The Devil's Armour (Gollancz S.F.) by John Marco Page B

Shalafein, and boasted openly of killing him.
    ‘Not today!’ cried Lukien. His horse reared and whinnied, his sword danced through the air. Concentrating, he caught the smallest glimpse of Ghost. The young albino threaded through the warriors, stabbing at them furiously, dragging them from horseback like an assassin. There was magic among them; they knew it now and panicked. Breaking from the dune, the warriors rode away all at once, barrelling down the hill toward their comrades and theSeekers. Lukien gave chase, shouting for Ghost to follow. In a second the Inhuman was visible again.
    ‘Lukien, look . . .’
    The knight saw it, too. Down in the valley, Gilwyn and the Jadori were surrounded as they tried to protect the Seekers. Outnumbered, the Jadori and their kreels were in combat as Gilwyn and Emerald tried to fight free of the horde. There were at least a dozen of the Seekers – Lukien could see them clearly now. The men had gathered the women and children around a single desert wagon. They themselves were poorly armed, mostly with walking sticks.
    ‘Hurry, Ghost, hurry!’ cried Lukien, snapping his reins in pursuit. The kreels could easily handle two or more horsemen, but they had the Seekers to protect and that was all-important, because Aztar had given his men brutal orders – the Seekers were to die. And the Ganjeese themselves were ready to die in the cause, for Aztar’s wrath was legendary. As Lukien and Ghost raced into the valley, Gilwyn struggled to keep the raiders from the huddled northerners. He expertly commanded Emerald, slipping the kreel under every attack, beating back those who broke through the line of Jadori warriors. But there were more raiders coming and Gilwyn had seen them. So too had their Ganjeese brothers. Gilwyn’s concentration faltered as one of the raiders slipped past the Jadori. He was a big man with robes grander than the rest, a Zarturk by the looks of him, one of Aztar’s own lieutenants. Gilwyn turned on him too late, just as the man barrelled past him. The clash knocked the boy from Emerald’s back, sending him colliding with the sand.
    The Zarturk reached the Seekers, raised his scimitar, and cut down a fragile man, cracking through his cane and opening his chest. The other Seekers scattered. The Zarturk gave chase. Like the weakest of a herd, he spotted a young girl limping quickly away. He spurred his horse and caught her, grabbing her collar and dragging her through the sand, away from the others as he returned to the protection of hismen. Shouting orders, he gathered his raiders about him, who broke off their attack and rode away from the Seekers just as Lukien and Ghost approached. The Jadori warriors did not pursue, but retreated to the wagon and the downed Gilwyn, who was getting unsteadily to his feet. Lukien and Ghost rode up to him, their horses skidding to a stop.
    ‘Are you all right?’ Lukien asked.
    The boy nodded. ‘I’m fine. They got that girl, Lukien!’ Across the sands Lukien saw the Zarturk surrounded by his men. There were twenty of them now, still a lopsided number. The desert leader had the struggling girl in his arms as he watched them imperiously from the safety of his horde.
    ‘Melini!’
    Lukien spun to see a woman racing out from behind the wagon. The Jadori warrior Kamar dropped from his kreel to stop her, pulling her backward. ‘They have my daughter!’ she shouted.
    ‘Stop!’ Lukien commanded. ‘We’ll get her back.’
    The woman tore at Kamar to free herself, then fell to her knees in sobs. The other Seekers were returning, some hovering over the man who had fallen, others approaching Lukien and his comrades. A man older than the woman came and comforted her, then looked up at Lukien.
    ‘Thank you,’ he said. Obviously shaken, he seemed to be the leader of the group. ‘If you hadn’t come—’
    ‘Are these your people?’ asked Lukien.
    The man rose. ‘Yes. My name is Paxon. We’re from Liiria. We’re