Three Vagrians, left as a rearguard, ran at him. The first died with his skull split in two. the second followed as the blade reversed and clove his ribs. The third dived at the general, who sidestepped and then whipped up his knee into the diving man's face; his head snapped back and he hit the floor unconscious. Karnak's axe hammered into his back.

He ran on, scanning the rocks for the support ropes and praying the Vagrians had not discovered them.

At the widest part of the tunnel he saw them, looped and partly hidden behind a jutting section of black rock. Moving to his left he lifted the rope and took in the slack. He began to play out the rope as he backed down the tunnel, but the Vagrians had seen at last that only one man faced them and now they came at him with a rush.

Karnak knew he was finished and a terrible anger welled in him. Dropping his axe, he took the rope in both hands and pulled with all his strength. A creaking sound from above gave evidence that the pulleys and winches were transmitting the power.

The Vagrians were now only twenty paces from the straining figure, their yells of rage deafening in the enclosed tunnel. Karnak pushed his right foot against the tunnel wall and tugged hard. A tortured groan came from the roof and a huge boulder toppled above the running soldiers. Then the entire roof gave way and a great crack sliced along the granite wall.

Karnak saw the Vagrians buried screaming under tons of rock and earth. Then he turned and began to run.

Rocks and boulders tumbled about him as he ran on into the dark, then he tripped and fell and something sharp and heavy hit his ribs. He rolled and coughed as swirling dust caught in his throat. It seemed alien and stupid to run into darkness and death, but still he forced himself on. The rock above him exploded and he was swept from his feet, his legs partially buried by rubble. Pulling himself clear, he staggered on until the ground tilted under him and he fell forward.

'Gellan!' he screamed, as the walls closed in and engulfed him. A rock struck his head … more covered his legs and waist. He threw his arms over his face and tried to move. Then something slammed into his forehead and his movements ceased.

For more than a full day and night Gellan had men toiling at the rocks, moving forward inch by dangerous inch, while outside on the walls the battle raged endlessly. Many of the officers were now dead and Gellan had promoted Sarvaj and Jonat to commands of 500 men apiece. The number of wounded had swelled to awesome proportions, and now fewer than 2,000 fighting men held the might of the Vagrian army at bay. But Gellan himself remained in the treacherous tunnel, angrily shaking off the protest from brother officers.

'He's dead – what is the point?' argued one.

'We need him,' said Gellan.

'The roof has gone, man! Every foot we move forward only increases the risk of a further fall. It's madness!'

But he ignored them, refusing to allow their arguments to lodge in his mind where he knew he would be forced to accept their logic. It was a kind of madness, he knew. But he would not stop. Nor would the men. They worked tirelessly, pushing their frail bodies into the blackness, ton upon ton of delicately balanced rock above and around them.

'How the hell will you find him? The men originally with him say he ran ahead. It would take years to dig your way through to the far side – and the ropes were a hundred paces from the first corner.'

'Get out and leave us alone.'

'You are insane, Gellan.'

'Leave or I'll kill you.'

By the second day even the most tireless of the workers had given up hope, but still they toiled on.

'We need you on the walls, Gellan. Despair is growing.'

This time the words got through, lodging where Gellan had no defence.

'One more hour,' he said, hope draining from him. I'll be there with you in one hour.'

The pain from his eye woke Karnak and he tried to move, panic welling in him as realisation struck home that he was trapped … buried alive. Madness surged in him and he struggled maniacally, stopping only when he felt the rocks move above him. He breathed slowly and deeply, fighting for calm.

'Why are you not dressed for dinner, Karnak?'

'A mountain fell on me, father.'

Maniac laughter bubbled from his throat, but he fought it down and began to weep.

Stop it! You are Karnak, his strength told him.

I am a piece of flesh trapped in a tomb of rock, his weakness screamed.

All his plans were finished now and perhaps it was just as well, he thought. In his arrogance he had believed he could defeat the Vagrians, push them from the lands of the Drenai. His new-found heroic status would have guaranteed him leadership of the people. Egel could never have stood against him. Egel had no way with the mob – no charisma. And there were other ways to dispose of political enemies.

Waylander, and men like him, were easy to find.

But now there would be nothing. No purple robes. No public acclaim.

Why, he wondered, had he taken on the enemy single-handed?

Because he had not stopped to think. Dundas had seen through him: a hero who pretended to be otherwise.

Not exactly the death you would have chosen for yourself, Karnak, said his strength. Where was the drama? Where were the adoring crowds?

If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears, does it make a sound?

If a man dies unobserved, how will his death be chronicled?

'Damn you, father,' whispered Karnak. 'Damn you!'

Laughter shook him. Tears followed. 'Damn you!' he bellowed.

The rock beside him shifted and Karnak froze, waiting for the crushing death. Light fell on his face and a ragged cheer went up from the men. Karnak squinted against the torchlight, then forced a grin.

'You took your time, Gellan,' he whispered. 'I thought I'd have to dig myself out!'

22

Danyal lay back on the aft deck of the river barge, listening to the gentle lap of the waves against the hull. Some few paces to her left Durmast leaned on the rail, eyes scanning the river bank.

For some time she watched him, closing her eyes every time his shaggy head turned in her direction. For the last three days he had been either silent or surly, and whenever she glanced at him she found his glittering eyes focused on her. At first she had been irritated, but that had grown into fear, for Durmast was no ordinary man. Everything about him radiated power. In him was raw strength, and an innate savagery held in check by gossamer threads of reason and logic. All his life, she sensed, he had gained everything he desired by strength, or cunning, or calculated ruthlessness.

And he wanted her.

Danyal knew it– it was in his eyes, his movements, his lack of words.

There was little she could to to make herself less attractive. She had but the one tunic and that disguised her not at all.

Now he turned from the rail and approached her, looming in the darkness like a giant.

'What do you want?' she asked, sitting up.

He squatted beside her. 'I knew you weren't asleep.'

'You want to talk?'

'No … yes.'

'Then talk. I'm not going anywhere.'

'What does that mean?'

'It means I'm a captive listener.'

'You are not my captive. You can go or stay as you choose.'

He sat back and scratched his beard. 'Why do you twist everything into confrontation?'

'You bring out the worst in me, Durmast – put it down to that. How long before we disembark?'

'Tomorrow. We'll buy horses and be camped at Raboas by nightfall.'

'And then?'

'We'll wait for Waylander – if he is not already there.'

'I wish I could believe you,' she said bitterly.