The Diamond Throne

so?’
    ‘I did. Pay attention, Talen.’
    ‘Did the Church Knights win the war then?’
    ‘They conquered all of Rendor, and the Eshandists finally capitulated. During their early years the militantorders were ambitious, and they began to carve Rendor up into four huge duchies. But then a far worse danger came out of the east.’
    ‘Zemoch?’ Talen guessed.
    ‘Exactly The invasion of Lamorkand came without any –’
    ‘Sparhawk!’ Kalten said sharply. ‘Up there!’ He pointed at a nearby hilltop. A dozen armed men had suddenly come riding over the crest and were crashing down through the bracken at a gallop.
    Sparhawk and Kalten drew their swords and spurred forward to meet the charge. Kurik ranged out to one side shaking a spiked chain mace free from his saddle. Berit took the other side wielding his heavy-bladed battle-axe.
    The two armoured knights crashed into the centre of the charge. Sparhawk felled two of the attackers in quick succession as Kalten chopped another out of his saddle with a rapid series of savage sword strokes. One man tried to flank them, but fell twitching as Kurik’s mace crushed in the side of his head. Sparhawk and Kalten were in the very centre of the attackers now, swinging their heavy broadswords in vast overhead strokes. Then Berit charged in from the flank, his axe crunching into the bodies of the riders on that side. After a few moments of concerted violence, the survivors broke and fled.
    ‘What was that all about?’ Kalten demanded. The blond man was red-faced and panting from his exertions.
    ‘I’ll chase one of them down and ask him, my Lord,’ Berit offered eagerly.
    ‘No,’ Sparhawk told him.
    Berit’s face fell.
    ‘A novice must not volunteer, Berit,’ Kurik told the young man sternly, ‘at least, not until he’s proficient with his weapons.’
    ‘I did all right, Kurik,’ Berit protested.
    ‘Only because these people weren’t very good,’ Kurik said. ‘Your swings are too wide, Berit. You leave yourself open for counterstrokes. When we get to my farm in Demos, I’ll give you some more instruction.’
    ‘Sparhawk!’ Sephrenia cried from the bottom of the hill.
    Sparhawk spun Faran quickly around and saw five men on foot wearing the rough smocks of Styrics running out of the bushes beside the road towards Sephrenia, Dolmant, and Talen. He swore and drove his spurs into Faran’s flanks.
    It quickly became obvious that the Styrics were trying to reach Sephrenia and Flute. Sephrenia, however, was not utterly defenceless. One of the Styrics fell squealing to the ground, clutching at his belly. Another dropped to his knees, clawing at his eyes. The other three faltered, fatally as it turned out, because by then Sparhawk was there He sent one man’s head flying with a single swipe of his sword, then drove his blade into the chest of another. The last Styric tried to flee, but Faran took the bit between his teeth and ran him down with three quick bounds and trampled him into the earth with his steel-shod forehooves.
    ‘There!’ Sephrenia said sharply, pointing at the hilltop. A robed and hooded figure sat astride a pale horse, watching. Even as the small Styric woman began her incantation, the figure turned and rode back over the hill and out of sight.
    ‘Who were they?’ Kalten asked as he joined them on the road.
    ‘Mercenaries,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘You could tell by their armour.’
    ‘Was that one up on the hill the leader?’ Dolmant asked.
    Sephrenia nodded.
    ‘He was a Styric, wasn’t he?’
    ‘Perhaps, but perhaps something else I sensed something familiar about him. Once before something tried to attack the little girl. Whatever it was, it was driven off. This time it tried more direct means.’ Her face grew dreadfully serious. ‘Sparhawk,’ she said, ‘I think we should ride on to Demos as quickly as we can. It’s very dangerous out here in the open.’
    ‘We could question the wounded,’ he suggested. ‘Maybe they could tell us something about this mysterious Styric who seems so interested in you and Flute’
    ‘They won’t be able to tell you anything, Sparhawk,’ she disagreed. ‘If what was up there on that hill was what I think it was, they won’t even have any memory of it.’
    ‘All right,’ he decided, ‘let’s ride then.’
    It was midafternoon when they reached Kurik’s substantial farmstead just outside Demos. The farm showed Kurik’s careful attention to detail. The logs forming the wall of his