her and ran back to pick up the others, but Hilto and three of his men were already coming across the gorge, each with an old woman struggling and screaming on his back. Behind them, the traffic was flowing once more over the bridge. However, the delay had cost them dear. Meren pushed his way back through the throng until he found Taita at the tail of the column.

'The flames at the fort will not hold Soklosh much longer. He will be on us again before we can get them all across. We dare not begin to cut away the supports until the very last of our people is over,' he told Taita.

'Three men could hold an army on this narrow path,' Taita said.

'Hilto and we two?' Meren stared at him. 'By the festering sores on Seth's buttocks, Magus, I had forgotten how things have changed. You now have the strongest and craftiest sword arm of any.'

'This day we shall have a chance to put that statement to the test,'

Taita assured him, 'but make certain that we have good stout fellows behind us to fill the gap if one of us should fall.'

There were still fifty or more refugees waiting their turn to cross the bridge when they heard Soklosh's men behind them: the tramp of their feet, the rattle of their weapons on shield and scabbard.

Taita, Meren and Hilto took up station, shoulder to shoulder, across the path. Taita was in the centre, with Hilto on his left and Meren on the outer verge with the cliff face dropping away below him. Nakonto and ten picked men waited behind them, ready to jump forward if they were needed. A little further down the track, Fenn and Sidudu sat their horses, holding Taita's and Meren's on lead reins. They had unslung their bows and had them at the ready. Sitting high in their saddles they had a clear view over the heads of Taita and the others.

The foremost rank of the Jarrian brigade came round the bend in the pathway and halted abruptly when they saw the three men confronting them. The ranks following bunched behind them, and there was momentary confusion until they had recovered their formation. Then they stared in silence at the three defenders. It lasted only as long as it took the Jarrians to realize the strength of the opposition. Then the burly sergeant in the leading rank pointed at them with his sword, threw back his head and bellowed with laughter.

'Three against three thousand! Ho! Ha!' He choked with laughter.

'Oh! I am dirtying myself with fright.' He began to thump the blade of his sword against his shield. The men around him took up the beat, a menacing staccato rhythm. The Jarrians came on, stamping and banging their shields. Fenn watched them over the fletching of the arrow

she held at full draw. Just before the Jarrians launched themselves into the attack she whispered from the side of her mouth, without taking her eye or aim from the face of the bearded sergeant that showed over1 the top of his shield, 'I have the one in the middle. You take the one on your side.'

“I have him in my eye,' Sidudu murmured.

'Shoot him!' Fenn snapped, and they let fly together. The two arrows fluted over Taita's head. One took the Jarrian sergeant cleanly in the eye: he went over backwards and his armoured weight crashed into the two men behind him, bringing them down. Sidudu's shot hit the man beside him in the mouth. Two of his teeth snapped off and the arrowhead buried itself in the back of his throat. The troopers behind them shouted with anger, jumped over the corpses and rushed upon Taita and his two companions. Both sides were now so closely engaged that the girls dared not fire another arrow for fear of hitting their own.

However, only three Jarrians at a time could reach the head of the line. Taita ducked under the blow of the man who came at him and, with a low sweep of the blade, cut his legs out from under him. As he dropped, Taita sent a thrust through the lacing of his breastplate into his heart. Hilto parried the blade of his man, then killed him with his riposte, which flew through the gap below the visor of his helmet. The three squared up and retreated two paces.

Three more Jarrians jumped over their dead comrades and rushed at them. One struck at Meren, who parried, seized his opponent's sword wrist and swung him out over the edge of the cliff to fall, shrieking, to the rocks far below. The man who came next at Taita lifted his sword with both hands and aimed at his head, as though he were cutting firewood. Taita caught the blow on his blade, then stepped up close and drove the dagger he held in his left hand into the fellow's belly, and pushed him staggering back into his own ranks. Meren maimed another and, as he was falling, kicked him in the head to send him reeling backwards over the cliff. Hilto split the helmet of the next Jarrian with a blow that cut through the bronze crest and went on deeply into his skull.

The force of the blow was more than the blade could withstand. It snapped off short and left Hilto with the hilt.

'A sword! Give me a fresh blade,' he shouted desperately, but before those behind him could pass it to him he was attacked again. Hilto hurled the hilt at the face of the Jarrian but he ducked and deflected it with the visor of his helmet as he thrust at Hilto. The blow went home but Hilto seized him round the waist in a bear-hug and dragged him back

I

THE QUEST

into his own lines. The men behind him killed the Jarrian as he struggled to free himself from Hilto's grip. But Hilto was hard hit and would fight no more that day. He leant heavily on the comrade who led him back to the bridge, and Nakonto stepped into his place in the line beside Taita.

He had a stabbing spear in each hand and wielded them with such speed and dexterity that the bronze heads merged into a blur of dancing light.

Leaving a trail of dead and dying Jarrians on the pathway, the three backed away towards the bridgehead, matching the pace of their retreat to that of the tail end of the refugee column.

At last Fenn shouted, 'They are all across!' Her ringing tones carried clearly above the din of the battle. Taita killed the man he was fighting with a parry and riposte to the throat before he glanced back. The bridge was clear.

'Order the axeman to lay on with a will. Bring down the bridge!' he called to Fenn, and heard her repeat the order as he turned back to meet the next enemy. Over their heads he could see the ostrich plumes in the crest of Soklosh's helmet and heard his harsh cries urging on his men.

But the Jarrians had seen the slaughter of their comrades, and the ground under their feet was red and muddy with blood. The track was cluttered with corpses, and their ardour was waning. Taita had time enough to look back again. He could hear the thudding of the axes on the guy lines and the bridge timbers. However, the two mounted girls had not yet crossed the gorge. With them, a small group of men stood ready to fill any gap in the line.

'Go back!' Taita shouted at them. 'All of you, go back!' They hesitated, reluctant to leave so few to face the foe. 'Go back, I tell you.

You can do no more here.'

'Back!' roared Meren, 'Give us space. When we come it will be fast.'

The girls swung the horses round and their hoofs clattered on the planks of the bridge. The other men followed them across the gorge (Iand reached the far side. Nakonto, Meren and Taita, still facing the Jarrian host, backed slowly out on to the bridge and took their stand in the centre, with the deep drop on either side. The cliffs resounded to the thudding of axes as men hacked away at the main supports.

Three of the enemy rushed out on to the bridge. The planking trembled under their tread. They clashed their shields against those of

Ithe three in the centre. Hacking and thrusting, both sides balanced on the swaying catwalk. When the first Jarrian rank was cut down, others ran out to take their places, slipping in the blood puddles and tripping over the corpses of their comrades. Others crowded on to the narrow