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

Zhu Chao smiled. 'Men like Karnak are rare indeed. They have power, deep elemental strength. He will be a worthy gift to Shemak, as will the Emperor. Two lords beneath the sacrificial knife. When has our master known such a sacrifice? And I shall enjoy watching both men beg for their lives.'

'And the Source priests?' enquired a second officer, a slim man with thinning, shoulder-length grey hair.

'Dardalion and his comical troop?' Zhu Chao gave a dry laugh. 'Tonight, Casta. Use sixty men. Destroy their souls as they sleep.'

'I am concerned, lord,' said Innicas, 'about the man, Waylander. Was he not allied with Dardalion many years ago?'

'He is a killer. No more, no less. He has no understand­ing of the mystic arts.'

'He slew nine of our warriors,' pointed out Casta.

'He has a step-daughter, Miriel. It is she who has Talent. And with him were two arena warriors named Senta and Angel. Also there was the renegade Belash. The timing of the attack was unfortunate, but they will not survive a second assault – that I promise you.'

'I mean no disrespect, sir, but this Waylander does seem to show a spectacular talent for survival,' said Innicas. 'Do we know where he is?'

'At this moment he is being pursued through Sathuli lands. He is wounded, alone – save for a mangy hound – and has little food and no water. The hunters are closing in. We shall see how far his talent for survival can be stretched.'

'And the girl?' asked the grey-haired Casta.

'At Dros Delnoch. But she will join Kesa Khan. She will be at Kar-Barzac.'

'You want her taken alive?' asked Melchidak.

'It matters not to me,' answered Zhu Chao, 'but if she is then give her to the men. Let them amuse themselves. When they are done, sacrifice her to the master.'

'You spoke, lord, of the power of the Elders and immortality,' said Casta. 'What awaits us at Kar-Barzac?'

Zhu Chao smiled. 'One day at a time, Casta. When the Nadir wolves are dead I will show you the Crystal Chamber.'

Ekodas lay in his pallet bed listening to the sounds of the night, the flapping of bats' wings beyond the open window, the sibilant sighing of the winds of winter. It was cold, and the single blanket did little to retain body heat.

In the next bed Duris was snoring. Ekodas lay awake, ignoring the cold, his thoughts focused on the Nadir woman, Shia. He wondered where she was, and whether she had found her brother. He sighed and opened his eyes. Moonlight was casting deep shadows from the rafters of the rough-wrought ceiling and a winter moth was flitting between the beams.

Closing his eyes once more Ekodas sought the freedom of flight. As usual this proved difficult, but at last he soared free of his body and floated alongside the moth, gazing down on his sleeping comrades. The moon was shining in a cloudless sky as he flew from the temple, and the country­side was bathed in spectral light.

'Are you restless, brother?' asked Magnic, appearing alongside him.

'Yes,' he answered.

'As am I. But it is silent here, and we are free of the flesh.' It was true and Ekodas acknowledged it. The world was a different place when viewed through spirit eyes, tranquil and beautiful, eternal and almost sentient. 'You spoke well, Ekodas. You surprised me.'

'I surprised myself,' he admitted. 'Though, as I am sure you are aware, I am not totally convinced – even by my own arguments.'

'I think none of us are truly sure,' said Magnic softly, 'but there must be balance. Without it harmony cannot be found. I fear the Brotherhood, and I loathe and despise all they stand for. You know why?'

'Tell me.'

'Because I long for such pleasures myself. Deep in me I can see the attraction of evil, Ekodas. We are stronger than normal men. Our Talents could earn us fame, riches and all the pleasures known to man. And in my quiet moments I know that I lust for these things.'

'You are not responsible for your desires,' said Ekodas. 'They are primal, a part of being human. Only if we act upon them do we sin.'

'I know that, but it is why I could not take up the staff. I could never be a priest of love, never. At some time in the future I would succumb to my desires. This is why the Thirty is for me. I have no future, save with the Source. You are different, my friend. You are strong. Like Dardalion once was.'

'You thought me a coward,' pointed out Ekodas.

Magnic smiled. 'Yes, but I was seeing only my own lack of courage. Transferring it to you.' He sighed. 'Now that our way is set I see everything differently. And now I must continue my watch.' Magnic vanished and Ekodas floated alone in the night sky. The temple below was grey and forbidding, its turrets rearing against the sky like upraised fists.

'It is still a fortress,' Shia had said. And so it was. Just like us, Ekodas realised. Prayer within, might without. There was comfort in the thought, for a fortress, no matter how many spears, swords and arrows were con­tained within it, could never be an offensive weapon.

He soared higher and to the north, through thin, misty clouds that were forming above the mountains. Below him now the mighty fortress of Dros Delnoch spanned the pass.

He floated down. On the last wall he saw a tall, dark-haired woman, sitting beside a handsome golden-haired man. The man reached out to take the woman's hand, but she drew back, turning her head to gaze up at Ekodas.

'Who are you?' she asked him, her spirit voice loud as thunder within him. Ekodas was astonished and suddenly disconcerted. Swiftly he flew high and away from the fortress. Such power! His mind reeled.

Just then a terrible scream filled his ears. Brief, agonis­ing, and then terminated. He sped for the temple.

A man appeared alongside him, a blade of fire in his hand. Ekodas twisted in the air, the sword hissing by him. He reacted without conscious thought, the long years of his training and Dardalion's endlessly patient tuition, coming together in an instant to save his life. 'In spirit form,' Dardalion had told them, 'we are naked and unarmed. But I will teach you to craft armour from faith, swords from courage and shields made from belief. Then you will stand against the demons of the dark, and the men who aspire to be like them.'

Ekodas armoured himself with a shining breastplate of silver, a glimmering shield appearing on his left forearm. He parried the next blow with his own sword of silver light.

His opponent was protected by black armour and a full-faced helm. Ekodas blocked a thrust then sent his own blade cleaving into the man's neck. The sword of light flashed through the dark armour like sunlight piercing a storm cloud. There was no blood. No scream of pain. His assailant merely disappeared without a sound. But Ekodas knew that wherever the man's body lay the heart had stopped beating, and only a silent, unmarked corpse would lie witness to the battle beneath the stars.

Ekodas flew on to the temple. 'Dardalion!' he pulsed, using all his power. 'Dardalion!'

Three opponents appeared around him. The first he slew with a slashing cut across the belly, the silver sword slicing through the dark armour with terrible ease. The second he killed with a riposte to the head. The third loomed behind him, blade raised.

Vishna appeared, lancing his sword through the man's back. More warriors appeared above the temple, and the Thirty gathered, silver against black, swords of light against blades of fire.

Ekodas fought on, his sword forming glittering arcs of white light as it clove into the enemy. Beside him Vishna battled with controlled fury. All around them the battle raged in an awful silence.

And then it was over.

Weary beyond anything he had ever experienced, Ekodas returned to his body and sat up. He reached over to Duris, but the man was dead. So too was Branic in the far bed.