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

'Aye. Even in its dormant state it exerts great influence, firing the senses like strong drink that removes inhibition. The man you send must have great control over his … passions, shall we say? Any weakness he has will be multiplied a hundred times. I will send no Nadir on such a quest.'

'As you well know there is one among my priests with the strength to overcome such evil,' said Dardalion. He leaned in close to the wizened shaman. 'But tell me, Kesa Khan, what else is down there?'

'Have you not used your great powers to find out?' countered the wizened Nadir, unable to keep a sneer from disfiguring his face.

'No spirit can penetrate the lower levels. There is a force there many times stronger than I have encountered before. But you know all this, old man, and more. I do not ask for your gratitude –it is meaningless to me. We are not here for you. But I would ask for a little honesty.'

'Ask all you like, Drenai. I owe you nothing! You want the crystal – then seek it out.'

Dardalion sighed. 'Very well, I shall do just that. But I will not send Ekodas into the Pit. I shall go myself.'

"The crystal will destroy you!'

'Perhaps.'

'You are a fool, Dardalion. Ekodas is many times stronger than you. You know this.'

The Abbot smiled. 'Yes, I know.' The smile faded and his eyes hardened. 'And now the time for pretence is over. You need Ekodas. Without him your dreams are dust. I have seen the future, Kesa Khan. I have seen more than you know. Everything here is in a state of delicate balance. One wrong strategy and your hopes will die.'

The shaman relaxed, and added fuel to the flames in the brazier. 'We are not so different, you and I. Very well, I will tell you all that you desire to know. But it must be Ekodas who destroys the evil. You agree?'

'Let us talk, and then I will decide.'

'That is acceptable, Drenai.' Kesa Khan took a deep breath. 'Ask your questions.'

'What perils wait in the lower levels?'

The shaman shrugged. 'How would I know? As you say, no spirit power can enter there.'

'Who would you send with Ekodas?' asked Dardalion softly.

'The Drenai woman and her lover.'

Dardalion caught the gleam in the shaman's eyes. 'You are transparent in your hate, Kesa Khan. You need us now, but you want us all dead, eventually. Especially the woman. Why is that?'

'Pah, she is of no consequence!'

'And still the lies flow,' snapped Dardalion. 'But we will talk again, Kesa Khan.'

'You will send Ekodas?'

Dardalion remained silent for a moment. Then he nodded. 'But not,' he said, 'for the reasons you believe.'

The Abbot stood and left the room. The shaman fought down his anger, and remained sitting cross-legged before the fire. How much more did the Drenai know? What had he said of the Uniter? Kesa Khan summoned the words from memory: 'A vast spider's web of possible futures. But most of them did not interest me. I followed the path that leads from Kar-Barzac, and the child to be conceived here. A girl. A beautiful girl, who will wed a young warlord. Their son will be mighty, their grandson mightier still.'

Did he know the identity of the young warlord? Where he might be found? Kesa Khan cursed softly, and wished he had the strength to walk the paths of mist once more. But he could feel his heart beating within the cage of his ribs, fluttering weakly like a dying sparrow. His dark eyes narrowed. He had no choice. He must go on with his plans. Let the Drenai destroy the crystal – it was not important to the future of the Nadir. What was vital was that Ekodas should journey to the chamber, and with him the woman, Miriel.

The merest moment of regret touched him then. She was a strong woman, proud and caring.

It was, he admitted, a shame she had to die.

Angel looked down at the perfectly-healed skin of his torn palms, then up into the face of the young priest. 'There is no mark,' he said. 'No scab or scar!'

The young man smiled wearily. 'I merely accelerated your own healing processes. I have also removed a small growth from one of your lungs.'

'A cancer?' whispered Angel, fear rising in his throat.

'Yes, but it is gone.'

'I felt no pain from it.'

'Nor would you until it was much larger.'

'You saved my life, then? By all the gods, priest, I don't know what to say. My name is Angel.' He thrust out his newly-healed hand.

The priest took it. 'Ekodas. How goes it on the wall?'

'We're holding them. They'll not try scaling the battle­ments again. Next time it will be the portcullis.'

Ekodas nodded. 'You are correct. But it will not be until tomorrow. Get some rest, Angel. You are no longer a young man and your body is very tired.' The priest glanced over Angel's shoulder. 'The boy is with you?' he asked.

Angel looked round. The deaf child was standing close, Angel's green cloak draped over his shoulders. 'Yes. Your large friend – Merlon? – suggested I ask you to look at him. He's deaf.'

'I am very weary. My powers are not inexhaustible.'

'Another time, then,' said Angel, rising.

'No,' insisted Ekodas. 'Let us at least examine him.'

Angel waved the boy to him, but he shied away when the priest reached out. Ekodas closed his eyes. The child immediately slumped into Angel's arms, deeply asleep. 'What did you do?'

'He will come to no harm, Angel. He will merely sleep until I wake him.' Ekodas placed his open palms over the child's ears and stood, stock still, for several minutes. At last he stepped back and sat down opposite the gladiator. 'He had a severe infection when very young. It was not treated, and spread through the bones around the ears. This damaged the eardrums, making them incapable of relaying vibrations to the brain. You understand?'

'Not a word of it,' admitted Angel. 'But can you heal him?'

'I have already done so,' said Ekodas. 'But you must stay with him for a while. He will be frightened. Every noise will be new to him.'

Angel watched the young priest move away across the hall. The boy stirred in his arms. His eyes opened.

'Feel better?' asked Angel. The boy stiffened, his eyes flaring with shock. Angel grinned and tapped his own ear. 'You can hear now.' A woman moved past them, behind the child. He swivelled and stared at her feet as they padded across the stone floor. Angel touched the boy on the arm, gaining his attention, then began to rhythmically tap at the table at which they sat, making small drumming sounds. The child scrambled from his lap and ran from the hall.

'What a great teacher you are,' muttered Angel. Weari­ness flooded him and he rose and walked through the hall, finding a small unoccupied room in a corridor beyond it. There was no furniture here, but Angel lay down on the stone floor, his head pillowed on his arm.

And he slept without dreams.

Miriel woke him and he sat up. She had brought him a bowl of weak broth and a chunk of bread. 'How are your hands?' she asked him.

'Healed,' he told her, turning them palms upwards. 'By one of the priests – Ekodas. He has a rare Talent.'

She nodded. 'I have just met him.' He took the soup and began to eat. Miriel sat silently beside him. She seemed preoccupied, and continually tugged at a long lock of hair by her temple.

'What is wrong?'

'Nothing.'

'Lying doesn't suit you, Miriel. Are we not friends?'

She nodded, but did not meet his eyes. 'I feel ashamed,' she said, her voice barely above a whisper. 'People are dying here. Every day. And yet I have never been happier. Even on the wall, when the Gothir were advancing I felt alive in a way I have never known before. I could smell the air – so sweet and cold. And with Senta . . .' She blushed and looked away.

'I know,' he told her. 'I have been in love.'