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

That was the day Waylander's world had changed. He had rescued the priest, then been drawn into the eternal battle, Light against Dark, Harmony against Chaos. And he had met Danyal. He groaned and rolled again, his body weary, muscles aching.

Stop dwelling on the past, he told himself. Think about tomorrow. Just tomorrow. He would find a way into the Mountains of the Moon. He would stand beside Miriel and Angel and do that which he did best. He would fight.

He would kill.

Sleep took him by surprise, and his soul drifted into darkness.

The walls were clammy, the corridor dark and claustrophobic. Waylander blinked and tried to remember how he had come here. It was so hard to concentrate. Was he looking for something? Someone?

There were no doors or windows, just this endless tunnel. Cold water was soaking through his boots as he waded on.

I am lost, he thought.

There was no source of light, and yet he could see.

Stairs. Must look for stairs. Fear touched him, but he suppressed it ruthlessly. Stay calm! Think! He moved on. Something white caught his eye on the far wall. There was an alcove there. Splashing across the streaming water he saw a skeleton, rusty chains holding it to the wall. The ligaments and tendons had not yet rotted and the thing was intact, save for the left leg, which had parted at the knee. Something moved within the ribcage and Waylander saw two rats had made a nest there.

'Welcome,' said a voice. Waylander stepped back in shock. The head was no longer a skull but a handsome face, framed in golden hair. It smiled at him. Waylander's heart was beating wildly and he reached for his crossbow. Only then did he realise he was weaponless. 'Welcome to my home,' said the handsome head.

'I am dreaming!'

'Perhaps,' agreed the head. A rat pushed its way through the gaping ribcage and sprang to a nearby shelf of stone.

'Where is this place?' asked Waylander.

The head laughed, the sound echoing away into the tunnel. 'Well, let us think . . . Does it look to you like paradise?'

'No.'

'Then it must be somewhere else. But one mustn't complain, must one? It is pleasant to have a visitor after so long. The rats are company, of course, but their conversation is rather limited.'

'How do I get out of here?'

The head smiled, and Waylander saw the pale eyes widen, a gleam of triumph showing there. Waylander spun. A sword lunged for his throat. Swaying aside he slammed his fist into a face out of nightmare. His assailant fell back into the water, but rose swiftly. He looked like a man, save that his skin was scaled, his eyes huge and set, like a fish, on either side of his head. He had no nose, merely slits in the skin of his face, and his mouth was shaped like an inverted V, lipless and rimmed with fangs.

The creature leapt forward. Waylander reached out, his fingers curling around one of the skeletons ribs, and snapping it clear. The sword slashed down. Waylander sidestepped the blow and rammed the broken rib into the creature's chest. Dropping the sword it let out a terrible howl. And disappeared.

Waylander scooped up the sword and swung back to the skeleton. The handsome head was no longer visible. The rotting skull sagged against the vertebrae and toppled into the murky water.

Sword in hand Waylander moved on, every sense alert.

The tunnel widened and he saw an arch of stone and a path leading to a stairwell. An old man was sitting on the first stair. His robes were old and covered in mildew and mould. In his hands was a sphere of transparent crystal, a white light shining at the centre.

Waylander approached him.

'This is your soul,' said the old man, holding up the crystal. 'If I drop it, or break it, or crush it, you will never leave here. You will wander these tunnels for eternity. Go back the way you have come.'

'I wish to climb those stairs, old man. Step aside.'

'One step towards me and your soul perishes!' warned the old man, holding the crystal high. Waylander sprang forward, his sword smashing through the crystal, sending glittering shards to the water. The old man fell back. 'How did you know?' he moaned.

'My soul is my own,' answered Waylander. The old man vanished.

And the stairs beckoned.

Waylander edged forward. The stairwell walls shimmered with a faintly green light, the stairs glistening as if oiled. He took a long deep breath then ventured on to the first step. Then the second. Arms swept out from the walls, hooked fingers and talons reaching for him. The sword slashed down, hacking through a scaled wrist. Fingers grabbed at his black leather tunic. Tearing himself free he forced his way up the stairwell, the sword-blade hacking a path through the writhing, questing limbs.

At the top of the stairs was a square landing. There were two doors, one edged with gold and part-open, the other guarded by a huge three-headed serpent, whose coils rose up around the frame. The part-open door showed a shaft of sunlight, warm and welcoming, beckoning the man. Waylander ignored it, his eyes fixed to the serpent. Its mouths were cavernous, each showing twin fangs more than a foot long. Venom dripped from them, splashing to the stone of the landing, bubbling and hissing.

A figure in a robe of light appeared at the part-open door. 'Come this way. Quickly!' said the figure, a friendly-faced man with white hair and kindly blue eyes. 'Come to the light!' Waylander moved towards him, as if to comply, but once close enough he reached out, pulling the man forward by his robes, then hurling him at the serpent. Two of the heads darted forward, the first closing on the man's shoulder, the second sinking its fangs into his leg. The victim's screams filled the air.

As Waylander leapt past the struggling man the third head lunged down. Waylander's sword smote it in the eye. Black blood bubbled from the wound and the head withdrew. Throwing his shoulder against the door Waylander felt the wood give way, and he fell into a wide hall. Rolling to his feet he saw a man waiting for him, sword in hand.

It was Morak.

'No dying dog to save you now!' said the dead assassin.

'I don't need help for the likes of you,' Waylander told him. 'You were nothing then. You are less than nothing now.'

Morak's face twisted and he ran to the attack. Waylander sidestepped, parried the lunge then sent a riposte that almost tore Morak's head from his neck. The assassin staggered then righted himself, his head hanging at an obscene angle.

'How do you kill a dead man?' he mocked. Morak attacked again. Waylander parried and once more chopped at the gashed neck. The head fell to the floor, but the body continued its assault. Waylander blocked two thrusts, slashing his blade into the already open ribcage. It did not even slow the headless opponent. Laughter came from the air. 'Are you beginning to know fear?' Morak's voice echoed in the hall, the air filled with screaming obscenities.

Ducking under a wild cut Waylander ran to the head, lifting it by the hair. Spinning round he hurled it towards the doorway. It bounced and rolled through the gap. A serpent lunged, the great mouth snapping shut. The screams stopped instantly.

The headless body collapsed.

Waylander whirled, awaiting the next attack.

'How did you know which door to take?' asked another voice. Waylander searched for the source of the sound, but could see no one.

'It was not difficult,' he answered, holding his blade at the ready.