David Gemmell - Waylander III - Hero In The Shadows

On the last morning, as several hundred Kriaz-nor were climbing towards their camp, Ustarte gathered the remaining twenty followers around her. 'Stay close to me,' she ordered her people, 'and follow when I move.' Reaching out she pictured the gateway as she had seen it in Deresh Karany's thoughts.

The air rippled. Ustarte threw out her arms. 'Now!' she cried, just as the Kriaz-nor burst upon the camp. Ustarte stepped forward. Bright lights in a score of colours flickered around her. As they faded she found herself standing within a green clearing in the shadow of a line of tall cliffs. The sun was shining brightly in a clear blue sky. Only nine of her followers made it through with her. Startled Kriaz-nor warriors were standing close by. Ahead was a huge stone arch, cut into the cliff. Beneath the arch the rock was glowing, ripples of blue lightning flashing across it. The Kriaz-nor rushed at them. Ustarte leapt towards the arch. Prial, Menias, Corvidal and Sheetza, a young girl with the scaled skin of a lizard, ran with her. The others charged the Kriaz-nor.

Throwing out her arms, Ustarte summoned all of her power. For an instant only the rock before her faded, and through it she saw moonlight over a series of ghostly ruins. As it began to fade she, and the last of her followers, stepped through.

Behind her the gateway closed, only bare rock remaining.

Sheetza stumbled and fell. Ustarte saw that a knife was embedded in her back. The deformed girl was unconscious. Ustarte drew out the blade and threw it aside. Then she laid her hands over the wound, sealing it. Sheetza's heart was no longer beating. Concentrating her power Ustarte set the girl's blood flowing. Sheetza opened her eyes. 'I thought I was stabbed,' she said, her voice sibilant. 'But there is no pain. Are we safe now?'

'We are safe,' said Ustarte, feeling for the girl's pulse. There was none. Only Ustarte's magic kept the blood flowing. She was, in effect, already dead.

In the distance Ustarte saw a glimmering lake. The small group made their way to it. Corvidal went for a swim with Sheetza. The girl moved through the water with the grace of a dolphin. When she emerged she was laughing. She sat down at the water's edge and splashed Menias. He ran forward and grabbed her and they both fell into the water.

Ustarte moved away from them. Prial came and sat with her. 'Maybe some of the others got away,' he said.

Ustarte did not answer. She was watching Sheetza. 'I didn't know you were also a healer,' he said.

'I am not. Sheetza is dying. Her heart was pierced.'

'But she is swimming,' said Prial.

'When the magic fades she will pass away. A few hours. A day. I don't know.'

'Oh, Great One! Why are we so cursed? Did we commit some vile sins in a past life?'

That night Ustarte sat talking with Sheetza. The priestess could feel the magic in the girl fading. She tried to add more power to it, but to no avail. Sheetza grew sleepy and lay down. 'What will we do in this world, Great One?' asked Sheetza.

'We will save it,' answered Ustarte. 'We will thwart the foul plans of Deresh Karany.'

'Will the people here accept me?'

'When they know you they will love you, Sheetza, as we love you.' Sheetza had smiled, and fallen asleep. Some time in the night, as Ustarte lay beside her, the lizard girl finally died.

Still lost in thought, Ustarte did not notice Waylander move alongside – not until he laid his hand on her shoulder.

'I was very arrogant to believe I could stand against Deresh Karany and the Seven,' she said. 'Arrogant and stupid.'

'Rather let us say brave and unselfish,' said Waylander. 'But do not judge yourself yet. Tomorrow Emrin and Keeva will take the lad over the high passes and try to make it to the capital. Once they are safely on the road I shall put your magicker's immortality to the test.'

'You must not go against him, Grey Man.'

'I don't have a choice.'

'We all have choices. Why throw your life away needlessly? He cannot die.'

'It is not about him, Ustarte. These men have killed my people, and tortured my friend. What kind of a man would I be if I did not fight them?'

'I do not want to see you die,' she said. 'I have seen too much death already.'

'I have lived long, Ustarte. Perhaps too long. Many better men are now below ground. Death does not frighten me. But even if I were to accept what you say about the folly of hunting Deresh Karany, there is one fact I cannot ignore. Matze Chai is still their prisoner. And I do not desert my friends.'

Lord Aric of House Kilraith lounged back in the carriage and stared idly out of the window at the houses along the Avenue of Pines. There were few people on the streets of Carlis. The massacre of the Duke and his followers had been shocking enough, but to learn that demons were responsible had terrified the population. Most stayed behind locked doors, rediscovering the delights of prayer. Several hundred families were congregated within the temple, believing its walls would keep out all evil spirits. They were hoping for an appearance from Chardyn, but the priest had wisely gone into hiding.

The carriage moved on through the deserted town.

Aric's mood was not good. As he had told Eldicar Manushan, he was bored. It was impolite of the man to have forbidden him to see the torture of the Chiatze. There was something about screams of pain that cut through the malaise Aric had been suffering for some while.

His spirits lifted a little as he thought of Lalitia, remembering the slim, red-haired girl he had discovered in the prison. She had courage and ambition, and a body she had soon learnt how to use. Those had been good days, he thought.

Aric had been lord of the Crescent then, enjoying a fine life on the taxes he received from the farmers and fishermen. But not so fine as some of the other nobles, notably Ruall, whose income was ten times that of Aric. One night, at the old Duke's palace in Masyn, Aric had taken part in a gambling tourney. He had won twenty thousand gold pieces. Ruall had been the biggest loser. From being moderately wealthy Aric had suddenly become, in his own eyes at least, rich. He had spent like a man with ten hands, and within a year had debts at least the equal of the money he had won. So he gambled again, and this time lost heavily. The more he lost, the greater he gambled.

He had been saved from destitution only by the death of the old Duke and the accession of Elphons. This, in turn, allowed Aric to assume the lordship of Kilraith. With the new funds from taxes he was able at least to maintain the interest on his debts.

The arrival of the Grey Man had been his salvation. He had leased the mysterious stranger the lands of the Crescent, against ten years of taxation. It should have been enough to allow Aric freedom from debt. And it would have – had he not accepted Ruall's wager of forty thousand gold pieces on a single horse-race. Aric had been delighted for, though the two horses were evenly matched, Aric had already paid a stable-boy to feed Ruall's thoroughbred a potion that would seriously affect its stamina. The potion had worked better than expected, and the horse had died during the night. So Ruall had substituted another racing mount. Aric could not object. The new horse had beaten Aric's racer by half a length.

The memory still galled, and was made only slightly less bitter by the recollection of Ruall's death, the look of surprise as the black sword sliced into him, and the expression of dreadful agony as life fled from him.

Aric recalled the night Eldicar Manushan had appeared at his door, the beautiful child beside him. It had been almost midnight. Aric had been mildly drunk, and his head was pounding. He swore at the servant who announced the visitors, hurling his goblet at the man and missing him by a yard. The black-bearded magicker had strolled into the Long Room, bowed once, then approached the bleary-eyed noble. 'I see that you are suffering, my lord,' he said. 'Let us remove that head pain.' He had reached out and touched Aric on the brow. It was as if a cooling breeze was flowing inside Aric's head. He felt wonderful. Better than he had in years.