David Gemmell - Waylander II - In The Realm of the Wolf

'Merlon churned the butter,' said Glendrin, sitting down at the table. 'But I'll wager he ate half of it.'

'You have flour in your beard,' Ekodas pointed out. 'It makes you look older than time.'

Glendrin grinned and rubbed his hand across the red trident beard. 'You think the woman was sent?' he asked.

Ekodas shrugged. 'If she was she came to haunt me,' he answered.

Glendrin chuckled. 'You'll need those ten blessings Merlon promised you,' he said, wagging a finger at his friend. 'Carnal thoughts are a sin!'

'How do you deal with them?' asked Ekodas.

Glendrin's smile faded. 'I don't,' he admitted. 'Now let us get on.'

Together they prepared the cheese, drew fresh water from the well, and carried the food through to the dining-hall, setting out the plates and cutlery, jugs and goblets.

Then Ekodas prepared a tray of bread and cheese for Shia, feeling his excitement rise at the prospect of seeing her once more. 'I cannot find the apple juice,' he told Glendrin.

'We finished it yesterday.'

'But I promised her some.'

Glendrin shook his head. 'Then I would imagine she will despise you for the rest of your life,' said the red-headed priest.

'Fool!' replied Ekodas, placing a jug of water and a clay goblet upon the tray.

'Do not be too long with her,' advised Glendrin. Ekodas did not reply.

Leaving the heat of the kitchen he climbed the cold stone stairwell and made his way to Shia's room. Balancing the tray on his left arm he opened the door. The Nadir woman was asleep on the floor before the dead fire, her head resting on her elbow, her legs drawn up, her body bathed in the last of the moonlight.

'Good morning,' said Ekodas. She gave a low groan, stretched, then sat. Her hair was unbraided now, hanging dark and lustrous to her shoulders. 'I have some breakfast for you.'

'Did you dream of me?' she asked, her voice husky from sleep.

'There is no apple juice,' he told her. 'But the water is fresh and cold.'

"Then you did, prayer-man. Were they good dreams?'

'You should not speak this way to a priest,' he admonished her.

She laughed at him, and his face reddened. 'You kol-isha are a strange people.' Rising smoothly she walked to the bed, sitting cross-legged upon it. Taking the loaf she tore off a chunk and tasted it. 'Needs salt,' she said. He poured her a goblet of water and passed it to her. Her hand reached out, her fingers stroking his skin. 'Soft hands,' she whispered. 'Soft skin. Like a child.' Then she took the goblet and sipped the water.

'Why did you come here?' he asked.

'You brought me,' she told him, dipping her finger into the bowl of butter and licking it.

'Were you sent?'

'Yes. By my shaman, Kesa Khan. To fetch my brother home. But you know this.'

'Yes, but I just wondered...

'Wondered what?'

'Ah, it does not matter. Enjoy your breakfast. The Abbot will see you before you leave. He will tell you where to find Belash.'

'There is still time, prayer-man,' she whispered, reaching out and taking his hand. He snatched it back.

'Please do not speak like this,' he pleaded. 'I find you. . . very unsettling.'

'You desire me.' It was a statement, accompanied by a smile.

Ekodas closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to compose his thoughts. 'Yes. But that in itself is not a sin, I believe.'

'Sin?'

'A wrong action . . . like a crime.'

'Like stealing the pony of your brother?' she enquired.

'Yes, exactly. That would be a sin. Indeed any theft, or lie, or malicious action is a sin.'

She nodded slowly. 'Why then is lovemaking a sin? Where is the theft? The lie? Or the malice?'

'It does not have to be just these actions,' he said, his voice close to a stammer. 'It is also the breaking of rules, or oaths. Each of us here made a promise to the Source. It would be breaking that promise.'

'Did your god ask you to make this promise?'

'No, but. . .'

'Then who did?'

He spread his hands. 'It is a part of our tradition. You understand? Rules made by holy men many centuries ago.'

'Ah, it is in the writings, then.'

'Exactly so.'

'We have no writings,' she said brightly. 'So we live and laugh, we make love and we fight. No diseases of the belly, no head pains, no bad dreams. Our god speaks to us from the land, not in writings.'

'It is the same god,' he assured her.

She shook her head. 'No, prayer-man, I don't think so. Our god is strong.'

'Will he save your people from the Gothir?' snapped Ekodas, before he could stop himself. 'I'm sorry! It was a thoughtless question. Please forgive me.'

'There is nothing to forgive, for you do not understand, Ekodas. Our god is the land, and the land makes us strong. We will fight. And we will either conquer or die. It does not matter to the land whether we win or lose, for alive or dead we are at one with it. The Nadir are the land.'

'Can you win?' he asked softly.

'Will you be sorry when I am dead?' she countered.

'Yes,' he told her, without hesitation.

Smoothly she rolled to her feet and moved in close to him, her arm circling his neck. Her lips brushed his cheek. 'Foolish Ekodas,' she whispered. Then she released him.

'Why am I foolish?' he asked.

'Take me to the Abbot. I wish to leave now.'

Waylander reined in the black gelding and dismounted, walking the last few paces to the crest of the hill where he bellied down and studied the line of mountains stretching from west to east across the great Sentran Plain. The hound Scar padded up the hill, stretching out alongside him.

There were three routes to the north, but which one should they take? North-east lay the Delnoch Pass, with its new six-walled fortress. That was the direct road to Gulgothir and the Mountains of the Moon, but would the commanding officer have been warned to watch for Waylander?

He sighed and swung his gaze to the north and the high lonely passes inhabited by Sathuli tribesmen, long-time enemies of the Drenai. No wagons passed through their lands, no convoys, no travellers. Ferocious fighters, the Sathuli lived their lives in isolation from the civilisations of both Gothir and Drenai.

Lastly there was Dros Purdol, the harbour fortress, far to the east. But beyond that was the great desert of Namib. Waylander had crossed it before. Twice. He had no wish to see it again.

No. He would have to risk Delnoch.

Just as he was about to push back from the skyline he caught a glint of light to the east. Remaining where he was he waited, eyes focused on the distant tree line. A column of riders appeared, lances held to the vertical, sunlight gleaming from the polished iron helms and weapons. There were some thirty lancers, moving slowly, conserving the strength of their mounts.

Waylander eased back from the crest then rose and walked to where the others waited. Scar followed, keeping close to Waylander's side. 'We'll wait here for an hour,' he said, 'then we'll make for Delnoch.'

'You see anything?' asked Angel.

'Lancers. They are riding for the fortress.'

'You think they might be looking for us?' put in Senta.

Waylander shrugged. 'Who knows? Karnak is anxious to see me dead. By now my description could be with every army unit within fifty miles.'

Miriel rose and strolled to the hilltop, crouching behind a screen of gorse to gaze down on the lancers. For some minutes she remained motionless, then returned to the group. 'The officer is Dun Egan,' she told Waylander. 'He is tired and hungry, and thinking about a woman he knows in a tavern by Wall Two. And yes, he has your description. Twenty of his men are behind us, to the south-west. They have orders to apprehend you.'

'What now?' asked Angel.

Waylander's expression was grim. 'Across the mountains,' he said at last.