Winter Warriors by David Gemmell Page A

black man, for he knew why the charm was glowing.
    Bison surged to his feet with a menacing growl. “You slagging traitor!” he shouted at Kebra. His huge hand snatched his sword from its scabbard. The slender bowman drew a curved dagger and rose to meet him.
    “No!” shouted Nogusta, leaping toward them. The sound of his voice, deep and powerful, cut through the tension. Kebra hesitated, but Bison moved in for the kill. “Bison!” yelled Nogusta. For a moment only the giant hesitated. His eyes were glittering strangely, and his mouth was frozen into a snarl.
    “Look at me! Now!” bellowed Nogusta. Bison paused again. The cold was now almost intolerable, and Nogusta began to shiver uncontrollably. Bison turned toward him, his eyes distant. “Take my hand,” said Nogusta, reaching out. “Do it for friendship, Bison. Take my hand!”
    Bison blinked, and his expression softened for an instant. Then his anger blazed again. “I’m going to kill him!”
    “Take my hand first, then do what you must,” urged Nogusta. For a fraction of a moment he thought Bison would refuse, but then the big man reached out. Their fingers touched, and their hands gripped. Bison let out a long, shuddering sigh and fell to his knees. Kebra leapt at him. Nogusta caught the movement at the last moment. Dragging Bison back, he leapt between them, his left hand snaking out to grab Kebra’s wrist. The bowman’s face was twisted into an evil grimace, his pale eyes bulging. Nogusta hung on to the knife wrist. “Be calm, Kebra,” he said. “Be calm. It is Nogusta. It is your friend Nogusta.”
    Kebra’s twisted face relaxed, the madness ebbing away. He shuddered and dropped the knife. The room grew warmer. Nogusta released his grip on the two men. Kebra sagged to the bed.
    “I … I don’t know what came over me,” said Bison. He stumbled toward Kebra. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Truly.” Kebra said nothing. He merely sat and stared at the floor.
    The glowing light of Nogusta’s charm faded, leaving only the simple silver crescent and the golden hand that held it.
    “We have been attacked,” he said softly. “You are not at fault, Bison. Nor is Kebra.”
    The white-haired bowman glanced up. “What are you talking about?”
    “Sorcery. Did you not feel the cold in the room?” Both men shook their heads. Nogusta pulled up a chair and sat. Kebra and Bison were staring at him now. He touched the crescent charm. “This is what saved us.”
    “Have you gone mad?” asked Kebra. “It was just rage, that’s all. Bison kept on and on about me losing the tournament. We just got angry.”
    “Can you really believe that?” asked Nogusta. “You have been friends for thirty years. Never have you drawn weapons against each other. I urge you to trust me on this, my friends. Orendo told me the same thing. He said when they were in the merchant’s house, a terrible cold came upon the room, and they became full of rage and lust. That’s when they killed and raped. He said there were demons in the air. I did not believehim. I believe him now. Do you remember how you felt when you ran at Bison?”
    “I wanted to cut his heart out,” admitted Kebra.
    “And you believe now that it was really what you wanted?”
    “It felt real
then
,” said Kebra. He shook his head and wiped his hand across his face. “What did you mean about the charm saving us?”
    “Simply that. It is a ‘ward charm.’ A talisman. It has been in my family for generations.”
    “It was glowing when you reached out for me,” said Bison. “It shone like a huge diamond.”
    “I saw that,” said Kebra. “But gods, man, who would want to use sorcery against us?”
    “Malikada perhaps. Had I not been wearing the charm, my rage would have surged also. We could have killed each other.”
    “Well, let’s kill Malikada,” said Bison.
    “Good idea,” said Kebra. “Then we’ll grow magick wings and fly away free over the mountains.”
    “Well, what then?”