The Damned 02 - The Swords Of Night and Day by David Gemmell Read Free Book Online Page B

ignored the tone and sat down on the log beside him.
    He tried not to look at her, and struggled to avoid reacting to the fact that her leg was touching his. It was impossible. With a heavy sigh he put down his bread.
    ‘What do you want from me?’ he asked, trying to sound angry.
    ‘They are going to hurt him,’ she said. ‘It is not right.’
    Harad glanced across to the fight. The young logger, Arin, was battling gamely, but the High Valley man he was fighting was taller and heavier. There was blood on Arin’s cheek, and his lower lip had been split. A crowd had gathered. They were shouting encouragement to the combatants.
    ‘What is the fight about?’ he asked.

    ‘The High Valley man made a comment about Kerena.’
    Harad switched his gaze to Arin’s young wife, a plump girl with dark blond hair. She was standing some distance from the fighters, her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and frightened.
    ‘So are you going to stop it?’ asked Charis.
    ‘Why should I? It is not my fight. Anyway, the man is defending his wife’s honour. That’s as it should be.’
    ‘You know what will happen if Arin wins,’ said Charis.
    Harad said nothing, returning his attention to the fight. The High Valley man was called Lathar. He and his two brothers were known troublemakers. Tough men, and brutal, they were constantly involved in scuffles and fights. Harad knew what Charis meant. If Arin was to beat Lathar, then his brothers would pitch in.
    No-one would stop them. And Arin would take a severe beating.
    ‘It is not my problem,’ said Harad. ‘Why do you seek to make it so?’
    ‘Why do you set yourself apart?’ she countered.
    Harad felt his anger rising. ‘You are an irritating woman.’
    ‘I’m glad you’ve noticed I’m a woman.’
    ‘What does that mean? Of course I know you’re a woman.’ Harad was growing increasingly uncomfortable. A great cheer went up as Arin landed a powerful right cross on Lathar’s chin. The High Valley man stumbled back. Arin surged in after him. One of Lathar’s brothers, a stocky bearded man named Garik, thrust out a foot. Arin tripped over it and tumbled to the ground. It gave Lathar a few moments to recover.
    ‘See!’ said Charis. ‘It is beginning.’
    Harad turned towards her, looking into her deep blue eyes. He felt the breath catch in his throat.
    Hastily he looked away. ‘Why do you care?’ he asked. ‘Arin is not your husband.’
    ‘Why do you not?’
    ‘Can you never answer a damned question? Always you have one of your own. Why should I care?
    Arin is not my friend. None of them are.’
    ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Harad the Loner. Harad the Bonebreaker. Harad the Bitter.’
    ‘I am not bitter. I just . . . prefer my own company.’
    ‘Why is that?’
    Harad surged to his feet. ‘When will you stop these questions?’ he thundered. At that moment Lathar was knocked from his feet. He struggled to rise as Arin stood over him. Another brother, a tall pockmarked lout named Vaska, ran in from behind, punching Arin in the neck. The burly Garik joined in, kicking Arin in the hip. The young logger, surprised by the sudden assault, fell heavily.
    Harad stalked across the clearing. ‘Back off!’ he roared.

    Vaska and Garik turned away from the fallen Arin. Lathar himself was back on his feet. Harad moved in close, pushing past them. Arin was sitting on the ground, looking groggy. Just as Harad reached out to lift him to his feet he heard movement from behind. Harad turned. Garik rushed at him, his fist drawn back. Harad stood still. He could have avoided the blow. Instead he merely thrust out his chin. The High Valley man’s fist hammered against Harad’s face. Harad stared hard at the man who had struck him, noting with some satisfaction the sudden fear in Garik’s eyes. ‘Not the best idea you’ve ever had, pig-face,’ he said. His right hand flashed out, grabbing the attacker’s tunic. With one swift tug he pulled him into a head butt which smashed