he said formally while he still had the chance.

"Why do you need to do that?" Katarina frowned, glaring at him. "I guide you. I answer your questions. Do you expect any less of me just because I am a woman? "

Damnation, that's not what I meant!

"Soon, I will be finding out what the Warlord wants of me."

"You will still need a guide, won't you?" Katarina asked, incredulous. "Or do you expect to bumble around our country on your own, human?"

"Katarina, were you to be our guide this whole time?"

"Of course! Do you humans need to be told everything? When my Queen goes, I will stay." She flashed him a grin. "So you will be burdened by my company a little longer... and I by yours."

* * *

Elgard

Atiphates and Leonidas expected to be summoned for at least an initial briefing (so at least they could find out why they were in the Elf Capital).

Instead they were assigned quarters and were left with the suggestion that they rest and make themselves at home. After the rush to get them there, no one seemed to know what to do with them, not at least until the Warlord arrived.

They also received some bad news. Their Lokhos were bogged down trying to get their heavy equipment through the muddy pass. It all put Leonidas in a sour mood.

"We should be with them," he fretted. " With the state of these mountain roads, we should have had bullocks, not horses. Any fool would have known that. They should have asked me, I would have told them. But of course they never do."

He glowered out the window at the grey clouds overhead, as if they were a personal affront. "How can they expect me to relax while I am worrying about our men and equipment?"

"I know what you mean," Atiphates said sympathetically. "Katarina offered to take time from her leave to show us around the city. I suppose if you are too upset ..."

"Experts," Leonidas said.

"The elves are experts at this sort of thing and our men have the elves to help them." He was grinning broadly. "We can't do anything by worrying, can we now? We really should have a look at the city while we have the chance. Study the defences and all that sort of thing."

Katarina brought her superior with her, an elf called Drakon. Atiphates was surprised to find him absolutely delightful company.

Elgard had a number of imposing monuments, temples and fortifications that Atiphates expected Leonidas would want to study, but even in winter Katarina seemed more interested in gardens, waterfalls and pine forests, and wandering the streets to show them the houses and shops of the old town and do a little shopping.

Leonidas seemed perfectly happy to follow her. If he continued to worry about the difficulties of their men stuck in the mud, he hid it well.

Atiphates had never known Leonidas to be interested in anything but work. He couldn't help but smile to see Katarina teaching him about gardens and trees. But he worried. Katarina was young, maybe eighteen, and she was very beautiful. Elf women had a lot of freedom amongst their men.

If his friend fell in love, he would likely have his heart broken but for the moment there was nothing Atiphates could do but worry.

Leonidas for his part couldn't stop looking at Katarina: her silky blond hair, her fine features, her fair skin, the way she smiled at him and the graceful way she moved.

* * *

Hakeem

The route from the desert city of Karsh to the mountain city of Elgard was a tortuous one due the high plateau of the lesser Kaukasos which extended in a thick band diagonally from Eastern Anatolē through to North-Western Aryana.

Hakeem, Persos and their small troop of guards travelled north-east almost to the plateau country of North Aryana. Then they swung back by Lake Van to make their way west of Mount Ararat to Şorbulak. They passed Chorzene, before entering the pass through the lesser Kaukasos just north of the city of Kumayri.

It was a bitter journey through sleet and snow.

They were sighted by the elves well before they reached the city. When they began their climb to the lower fortress Elena and Jacinta dropped everything and went running to meet them in the courtyard.

"How was your journey?"

Hakeem dismounted to sweep his wife off her feet and kiss her and then hug his daughter. "I almost didn't make it. It was complete madness to travel this early in the season. I don't know whatever possessed me to even try."

"You did it for me." Elena laughed.

"Now I remember! I did it for you! Did you know for a moment I thought I came for a crucial meeting with your father and your uncle?" He kissed her again and smiled. "I feel better already. Nadir and my men will all be happy to hear that I have taken them through frozen hell to pay you a social call."

His horse snorted derisively.

* * *

Atiphates and Leonidas heard that the Warlord had come, but the expected summons still didn't come till the next evening, after Lord Héctor had arrived.

Outside a great storm was assailing the fortress when Atiphates and Leonidas were finally ushered into a great war room packed with senior elf nobles and strategoi (generals). It was more than just a little intimidating.

Katarina was again standing with Jacinta behind the Queen. Jacinta and Elena gave them encouraging smiles but Katarina stared straight ahead, avoiding their gaze.

Her message was clear. She was on duty.

"How are the preparations coming along in Karsh?" Héctor had been asking Hakeem as the Greek men entered.

"There have been problems, of course; nothing we haven't been able to fix." Hakeem gave a small smile. "More time would be welcome, but we are as ready as we ever will be."

As soon as Leonidas and Atiphates entered, Cyron called the meeting to order.

"Thank you all for coming. We can now turn to the part that involves Leonidas and Atiphates. I don't need to remind anyone here how dire the threat we face is. Hakeem, perhaps for the benefit of Atiphates and Leonidas, could you explain." He paused and gave him a humourless smile. "Our little problem."

"The Hun have conquered Xvairizem." Hakeem looked grim. "If they go north this gives them access to the steppes that run north of the Kaspian or if they go south they reach Aryana. The Persikόs have fortified the borders and mountain passes leading to their homeland. They call the great walls they have built 'baru'."

"A bit like what the Chin did with their great wall," Leonidas blurted out, immediately interested. "It didn't do them any good."

"That is true," Hakeem said quietly. "Directly to their east they are protected by desert and in the north is their strongest wall. It is called ‘the Gorgan wall’ and was built long ago to deal with the threat of the Skythian barbarians. It stretches over a hundred miles from the Kaspian Sea to the Pishkamar Mountains. It has over thirty forts, all protected by ditches and earthworks. They are busy manning and repairing it."

Atiphates was staggered by the scale of the fortifications.

"The Hun, or Xiōngnú as the Chin call them, attacked the Chin when the ruling dynasty had collapsed and the Chin Empire was in chaos. The Persikόs, say what you like against them, have been gentler overlords to their subject peoples and they are not currently engaged in wars over succession. They fear Elgard will fall, and Aryana will be threatened on two fronts," Héctor said bluntly. "They are stripping troops from as far as Aígyptos, and rushing them to the borders around Aryana."

"It's nice we have their confidence," Cyron remarked dryly.

"We believe the Hun will be sending three great armies each with something like 130,000 veteran warriors," Héctor said.

"One hundred and thirty thousand warriors!" Belamus said in awe. "No single country or empire can fight even one such army. I didn't know there were armies so big."

No one said anything for a moment.

Then Héctor took up the story.

"One of these armies will continue north of the Greater Kaukasos this spring. That is a region of isolated small settlements: local chiefs and towns, stockades and wooden forts. I doubt they will leave much."

"They will want to move through it, not rule it," Hakeem agreed. "And they will be in a hurry to attack the Skythian nomads and the cities north of the Black Sea before they can get ready for them."

"We have sent what warnings we could." Héctor sighed. "If they conquer the cities along the northern coast of the Black Sea they could turn south through Thráki and attack the Makedónes.

"If they can get ships, they can come to Anatolē south through the Black Sea. I think they hope to have us fighting them in Anatolē on our western flank when they come for us here in the Transkaukasos."

"I'm sure that is exactly their plan." Hakeem sighed. "A year from now two of these great armies will attack the Transkaukasos."

Leonidas and Atiphates had heard the numbers before but they were still hard to believe.

Three such armies! Who could possibly resist that many?

For the benefit of the Greeks Héctor pointed the features on the map.

"The Mountains of the Trans-Kaukasos (north, south and centrally) form a 'Z'." He pointed.

"The Trans-Kaukasos region lies between two great mountain ranges: the greater Kaukasos in the north and the lesser Kaukasos in the south and it lies between two seas: the Black Sea on the west and the Kaspian to the east.

 

"The impenetrable part is the Greater Kaukasos. It has always protected us from much more than just cold winds." Héctor smiled without humour. "North are Skythians tribes of the Steppe and the forest. A long time ago we taught them to leave elves alone. Now neither we nor they are as strong as we both were back then.

"Their main remaining strength is in the west: along the northern coast of the Black Sea especially the Tauris region (Crimean peninsula). Unfortunately Philippos saw to the Skythian nomads when he killed their old King Ateas.

"In the Transkaukasos there are only two routes south that a large army can travel: the mountain pass through the Greater Kaukasos and the coastal route, around the western shore of the Kaspian."

"With that many men they will have to take both routes," Leonidas said. "It is easier for supply, it reduces the risk for them of them being bottled up and it forces you to split your defences."

"If they can get even one of those armies through, they will have us," Héctor said. Everyone nodded.

"How easy is the coastal route?" Atiphates asked.

"From the Hun's point of view it is fiendishly difficult. It belongs to Kohestan ( Dagestan, 'land of mountains') and leads to the coastal plain of Azar Pāyegān (Azerbaijan)," Héctor said. "Their Persikόs overlords will send reinforcements."

"Not as many as we would wish," Cyron added.

"Both Kingdoms are wealthy; with armies of a similar size to ours," Héctor continued. "The first one is Kohestan and it is a formidable obstacle. It makes much of its money by charging road travellers and merchants a modest tax."

He allowed himself a smile. "It has a string of fortresses leading up to its capital, Darband. But the greatest obstacle is the capital itself. It lies between two thick and heavily fortified walls stretching from the mountains to the sea in the narrowest part. The whole city is a living gate.

"The Persikόs have been busy strengthening it for most of the last thirty years. It is virtually impregnable."

"Then there is Azar Pāyegān. Their greater cities are fortified: Kamachia in the mountains and the capital Ateshi-Bagavan (Baku), the greatest sea port on the Kaspian. They have good infantry archers but they are not warlike. "

"You said the Persikόs will send aid." Atiphates had forgotten his junior status.

Cyron nodded. "The Persikόs see the Trans-Kaukasos region as an important part of their forward defences. While we have had our differences in the past," there were smiles all around at the understatement, "they will co-operate with us."

"The Hun have Chin engineers, but they will face at best a prolonged and very difficult siege," Hakeem added. "Despite the numbers they are facing, I expect the Skythoi of Kohestan and their Persikόs allies will hold against the Hun.

"Which brings us to the Dariel Pass," Cyron said heavily.

Héctor sighed. "Our great weakness."

The senior commanders paused, looking at each other grimly.

Hakeem took up the story. "Dariel in the Skythoi tongue means 'elf-gate'. In some ways, it is a far more difficult route. It leads straight through the great mountains here to Elgard.

"The north part of the pass is formed by the Dariel River and its tributaries as it flows north before turning east to join the Kaspian. The southern part is formed by the Aragvi River which flows south to join the Mt'k'vari."

"It is little more than a fortified toll gate," Cyron admitted. "I never expected an army to come through mountains and forests controlled by elves. I'm sorry, but I didn't, and I was too busy unifying my kingdom."

"With the militia we can field 50,000 elves but most elves, even women and children, can draw a bow at need," Elena reminded them. "We can hold it against a bigger force."

"We mustn't risk women and children. You elves are already too few." Hakeem shook his head stubbornly. "Elena, you talk of fifty thousand, but we have other points to cover as well. It will leave us with less than forty thousand to cover all of the east, and not just the pass. We and our allies will be likely fighting them along the Dariel, Kohestan, Anatolē and maybe Karsh all at the same time. You elves will face the most difficult task, and you will likely have to face it alone. It will be at best thirty thousand elf warriors against a hundred and thirty thousand battle-hardened Hun in just one of their armies."

"You want us to help you stop them coming down the Dariel," Atiphates said.

Now it was making sense! The Greeks were expert in field fortifications.

"Of course not!" Cyron looked puzzled. "How could we stop that many men coming down the Dariel if they wished?"

"I know!" Leonidas started to laugh. His eyes were sparkling in excitement. "You want us to welcome them to the Dariel and then provide them entertainments as they travel. That, I think we can do very well, very well indeed."

The others in the room joined him in laughing. All except for Atiphates, who thought they had all gone mad.

* * *

The last night's storm had passed and it was a fine morning heralding spring.

The wooden bridge across the Mt'k'uari rose in steeper sections from either bank to a central elevated part which was allowed small sailing ships, those that could ship their masts, underneath. In the middle, it was widened to a vantage point to allow the cities' citizens to stand and look out over the river and its banks. It had a double blue railing with hooks to hang coloured lanterns and flower pots.

Elena, Hakeem and Jacinta were standing in the central lookout, leaning on the railing together and looking down on the Mt'k'uari. The sound of music and gentle singing drifted over the water.

"You can sail the Mt'k'uari from Elgard into the Kaspian," Elena told them as they watched a boat ship its mast to get under the bridge. "We elves together with the Sakā and the Persikόs dug a channel from the Kaspian through the marshes to the Oxos delta. In happier times you could sail all the way up the Oxus or navigate through to the Aral Sea. Now all that land is held by the enemy: all those places, all those people killed and conquered!"

She turned to Hakeem with tears in her eyes.

"We won't win this one, Hakeem. There are too few elves and even if we do, the cost will be too high." She looked over the city as if trying to make sure she remembered it. "I think this will be the end of us."

Hakeem put his arm around her and Jacinta moved closer to her mother, taking her hand. Elena leaned back against his shoulder and stared into the distance, tears running down her cheeks.

"This will be the end of the elf kingdoms, " Her voice was anguished. "I just don't know what will be left."

"We will stop them, my love." Hakeem replied. " I think Darband will hold and when my Greeks are finished the Dariel will be a very unpleasant place for any uninvited visitors."

* * *

As he was ushered in, Atiphates regretted that he had asked to see the Warlord .

He felt he was being petulant. But it was too late to leave now.

The Warlord was conferring with the Elf King, Lord Héctor and some senior elves all clustered around a map. "What are you doing about refugees?" he was asking.

"There are far less than we expected, our enemies seem to delight in chasing refugees down." Belamus growled. "Those that make it to our borders, we are settling them amongst our own people as you suggested."

"We must be wary," Héctor warned.

"Be careful of the well-armed and organised ones," Hakeem agreed. "Split them up or put them in less sensitive positions. Settle most of them in the west. Just don't turn any away through fear of them. Having them lurk, starving on your borders, only encourages bandits. If you can win their hearts, they will fight for you. We need to talk about what we will do if Elgard falls."

"I'd rather not even think about it." Cyron sat, tiredly taking his head in his hands.

"If Elgard falls you can't hold Kolkhis."

"Kolkhis, that’s 70% of my population!" King Cyron looked up at him, appalled.

"Kolkhis has a lot of fortifications but most of them are run down. You will have most of your forces defending Elgard. If it falls, your army will be in complete disarray and you will have very few men," Hakeem warned him. "There is hilly country in Kolkhis but it is gentler country than your mountains here. Before the time of the Aryans it had a flourishing human population. Afterwards, it was empty."

They all paused, thinking about that.

"We will do what can be done." Cyron sighed. "If the enemy gets a large cavalry force into Kolkhis we will lose a lot of people. Do you have any good news for us?"

"We will need to close the Dariel as soon we can."

"You want me to close one of the main trade route into my kingdom?" Cyron was aghast. "That's not good news."

Hakeem nodded distractedly. He traced something on the map, muttering something to himself.

He finally turned to Atiphates. "Atiphates, how may I help you?"

"My Lord, I am in charge of my Lokhos only by an accident of birth."

"I want you to continue, Atiphates," Hakeem said firmly.

"Leonidas is the real engineer." Atiphates coloured deeply.

"Leonidas and I have already spoken on this and we both agree," Hakeem said. "Is Leonidas a better leader of men?"

Atiphates thought about it and began to smile with relief. "No ..." he said.

"The two of you make a team," Hakeem said with an air of finality. "One of the best teams I have. I will explain exactly what I have in mind for you in more detail soon. In the meantime, is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Just one thing, you said we have a year."

"Yes," Hakeem said quietly. "We will be seeing war in other places first, but here we have a year."

* * *

Their Lokhos had extricated themselves from the worst of the mud, and would arrive in a week's time.

Atiphates and Leonidas had had their personal briefing with the Warlord and now they asked Katarina to show them the entrance to the pass. It involved travelling ten miles north to the old capital of Mtskheta which lay at the junction of the Aragvi and the Mt'k'uari Rivers. When Leonidas first saw the old town he almost spat with disgust.

"You can't defend that!" he muttered.

"It is thousands of years old." Katarina sniffed. "It survived the Aryans."

"Things have changed," Leonidas replied, looking around.

Then he spotted the fortified Akropolis standing high above and he broke into a wide grin.

"Now that you can defend!"

Elvish artisans were repairing the old fortress and constructing new siege weapons. Why such a large fortress for such a small town and no town wall? Of course! Leonidas realised, the fortress came first. The town had come later, before the elves established their final capital at Elgard.

Still, it had been a long time since this place had seen any fighting.

As they travelled on, a few miles further north there was another fortress, once the ruling seat of a previous duchy, or at least two fortresses, one old and one newer, the two joined by a crenulated curtain wall to make one fortress, all in good solid elvish stone.

"It would have been better on a hill top," Leonidas muttered to Katarina. "But with some field fortifications and your good elvish siege weapons it'll do. It'll do well enough."

Katarina smiled; she seemed happy that Leonidas was pleased with her people's fortifications.

Leaving this, they followed the Aragvi River further north to the start of the foothills, and the entrance to the pass. Ahead of them, the grey mountains closed in, murky in the mist.

In front of them it was all very green. On the road the soil showed through, grey. The river flowed over a broad expanse of grey pebbles. Its high banks warned what it would become in the melt.

Leonidas and Atiphates were shivering despite their heavy cloaks whilst Katarina looked completely comfortable in the stitched leathers of an elf scout.

"In summer it has many flowers, it is very beautiful," Katarina said softly as they looked over it. Leonidas wondered whether he had ever seen anything so beautiful in his life, but he was rather thinking of the slender elf by his side, not the pass.

"Your pass is too wide," he muttered, turning his attention back to the task at hand.

"I am sorry, Leonidas. There are narrower parts. I think you will be well pleased once you have seen the whole length. And you will find the high pass is all that you could possibly ever wish for."

"Can you tell me anything about the elf gate?"

"The elf gate is 16 feet high, 10 miles wide. It is stone front and back with two large forts on it and a heavily fortified gate," she recited.

"You seem to know this pass well," Atiphates said.

"It is my job." Then she smiled at him. "and it helps that I was born in the pass."

"Ten miles is far too wide for just two forts and it's not high enough," Leonidas grumbled in disgust.

"There are places to mount catapults along it but it was built to collect tax, not to stop hordes," Katarina said quietly.

"Are there secret paths over the mountains?" Atiphates asked.

"If you like climbing, wading through heavy snow, picking your way across glaciers with special shoes and swinging on ropes bridges, yes there are. The old humans still live in the mountains, the ones we call Kartvelebi, and there are elves up there too. None of them recognise the authority of our King and Queen, though."

"Can we get permission to cross their land?"

"They will want to help us, yes, and they will give permission."

"Lots of water?" Atiphates added to the list he was making in his mind.

"Of course, plenty. On this side we have the Argive, after the high pass we have the Dariel and there are many small tributaries."

"These tributaries form blind valleys and waterfalls? And there are areas of steep overhang with the risk of dangerous rock slides or avalanches? The humans and elves that live there know the area well?"

"I know it well and yes to all those things," Katarina said quietly.

Leonidas exchanged a look with Atiphates and back to Katarina, and he began to smile.

 

 

Chapter 4: The Mirror, and More Terrible News

It was night when Sophie, Korrina and Eunike received a message to meet with Jacinta. She hadn't said what it was about only that they were to come in secret. A guard showed the three sisters into a disused office in the basement of the barracks. It was small and musty with a dirt floor. Near the back wall was an old worktable and an old rough cupboard. Four diphroi (folding stools) had been brought for their use and there were two small unperfumed oil-lamps. Jacinta was standing to one side, in front of the desk. She wore a Greek warrior's chiton, her sword and knife belted at her waist. Her face looked grim in the light from the lamps.

"Thank you, holy sisters, for coming."

The guard moved away to wait at a distance.

Korrina moved in front of the others before they entered.

"These theatrics might amuse you, young lady, but they don't amuse me. We are not used to being summoned so rudely. You had better have a good explanation."

"I have journeyed here with my mother to Elgard for one purpose only," Jacinta said. "I have something here that I find is beyond me."

Korrina saw the object on the table, covered by a cloth.

"Is that ..." she gasped. Has it been found?

Jacinta simply waited. Korrina nodded and ushered the other two in quickly and carefully closed the door.

"Are you insane, Jacinta?" Sophie was incredulous. "You actually tried to use this?"

Jacinta nodded. "It seems it's not meant for me to use," she added mildly.

Sophie moved to stand in front of the other sisters. "That object is mine, Jacinta, and I know what you are about to ask. After Ǽlward's treachery we sisters all take an oath. We will not to be involved in your wars, nor your politics."

She reached for the object but Jacinta's hand moved like a snake striking.

"That is not good enough!"

Sophie looked at where Jacinta gripped her wrist.

"Jacinta, you are hurting my arm."

"This is nothing to what I will do to you if you don't help us," she said, standing over the smaller girl. "It is all right for Ǽlward to pay such a terrible price."

She held up her crippled hand. Her eyes were glinting in the lamplight.

"I can face a daimôn in the catacombs. And yet your sister-hood is too precious to do your share! This is not some petty war. If need be, I will have it made into a royal command. To refuse will be treason.

"NOW, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

Jacinta waited.

"Forgive the child, Jacinta, she spoke without thinking." It was Maerwen who replied. "This has been returned for me to use. First, I will need to make some preparations and fix whatever your meddling has caused. It was a dangerous thing you did, trying to use this without proper preparation or training." Then she gave a small smile. "Not that you have proven very good at avoiding such dangers before."

Then it was Sophie again. "Would you really hurt me, Jacinta?" Sophie was rubbing her wrist and looking anxiously at her friend.

"Sophie, I love you dearly." Jacinta caught her friend's wrist again and brought it to her lips with both hands, good and bad, and kissed it. Then she gave her the ghost of a smile.

"But the time for keeping your distance or turning your back on what is to come is over."

She walked out, leaving the object on the table.

* * *

The far-seeing mirror

It was late afternoon two days later and the shadows were lengthening, when Sophie finally summoned Eunike and Korrina. The mirror was ready.

"Jacinta has been very foolish trying to use this without knowing what to do," Sophie explained. "Its power became blocked by a protection spell. It was easy to counter but she is lucky worse didn't happen. I think it was an automatic one, but we have to be careful just in case she has alerted our enemy."

"How does it work?" Eunike asked.

"The mirror is attuned to our seer-magic. If something is hidden from normal seer-sight, the mirror will allow us to see it."

"All except seeing Hakeem, I presume."

"And now Jacinta, in a way I do not understand. I suspect it is a dwarvish spell," Sophie agreed.

"I will show you how to get yourself and the mirror ready, but let me do it the first time. I don't expect to get into any trouble, but if I do, simply place a cloth over it. You will be able to view what I see by standing behind me but, for the Mother's sake, make sure your minds stay quiet."

She laughed a little. "I haven't done this for two thousand years, so I might be out of practice."

The mirror was surrounded by dark wood with unfamiliar runes carved on it. At first the centre looked dull, like lead. Then it began to clear like water in a pond.

Deep down, there was an image growing brighter. The yurt was dark and filled with choking smoke. The smoke hole was closed and the flap secured. There were four figures seated and sweating in the heat. The observers heard no sound but they could see the leader chanting and beating a drum.

The other men had their eyes closed; they were swaying and chanting in time, overcome with drugs and religious ecstasy. On the floor was a fifth man, tall and completely naked. He was pale, barely alive.

Eunike hissed, hand to her throat.

Sophie reacted instantly, covering the mirror.

She bowed her head in concentration for a moment. "That was close, we weren't detected."

Eunike was distraught and near to fainting. "I'm sorry."

Korrina helped her to a seat and poured her some watered wine.

"Please go and rest, sister." It was Maerwen who spoke. "Korrina and I will continue. Did you understand what you saw? That man may die but the intent is not to kill him. His name is Bende and he is already a powerful samān.

"This is the greatest magic of the samān. A long time ago, perhaps in sleep or in a sickness approaching death the first šamán learnt to control the wandering of the soul. Now they use chanting, trance and drugged smoke to do it at will.

"What Bende is doing is the most dangerous of all. For this, he needs to be very close to death. His soul must wander far indeed."

"To the daimôn realm," Korrina was appalled.

"To the daimôn realm," Maerwen agreed.

"The man with the drum is Gansükh and he is training others to summon daimôns."

* * *

When Sophie was ushered in, she looked pale and her eyes were red.

She had been crying.

"Sophie! Dear child, whatever is the matter?" Elena asked.

Then she saw Korrina just behind Sophie. The senior sister was looking haggard.

Elena felt a chill.

The mirror: they must have used it.

She turned to Eudokia. "Please leave us, and see that we are not disturbed."

She herself got up and led Sophie and Korrina to seats and offered them water.

"You have used the mirror, " she said. She could not keep her voice level.

Yet what Sophie told her was even beyond her worst imaginings.

"More than one?" Elena hissed. "Am I to ask my people to face daimôns?"

She sat speechless for a long time. Finally she looked up again at the pair.

"There is another message, isn't there?"

They didn't know what to say to her.

"You have foreseen my death."

"I have, my Queen." Sophie dropped her head in misery. Korrina looked stricken. "The defence of Elgard, when it comes, will be desperate."

"I am prepared." Elena gave them a gentle smile. "I have lived my whole life under the shadow of the Prophecy. It is what I have long suspected."

I will be the last of my line.

"Besides, what better way to die than in the defence of my people? Tell me, though, is Elgard doomed like Elvish Troia was?"

"That part is not decided yet. Still, whatever happens, the destruction will be terrible. Much will be lost and a great many who heed Elgard's call will not return to their homes and families. Your daughter will be one of them."

"Then I will send her to away from here! Is there any hope without her?"

"My Queen, I cannot answer that."

"We will find another way," Elena said, grimly determined. "My father and uncle are on your list, are they not?" She saw the surprise in Sophie and Korrina's eyes.

"I am the Queen mentioned in the great Prophecy. Did you think I would not to know? I will warn them, but I do not expect it to be a surprise to them either.

"Speak no more of personal fate to me or anyone else. Neither Jacinta nor my husband must suspect. After the battle, do as you wish ... if you survive."

Sophie sobbed.

"Sophie, dearest Sophie. We must face our fate with whatever courage we can."

Elena came and knelt by her to take her in her arms.

* * *

When Jacinta received a formal summons to attend King Cyron and the others in the King's council room she guessed what it was about.

Sophie had used the mirror.

She could taste the fear as she walked in. Everyone was waiting in silence for the last to arrive. There was no smile of welcome, no idle talk. Sophie and Korrina sat close together, eyes downcast.

She glanced at her mother sitting next to King Cyron; Elena averted her gaze. The dead had warned her about this. Her mother was holding a secret from her.

Hakeem arrived with Atiphates, Leonidas and Daniel then Héctor arrived almost in a run followed by two of Cyron's senior elf strategoi. They said nothing, simply sat.

Sophie looked to the King who nodded.

"Æloðulf has survived, he is recovering," Sophie started. "He has instructed Gansükh to begin training others to raise daimôns."

Jacinta could not prevent a moan escaping her lips. A whole tribe of daimôns! She looked around at the others. They sat pale, shocked.

"When the Hun reach Elgard they will not only have a huge army, greater than any since the time of the Aryans, they will have daimôns, several daimôns."

No one said anything for a long time.

"The book?" Cyron asked, turning to Jacinta. "It allowed you to fight a daimôn before."

"The makers of the book accepted the extinction of their whole species rather than use it," Elena interrupted her father. "If it sees daylight again Æloðulf will be aware of it and he will try to capture it."

"It will stay hidden," Jacinta said. "The book was entrusted to me. The knowledge of its resting place will die with me. I promised this to its guardian , Silver."

"It may be difficult to conceive of something worse than daimôns, but the book is," Héctor agreed. "It is infinitely worse. If a people are enslaved by a raiser of daimôns there will be limits to his or her great power. If Æloðulf ever finds a way to open that book his power would be limitless," Héctor said. "Death for all of us is better than risking that."

Jacinta saw her good hand was trembling. She hid it behind her back.

"I have killed a daimôn already. I can do it again."

Elena gave her a strange look. "Can you face more than one daimôn, Jacinta?"

"More than one?" She couldn't keep the fear from her voice. She had fought the daimôn before she had time to think about it. This time she would know what it would cost. "I will try. Not two together; no I can't do that."

"There were five men in the yurt," Sophie informed her. "And Gansükh is searching for more."

"I will face them," Jacinta said softly; she could hardly breathe and her mouth was dry with fear.

"YOU WILL NOT!" Elena shouted at her.

Everyone looked at her mother in shock.

"Dear Jacinta," Cyron said touching Elena on the hand to calm her. "No one doubts your courage but you are still a child, you have done enough already. We have the two javelins left from the catacombs, let someone else throw them, we will choose the best man."

Jacinta's heart was racing. There was something else she should say. She could spell javelins. Maybe that would convince them to let her fight.

Her jaw clamped. What was she going to say?

I know I can fight daimôns but my mother won't let me.

That would go down really well.

Or she could try, "I'm a spoilt brat who won't do what my parents tell me."

She could charge more javelins, yes. They didn't know that yet, but she didn't need to be in Elgard for that and they would see that immediately.

No, she had a year. She needed to be smarter about this. She needed to find out what her mother was not saying, and take her time to work on her.

Her father was talking. "How else can daimôns be fought? They must have a weakness."

"They are formidable but, yes, they have weaknesses: several," Daniel said. "Cold weakens them. Enough cold will banish them for a time. We can bring ice from the mountains and keep it stored underground. We are not facing Illvættir; humans can only summon them for short periods, after which they must rest.

"Gansükh is Illvættir trained; maybe he can summon his daimôn at will. The others will need herbs, chanting, smoke, steam and heat. There is a cost to a summoner every time they summon a daimôn; they age and it weakens them."

"They will keep their summoners together in a special yurt on wheels, heavily guarded, in the middle of their army but closer to the front," Sophie added." If you kill the one that summoned the daimôn, you get rid of the daimôn."

"It will be easy to spot," Hakeem said. "Leonidas! They will be travelling down the Dariel which has some narrow parts. Do you think we can do something about that?"

Leonidas smiled. "We will probably only get one chance at it, but, yes, given a year to prepare I think I have a very good chance of destroying one mobile yurt with all of them inside. If they have a decoy, we need someone to identify the right one, I take it that Sophie can help us there."

"That is our best hope then. It would leave us Gansükh to deal with but he can't be everywhere," Hakeem said, heavily. "He is only one man and all it takes is one arrow. As well as that, we will still have the two javelins left from Jacinta's first battle with a daimôn."

 

 

Chapter 5: The Kartvelebi

Another Lokhos arrived to work on the southern road, the main road from Azar Pāyegān to Elgard. It was where the Hun would come if Kohestan fell. Hakeem had promised another Lokhos to join Atiphates and Leonidas soon, but under their command. So, they set their men to bolster the fortifications around Mtskheta and then turned their own attention to the pass.

"Hakeem wants us to establish some small wooden forts at this end for depots and security, but as soon as the pass opens in spring we will set up field fortifications at the northern entrance, and then we will close the pass." Atiphates said, while the three of them were studying a rough map that Katarina had drawn.

Katarina tilted her blond head. "In the mountain villages there are shepherds, but in the valleys people rely on the travellers and traders. Closing the pass will cause great hardship."

"That is just the start," Atiphates said grimly. "Any non-combatants will have to leave. Can you show us the whole of the pass, before it opens for the season?"

"You will have to wait until the thaw. The pass can be difficult and dangerous at the best of times. Few, even amongst the elves, can travel through the high pass this early, and those who do gamble with their lives."

"The Hun have a reputation for doing the impossible," Atiphates said stubbornly

Katarina went silent.

"Kyrie, I think we should listen to Katarina," Leonidas suggested quietly.

Cursed elves and their arrogance.

"Katarina, my apologies, I did not mean to doubt you. It's just that it is fatal to underestimate the Hun."

"I was born in the pass," Katarina said. "I will show you, and then you will know. But first let me take you to meet the people of the mountains, so we may ask their help."

* * *

The Kartvelebi

"From here, we walk," Katarina instructed, hopping down from her horse and passing the reins to one of the elves that had accompanied them.

To reach the nearest aul (mountain village) of the Kartvelebi they had to leave their horses and hike. She took her gorytos, a cloak and a large pack with twin shoulder straps.

"Do you want some help with that?" Leonidas asked.

"No, but thank you." She smiled, tying her cloak on top of the pack and hefting it and the gorytos onto her shoulders. "Never travel in the mountains in winter without emergency provisions. Also, the villagers are cut off from everything but foot traffic till spring, so I brought some gifts."

Well, at least she didn't attack me for offering to help!

"Shouldn't we take an escort?" Atiphates asked.

"It would be an insult. We are safe on their lands. If they do not wish us to be safe, even a small army will not help us."

She turned to the slope and began running lightly up, ignoring her load. Grimly Leonidas and Atiphates looked at each other and then the slope and started to trudge after her.

"These damn elves are stronger than they look," Leonidas grumbled to Atiphates.

Then he felt like slapping himself. She could hear him with those cursed ears of hers.

She stopped halfway up, grinning down at him. "Do you want some help?"

Leonidas sighed. He gritted his teeth and applied himself to climbing.

* * *

"These are of the old races of men. They were here before we elves arrived from the cold lands," Katarina told them. "They use their tribal names but we call them Kartvelebi. This is the most important and accessible aul (mountain village) and it will be an easy day's walk."

She talked cheerfully as she walked along with her heavy load.

"They are dark haired but their skin is very fair. Of all the humans the Kartvelebi are closest to the elves. They are tall like us; they worship nature spirits and they revere trees. It is the old ways of this land."

She paused to let them rest, bending over with her pack still on her back and panting a little, and grinning at Leonidas. Katarina had planned to give them frequent rest periods but had overestimated a comfortable walking pace for the humans not acclimatised to the thinner air.

"They will welcome you amongst them, but you must respect their laws and customs. They have a very strict code of honour. Break their peace and they will not let you live. I must warn you of one thing especially. Women are given great respect amongst them, but unlike elves, their men are possessive of their women.

"If you sleep with a married woman her husband will kill you; if he cannot do it, then his family will join in killing you. If not his family, then all his neighbours.

"If you show too much interest in one of their daughters (and they like you) you will find yourself married and taking a place amongst them. Do anything bad to one of their women and they will kill you."

With extra rest periods for her companions, the hike took longer than Katarina expected. Darkness this early in the season comes both early and abruptly in the mountains but fortunately, just as the light was failing, people came to meet them bearing torches.

"Gadarine! Our scouts saw you coming," the head man called out. "Marsha oylla (enter in freedom)."

"I thank you, Head Man Khasurt," Katarina called back formally. "This is Leonidas and Atiphates. They have come to help the elves."

"Marsha oylla, Leonidas and Atiphates," Khasurt said. "Any friend of the elves is a friend of us."

Khasurt was tall like the rest of his people, black curly hair and pale skinned with a pleasant round face and bushy beard. He looked very strong, a great bear of a man.

He was dressed in the traditional Kartvelebi fashion: long black pants, a full-length woven wool coat over a three-quarter black smock decorated with colourful stitching and metal ornaments. His smock had a row of tiny dagger-like ornaments on each front pocket. On his head he wore the short Kaukhasian fur-hat. At his waist was a slender, slightly curved short-sword in a silver scabbard; over his shoulder was a long bow and quiver.

"Leonidas and I thank you, Head Man Khasurt." Atiphates bowed.

It wasn't far by this stage and ,as they got closer, Leonidas saw the main welcome party waited just outdoors for them.

Some younger women in colourful dresses and scarves were standing a little back from the others. They were watching them intently and whispering to each other. One had a darker complexion. She was a real beauty with long brown hair and green eyes. She saw him looking and looked back at him with a challenging half smile.

He quickly averted his gaze.

They were promptly ushered into Khasurt's house. The entrance was low. It would help conserve heat ... and an enemy would have to bend to enter.

There was a short vestibule with a door to one side leading to the sleeping quarters and another door immediately in front, opening into a long-room with a great crackling hearth at the other end. On both sides there were divans running like benches the length of the walls and covered by colourful blankets and embroidered cushions. There was a space in the centre to allow for local performances or dancing.

His house also served as a meeting place. It was mostly empty, awaiting the arrival of the rest of the villagers.

Khasurt, and his wife Maaret, led them to the hearth at the end. Quarter walls on either side made a small semi-private recess just in front of the hearth, where they were joined by three village elders.

They were relieved of their coats and hats while a young woman gave them water to wash their hands. This was followed by light refreshments on platters: white sour cheese, olives, preserved meat, fish eggs, pungent chicken-liver paste, thin crusts of unleavened bread, tea and yoghurt. The Kartvelebi seemed to salt everything, even their tea and yoghurt.

Khasurt spoke Greek, while his wife translated for the elders.

"No one wishes this terrible thing to come to the elves. We will help you in whatever ways we can, but we can't and we won't fight your wars for you. You may cross our lands but you must not fight from them. All the villages of our people agree with this."

Khasurt looked a question to his wife who bowed her head in ascent.

It was all Katarina and the elves could have wished for.

Leonidas wondered at Katarina's role in these negotiations. She was a junior officer (admittedly in the Queen's personal guard) but here she was acting as an ambassador. The elves, of course, did not view such things like humans did, but he was beginning to suspect that she was more than just a simple scout for her Queen.

After some polite chatter the adults and older children of the village began filing in and filling up the main room. Katarina and Leonidas ended up on the opposite side to Atiphates and Khasurt. After a while Katarina left him briefly to walk around and say hello to all her friends. Leonidas was stuck with one of the elders who spoke no Greek but kept smiling and nodding at him almost continually.

Katarina seemed to know everyone there, young and old, and made her rounds smiling and chatting with each one briefly.

She seemed to spend a long time with a young man Leonidas later found out was called Malkhazi. He was strikingly handsome with short black curly hair, mischievous brown eyes and sparkling white teeth. His clean shaven face gave him an almost boyish look. Leonidas could hardly take his eyes off them as they shared some joke together. They saw him watching and gave him a friendly wave. He averted his eyes, embarrassed.

On some obscure cue she returned, happy and smiling as women appeared bringing low tables for the main meal. Leonidas and Atiphates were each passed a hollowed-out ram's horn.

They looked at them puzzled; others around them were producing their own horns, some elaborately decorated and painted; most had at least one band on them of silver or gold. Katarina brought out her own horn and made a drinking gesture from the open end at the top.

"You will see." She giggled.

Everyone was talking loudly, almost shouting to be heard but little of it was comprehensible to Leonidas.

The young women started to bring what seemed an endless stream of food including bread, rice and mutton, meat skewers, cheese-bread, dumplings, meat rolled in cabbage leaves and rich, heavily peppered, stews.

Leonidas and Atiphates found their drinking horns filled with unwatered wine, dark, red and sweet. Before anyone started eating or drinking an old man stood up and gave what sounded like a short solemn speech and everyone surged to their feet and raised their horns in a toast.

"He is the 'Tamada'," Katarina explained after they were all seated again. "Each feast has one. He is in charge of the ceremony."

After that, they could start.

The people used their right hands to eat off thick unleavened bread used as trenchers. The Tamada, Khasurt and the other elders all had a disconcerting tendency of placing food on Leonidas's or Atiphates's trencher with their own hands. Katarina said this was a sign that they were being given honour and they were supposed to show they were enjoying what they were given. Fortunately as far as that was concerned they were not only soldiers but they were Greek soldiers. Eating was no problem for them.

As the eating slowed, the Kartvelebi men stood one after the other and asked the Tamada permission to propose a toast. The first was in Greek: "To our Greek friends, we are told you have been asked to help the elves with your brains. But neither of you look like a stranger to a sword or to hard work. Let you be welcomed amongst us."

There was polite clapping. Then there was a series of toasts, one in what sounded like elvish which had Katarina laughing and blushing.

Leonidas began to realise most of the toasts were humorous. As each man delivered his speech there were lots of dramatic pauses with the listeners excitedly pointing to whoever was the target of the toast with much anticipation and laughing. It seemed like a competition of sorts.

"The wine is very good," Katarina said excitedly, looking flushed. "We elves believe wine was invented not far from here. They will bring their brandy later, wait till you try that."

The round of toasts finished and the young women were scurrying to clear the tables when Malkhazi stood and started to sing in a high falsetto voice, soft and melodious. Soon all the men of the village were standing and singing the same.

It was very beautiful.

"What does it mean?" Leonidas asked, but for a moment Katarina was overcome with tears and could only wave him away.

As the men continued to sing, four young dark-haired women came into the centre. They had long shawls over their shoulders covering three quarters of their dresses and lighter shawls covering their hair . Their long, flowing (dark) embroidered dresses hid their feet..

They began a slow gliding dance, as graceful as the men's singing. With their feet hidden, they looked like swans swimming on a lake. Leonidas had heard of the famous elf singing and the graceful dance of their women, but for a moment he could only think that nothing could be more beautiful than this.

Then one of the men brought out a salamuri (flute) and started a lively number. Soon another salamuri, a drum and a tar (lute) appeared as the village musicians joined in. Malkhazi and three other men joined the women on the floor while the other men switched to tenor singing.

The men and women were dancing and weaving in and out. The women continued gliding gracefully but the men began a vigorous dance: stamping and strutting and leaping into the air with their back arched, spinning down on to their knees and up again into the air, throwing their arms out with shouts of triumph to the lively music.

The women wore half smiles on their faces as if amused by the men's efforts. They seemed to ignore them but would occasionally flash them a serene smile. This caused the men to strut even more, redoubling their efforts. For Leonidas it captured the essence of the wonderful men and women of the mountain: the men totally macho, but honouring and loving their women for their grace and beauty.

There was a break while three men stood to sing in complex counterpoint and the rest of the men sang a bass background. The Greeks sat, astonished. This was just a village, and yet the great theatron of Athēnai could have nothing to match this. Malkhazi came over, panting with exertion and plonked himself next to Katarina and put his arm possessively around her.

"You like our entertainment, Leonidas?" he said in broken Greek, as Katarina relaxed back in his embrace. Leonidas felt the blood rush to his face, this was Katarina's boyfriend! He managed a wan compliment.

"Will you dance the Khanjluri later, Malkhazi?" Katarina asked, looking up into his face; her eyes were flashing with excitement and her cheeks and the tips of her ears flushed with the heat and the wine.

"Of course, but what about the Khevsuruli, we three might dance that. What do you think, Gadarine? For you, I would dance the Khevsuruli."

Leonidas felt a surge of anger at the cruel taunt. Of course he couldn't match this man's dancing. But Katarina was only amused.

"You are such an idiot, Malkhazi. Leonidas cannot dance your dances." She looked back at Leonidas, smiling excitedly. "Leonidas, you must see the Khanjluri, their knife-dance." She was leaning back comfortably in the man's arms.

At her challenge, Malkhazi stood and drew himself up theatrically. "For you and our guests, the Khanjluri!"

He blew a kiss to Katarina who giggled prettily, hand across her mouth.

Though Leonidas was stung and fuming, the knife dance, or mock battle, was something that once seen could not be forgotten. Malkhazi 'fought' sometimes one, sometimes up to three men in furious battle. As each man got 'hit', he would arch over backwards to the floor.

Malkhazi was their best dancer and more female eyes than Katarina's were watching him tonight. As he finished he bowed to several of the young women, and he even kissed an old toothless grandmother which set her and everyone laughing and cheering.

Couldn't Katarina see what he was like?

"Your sweetheart seems popular," he observed mildly.

"Sweetheart!" Katarina stood up and spat the words, outraged.

All noise in the room stopped.

"You think he is my man friend? Is that what you think of me? That I would travel with men and never warn them I am spoken for?" She stood and towered over him, her face red with anger. "Why are you interested, anyway? What business is it of yours?"

Her voice was thick with contempt.

Katarina went to the Tamada, still trembling with rage, and asked for permission to leave. With a last glare at Leonidas she left, her head held high.

All music, all conversation had ceased; everyone was watching Leonidas as he sat slumped in misery. He burned with shame, his head bowed; he didn't know where to look.

It was about to get worse.

Malkhazi stood up with a full bottle in one hand and two small cups in the other and a grim look of determination on his face. Everyone watched him in silence as he began to walk slowly and purposely over. Leonidas was caught between abject misery and anger. He knew he had committed some unforgivable transgression. But the last thing he wanted now was to have Malkhazi play the ‘big man’.

He glanced at Atiphates who looked alarmed; would there be a fight? Would they be thrown out? Malkhazi placed two small cups down on the table dramatically, each with an audible 'clack' that sounded through the hush.

"My friend, you have about you the look of a man who needs to learn about our Chacha (brandy)." He poured two glasses.

Leonidas looked up at him in surprise and lifted one of the cups to cautiously sip.

"No, that is not the way, my friend." Malkhazi laughed. "Gagimarjoth!"

He downed the contents in one gulp and stamped his foot and then sighed, wiping his mouth with satisfaction, returning the cup to the table with another audible clack.

"We make many types of brandy. This one is from the grape residue after making wine. Soon you will know why it has its reputation."

"Gagimarjoth!" Leonidas threw his back in imitation.

He couldn't breathe! His throat was on fire!

He coughed, gasping and choking. Tears came to his eyes. Malkhazi kneeled down, heartily bashing him on the back and laughing. Everyone in the room relaxed and began to laugh and cheer as the singing and dancing resumed.

"You will need to apologise," Malkhazi said as he took the place Katarina had vacated. "The morning is soon enough. She likes you, you know. If she didn't, she would not act like that."

Leonidas gave him a wry smile. "Somehow I doubt that. How would someone as lovely as her ever fall for someone who looks like me? And I'm always saying the wrong thing."

"And yet you fall in love with her, no?" Malkhazi said. "We are men. We cannot understand what a beautiful woman may like."

He poured two more cups of the clear spirit. "It is the meaning of my joke about the three of us dancing the Khevsuruli. The Khevsuruli is a dance where two men fight over a girl that they both love and she tries to stop them hurting each other. A little flirting and teasing is permitted at our feasts, out in the open where everyone knows it is not serious. Gadarine and I have been friends since we were small." Malkhazi looked cold for a heartbeat.

"Know this, Greek. If you hurt that girl I will cut your heart out."

Then he relaxed and raised his cup. "Here's to women! Wonderful creatures, but it is the fate of us men never to understand them, eh?"

* * *

Some of the young Kartvelebi men had decided to accompany them back to where their mounted escort waited with their horses.

Leonidas stumbled out, his stomach sour, his legs rubbery and his head pounding. Katarina took one look at the suffering written on his face and burst out laughing.

"Don't worry, it is downhill, we will go slowly for you."

"Katarina, I'm sorry," he said, feeling completely miserable.

"Idiot!" She laughed and hefted her pack to start out ahead with her Kartvelebi friends.

* * *

Sophie screwed up her face and went red with effort.

A faint shimmer appeared in the air in front of her. Eunike and Korrina managed blue spheres, faint in the sun. None of their other priestesses got even that far.

"That's no good," Eunike said despondently.

"It was better," Daniel said encouragingly.

"No, Eunike's right," Korrina said grimly. "We can't generate the sort of power you can. I don't think a daimôn army will be impressed by our pretty coloured lights."

"It only confirms what I suspected," Daniel said. "Your basic training, maybe the basics of your power, is fundamentally different from mine."

"Then we need to find you another Seidmadr (Sorcerer) to train," Korrina suggested.

"There is no time," Daniel said. "And besides, you forget that even I cannot kill a daimôn."

"So what will we do?" Sophie asked.

"Without Jacinta you mean?" Daniel said. "I don't know. With her, I also don't know."

 

 

Chapter 6: The High Pass

The Dariel Pass was normally closed till late spring and then it remained open till early winter. Katarina tried to tell them it was still too dangerous this early but Atiphates and Leonidas kept insisting. They were acclimatised to the mountains now. They needed to see if the enemy could move through the pass before its official opening. And, as they told her, they weren't in Elgard for their safety.

Eventually she reluctantly agreed to take just one of them, Leonidas.

The pair set out from Mtskheta. It looked like the day would be warm. .By the time the sun had cleared the mountains the sky was blue with only some scattered puffy white clouds.

In the lowlands the melt was well advanced, the rivers in flood, and the buds bursting on the trees. The grey gravel road was muddy, rutted and potholed. It was relatively broad in the lowlands and there was no problem passing the occasional traveller going the other way. They would all know of the presence of the Greeks but they said nothing, only staring curiously at Leonidas whenever they thought he wasn't looking.

"They are not being rude," Katarina explained. "They won't greet you unless you have been introduced, but they are grateful to you. And for a long time no outsider humans could come here. For elves of this region, a Greek man is a great curiosity."

They planned to leave their own horses in one of the villages on this side of the High Pass and hire mountain ponies and a guide for the high pass itself. After crossing the High Pass they would arrive at Kazbegi, a town just south of the Dariel Gorge. Inside the Gorge was the Elf Gate and finally beyond that was the northern entrance to the pass.

"It looks like a good day to travel," Leonidas suggested.

Katarina checked the sky. "We will have some snow this evening. It will be light, I judge."

"How can you tell?" Leonidas asked.

"How can you not?" she laughed.

As the pair started to climb into the foothills the cloud cover increased, the wind came up and the temperature started to drop. They were over ten miles past the old ducal castle, still following the Aragvi River, when the snow started, fine feathery flakes. Katarina said nothing but she gave Leonidas a superior smile.

Whenever he could, he kept stealing glances at her silky blond hair, her fine features, her tall and slender build and the grace with which she rode. It made his breath catch in his throat, sometimes he felt dizzy with her beauty.

"We use the Kartvelebi name Maghali ughelt'ekhili. Sometimes we just call it the High Pass. It is very dangerous, you will see."

As they pushed on into the foothills the light began to fail. It was freezing now and the wind had come up strong. Leonidas expected her to stop for the night, but elvish eyes shine in half-light like many nocturnal animals. They can see well enough in low light.

"This road is safe here, so don't worry. Remember at dusk you can see better than your horse, but as it darkens further your horse will be able to see better than you."

"Why is that?"

She grinned back at him, her green eyes shining. "I don't know, nor do I know why elves can see better and hear better than you humans." She shrugged. "It is so, that is all."

She stopped by the side of the road in the darkness and let out a piercing whistle. There was no answer, so she nudged her horse on.

After a quarter of a glass, she stopped and did it again. This time there was a whistle from over a rise and Katarina jumped down to wait. A faint glow appeared over the rise, getting brighter. Eventually four elf men appeared bearing lanterns. Nearby shapes in the darkness resolved into a herd of sheep pressed anxiously against each other in fear of the strangers and the lights. The first man they met was Sigurd, their guide for the high pass.

They spent that night in the tiny elf village called Pasanauri. There was no reception or large feast, yet Katarina sang for them before they retired. Her face and ears peeping through her golden hair were flushed. Her eyes were tearing with emotion. Leonidas didn't understand the words and Katarina refused to translate, but it was powerful and hauntingly beautiful.

When they assembled the next morning it was still dark and some of the local elves carried torches to help them get ready. Sigurd had organised for them to ride three of the sturdy mountain ponies, all with thick winter coats. Katarina and Sigurd would also each lead a pack horse.

All being well, they would reach the next town late the same day. Kazbegi was only maybe twenty miles from Pasanauri over the high pass, but Leonidas was warned yet again it would be a difficult ride.

Two pack horses for three people for a day's journey? Leonidas asked if they were carrying any cargo, but no. This was in case they got snowed in. He was starting to get the message: a special guide, special horses, meticulous preparations. He was beginning to feel nervous, but tried hard not to let Katarina see.

Sigurd hardly spoke at all, a few laconic comments in Elvish to Katarina. Otherwise he seemed to mainly communicate through gestures, looks and soft sounds.

He produced a bronze 'bit' from inside his own clothing, warmed there for his own horse, and then spent a lot of time checking and fussing over the other animals in the torch light: checking their tack and coating their feet with some sort of thick black ointment.

After that, they got to start.

It was snowing lightly but even after the sun came up the temperature stayed low. It was not long after that that they began to climb in earnest. The path was narrow with tight turns zigzagging up the ascent. They remained in single file, the two elves riding in front, leading the pack horses.

"Remember, the warmer weather doesn't make it safer," Katarina called back to him. "It makes it slippery with ice and mud."

Just then her horse slipped on some ice and lurched into a hole. Katarina didn't seem to notice as the sure-footed mountain pony scrambled quickly to regain its footing.

"I suppose this road doesn't impress you much, Leonidas. I think you could build it better."

Leonidas said nothing. He was too busy clutching hard onto his saddle as if his life depended on it, and trying not to stare with horrified fascination at the great snow drifts towering high above him or the dizzy drop down to the river so far below.

"You can't take a cart over these mountains," Katrina called back. "We use the Bactrian camels. They are slower but they are stronger and more sure footed than their Arabian cousins, and they are better in the cold.

"They grow really thick coats in winter and shed them in summer but you won't see any camels now. They are far too expensive to risk this early in the season."

Perhaps she thought if she chatted it would distract him from the terrifying ordeal. He normally loved the sound of her voice. Just now he wished she would just shut up and let him suffer in peace.

"Sigurd lost his father to this road. I think it might have been here." Katarina pointed down.

Too late Leonidas realised he shouldn't look. The earth fell away to reveal a great yawning chasm, the trail not nearly wide enough as they edged past.

"It's the ice," Katarina reminded him. "Sometimes even these mountain ponies can't keep their footing."

Just then Leonidas's horse stumbled and he let out a moan of terror. His knuckles were white where he gripped the reins and the saddle.

Katarina paused. "It is getting colder, the wind is dropping. There is something in the air; can you feel it?"

A flock of birds flew over the valley, flying for all they were worth. Sigurd said something terse in elvish.

"We must hurry. Sigurd says a storm is coming. We can't be caught on the path."

She and Sigurd began watching the sky with increasing anxiety. Leonidas noticed the mountain bred horses needed no urging. The going was easier but still steep and still they were hurrying as much as they could. Katarina stopped talking. It was even more frightening than her earlier chatter.

"Katarina, will this be a bad one?" he finally asked.

"Can't you feel it in the air?" she asked. "I guess you can't or you wouldn’t ask. Well, did you notice the wind stop, the temperature dropping and the heaviness in the air? Soon the wind will come again but it will be from the north. I don't think we can reach the top in time."

The wind did start again, frigid and rapidly gusting. Heavy black clouds appeared, boiling and rolling rapidly over the heavens and the light began to fail.

"It's not far to the top!" Katarina shouted encouragement.

Sleet struck then, drenching and freezing. The snow came again, but heavy this time but also blowing into the air in great flurries off the snow drifts. Katarina appeared beside him, tying the horses together in a single file. She had to shout against the roar of the wind.

"We call it the 'white-blindness'. The wind blows the surface snow up into the air. Elvish night-vision is no good against it. Get off your horse and stay down low so you will be less exposed to the wind. Let her lead you, but for the sake of the Goddess stay on the mountain side of your horse."

"Is this going to be a blizzard?"

Katarina grinned at him, her reply lost in the howl of the wind. " ... Sigurd ..." was all he heard and she was gone.

Blinded, frozen, fighting the wind for every foot of the way, the three of people and the five horses struggled on. The wind blasts almost strong enough to lift them off their feet.

Leonidas lapsed into a daze of frozen misery. He was shuddering violently. He forgot to switch sides as they turned the corner. Both feet slipped from under him and only his fierce grip on the saddle of his horse saved his life.

After a while he began to feel strangely weary and began stumbling. Blinded and deafened, hunched over, he had lost knowledge of his companions or why he was there. All he knew was his horse and the rope stretching out ahead, his laboured breathing and plodding on and on forever.

He was vaguely aware he wasn't shivering anymore and felt strangely warm but he no longer understood what that meant, it was too hard to think.

"Leonidas!" Katarina appeared out of nowhere; she looked at him with concern. At first he didn't recognise her. "We have to get you inside."

Next thing he woke, out of the wind.

A horse was nickering nearby and then it snorted.

"She's asking if you are all right." Katarina's voice came from nearby over the howl of the storm rattling their shelter. "You had progressed to hypothermia. No, don't get up yet. You have been asleep for a couple of hours; no frostbite, at least."

He realised he was in a room with roughhewn wooden walls and a dirt floor. It smelt of horse and smoke, earth and damp. The horses were crowded in towards the back. His own horse tossed its head to him and whinnied. He felt like crawling over and kissing it.

They were in an elvish rescue-hut for travellers. There was only one entrance, a stout wooden door. The walls on three sides were packed with dirt. There was a small trap door opening to the roof in case they got snowed in but it was firmly bolted from inside. A little light came from the small fireplace near the entrance and where the copper stove pipe with a baffle handle halfway up, vented through the roof.

Katarina passed him a bowl of hot porridge with firm instructions for him to eat. The horses were feeding contentedly from canvas feed bags while Sigurd was carefully cleaning and treating their hoofs, the male elf as silent as ever.

"Why is that back wall not insulated with earth sods, like the others are?" he asked, sitting up and taking in his surroundings.

Katarina laughed, "I'll only forgive your asking because you haven't recovered."

"Oh" Leonidas realised. "That wall is in the lee of the hill. Air has to come in from somewhere, especially with the fire, or it won't draw and will gas us. The air circulation also stops the build up of humidity with all this dampness."

"Leonidas now you are able to think for me again." Katarina sat down next to him. "Can you explain to me how you think the Hun will sneak through this pass in winter to surprise us all?"

Hey, that wasn't just me!

Outside the wind howled, shaking at the door, trying to get in.

* * *

It must have been late morning when the storm died down. Katarina took the sanitary bucket and a shovel in one hand; wearing thick clothing and a cheerful smile as she ventured outside.

Leonidas sighed. Sigurd smiled at him in a companionable sort of way, and gestured with a cup and a pot of tea.

"This is my fault, us being stranded here," Leonidas muttered as Sigurd poured him tea. "I know you don't speak Greek, but I just have to tell someone. I have made a fool of myself in front of Katarina yet again. She is just so beautiful that it takes my breath away, but I'm always saying and doing the wrong thing and I'm hardly what you call handsome."

"Ah, my friend, I think we are all a little in love with Katarina," Sigurd sighed, speaking flawless Greek. "But why don't you think I speak Greek? Didn't they warn you that us elf men from the mountains don't speak much to strangers?"

* * *

They waited till the next morning before descending through a steep gorge formed by the Baidarka, a tributary of the Dariel.

Leading their horses and pushing their way through the fresh drifts was exhausting and soon they all felt hot and sweaty in their heavy clothing. They met several parties of elves hurrying the other way, checking on flocks and elderly neighbours after the storm.

Finally they reached the mountain village of Kazbegi, in a small hidden valley ringed by mountains. The road exited the valley from there into the Dariel Gorge.

Sigurd pointed at the largest mountain, also called Kazbegi. It was huge and indomitable, made from hard black rock and snow, towering over them.

"The Kartvelebi call this mountain 'Mkinvartsveri', which means Ice Mountain. They believe it is the home of the Dartsa-Naana (Blizzard-Mother) who will suffer no mortal to travel her mountain passes, calling down great storms and snow.

"They say the great hero demi-god Amirani is chained up there as punishment for bringing metal and fire to man. Can you believe such things, human, now that you have seen our blizzards?"

Leonidas gave him a sheepish grin as he nodded agreement.

 

 

Chapter 4: What a Greek Man (in Love) Can Do

Much of the work around Mtskheta and the old ducal castle was finished. The thaw had reached the highlands and the Argive was in the final stages of its flood. It was time to move into the pass.

The main defences would start just outside the northern entrance to the Dariel Gorge and finish at the top of the ascending leg of the High Pass. If the Hun were able to reach the summit, nothing could stop them reaching the elf lands beyond.

They had been reinforced by the second Lokhos that had been promised so Atiphates set half the men to establishing several small wooden forts in the lowlands south of the High Pass. They would provide local security after the civilians had been evacuated and be a store of supplies and fresh horses.

Leonidas was to take the other half of their men to Gudauri, the last village before the High Pass where he would establish a temporary base. From there they would transfer their heavy equipment to hired camels and take them and their horses through the High Pass to Kazbegi. From Kazbegi, they would go through the Dariel Gorge and set up fortifications and control points at and beyond the northerly entrance.

Then they would close the pass.

Leonidas and Katarina were leading over four hundred engineers and support staff. With all their supplies and equipment it made a large convoy and they were fairly strung out. They had not gone far into the foothills when a full lokhos of elf bowmen trotted past on foot. They seemed to be in a great hurry. Katarina had an incomprehensible conversation to their leader and then they were gone.

"What's wrong?" Atiphates asked as he watched the last of them trotting on ahead.

"Refugees are coming from the land surrounding Saray-Juk, not many," Katarina told him, sounding frightened. "It was the main caravan stop on the Yaik (Ural) River."

"Was?" Leonidas muttered in horror. "Saray-Juk is the biggest town on all the Yaik (Ural)!"

"Was." She shivered as she looked down the road. "They weren't ready. It's like you tried to tell me, they didn't expect the Hun in winter."

"Let's go," Leonidas said, feeling her fear. "The sooner we close the pass, the better I will feel."

"From now on," Katarina said, "your men should have their weapons and shields handy at all times. If they have body armour they should wear it. We will need to set extra guards. I will go ahead a little way now, but who are your best scouts?"

Leonidas merely looked at her, puzzled. Scouts? Most of his engineers were from cities or large towns.

"A full lokhos without scouts?" Katarina sounded shocked. "Some of your men will have hunting experience, find out who they are. They will have to do until I can arrange for proper scouts. What happened at Saray-Juk was months ago. Let's hope the Hun haven't sent spies and raiders this far."

She turned her horse to ride off.

"Katarina, wait," Leonidas called after her. " I'll go with you. Our sergeants can sort the rest out."

"Why, Leonidas!" She gave him a dazzling smile. "Are you worried for me? There is really no need, but you are welcome to come."

They kept their horses to a slow walk. It was raining softly. Katarina was continuously scanning the road ahead. "Aren't you a scout?" Leonidas asked.

"You really don't know, do you?" She smiled at him. "I am your guide. I can't scout on my own. What happens if I am scouting and I want to pass a message back? What happens if there is a main road with a fork in it, oh and a stand of trees and a ridge AND a cave? One person, not even two, can check all those hiding places.

"If I am by myself and the enemy has set a trap, they will likely see me before I see them, no matter how good I am, because I am moving and they are under cover and watching.

"If there are fellow scouts they can watch out for me and we can signal to each other in a way the enemy does not know."

She turned to face him; there were tears in her eyes.

"They killed them all, Leonidas: men, women and children. They burned the town and the fort to the ground. Saray-Juk will be forgotten by history, as if it never existed.

"They want to do the same to us."

Leonidas put his hand on her arm clumsily, to comfort her. She touched his hand lightly, in gratitude and then signalled her horse forward. Leonidas could still feel her light touch for a long time afterwards.

The rain was falling on his leather armour and Leonidas's mind wandered, as it often did, to problem solving. Leather body armour was simply boiled to make it stiff and hard to penetrate. It could be layered and reinforced but if it got soaking wet, it was less effective.

It could not be waterproofed in the normal way with wax or oil because that would lubricate it, making it easier for an arrow or spear to pierce it. Lacquer perhaps, has anyone ever tried lacquer? There was a certain gum from a tree ...

"Leonidas," Katarina whispered.

Katarina's leathers didn't seem to get soggy; what did the elves use?

"Leonidas, don't look to the left."

He only barely managed not to look to the left.

"Are we being watched?" he murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

"I suspect so, but I haven't seen their look-out yet. I saw a single hoof print. It was halfway into the narrow gorge to the left. There is nothing up there, but there are caves and a trail up the mountain to that aul we visited before."

"Locals looking for firewood?" Leonidas suggested hopefully.

"Locals wouldn't brush the ground with a pine branch to cover their tracks."

His heart began to race. "What will we do?"

"What we should do is go on ahead as if nothing is amiss and use the agreed signal to the scouts following behind. Or simply wait till the column reaches here. It will be spies, likely a phyla (file), no more. But we don't have a team of scouts and I should have suggested your men follow if we didn't return. I made a mistake, Leonidas ,and it might get us killed."

"Perhaps we can pretend we are looking for a place for a picnic," Leonidas suggested hopefully. "You know. lovers."

"In the rain?" Katarina looked at him quizzically.

"With you, I wouldn't notice the rain."

That got a distracted smile. "We'll have to turn back. If they think we haven't spied them, they might let us go. More likely we will have to make a run for it. Can you fight on horseback?"

"I don't think so."

"Not my preference either, but it won't be a problem for a group of Hun. If one of us gets caught, the other must go for help; whatever you do, don't stop. Now, pretend you're teasing me."

"What?"

But Katarina laughed merrily and gave him a punch and then turned her horse south. As she did so some birds took flight from nearby bushes. She yelled a curse and spun her horse back, snatching for her bow and an arrow. Leonidas grabbed for his shield and clutched three of his javelins from their holster. Katarina already had an arrow notched when four men broke cover not far from them.

Leonidas heard a "thunk" as Katarina released her arrow and one of the Hun let out a gurgling scream. But the others answered almost immediately. Leonidas felt a thunk-thunk as two of the arrows struck his shield. Katarina's horse screamed in terror and began to stagger. She jumped clear.

"Ride, Leonidas, for the sake of the mother, ride! I will delay them." She already had an arrow nocked and was drawing her bow.

I'm completely useless on a horse!

With a curse, Leonidas threw himself off.

"What happened to you going for help?" Katarina yelled as she loosed her next arrow at the third man. Then she cried out as an enemy arrow struck her shoulder. She was grunting in pain and uselessly trying to bring her bow up.

With a yell of triumph, the remaining two Hun spurred their horses straight at them, drawing their bows.

"You leave her alone!" Leonidas roared.

A powerful cast of his javelin arcing high up caught one of the Hun full on in the chest. Then Leonidas's legs were pumping as he ran flat out at the next Hun. The man spun his horse ready to put some distance between himself and the mad Greek.

He quickly loosed an arrow but Leonidas caught the arrow on the shield and hurled his javelin on the run. It was a hasty shot but took the Hunnic pony in the rear.

The Hun dropped his bow and grabbed at the reins to jump clear, and Leonidas was on him almost before he reached the ground, throwing his useless shield to one side and grabbing at his Xiphos to ram it into the man's guts with strength and speed he couldn't normally manage.

He quickly made sure the other three were dead and then ran back to Katarina as fast as he could. She was hunched over in agony, her hand pressed to her shoulder; a dark stain spreading on her leather vest. He gathered her up in his arms and she slumped against him.

"The arrow has gone through, can you break it off?" she asked, panting.

Leonidas gently lowered her and worked quickly and grimly, snatching for a field dressing from her dead horse. She was losing a lot of blood.

He broke off the arrow and carefully pulled the shaft back through. The arrow had entered at an angle and glanced off a rib. If it had have entered straight she would be dead. A bare fraction higher and it would have cut the main vessels to her arm and there would be little that could be done for her.

He used a heavy wad of cloth both front and back and then worked fast, wrapping a bandage under her shoulder and across to the other side of her neck. He felt distracted by her wonderful milky skin and the curve of her breast. Then he fetched the remainder of her gear and insisted she drink most of her water. By the time he had caught his horse, she was unable to stand.

"Where are the enemies' horses?" she asked weakly.

"They have taken off south"

Leonidas had thought he might catch one for her on their way back.

Then he realised what it meant. They would head for home. The enemy camp would be that way. It should be he who was doing the thinking.

"You said there was a trail to the Kartvelebi village nearby."

"Not a good one, we can't take the horse and it's a long and steep climb."

"We'll make it," Leonidas said grimly.

He had been working hard and was fully acclimatised now … and he had just seen five riders in the distance.

The enemy hadn't spotted them yet, but they would.

* * *

Katarina struggled to stay conscious. She found herself lifted onto the horse as if she were a child. "Leave me, Leonidas."

He didn't reply. She felt him mount the horse behind her and turn its head. Her heart was overcome with love and pride as she thought how he charged the Hun archers on foot. He did it for her!

And it was a thoroughly stupid thing to do.

She pointed where to go. She felt herself bundled up in his strong arms. She woke with a jolt as Leonidas helped her off the horse and lifted her into his arms to begin the climb.

Someone had installed ladders and stairs up the mountain but it was still a long way up.

"Leonidas, you will never make it carrying me," she said.

As he looked down at her icy fear gripped his chest. She was pale and her face was beading with sweat, her breathing rapid and her pulse faint and thready. He had to get help for her and quickly!

He tried to give her a reassuring smile. "It's lucky you elves are light. Now I will show you what a Greek man can do when he has to."

And he had to!

She drifted in and out of consciousness, being cradled to the chest of the struggling man. He paused, and she saw they had reached the ladder already. Had he really climbed all that way carrying her?

"I'll get on your back," she offered.

"And hang on with your injured arm while you keep fainting, suspended over a great drop?"

Carefully balancing with his elbow and shoulder, he ran up the rungs. How could he have such strength and stamina? He paused halfway to hang on, panting and bathed by sweat. Then he was off again.

"Leonidas, I'm not badly injured, let me walk."

"Don't you ever shut up?"

She couldn't help but smile.

Far below, she glimpsed the enemy following. They had to kill them or their secret was out. Leonidas had a good start but he couldn't race them up the mountain while carrying her.

One fired an arrow, but it didn't go anywhere near them.

* * *

It seemed to be going on without end.

The going was easier, so they must be near the top.

Katarina looked down and gasped. No one could have possibly carried her all that distance! It couldn't be done! But Leonidas was almost spent. An arrow struck a nearby tree. Their enemies were close now.

Just in front of them a small boy suddenly appeared on the trail. Katarina called to him in the Kartvelebi tongue. "Fetch help, enemies come. Quickly!"

He disappeared. She wondered if he even understood her, he could not be much more than five or six years old.

Leonidas staggered a few more paces, and was forced to rest.

"Leonidas, save yourself!"

She could hear the enemies' voices not too far away, calling excitedly to one another. Leonidas broke into an awkward shuffling run. He stumbled again, almost dropping her.

He was finished.

He lay her down gently and kissed her forehead as he drew his Xiphos; it was all he had. His sides were heaving. He was trembling and bent with exhaustion as he turned to face them.

One of the Hun, in front of the others, ran forward and grinned as he lifted his bow. There was a loud "thunk".

But instead of him hitting Leonidas, an arrow sprouted from his chest. Then the air was filled with arrows as the Hun were cut down.

Katarina felt men lifting her up as she lost her fight to stay conscious.

* * *

Malkhazi took one look at Leonidas and grabbed him in a great bear hug that made his ribs crack. His cheeks were moist with tears. "You ran up that mountain carrying Katarina? Are you even mortal, Greek?"

Leonidas couldn't talk, he could hardly stand. Malkhazi moved quickly to support him.

Khasurt appeared carrying a tall bow and looking very angry. "These men have just declared war on my people! Katarina is very weak, but she is awake now and asking for you."

* * *

Five days had passed and Katarina watched as Maaret completed her inspection.

"It will do," Maaret said with satisfaction. "There is a little infection but only in the skin. It will clear up now the stitches are out. You will have a scar but not too bad for a warrior. You will get full use of your arm eventually but it will be three moons before you can ride the rough mountain roads and six moons before you can use a war bow."

Katarina slumped back against the pillow, disgusted.

"I wanted to show the Greeks the pass."

"The Greeks or one particular Greek?" Maaret laughed. "Don't worry, our villagers will help them."

"He's so shy, Maaret!" Katarina said, despondently. "I'm not sure he even knows I love him."

"And yet he loves you." The older lady laughed. "He climbed a mountain carrying you and ran on foot at two mounted archers."

Katarina blushed deeply.

"I told him not to."

* * *

Troia, outside the city walls

Ostara, the spring equinox

They had got Meliboea early and then they got Thaïs.

Melissa frantically made a run for it with Alba but they didn't get far.

That left Jacinta.

She crouched low in the long grass and slowly raised her head. Her heart was thundering in her chest. She could see the men walking backwards and forwards carrying buckets, but it wasn't far now. They would expect her to take cover in those trees over there where it was only a short run to safety, but she circled around the other way, keeping low and following a shallow gulley. It was longer, but they didn't know Jacinta could run like an elf.

Now!

She broke from cover, her legs pumping. A man appeared on the right and she dodged.

Then from behind a mound Thaïs appeared, laughing at her, blocking her. Drakon and Algar managed to catch up. Two buckets of cold water poured over her head.

"Thaïs! That's not fair!" Jacinta bent over laughing. "You're not a boy, you can't carry a bucket."

"Who said?" Thaïs challenged her as she poured her own bucket slowly over Jacinta's head.

"I got caught early, what else was I going to do?"

"I would have made it."

"Jacinta, you're supposed to get caught."

"Well, I'm not going to give you a kiss." Jacinta stuck out her tongue at her friend as she squinted through her dripping hair and the stream of water.

"That's all right, I've had mine."

Jacinta gave Algar a lingering kiss on the lips in exchange for the offered towel and then moved over to Drakon.

"Drakon! You've used this towel already!"

Drakon just laughed at her. He grabbed her, turned her around and kissed her very firmly.

She felt flushed and tingly all over and a bit breathless. She was embarrassed that Thaïs saw her kissing her boyfriend and was surprised that Drakon could have that effect on her.

Thaïs and Drakon had guessed the route Jacinta would try and they had deliberately trapped her. They wanted to embarrass her. They knew how shy she was around Drakon now that he was Thaïs's boyfriend, even though they were both her very best friends.

This was the last day of Ostara, the spring equinox, and the third night of the celebrations the Elves had planned.

On the first night Jacinta and the rest of their girls had dressed in long white chitons in honour of the Goddess. They gathered with the elves around the forest and the bonfires to sing the songs of Easter. Then they had feasted from great benches covered with the fruits of spring whilst the elves released hares from cages as a gift to their Goddess.

Jacinta found out she couldn't sing but she already knew that. She was also poor at painting patterns onto the red dyed egg shells and due to her slow left hand she was absolutely terrible in the race to peel hard boiled eggs. She only managed three and all hers were mashed.

But she was quick on her feet. She could outdance all but experts of the egg dance, and if it wasn't for Thaïs, she would have been the only maiden to escape being drenched in the chasing game.

Spring had well and truly started and now the nights would be shorter than the days. The migratory birds had arrived and the meadows were alive with all those wonderful flowers: dandelions, hawkes beard, daisies, cornflowers, red poppies, white kisthos (cistus), gladioli, iris, tulips, rosemary and even kyklaminos (cyclamen) – too many to mention.

It was a lovely time, but soon there would be war.

The Shayvist order did not march with armies, and Jacinta and her girls were too young, but many they loved would be leaving to fight.

* * *

Elgard, Katarina's house

A lady elf answered the door. She was older than Katarina but the family resemblance was unmistakable. She asked Leonidas a question in Elvish. He looked back, uncomprehending, and then Katarina's face appeared behind her.

"Leonidas, is that you? Mother, this is Leonidas!"

"Leonidas, my name is Alea," her mother said in musically accented Greek. "Please be welcome in our house. You must stay for food."

"That is not necessary, Lady," Leonidas said, blushing, holding the flowers behind his back. "I have only just returned, and I just wished to see Katarina before I settled in."

"Leonidas, have you brought flowers?" Katarina exclaimed. "Are you going to keep them behind your back, or will you let me see? ... Oh, Leonidas, they are beautiful!"

"It is a kindness for you to take me into your home," Leonidas said as Alea led him in.

"I really wanted you to meet my mother and brother." Katarina giggled. "They wouldn't believe me if they didn't meet you for themselves."

"Aikaterine!" Alea scolded.

"Aikaterine, is that your name?"

"Only my mother calls me that."

"It suits you." He looked at her with unconcealed admiration.

"Call me that and I will cut your liver out." She laughed, showing him her knife. "Or maybe I should call you 'Aristos'."

She paused as a small elf boy approached. "This is my brother Herakleios."

He was four or five.

"Are you really Greek?" Herakleios asked. "They say you fight with spears and shields, is that true?"

"I fight with a shovel and a hammer," Leonidas informed him.

This obviously impressed Herakleios; his shiny green eyes widened. "My sister said you were smart and brave, and very strong."

Did she?

"I was named after a Greek," the boy added.

"Yes, Herakleios (Hercules), he was a great man," Leonidas agreed. "His father was Zeus and his mother a mortal. He was suckled by Zeus' wife Hera, the goddess of heaven. That is why he was named after her. Herakleios means 'the glory of Hera'. But when she found out he was her husband's child with another woman she wasn't at all happy. She made him do bad things. He had to do great tasks to make it right."

"Leonidas, can you tell me his story, please?"

"Well, this Herakleios has one great task to do first," Alea called out smiling. "He has to help his mother set the table and serve dinner."

Leonidas and Katarina laughed at the look on his face.

A Greek boy wouldn't have to set the table.

"I hope you don’t mind Herakleios," Katarina said once he was ought of earshot. "Elf children talk a lot, not like older male elves. Sometimes I think he never shuts up. He misses his father a lot."

"Your father's dead?"

"He is dead to us in this life, yes. He fought with Hakeem against the Makedónes."

"I'm sorry," Leonidas said softly.

"We are sorry too, but there are worse things coming for us elves."

"How is your arm?"

Katarina blushed, moving it around experimentally. "I can do most things but it will be two moons before I will be able to work out with a heavy bow and longer before I am ready to fight again."

"We have scouts and escorts and the Kartvelebi are helping, but no one knows the terrain like you do. I really miss you. Do you think you could come back earlier?"

"Is my ability as a guide the only reason you miss me, Leonidas?" Katarina laughed, teasing. "Yes, I will come. I will bear a hunting bow."

The dinner was mainly vegetarian (apart from pork-sausage) with cheese-bread, pastry parcels, spicy beans and spinach, mushrooms, soft cheese and eggplant. Leonidas was surprised how much he enjoyed it. After dinner and lots of questions from Herakleios about the Greeks, Katarina suggested they go, just the two of them, to the roof to look over the city.

"Don't worry, we use ladders." She laughed at the expression on his face.

"This is a big house for just the three of you," Leonidas commented as they climbed.

"There used to be more elves," Katarina said.

What has happened to the elves? He wanted to ask, but they had reached the roof.

"This is one of my favourite places," Katarina whispered as he joined her.

Leonidas almost gasped at the beauty of the city at night. It looked magical with its coloured lights hanging from trees and buildings and bobbing gently in the breeze. The air was filled with the sound of wind-chimes.

"Elves don't need as much light as humans, but we place these lamps for their beauty."

"There is no other city like it," he said softly. "I love this place," and its people.

"Once we had magic to make the lights and music." She turned to him in the darkness, he couldn't read her face. "Sorry about my mother's Greek."

"It was infinitely better than my elvish." Leonidas laughed. "Why do so many elves speak Greek?"

"It is the language of trade." He could see her shrug. "The Western Elves and the Elves of Kolkhis have always spoken Greek. When King Cyron reunited our lands, he insisted all his nobles learn to speak Greek. It became a sign of being cultured." She laughed. "We elves can be rather vain."

Then her voice hardened. "We like your plays and your culture, but we don't like how you treat your women, Leonidas. No one would want to treat me like that."

"Katarina, my father was a very clever man with his hands but if my mother didn't look after the business our family would have starved. My younger sister came to learn about boats, she was a bit like you. She said she was better than a boy." He laughed.

"When I thought of marriage I always thought it would be like what my parents had. My wife would manage the money and I would make things. Maybe I was a little blind about women, but not half as much as you think.

" I like how you stick up for women. I would never mistreat you."

If you would ever have me.

"You had better not! Leonidas?" She turned to him in the darkness.

"Yes?"

"If you wanted to hold me, I would like that. I would like that a lot. And if you wanted to kiss me, I would like that too. I don't know if I have to tell you these things." She waited as he moved to put his arm around her.

 

 

 

Part 3 (of 4): A Time of War

Chapter 1: Entering the Desert

Raqqa (modern day northern Syria)

"Hey you, there!" Armagan called out in broken Aramaic. The retreating figure didn't even pause. A heavy chain rattled through a hole in the door. There was a click and the loud thunk of a bolt. All the nearby shop owners were scurrying out of sight.

Armagan looked down the narrow alley which meandered back and forward and up and down. It was barely wide enough for three abreast. The floor was dirt and overhead palm leaves on the overhead trestles shadowed it from the desert sun.

To make it more crowded, either side of the alley was packed with merchandise: brass and copper teapots, plates, cloth, sandals, carpets, pillows, food, weapons, just about anything. It looked like a jumble at first but as you got closer, you could see it was carefully arranged.

From the shadows, from cracks between the doorways, behind drawn shutters and curtains they watched, in their ones and twos and a crowd of young men trailed them from a distance, calling out insults and laughing at them.

The poorer merchants who had no shop to hide in sat on their stools or mats pretending to sleep, or simply ignored him, shaking their heads furiously and turning away if he tried to talk to them.

Raqqa was a small village on a minor crossing on the Furat (Euphrates). He had taken only a small bodyguard, not wanting to make his presence too obvious. Perhaps it was a mistake. They knew who he was, and they didn't want him here.

Within fifteen minutes he had become hopelessly lost and after another fifteen minutes he was struggling to keep his temper. Perhaps he should just go back and call all his men to burn this accursed village to the ground.

He had wandered deeper and deeper into the maze of shady, narrow passageways looking for someone, anyone, who would help but all that happened was that the people became ruder and more hostile the deeper in he went.

"My Lord, we should leave." Sedat, the leader of his ten-man bodyguard was looking worried and Sedat did not worry easily.

"Your man is right, my Lord." A large tribesman appeared in the gloom of a side alley. Sedat reached for his sword but the man was smiling in a friendly way and holding his hands out, empty, to show he meant no harm.

Behind him there were nine men. They were Badawiyyūn (Bedouins). Their simple, dazzling white robes and matching white keffiyeh with an 'iqal (circlet) of black cloth stood out in the shadow. By their clothes, they were not from near here.

"Friendly little place don't you think, my Lord?" their leader asked in heavily accented Hunnic. "My name is Yousef (Joseph). I heard of your arrival."

Armagan looked at him, a bit puzzled. " Yousef? Are you Yehudim (Jewish)?"

"Only my name Ba'al (Lord)," Yousef gestured self-consciously. "I am a Nabatean, a stranger here also. Perhaps you will allow me and my men to provide you a service."

"Where did you learn our tongue?" The last thing Armagan expected to hear in this small town was Hunnic.

Yousef grinned broadly. "My apologies for speaking it so poorly; when I was young, my father had a horse master from your land, a most interesting man."

"You learnt it from a slave?" That was surprising. "Do these villagers always treat strangers like this?"

A few more doors slammed in the distance.

"My lord, this is a trading town. If they don't like you, they will like your gold." Yousef laughed. "But surely you cannot wonder at this. You show up outside their town with an army. Wherever you Hun go you soak the ground with blood."

"We are going into the desert towards Karsh. My agent told them that."

"So you are their leader!" Yousef said, astonished. "Well, I'm sure that made them feel much safer." He laughed again as he indicated men watching from a distance. "I think they suspect you will sack this town just for the practice. The sons of whores are trying to work up courage to attack you. It may save bloodshed if you allow me and my men escort you out of here."

"Why should we trust you?" Sedat asked suspiciously.

Yousef laughed. He either tended to laugh a great deal or he found Armagan and his Huns uncommonly funny.

"We will be in front of you and will have our backs to you, so trust is not required … except on our part, of course."

"I would be grateful, Yousef, and a thousand blessings on you and your men," Armagan replied in Aramaic, bowing slightly.

Yousef winced as if in pain. "It is agreed then, Bey, but I would count it an honour if you would allow me to practise my Hunnic rather than you having to speak our barbaric tongue."

"My Aramaic is that bad, is it?" Armagan asked.

Yousef laughed.

Yousef led them back. As they turned a corner they found the alley ahead was blocked by a large crowd of armed men. Yousef interposed himself and his nine sworn men between the crowd and Armagan. He immediately began screaming angrily at the men.

It seemed that the Nabateans had a unique approach to diplomacy, especially when they were outnumbered and faced by a hostile crowd of armed men.

Yousef seemed to be doing most of the talking, flushed in the face as he worked himself up into a rage. The villagers looked uncertain. One of them said something and Yousef threw his head back and laughed, then he and his men drew their swords.

With the Nabateans adding to their numbers it would be their twenty-one (albeit trained fighters) against more than a hundred villagers in the narrow alleyway. Armagan wondered if it was really the best time for a show of force.

But it worked.

The Nabatean stood motionless with their swords drawn. The villagers looked sullen and angry but in twos and threes they started to drift back into the shadows.

"They are only villagers and shopkeepers, not warriors," Yousef said over his shoulder as the last left. "If they were confident they would not have stood back like that, but I would not stay here long in case they remember their courage. I will be leaving here as well; they will dislike me for helping you."

"They would be fools to attack me with all my men camped nearby."

"I pointed that out to them." He smiled. "Let us hope they remember."

Yousef's men looked alert and competent as they led Armagan back. Their hands never strayed far from their swords. Talking to him, Armagan was left in no doubt that Yousef was a clever man.

He was a Nabatean, from a desert tribe living a long way to the south. A Sheikh's second son, he had been forced to flee after fighting with his older brother. Armagan decided he had use for a clever and ambitious man in need of gold.

Yousef and his men did not come cheap but once they had reached agreement Yousef immediately set about showing his worth. His simple approach to a shopkeeper that was refusing to deal with Armagan was to place his knife at the man's throat. And he knew a fair price to the nearest shekel.

"Lord, you say your agent here bribed the town council. Do you wish to wager that there are not fast couriers riding hard to the imperial garrison in Khalibon (Aleppo)? Do you think they would dare do otherwise? If you think this is an unfriendly reception, don't be here when the Persikόs arrive."

"I am not surprised," Armagan sneered. "They accept gold with one hand and move against me with the other."

Yousef laughed at that.

"If you head to Karsh you will need a strong army," he added softly.

"Would two tumen of our finest cavalry be enough do you think?"

Twenty thousand warriors! Yousef whistled his appreciation. "That is a lot of men. It is quite an achievement to smuggle that many men past the Persikόs."

"We travelled in groups of no more than a thousand, often at night. The Shantawi will not expect us to be this far west. We will be on them before they know it."

"Lord, do not count on surprising the Shantawi," Yousef said soberly. "How do you propose to get that many men through the desert?"

Armagan smiled. "Take me to Haldita, my agent, and I will tell you. That is, if you can find anyone here who will give us directions."

They were near the cloth sellers' section not far from one of the exits. There was a riot of colour: woven bed and table covers, silks from the Chin, various tassels, pillows and rolls of material everywhere.

Great colourful carpets hung from hooks hanging over chains strung high up across the alleyway.

When Armagan mentioned the need for directions, Yousef simply nodded.

He unexpectedly spun and grabbed one of the merchants feigning sleep. He lifted the man and dumped him bodily over a pile of his own carpets. The man screamed and struggled to rise. Yousef held him with one hand and showed him his knife in the other.

They spoke rapidly in Aramaic; the man was angry and Yousef was shouting at him. Then Yousef helped him up, smiling courteously. He smoothed the man's robe and bowed a little. The man glared at him with hate in his eyes which needed no translation. It looked like he wanted to spit on Yousef but Yousef merely raised an eyebrow and stared hard at the man, still holding his knife out. The man turned and fled.

"Lord, it is this way," Yousef announced cheerfully.

If the Nabatean way of asking directions didn't make too many friends, it had a certain simplicity about it. Armagan found himself led only a little way more, through more twisting alleys to a noticeably shabby area. The people there were less openly hostile, almost indifferent. Armagan suspected the 'indifference' would disappear as soon as the sun set.

Yousef indicated a door and Armagan recognised the sign carved on it and knocked.

"This is a good door," Yousef remarked to Sedat.

It was reinforced with metal and would take a catapult to pound it down. It swung open a little and they were quickly ushered inside and through a high, broad archway into a private courtyard or perhaps marshalling yard in the centre of the building.

They were overlooked on three sides by the three-story building.

All they could see was continuous balconies on the upper stories leading to doorways and windows, all in shadow. It was probably a small Caravanserai converted into the Gods-knew-what. Yousef clearly didn't like walking across the courtyard with the balconies and windows overlooking it and all of them in shadow.

"How many bowmen does this Haldita have do you think?" he muttered to Sedat who was also watching the windows anxiously. "It would be difficult to leave here if the negotiations did not go well. I think your friends are more dangerous than your enemies."

But Armagan had been met by a fawning Sumerian he obviously expected, and strode confidently on. Yousef and Sedat exchanged a meaningful look and followed, trying to look in all directions at once.

Inside Armagan was greeted by someone looking for all the world like a prosperous bandit. Six men waited spread out behind, obviously bodyguards.

"Haldita," Armagan called as if they were old friends. "I hear you have found someone for me."

The young, dark, pretty woman next to Jacob translated.

So, Haldita had a Hunnic slave-girl (or concubine).

He clapped his hands and a Greek man was ushered in by some of his men. From his condition and the expression on his face, Yousef suspected he was more of a prisoner than a guest.

"Talk to this man and see what you think," Armagan asked Yousef. "Haldita tells me he knows another route to Karsh."

The young Hun female shot him a look of shock.

"You speak Hunnic?" she asked.

Yousef bowed to her. "Biroz (a little)."

His eyes were sparkling with amusement. "That's not a problem, is it?"

"He speaks my language!" she informed Haldita in Aramaic.

Haldita didn't look happy.

Yousef questioned the Greek rapidly in Aramaic. No one bothered to translate, but Armagan and his men looked on with interest. Crude hand-drawn maps were brought and the Greek traced his finger on them and jabbed his finger significantly at a few points. The sources of water, Armagan suspected.

Yousef seemed to have endless questions and the time wore on.

Yousef gestured to Haldita obviously asking for one of his own maps of the area.

Haldita replied, shaking his head.

Yousef fixed him with a level gaze and spoke very slowly touching the hilt of his sword. Haldita's guards started to position themselves but Yousef and his men stood motionless, ready.

It was then that Haldita remembered. He did have some maps after all!

Finally Yousef changed to Greek.

"Stop that!" Haldita was outraged.

But Yousef had heard all he needed to hear.

He took Armagan aside. "My Lord," he gestured to the Greek. "Do not trust this man."

"Do you think there is any truth in what he says?"

"I don't know the desert around Karsh but I do know deserts. I have studied the maps he supplied and compared them with the others you and Haldita have. His story seems true, if I'm to judge," Yousef admitted. "The Shantawi will be like my people. They will have many secret paths through the desert and many hidden places where water can be found.

"Haldita says that it is known that a large group of Shantawi did suddenly show up near where he says the path starts during that war with the Persikόs, and others have seen nomads head into the desert near there. The Greek man says he was led through this route when he escaped from the Shantawi.

"He was told large numbers sometimes went the same way in secret. If that is true, this man knows a secret route and it will have enough water for at least part of your army." Yousef thought for a moment. "He admits that there is much he does not know, which makes me think him honest. Some of the oases have some distance in between but even with supply wagons we could do it. There will not be many routes with enough water for a large party so it will be watched. I think the Shantawi will cause you great trouble."

"The Shantawi, my men can deal with," Armagan said confidently. "As to the merchant, they have his family here. I doubt he would risk his wife and two daughters."

Yousef nodded. "That counts for his story also. A man will face death but he will hardly risk his women as well. I have no doubt at all that he hates the Warlord with a passion; that level of hatred would be hard to fake.

"The Warlord had him taken into the desert to be killed, but his wife and some of her friends intervened to rescue him. I would say the Warlord has made a serious mistake by allowing this man to live."

"Something I hope to make Hakeem regret. What does his wife and older daughter say?" Armagan asked.

Yousef had a brief conversation with Haldita. "They are furious with him. To Haldita they are surly and will answer no questions. Haldita says he has heard the women screaming at the merchant when they are alone."

"Haldita thinks he is genuine," Armagan said. "I have prayed and my šamán said the augers are favourable. I think I have a spare route to Karsh."

"But why do you wish to go to Karsh, Lord? There are many cities that are richer."

"The Shantawi are part of an alliance. They are an obstacle to my masters," Armagan said simply. "How many Shantawi warriors are there, do you think?"

"Lord, that is no secret and you must know already," Yousef answered. "All the able Shantawi men can fight, but you will face less than twelve thousand warriors even with all the tribes and the strength of the city combined.

"It is true of all desert people. The desert does not support many but that is also why you cannot send your whole army and animals down one route. Some of the wells will run dry and not fill quickly enough."

Armagan nodded. "That is why I needed a second route. I will send at least half along the main route. With the rest, we will follow this merchant. Perhaps we can even surprise the Shantawi."

Yousef laughed. "It would be surprise indeed if the Shantawi didn't notice an army sneaking through their lands. May I suggest you take the Greek's wife and two young daughters along with us?"

"Just what I was thinking." Armagan smiled.

"What was his name, Yousef?"

"It is Hypatos, Bey (lord), and his wife is Ruth. His wife is from Karsh but he said he came from Athēnai a long time ago."

* * *

It was late afternoon when they finally collected their horses and Armagan's men led Yousef's group to their camp.

Armagan had not seen the like of the horses the Nabateans rode. Their tails were held high, and they had a pleasingly arched neck and looked intelligent and spirited. They were also not too big; Yousef said they were average in height for this sort of breed but all other horse breeds made the Mongol ponies the Hun rode look small.

"What are they like for endurance?" he asked.

Yousef laughed at the question. "I hear the Mongol ponies are very strong for their size but they cannot come even near to matching these. These are Asil (purebred). For each one we can recite their blood lines for at least ten generations. These are the best you will find anywhere. I should know. I stole them from my father."

"They are pretty enough," Armagan said sourly. "Especially the white horse you are riding."

Two were black and the others were all chestnut.

Yousef sighed. "My Lord, you are a rich man, used to others tending your horses but you still surprise me. This one may look white, but she is a grey. You see the muzzle? True whites are rare and have a pink muzzle."

Armagan grunted. He had no idea what Yousef was talking about. His horse was white, so it was a white horse!

They crested a rise, and Yousef spun in his saddle to look back over the river-ford to the desert that lay south and west of the town. Armagan followed the direction of his gaze.

"Where are the sand dunes?" he asked.

Yousef was surprised again. "Are you from a city, then? Sand dunes are in the deep-desert. The deep-desert is what we call 'al satḥra'. Outside the oases none can make their home there.

This desert we call al badiyah, the desert where people can live. It is dry, but you can graze animals here: sheep, goats and camels …and horses at oases.

"The ones who live in the badiyah are called ‘Badawiyyūn’ (Bedouins), meaning desert dwellers. The Al Shantawi are Badawiyyūn, as are my people. We call the land we are going into the Badiyat ash-sham (the Syrian Desert)."

"I thought the Satḥra was beyond Aigyptos." Armagan seemed confused.

"Ah, you mean 'As Satḥra´ al Kubra' (the Šâhara), which means 'the great desert'. You Huns have your own al badiyah except they are colder and terrible in winter."

"I do come from a city," Armagan admitted. "It is called Kaxgar (Kashgar). It is named for the mountains. The desert all around it is mostly sand. There is no water outside the rivers that flow into the centre of the desert never to return. The summers are hot enough but, yes, the winters are terrible. We call the desert the Taklamakan meaning 'the place of no return'." Armagan shuddered as he said it.

Yousef laughed, completely incredulous. "'Kush' means death and 'gar' means mountain. Do you mean to tell me you live in a city named after the mountains of death, and all around you lies 'the place of no return'. No wonder you wanted to leave!"

"Well, it's not that bad, really." Armagan laughed.

He paused to think how to explain it. "We Xiōngnú (Huns) were once ruled by one of the white men that live there. They were called Yuezhi, which means the moon clan. When Mòdú Chányú became chief of the Hun he defeated the Dong Hi (Mongols), the Skythoi, the Yuezhi and then the Chin.

"I learnt the art of war from my uncle, a great general. He had once fought for the Yuezhi, and then we joined Mòdú Chányú to fight against them. The Chányú took Kashgar and all those lands from the Yuezhi. We killed them and showed them no mercy. The Mòdú's eldest son, Jizhu, had a drinking cup made from the skull of the Yuezhi king."

"So you must have been happy then," Yousef commented.

"No," Armagan admitted. "We were a great trading family. The drought and then all those wars ruined us. I hope to get my family's fortune back."

Yousef nodded, looking into the distance. "I will tell you a story, then. This is a very old land, it has seen many battles and now, with you, it will see another.

"Did you know that not far from this place the Babylonians won a series of great battles against the Aigyptos and the Assyrians that were left after the destruction of their capital called Ninwe (Nineveh)?"

Armagan shook his head. "I do not know your history."

"I will tell you a little about the Assyrians," Yousef said. "They were related to my people but were named after their greatest God, Assur. They were cruel people, and in the end many people came together against them. That is what happens when people are too cruel.

"From here you can travel east to reach the ruins of Ninwe (Nineveh). It is near what we call the Diglath (Tigris River). They say Ninwe was one of the greatest cities ever built, twice as big as Babylon and very beautiful. They claim that it once took four days to walk across the city and adjoining towns. I’m sure that is an exaggeration, but one day I will go and look. They say the Babylonians and their allies took a month to loot Ninwe … and then they burnt the beautiful city to the ground."

Armagan didn't know what to make of his new friend's mood. Some men grew melancholic before a campaign or battle. That was probably it. They always shook it off when the action started.

"It is a sad tale, my friend, such beauty destroyed."

"Lord, what is really sad is that they didn't invite us to the looting," Yousef laughed. "Of course, it happened three hundred years ago, so we would be arriving a little late. Do you think there might be slaves and plunder to be had in Karsh?"

Armagan couldn't help laughing. "I do."

Yousef laughed and stood in his stirrups to give a short bow. "Then I am your servant, Lord!"

As Armagan and his men rode on, Yousef exchanged a meaningful look with one of his men. Armagan hadn't understood the lesson of the Assyrians.

* * *

Dariel pass

Leonidas and his men had finished initial fortifications just outside the northern entrance to the Dariel Pass. Several lochoi of elves had arrived to close the trade route and divert any refugees. Refugees would be welcomed, given supplies and then assisted on to Phanagoreia, a trading city at the entrance to the straits that led from the Black Sea to the Limnh Maeotis (the Sea of Azov). From Phanagoreia elf transport ships would ferry the refugees to Phasis for final settlement. It was roundabout and expensive for the elves but no one else was allowed to see what they were doing in the pass.

Leonidas was supervising some last minute touches to the initial fortifications when he saw a group of Kartvelebi men ride up. He thought he could see Malkhazi amongst them and hurried over to greet his new friend.

A surprise awaited him.

"Katarina, you're back!" he said in delight.

"Evidently." Katarina laughed, jumping off her horse to kiss him.

He noticed she had a sling around her neck. She saw the direction of his gaze.

"They forced me to wear it," she said ruefully, indicating the Kartvelebi men who surrounded her, all grinning broadly. "And they insisted on bringing me all the way out here. I was fine by myself."

"Just like you were fine before," Malkhazi reminded her. "You wouldn't have had Leonidas to rescue you this time."

"I don't need men to rescue me!" she retorted angrily.

"That's true. Should I tell Leonidas how you gave me a black eye when we were small?"

"You called me an elf!" Katarina retorted hotly.

Leonidas and Malkhazi both stared at her.

"I was young." She looked embarrassed. "I didn't know what it meant."

* * *

The Hunnic camp, modern day northern Syria

As the Hun camp came into view, Yousef viewed it with dismay. Everywhere he looked he saw tents, mostly the circular Hun tents they called yurts.

Dry land is fragile and twenty thousand warriors, most with two or three horses, and all their support staff, squeezed into one narrow wadi (valley) had made an impressive mess.

Highly trained and conditioned horses need exercise. They respond poorly to even a day of enforced rest. The horses' hoofs and over-grazing had converted the surrounding sheep pasture into a dust bowl.

There were several wells, and a central spring used for watering animals. It had a shallow pool fenced off by a short stone wall. There was a saduf (well-sweep) so tribesmen could transfer water past the fence to a long trough for watering their animals.

The wall, the saduf , and the rest of it had been broken and tossed to one side. The Hun had allowed their animals to get to the spring. They had converted a good spring into a pool of mud and horse manure.

There was no real way to keep the camp site clean so the Hun hadn’t bothered.

Didn't they know about disease? The local Badawiyyūn (Bedouins) would be beside themselves with rage. But what could they do?

The Hun had the position closest to the wells so as they rode in they passed Mongols and heavily tattooed white men, many with red hair, staring at them. They looked like they would be happy to fight each other, if they found no other enemy.

"We can't stay here much longer, Bey," Yousef said, eyeing the camp.

"I will send Oktar with half my force down the main road tomorrow," Armagan agreed. "We will ride the second route as soon as we are able."

* * *

The departure of Oktar

The next day saw the departure of Oktar. It was a massive undertaking, but the Hun were at heart a nomadic people. The yurts were rapidly packed. Some of the Mongol ponies were barely twelve hands high but they could carry impressive amounts.

Still, Yousef guessed that with all these men and animals they had not much more supplies than for a one-way trip. What would happen if things went badly for them?

After Oktar's column had forded the river, Yousef stood for a long time and watched the huge dust cloud disappearing into the distance. He shook his head and Armagan thought the Shantawi would not know he was coming.

Later on, Yousef was invited to the Ordu (command tent) for a briefing of Armagan's noyans (leaders of one thousand).

A proper Ordu for a leader of Armagan's standing would be a huge semi-permanent structure elaborately decorated and set on a wheeled platform, pulled by many cattle. To Yousef's relief Armagan only had a collapsible yurt and the meeting was held outside.

Hypatos was produced in front of them, looking very nervous. Armagan had employed Aramaic interpreters but it fell to Yousef, who had the knowledge, to interpret the words of the Greek and discuss the maps the Greek had made.

The noyans asked many questions which Yousef answered to the best of his ability. Many of them asked questions just to show they were important. Yousef patiently answered all of them.

"How do you think the Shantawi will fight, Yousef?" one of their leaders finally asked.

"My Lord, they will not meet you one army against the other. That is not the way of the people of the desert," Yousef replied. "They will use hit and run."

"That will scarcely stop us."

"No, my Lord."

"And at Karsh?" Armagan asked.

"Then they will run no longer," Yousef said simply. "They will not wish to shut their horsemen in the city. I hear it is of mud brick and has a big dam above it. You lords know more about sieges than I do, but surely you can do something with its defences once we get there."

"We most certainly can," Armagan said enthusiastically. "We won't have too many problems, I think."

Yousef was careful with his facial expression. These city dwellers were going to fight the Shantawi in their own desert, and they expected they wouldn't have too many problems.

"The horses and wagons are not good to take into an unknown desert," a Mongol from up the back said.

Yousef later found out his name was Mongke Temur (Eternal iron) and he was in charge of the scouts.

Yousef nodded. "Horses are animals of the Steppe. Camels are the animals of the desert; it would be better to use camels."

"My men do not ride camels," Armagan spat. His other leaders had sour looks.

Yousef laughed heartily. "Lord, I too dislike camels."

Yet if I were foolish enough to go deep into an unknown desert for many days, unsure of the water, I would take camels.

Temur hadn't finished. "I suggest we send half our remaining strength this second way, with a limit of one spare horse per rider and send the rest down the main route, three days after Oktar. Then water will be no problem."

At this, the noyans spun on him in anger, several started to yell at once. Armagan's voice cut through them. "Temur, I intend to attack the Shantawi with my whole army, all at once. We will all arrive at the same time."

"You are in charge of the scouts, Temur," one of the noyan said loudly. "Just find Karsh. Leave the rest to us." That set everyone laughing.

As Yousef was walking away from the tent Temur was standing in the shadows, waiting. Yousef smiled and nodded acknowledgement. For the moment they simply matched spaces in silence.

"They tell me the Mongols make the finest mounted scouts in the known world," Yousef finally said, breaking the silence.

"Becoming a forward scout is easy, if you wish." Temur laughed. "Just be unpopular."

Yousef laughed. "You raise awkward issues. But if they wish to be rid of you, they make a mistake by putting you out in front. If you agree, I and my men will join you tomorrow. With caution, we will be safe enough."

Temur halted him, puzzled. "I would be pleased, Yousef, but amongst the scouts is not usually thought to be the safest place in an army advancing into hostile country."

Yousef smiled, beginning to warm to him. Mongols did make the best scouts.

"The Shantawi will not attack the front. They will want us to enter their desert. They will wait until we are deep into the desert and the desert has started to do its work on us. Then they will concentrate on the rear where the army is weakest."

"You seem sure."

Yousef shrugged. "You will see. These Hun do not listen to you and yet you know about deserts."

"It is because I am a Mongol," Temur said bitterly. "They are wealthy men from the city and look down on me and my men. They wish to arrive like horse traders, with wagons and trumpets and far too many horses."

"Horses drink a lot of water, far more than any man. Taking so many spare horses is how the Hun move so quickly, but it is not what one does in the desert if one is unsure of water," Yousef agreed. "Your Gobi can get hot but you are about to experience our desert in height of summer. A cool day here would be a very bad day in the Gobi. If you want my advice, wear loose fitting gowns over light body armour like we do."

From a distance, it looked like Nabateans wore no armour.

"Throw your horse armour away. The Shantawi would never deliberately shoot a horse."

Temur looked uncertain. Yousef passed his sword with its scabbard for Temur to inspect.

"The Greeks call it a makhaira; we of the desert call it a saif. This one was made for me."

It was a very heavy one-handed cavalry sword with a single curved cutting edge. The pommel was bulbous, and offset, to control the huge rotational force it generated. The curve was only slight and it came to a sharp point, so it was designed for thrusting as well.

"It is so heavy!" Temur exclaimed in surprise. "It would be like using a giant meat cleaver. I would need both hands."

He looked at his companion appraisingly. "Only someone your size and strength can use this, but why are you showing it to me?"

"Look at the decoration," Yousef encouraged him.

The handle was intricately carved. The blade had electrum insets including an inscription in Aramaic cursive writing. The bronze scabbard was decorated with silver and semi-precious stones. "It is lethal and very beautiful," Temur said.

"Is it the sword of someone who cannot afford heavier armour for himself and his men or leather armour for his horse?" Yousef asked softly. "Now, if you excuse me, tomorrow will be a busy day and remember, it will be hotter than you can possibly imagine."

* * *

The transition to desert was abrupt. Close to irrigated areas it was possible to forget just how dry this land really was.

The Greek had drawn a map, with whatever landmarks he could see. He had done a good job but the only scale he had was the duration of the journey and the only guide the position of the sun. It needed interpretation.

They would start following the route Oktar had taken south but where Oktar went east of the low Jabal Abu Rujmayan Mountains they would go west, past some dry salt lakes to join a narrow pass through the mountains themselves.

Just before they left the main route, Yousef dismounted and knelt by a pile of stones. The heat baked down in waves but the Nabatean showed no sign of discomfort or impatience. He rocked back on his heels when Temur joined him.

"These stones are arranged to tell a story but I can't read them." He sighed in frustration and pointed to the tracks that split off the main route. "Look at those tracks. There are some going towards the mountains. The sand obscures other tracks but a large number of horses came this way some time ago. I think we have found your alternate route."

"Any wagons?"

"No, Temur," Yousef said, looking at the mountains in the distance thoughtfully. "No wagons."

For the moment it would be easy enough for the wagons: red-yellow hard-packed soil and lots of loose rocks, but later? Who knew?

"We are being watched," Temur commented as Yousef finally straightened up. He indicated several figures in the distance, shimmering in the heat.

Yousef shrugged. "They wish to be seen, it is a warning." He glanced back meaningfully at the dust cloud they were throwing up.

"I worry they do not attack," Temur said.

"It will be as I said." Yousef grinned, squinting into the distance. "If they attack now, even a feint, it would force us to advance more slowly."

"They want us to go deeper," Temur said, understanding. "It surprises me to find a man like you helping us."

"Me helping the Huns?" Yousef laughed. "That is true. We Badawiyyūn have a saying: 'I against my brother, my brothers and I, against my cousins, and my cousins and I against strangers.' I would be more likely trying to kill the Huns than be helping them, but I challenged my brother to a fight and my father disowned me. I have great need for gold. What about you, Temur? You seem not to like these Hun overly much yourself."

"I suppose, we are not too different," Temur admitted reluctantly. "I follow them because they will make me rich. It just feels more honourable than being for hire."

"Perhaps it is," Yousef acknowledged. "But how under the endless sky did you find so many Huns who do not understand a desert? I thought they all would."

Temur laughed. "Politics is how. Don't worry, I have seen these men fight and they are very good at it. And they know about sieges which you Bedouin don't. Once we come to it, it will be no problem."

"Does the Hun really have so many men?"

"They have Hun, Chin, Mongols, Sakā, Yuezhi and Skythians. This army is like a grain of sand to them. Supply is their only problem. Speaking of which, did you see the supplies we are taking?" Temur asked. "It is not enough for a retreat. If it came to it, would you leave these children to the desert and ride with me and my men?"

Yousef stretched across and took Temur's hand. "If it comes to that, I will."

* * *

The Nabateans camped away from the main camp, not far from the Mongol camp. They set up their camp with elaborate care including the fire and a proper toilet trench. This many men and animals was inviting an outbreak of disease.

They endlessly fussed over their horses. Each night each of them would check their own horse from head to toe, even examining the dung. Then they would start by cleaning their horse's hoofs with a pick and finally they would curry them all over with a brush. There was great affection between the Badawiyyūn and their horses. These were horses that they would never sell to strangers but, if they ever did, each one would be worth near a prince's ransom.

Sadeek, one of Yousef's men, was cleaning his mare's hoof and the horse was snuffling his back at the familiar ritual when he noticed a young Hun lad barely fifteen, watching him nervously.

"What are you doing?" the Hun asked.

"Don't you do this?" Sadeek asked, surprised. "We have a saying: 'no hoof, no horse'. What use is a horse that is lame?" He studied the young boy for a moment. "What is your name, son?"

"Coskun, bey (lord)," the young Hun replied respectfully.

"How is your horse, Coskun?" he asked kindly.

The boy looked like he was almost about to cry. "Lame, bey. They want to leave her to the desert."

"Surely they are teasing you, Coskun. Bring her here and we will see what we can do for her."

Sadeek looked to Yousef, who scowled.

Had they become nursemaids to these Huns now?

Coskun returned leading his mare, 'Aysun'. In Hunnic it meant 'as beautiful as the moon'.

Lasha, the oldest Nabatean and the best with horses, examined her.

"So that hurts you?" he asked the horse as he inspected her hoof. "She is a good horse, Coskun, but see how she limps? Can you see her face, and how she stands with her head down? It hurts her. She knows I will be as gentle as I can, don't you, Aysun?"

Coskun held her while Lasha crooned gently to the horse, examining and cleaning her hoofs, starting from the good ones first. He got Coskun talking about himself while he worked. Coskun's father was wealthy amongst his tribe and Coskun had joined his third eldest brother who was a noyan with Armagan's army.

As was the custom, his brother had given him over to the care of another noyan, Iliger.

Iliger's men were unfriendly, jealous of his family and yet Coskun knew not to complain.

"Has no one taught you, Coskun? This happened when you crossed near the river. You walked in bad mud and didn't clean her hooves." Lasha made a clucking sound as he examined the horse. "She got an infection. You can smell it," he called Coskun over to sniff. "And all her other hooves need trimming, but later is soon enough." He pointed. "First I clean this."

He patiently started to scrape at the rear, living part of the hoof. Aysun jerked up to look at him sharply but Lasha stroked her gently and talked softly to her. The horse stood shivering a little, waiting. She had decided Lasha meant her no harm and stood stoically as he gently scrapped at her hoof. It began to bleed a little but still she allowed it. Then he spread a brown paste into the wound. Coskun watched carefully, so he could remember what was done.

"It will take a week or two before you can ride her again," Lasha said, brushing the horse down. "We will keep your horse here with us. You can stay if you wish."

A glance passed between Lasha and Yousef. Yousef hesitated, and then he nodded.

"He will be yours to look after," he muttered in Aramaic.

"This is a cruel joke they play," Lasha replied in their own language. "They are not teaching the boy. Some believe you should treat a boy badly to make him tough. It will only twist him." Lasha spat. "And they should treat their horses better, they have too many horses."

* * *

Coskun woke early to check on Aysun. The horse looked better already. He was surprised to find most of Nabateans had gone. There was only one of their black woven goat-hair tents left. Lasha was sitting on a piece of carpet cooking unleavened bread on a small three-legged circular metal plate. He added a small smear of samnah (fat made from butter) and some honey and then passed it across to Coskun to eat with goat's cheese.

"You Huns are great men for sleeping," he teased, gesturing across to the main camp where only now the Hun were getting organised.

"You don't make much noise when you break camp," Coskun admitted, squatting down.

The Mongol camp was also empty.

"Compared to how heavily you sleep, you mean? We are nomads. We have broken camp before."

After breakfast Lasha gave Coskun a white keffiyeh (head scarf), like the other Nabateans. He showed him how to tie it then hold it in place with a rope circlet on top and how to draw it across his face till only his eyes showed.

"It is going to be another hot day, so you will need it. You and I will follow a little back from the van with the spare horses."

"It looks so empty, nothing lives here," Coskun said, looking out across the desert.

"Oh, you really think so?" Lasha chuckled. "Here, look at this."

He pointed to some tiny traces on the sand that Coskun would have not thought much about. "This is the tracks of a dung beetle. With all these horses this fellow thinks he is the king of all dung beetles."

Coskun laughed; his heart felt lighter for the first time in a long time.

Lasha then got up and led him over to a row of squiggles on the sand, as if a man had drawn curved lines over and over.

"This is one little creature you don't want to catch," Lasha said. "He hides during the day. At night he hunts mice and hamsters. They call him the 'desert cobra'; this one is about four foot long. Can you tell me how he's moving?"

Coskun suddenly looked with interest at what he had dismissed as meaningless marks in the sand. The length of the snake was repeated over and over. "I'd say sideways, but it sounds silly."

"That's right! Snakes move differently on different surfaces, or if it's hot, or if they are in a hurry. They can move like they swim," he wiggled his hand back and forth to demonstrate, "or like a caterpillar. But sideways is best on soft sand and it is this snake's favourite way. They don't eat little Hun boys." Coskun grinned at the joke. "So try not to frighten them by stepping on them. They may hide under a carpet or a sack to get out of the heat of the day so be careful. They are fast, but if you are bitten remove them quickly because it takes them a while to inject their poison."

"What do I do if I'm bitten?"

"You mean apart from getting ready to die?" Lasha laughed. "The main thing is not to get bitten. They don't always get their venom into you, so get them off quickly and stay calm. If there is no healer nearby, clean the wound and rest in the shade. Don't run around, that spreads the poison to your heart. You will know soon enough if poison is in your blood.

"The desert has many ways to kill you, even if you come to it with a great army like these Hun do."

Later, Coskun would have reason to remember those words.

Chapter 2: Deeper into the Desert

Coskun trotted his horse up to join Yousef and a few of the Mongols who had paused a little way ahead.

"Coskun, stay behind us!" Yousef barked irritably.

"I'm sorry, Bey," Coskun answered, hurt in his eyes. "You don't like me much, do you?"

"Come here," Yousef called softly.

As Coskun nudged his horse closer he dropped his voice even lower. "Don't look when I tell you but see those rocks a long way away on the left, I count three of our enemies hidden there."

Coskun looked noticeably paler and his hand touched one of his javelins in its quiver.

"Don't get any ideas, son. A javelin is no use against the Shantawi, they are horse archers. Damn good ones. They can kill you many times over before you would get close enough to throw a javelin. Besides, have you forgotten you are looking after our horses? Keep them as much as possible in the shade. Avoid too much loose sand, it tires them. Don't worry about hard-packed surfaces, it keeps their hoofs healthy. And horses like to eat and drink often."

"Why don't they attack?"

"I don't know exactly, but let's not give them any excuse." Yousef gave him a friendlier smile and ruffled his hair. "Just stay back with our horses where it is safer. You do your job and let us do ours."

While he was in a good mood, Coskun decided to ask him about the Bedouin names which seemed endless. "Yousef, why is your name shorter than most of those we meet from the desert?"

"You noticed that, did you?" Yousef chuckled. "We Badawiyyūn give our full name when we are formally introduced. Mine is Yousef, and then we include important family connections, personal qualities and what work we do. It is a description of us, as well, but we only use it formally, otherwise we just use our name plus our family connections."

"But you only use Yousef."

"Don't forget, little friend, I am disowned by my family." Yousef chuckled. "When I have made my fortune and am an important man, it will be different. I will have a long name then."

* * *

Coskun was badly frightened. Yousef had cursed and suddenly kicked his horse to a gallop straight at some Hun standing around a horse. The Nabatean was very angry. Was there going to be a fight? Coskun kicked his horse to follow.

The horse the men were standing around stood listlessly, hunched in on itself, its head low. One of the men held a knife that shone in the sun.

"What do you men think you are doing?" Yousef demanded.

The Nabateans seemed different, alien, but Coskun was starting to understand them. They loved their horses.

"Who are you to question us, desert rat?" the Hun sneered. "This horse has sickened. It doesn't eat. At least we can use the meat."

"Is this how you would treat a sick man?" Yousef spat. "And how do you know the meat is good to eat?"

The Huns that were about to cut the horse's throat froze. Ellac, their noyan, had heard the disturbance and hurried over with some of his officers to intervene.

"You! Tribesman! Do you know what is wrong with this horse?"

Yousef hoped off his own mount and approached. "Bey, if I may check?"

He examined the horse's mouth, ears and eyes. He pinched its skin and looked at its hoofs then felt the abdomen. Then he put his ear against its chest and abdomen, listening for a while, then he grunted in satisfaction.

"This horse has loose shit?" he asked.

The men nodded.

"Bey, whoever has been feeding this horse is lazy or stupid. He has put her grain on the ground. She has swallowed much sand and it has blocked her. Grain doesn't help a horse when they are blocked. Hay and herbs and clean water might.

"And she is too dry. She feels sick so she doesn't drink enough but it only makes it worse. If she recovers trot her in the shade, it will help her bowels work."

Coskun marvelled that Yousef knew so much.

"But they said it had a loose shit; are you saying this horse is blocked?" Ellac asked, incredulously.

"Yes, Bey." Yousef shrugged. "When horses become blocked sometimes it seems as if they have the runs. By the look of her, your men may be right. Even with proper care you may not save her. But if you do not understand about looking after horses in the desert you will lose many more."

He bowed to the commander and without another word mounted his horse and turned it to trot away. Coskun turned his horse to follow, feeling for the first time afraid.

* * *

Troia

Eirene had, with advice from the others, chosen another novice. This gave them Eirene (as the only monk), Jacinta and four senior novices including Anastasia, four junior novices and two remaining others with an interest in becoming novices. The Manor had been taken over as the women's militia and now Jacinta and Eirene's girls were based at the citadel.

Jacinta had her own room, the four seniors and Eirene had one large dormitory room and the six others had two rather small rooms to share. It made it a little crowded but it was a lot easier having everyone in the one place.

It was a much smaller group, but it was much better for training their core group.

They had the small warehouse nearby and they still went at times to the Manor house to train or be trained with the larger group, but there was a lot of security everywhere now and none of them were allowed to wander around outside the citadel by themselves.

Jacinta had emphasised that, as far as possible, they needed to keep their abilities and their training a secret from outsiders. This morning she had met with the seniors to explain how, if they were travelling in crowded circumstances, they could exercise without anyone around them knowing they were doing it.

She started with reminding them about the different forms of solo exercises.

"Always remember if you do exercises to increase your strength you must balance it with exercises to develop speed. As a woman you must make surprise and speed your advantage. Slowing down is more a problem with men, especially older men, who can end up being powerful but slow and heavy. That's all right for hoplitai fighting in formation but it is no good for peltastae," Jacinta said.

"The best way to do speed training is to start to do set moves very slowly, concentrating on your technique and, when you have it exactly right ,go faster and then faster and faster, over and over. That way you are practicing the correct technique and not making mistakes by going too fast. Always make sure you don't injure your joints when you are doing speed training. Small injuries can build up over a long period of time.

"Sometimes you have to intimidate an opponent, but for a woman it is mostly best to conceal your abilities. Remember how I said that surprise was one of your weapons? So you need to be able to exercise when not seeming to. Doing set movements in a slow, forceful way is good if you have some, but not too much, privacy.

"Remember to balance it with speed training as well."

She demonstrated by doing a very slow punch with a lot of effort and then just holding her stance with her fist out, trembling slightly and colouring with the effort and then punching very slowly with the other fist. Then she sat down and seemed to relax.

"You must also learn to exercise right in front of others without them knowing you are doing it. I do that a lot of the time now. It doesn't take much concentration once you are used to it and you can do it when you are seeming to do other things. Just tense your muscles, one group against the other." She clasped her hands together to demonstrate.

"By all the gods, Jacinta!" Thaïs laughed. "We could be exercising while making love with a man, and he would never know it."

"This is serious!" Jacinta scowled at the interruption.

Jacinta was sure Drakon would not push Thaïs for greater intimacy until she was older.

Or more likely he would be firm in resisting the forward young girl!

"Making love is exercise enough," Alba added. "Of the sweetest kind."

Jacinta poked her tongue out at her.

"If you are careful," she continued, trying to ignore the interruptions. "You can look completely relaxed."

"I know an exercise that can make sex even better," Anastasia suggested, giggling. "And no one can see you working those muscles either because they are deep inside you."

Jacinta gave up.

She began throwing cushions and the lesson degenerated into an all-in cushion war.

At least they would all remember this lesson, even if it was for all the wrong sort of reasons.

* * *

Coskun

Lasha showed Coskun how to stop regularly to water their horses in the shade. He used a quarter barrel wrapped in hessian which Coskun was supposed to keep moist. It seemed to be taking the pampering of their horses too far and he asked about it.

"Do you like hot water in the heat or freezing water in the winter?" Lasha queried him. "If you give it to your horses they may not drink enough. In this heat if you don't drink enough firstly you get tired and hot, and then you cannot think properly and not too soon after that you weaken and die. Or maybe if you are a horse you will get blocked and colic then you will want to drink even less."

"But if a horse is thirsty he will drink, surely?"

Coskun had heard the old saying ... everyone had!

'You can take a horse to water but you can't make it drink.'

It referred to stupid people.

Surely it couldn't refer to a real problem with horses? Well, could it?

Normally horses drank, didn't they ... but what if they didn't?

Lasha laughed. "Sometimes a horse can be wise, wiser than any man I know. Sometimes a horse can be like a child, or like a foolish Hun boy that asks silly questions all the time. You must watch your horse, what they eat, how they drink, how much they piss, how they shit, everything about them."

He spat. "Give them rock salt to lick. Check their mouth to see if it's moist and a good colour. Check their teeth sometimes. Pinch their skin and check their fat. Make sure their water is cool and sweet or like children they won't drink enough. Let them eat and drink many times in the day. If you are riding on a long journey and all they have is grazing, you must stop and let them graze several times during the day. They are not sheep or cows with many stomachs. They only have one and they have to keep filling it like a Hun boy always has to."

"Why salt to lick? Doesn't that just make them thirstier?"

"You need salt in the heat. They won't take more than they need."

"You people love your horses."

"We are horsemen!" Lasha laughed. "For that we need horses! Have you ever met a man able to ride a dead horse or shoot a bow from a dead horse?"

* * *

Syrian Desert

The hottest part of the day, after the sun was directly overhead was blistering in its intensity. Those amongst the Mongols and the Nabateans who were not scouting rested in the shade just above the trail till the worst of the heat passed.

When Lasha and Coskun caught up with the Nabateans one man was roasting small skewers of spiced lamb. Another man was crushing small white balls into a thin paste and adding water and dried mint. Someone else was slicing a gourd and, of course, they were cooking the fetir, their unleavened bread.

"It is called Jameed," Lasha said when he saw Coskun looking at the white balls with interest. "We press goat yogurt in a cloth, add a little salt and dry it in the sun. It has many uses; here we use it to make a sauce that is delicious. If you are to become a Nabatean, then you must learn to cook and eat like a Nabatean."

Yogurt and mint over lamb? But Lasha was right, it was delicious.

As the army passed them, the Huns jeered at them, calling them weak and lazy. The Nabateans ignored them. By preference they rose before first light and travelled in the cool of the morning. They rested in the hottest part of the day, and then rode again until late into the evening. The Hun didn't seem to know about that.

* * *

Learning about the desert and the care of the horses kept Coskun busy. One day started to merge with another in a familiar rhythm. They had only been travelling for a week and Coskun had almost begun to forget about the Shantawi.

He was beginning to think he would become scout when he was older. He had packed away most of his clothes and now wore a loose robe he had borrowed, over light leather armour.

His brother Apsikal came to check on him and teased him that he was becoming a regular Bedouin, but he had seemed to be much happier about his little brother.

Later that day, in the distance, Coskun could see a small cluster of mud houses. They were strange things, tall like natural bee hives. Yousef and five of his men rode out to talk to the head man.

"They are Badawiyyūn but they live in houses rather than tents," Laksha said, moving his horse closer. "This is better land so they can stay in the one spot."

Coskun stared incredulously at the land. There were only rocks, a few patches of scrub, dirt and hard-packed soil.

"Those houses look funny but are cool in the heat and can be easily heated in the cold," Lasha was saying. "See!" He laughed as Yousef was trying to talk to the head man. "They do not ask him in. He will get nothing from them and all he says will be known by the Shantawi within the day."

* * *

Syrian desert

It was a cooler day with a fair bit of scattered cloud. That was unusual but it was a blessed relief from the desert heat. By late morning they reached the third watering hole, the one that Yousef and Temur were most worried about. Beyond that, there would be no water for several days.

As they approached, they saw four large wells spaced not too far apart, each about six feet in diameter, rising three feet above the ground, with walls lined by stone with mud used as a mortar. Over the top of each was a cover, a wooden winch on top to raise a wooden bucket and a 'V' shaped wooden chute leading to a trough for watering animals.

Nearby there were some mud houses and rocky outcrop with a fair-sized rock shelter, all abandoned. There was an ancient olive tree, a few date palms in a cluster off to one side.

"These are very old," Yousef said, eyeing them. "People have lived here a long time, some have lived here recently. I wonder where they have gone."

Several of Temur's men lifted one of the well covers of lattice and palm fronds with great care, putting it to one side. One of them looked down to the water, there were stones strategically sticking out from the wall to allow a man to climb down for cleaning and repair.

"This will take some time," he said gloomily.

"Well, you had better start then," Temur said grimly, " ten thousand men and all those horses and only four wells, I want you to draw our own water before the main party gets here:"

"I will look around and see what happened to the people that lived here, if that is all right with you," Yousef said

At a nod from Temur, he signalled to his men and Coskun. He and his men spent three quarters of the turn of a glass examining the rock shelter, looking at garbage dumps, sewage pits and the ashes of the fires and muttering amongst themselves in Aramaic. They even studied childish scratches on walls of mud houses and caves.

"There used to be quite a few families that lived here," he told Coskun. "They had camels and sheep and goats nearby, and a lot of herders stopped off on their way through. But they have all gone." He looked out over the desert. "I would like to know when and why."

"Why?" Coskun asked.

Yousef smiled. "These are nomads, and nomads sometimes move, but this is a very good place and it is strange to find it deserted." He stared directly at Coskun. "It may not mean what I think it means.

"I look at the age of the dung and how much sand covers the tracks. It's hard to tell, but it seems that they moved out some time ago. It would have been well before we even knew we were coming this way. Have the Shantawi known we were coming here before we even did?"

"What would that mean?"

"Mean?" Yousef looked grimly over the empty land out to the barren mountains. "That the nomads from this place moved somewhere else? That is a good question. It might mean nothing. But maybe the Hun have not been so clever in hiding their plans. Maybe the Shantawi have known they were coming here for a very long time.

"If that is so, maybe this whole army is riding into a trap."

* * *

The main party had almost reached the wells but Yousef rode back to discuss the situation with Armagan. There wasn't much they could do but remain on guard.

As Coskun rode back with Yousef and his men, they found Temur and his men waiting outside the encampment, looking very angry.

"We have gotten maybe water for our men, but not for our horses," Temur said. "The wells were deep but they kept taking the water till it was muddy, and now the wells are filling slowly."

Yousef cursed; there had been signs that this place had been visited frequently but there couldn't be much more than six extended families. It would have plentiful water for herds and even large bands of travellers but not for this great army and all its horses. If they had made the water muddy, they would need to be patient.

"Not all the men have had enough water for themselves yet," Temur continued. "Fights have broken out and now they talk of rationing. They said it should be our horses last because we took the water first. I told them that they had too many horses and they were ready to fight me."

Yousef glanced at the sun and then nodded to himself.

"I thought we were all allies." He smiled without humour. "They won't find our scouting very good if we have to walk. There is a wadi nearby that looks promising. Come, let us show our little Nabatean how we hunt for water when we are not hunting Shantawi."

Some of the Huns stared at the Nabateans and Mongols as they moved out of the camp, leaving the ration lines behind.

"Where do you think we will find water?" Yousef asked Coskun as they rode to the wadi.

Coskun looked around the expanse of arid land, completely baffled.

Yousef chuckled. "If you want to live in the desert, you will need water. The best way to find water is to ask someone, but the people who live in this place would rather kill us than show us their hidden water. So we must find our own.

"If it is open water, the flight of birds especially at dusk or the tracks of animals may tell us, but you need to be able to read the signs." He gestured to the wall of the wadi. "At the base of a cliff where certain plants grow is often good but it hasn't rained here in a long time. Local tribes catch rain into cisterns but they hide them well."

He paused. "Have you wondered where the well gets its water?"

The question took Coskun off guard. "From under the ground?"

"Very good! It is a secret of the desert that there is water underneath the ground, but where?" Yousef nodded. "If we dig a deep hole and do all that hard work and find no water it will only make us worse off. We will be even more hot and even more thirsty.

"So, we have to know where to dig. It is best to search at dawn, looking for a tiny breath of water vapour. We don't have time for that, but we do have Obodas." He indicated one of his Nabateans. "Obodas has powerful water-magic."

Water magic: was there such a thing?

Obodas saw something and hopped off his horse. He put his hand to some sand, concentrating for a while. Then he checked another patch a little way away.

Finally he smiled and nodded; he had found water.

"I have only a little water magic, so I will dig." Yousef tossed off his robe and grabbed a spade. The blade was curved like the third of the side of a small bucket. Before he started he looked up at Temur.

"If we find water we will also find company; bring all the men and horses here and let us have our weapons handy."

Coskun felt a surge of fear. Some men from the camp had followed them and were now watching them from a distance.

Yousef went about digging energetically and tirelessly. He had obviously done this before. It didn't seem all that long before he had a large hole, waist deep, large enough for a man to stand in. Then he climbed out to give someone else a turn.

He ruffled Coskun's hair. "Well, our little Nabatean, can you bring the buckets closer?"

Six feet below the surface they found dampness. The men cheered and began to dig faster; some of the Mongols crowded in to take their turn as they took bucket after bucket of mud to dump it away from the hole. Once it was deep enough, the water was clearer. By the time they were satisfied it was too dark to see inside the improvised well. They had to test the water by taste. The men up top of the hole lit several small fires but some distance away from the hole. A few sat around each.

"Now we wait for sweeter water," Lasha told Coskun. "Sometimes we can use special seeds. When they are powdered they bind with the mud which can then be strained through cloth, but this well is good. All we will have to do is to be careful not to scrape mud from the bottom. That is unless you like your water muddy like the other Huns do."

"Why are the fires not closer to the hole?" Coskun asked.

Even a torch would not show the colour of the water at the bottom of the well, but if the camp fires were closer surely they could see better?

"Some men are approaching," Temur warned.

A large group of Huns were approaching. The Mongols and Bedouins strung their bows and snatched arrows to be ready.

"Behind us, lad!" snapped Lasha.

"Share your water with us!" the Turks demanded.

As he saw them approach, Coskun got his answer about the fires. The Hun had to wait close to the light. The Mongols were further back, in shadow.

"There is not enough to share. It only comes slowly," Yousef said levelly. "You would give us no water for our horses so we had to dig our own. This is ours."

Temur stood calmly next to him. Behind them the men were choosing targets.

"They didn't give us enough water for our men. How do you dig for water?"

"We used a shovel," Temur replied, expressionless.

The men stared at the Huns, waiting. Eventually their leader turned angrily and walked away to do his own digging.

"That is not a good spot to dig," Yousef observed as he watched them from a distance.

After a while he changed the subject. "We will have to stay until everyone gets enough water and we can replenish our reserves. Mud in the water settles, but not if it is carried in wagons that jolts over the ground. I think we will need three days and we will have all we need, four at the very most."

"Armagan is never going to agree to that," Temur said quietly.

"He must!" Yousef spat. "It is a long way to the next water. It has become cooler and cloudy, especially in the west. I think we will get a wind storm. If it is severe and it lasts, our problem of water will only get worse. If that happens, soon we will have fighting over water and horses."

"I will put a guard on our water," Temur agreed, looked grim. "Are your men willing to share our camp with us?"

"Yes, I think that will be safer for both of us, thank you."

* * *

They camped by the improvised well that night. The next day Yousef and Temur took an escort of eight Mongol warriors, fully armed, to wait outside while they attended the meeting. This time Yousef joined Temur to argue loudly that they needed to rest the animals and wait till they had enough clean water before pushing on.

"We must keep to the speed of the other army," one noyan insisted. "You are the scouts, find us more water."

"I can find water, yes," Yousef admitted, speaking slowly and carefully. "But not for a great army like this."

"If you want to leave tomorrow, you will have to leave some of your spare horses here," Temur insisted.

"Have you gone mad?" another of the noyans shouted. More of them joined in angrily.

Armagan silenced them. "We have enough water for the men. We will ration water to the animals. If we lose any then we will need all the spare horses. How far is Karsh?"

"If we keep up the same pace it will be ten days," Yousef said confidently.

If ...

"Does Armagan really think he can ration water in the desert?" Yousef asked as they walked away. Temur just shook his head; he was lost for words.

* * *

The Dust Storm

When Coskun woke the dawn seemed clear enough with just a few sparse clouds. There was some wind but he wondered how the Badawiyyūn could predict a wind storm. Then he looked to the west. Over there the clouds were crowding in, already covering a third of the sky. It was one of the most unusual sights he had ever seen.

"Little Hun," Lasha said grimly. "Stay close and look to the horses. We call these dust and sand storms 'habub'. They can be very dangerous." He checked Coskun's keffiyeh (head scarf) so only his eyes were showing.

By midmorning there was an expectant electric feeling in the air, as if the whole desert held its breath. The clouds were starting to fill in across the sky. In the west they were dark and heavy and rolling over the heavens; fully half the sky already had dense black cover. In the far distance, there were faint flickers of lightning.

Some birds passed flying east in a frantic hurry. They saw a herd of gazelles running hard. The wind was starting to build.

Yousef called out to Nahum, one of his men, "Tell Armagan that now is the time to find shelter, not when the storm starts. Tell him not to camp in a creek bed."

"Why not?" Coskun asked, overhearing him.