The Legend of the Deathwalker by David Gemmell

Author:David Gemmell [Gemmell, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780307797568
Publisher: Random House, Inc.
Published: 2011-06-07T23:00:00+00:00

8

TALISMAN SAT ALONE on the parapet, cross-legged, arms outstretched, eyes closed, and face upward to the blazing sun. There were so many ambitions he had longed to achieve, the foremost of them being to ride into the city of Gulgothir beside the Uniter, to see the Gothir humbled, their high walls brought down and their army in ruins. Anger flooded him, and for a while he allowed the richness of the emotion to rage in his veins; then, slowly, he calmed himself. What he had told Nosta Khan was true. The battle for the shrine would unite the tribes as never before. Even if he were to die here, which was probable, the effect would be to speed the day of the Uniter.

He had told the tribal leaders that victory was impossible. That also was true. Yet a general who fought with defeat in mind would surely lose. Slowing his breathing and calming his heart, Talisman floated above the sense of rage and frustration. Two armies were about to meet. He had to put aside thoughts of numbers and examine the essentials. He saw again Fanlon’s paneled study back at the Bodacas Academy and heard the old soldier’s voice whisper across the years. “The responsibility for a martial host lies in one man. He is its spirit. If an army is deprived of its morale, its general also will lose heart. Order and confusion, bravery and cowardice, are qualities dominated by the heart. Therefore, the expert at controlling his enemy frustrates him and then moves against him. Aggravation and harassment will rob the enemy of his heart, making him fearful, affecting his ability to plan.”

Talisman pictured Gargan, and once again anger flickered. He waited for it to pass. The Lord of Larness had failed against him once, when all the odds were in his favor. Can I make him do so again? wondered Talisman.

The man was full of hate yet still a mighty general and a warrior of courage, and when calm he was not stupid. The secret was to steal his calm, allowing his hatred to swamp his intellect.

Opening his eyes, Talisman rose and stared out to the west. From there he could see where the enemy would camp, at the foot of the dry hills, where there would be shade for their horses in the afternoon. Would they surround the shrine? No. They would have lancers patrol the area.

Sitting on the wall, he gazed in at the buildings and walls of the shrine. There was the resting place of Oshikai with its flat roof, a two-story dwelling beside it with ten rooms, built for pilgrims. Beyond that there was the fallen ruin of an old tower. Three of the twenty-foot walls surrounding the buildings were still strong, but this west-facing barrier with its long v-shaped crack was the weak spot; this was where the main attack would come. Gargan would send archers to pin down the defenders and foot soldiers armed with trench tools to tear at the crack, opening it out.

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