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

You must be insane, he told himself. He started to walk, but the gelding held back. The wind was whistling across the mountain face and the horse wanted no part of such a venture.

'Come on, boy!' urged Waylander, tugging on the reins. But the gelding would not move. Behind the horse Scar let out a deep, menacing growl. The gelding leapt forward, almost sending Waylander over the edge. He swayed on the brink, but his hold on the reins saved him and he pulled himself back to safety. The ledge wound on around the mountain face for almost a quarter of a mile until, just beyond a bend, it was split by a steep scree slope leading down into the valley.

Waylander took a deep breath, and was just about to step on to the scree, when Scar growled again. The horse lurched forward, pulling the reins from Waylander's hand. The beast hit the scree head-first, and tumbled down the slope. An arrow flashed past Waylander's head. Spinning, he drew two knives. Scar leapt to attack the first Sathuli to come into sight around the bend behind them. The hound's great jaws snapped at the archer's face. Dropping his bow the warrior threw himself back, cannoning into a second man, who fell from the ledge, his scream echoing away. Scar hurled himself upon the first man, fangs locking to the man's forearm.

Waylander moved closer to the rock-face as a third Sathuli edged into sight. The warrior raised his tulwar over the hound. Waylander's arm snapped forward, the black-bladed knife slicing between the man's ribs. With a grunt he dropped the tulwar and fell to his knees, before toppling to his face in the snow.

'Here, Scar!' shouted Waylander. For a moment only the dog continued to rip and tear at the first Sathuli, but when Waylander called again it released its grip and backed away. Unhooking the small crossbow from his belt Waylander loaded it and waited. The man with the injured arm was lying on the brink of the precipice, breathing hoarsely. The other warrior was dead.

'Who is leader here?' called Waylander, in halting Sathuli.

'Jitsan,' came the reply. 'And I speak your tongue better than you do mine.'

'Do you like to wager?'

'On what?'

'On how long your friend there lives if you do not come for him and bind his wounds.'

'Speak plainly, Drenai!'

'I am passing through. I am no danger to the Sathuli. Nor am I a soldier. Give me your word the hunt will cease and I will leave here now. You can rescue your friend. If not, I wait. We fight. He dies.'

'If you wait you die,' shouted Jitsan.

'Even so,' answered Waylander. The injured man groaned and tried to roll himself from the ledge to certain death on the rocks below. It was a brave move, and Waylander found himself admiring the warrior. Jitsan called out to him in Sathuli and the man ceased his struggle.

'Very well, Drenai, you have my word.' Jitsan stepped into sight, his sword sheathed.

Waylander flicked the bolts from the crossbow and loosed the strings. 'Let's go, dog,' he said, and leapt to the scree, sliding down the slope on his haunches. Scar followed him instantly, tumbling and rolling past his master.

But Waylander had misjudged the speed of the descent and he lost his grip on the crossbow as he struck a hidden rock which catapulted him into the air, spinning and cartwheeling. Relaxing his muscles he rolled himself into a ball and prayed he would not strike a tree or a boulder.

At last the dizzying fall slowed and he came to a stop in a deep drift of snow. His body was bruised and aching, and two of his knives had fallen from their sheaths. Curiously his sword was still in its scabbard. He sat up. His head was spinning, and he felt a rush of nausea. After it had passed he pushed himself to his knees. As well as the two knives, his crossbow quiver was empty, his leggings were torn and his right thigh was gashed and bleeding.

To his right lay the gelding, its neck broken in the fall. Waylander took a long, deep breath, his fingers probing at his bruised ribs. Nothing seemed broken. Scar padded over to him, licking his face. The stitches on the dog's side had opened and a thin trickle of blood was oozing from the wound.

'Well, we made it, boy,' said Waylander. Slowly and with great care he stood. Several of his crossbow bolts and one of his knives lay nearby, close to the dead gelding. Gathering the weapons he searched around the snow for his knife, but could not find it. Scar ran back up the slope and returned with the crossbow in his jaws.

A second search left Waylander with twelve bolts and one knife recovered. The gash in his leg was not deep, requiring no stitches, but he bound the wound with a bandage taken from his saddlebag and then sat on a jutting rock and shared some dried meat with the hound.

High above him he saw the signal smoke. Reaching down he stroked Scar's huge head. 'You just can't trust the Sathuli,' he said. The hound twisted its head and licked the man's hand.

Waylander stood and surveyed the valley. The snow was deep here, but the way to Senac Pass lay open.

Lifting the food sack from the dead horse he set off towards the north.

Slowly the six hundred black-cloaked warriors filed into the huge hall, forming twenty ranks before the dais on which stood Zhu Chao and his six captains. Red lanterns glowed with crimson light and shadows flickered across the great curving beams of the high ceiling.

All was silent. Zhu Chao spread wide his arms, his caped gown arching down from his shoulders like the wings of a demon. 'The day is here, comrades!' he shouted. 'Tomorrow the Ventrians attack Purdol and the pass at Skein. Gothir troops will then march on the Sentran Plain. And five thousand soldiers will obliterate the Nadir wolves, bringing us the treasures of Kar-Barzac.

'Within the month all three great nations will be ruled by the Brotherhood. And we will have the power our strength and our faith deserves.

'The Days of Blood are here! The days when, for us, the only law will be to do as we will, wherever we choose.' A thunderous roar rose up from the ranks, but he quelled it with a swift wave of his hand. 'We are talking about power, comrades. The Elder Races did not understand the power they held. The oceans drank their cities, and their culture is all but lost to us.

'But there is one great centre of their might, named in all the grimoires. In the Mountains of the Moon lies the citadel of Kar-Barzac. The arcane strength of the Elders still flows there, and with it we will find not only the instruments to maintain our rule, but the secret of immortality. Win this war and we will live forever, our dreams made true, our lusts sated, our desires fulfilled.' This time he let the cheering mount, and stood arms folded, drinking in the adulation. Gradually the sound died away. Zhu Chao spoke again.

'To those who are chosen to ride against the Wolves I say this: kill them all, and their whores and their brats. Leave nothing alive. Burn their bodies and grind their bones to powder. Consign their dreams to the ashes of history!'

As the renewed cheering died down he strode from the dais, exiting the hall through a small side door. Followed by his captains he made his way to a suite of rooms in the western wing of the palace. Here he stretched himself out on a couch and bade his officers sit around him.

'The plans are all set?' he asked the first of his officers, Innicas, a wide-shouldered albino in his mid-forties, with a forked white beard and a jagged scar across his brow. His long hair was braided and his pink eyes, unblinking, shone with a cold light.

'Yes, lord. Galen will see Karnak delivered to us. He has convinced him to meet with the Sathuli chieftain. He will be captured and delivered alive to Gulgothir. But tell me, lord, why do we need him? Why not just slit his throat and be done with it?'