David Gemmell: Waylander

Two riders rounded the bend in the road. The first was a dark-haired warrior of a type she was coming to know too well; his face was hard, his eyes harder. The second was a surprise, for he was slender and ascetic, fine-boned and seemingly gentle of countenance. Danyal tossed her long red hair over her shoulder and smoothed the folds of her green tunic as they approached, forcing a smile of welcome to her lips.

'You were with the refugees?' asked the warrior.

'No. We just passed that way.'

The young one with the gentle face stepped carefully from the saddle, wincing as if in pain. He approached Danyal and held out his hands.

'You need not lie to us, sister, we are not of that ilk. I am sorry for your pain.'

'You are a priest?'

'Yes.' He turned to the children. 'Come to me, come to Dardalion,' he said, kneeling and opening his arms. Amazingly they responded, the little girls first. His slender arms touched all three. 'You are safe for a little while,' he said. 'I bring you no more than that.'

'They killed grandmother,' said the boy.

'I know, Culas. But you and Krylla and Miriel are still alive. You have run a long way. And now we will help you. We will take you to Gan Egel in the north.'

His voice was soft and persuasive, the sentences short, simple and easily understood. Danyal stood by, transfixed at the power he exerted over them. And she did not doubt him, but her eyes were drawn to the dark-haired warrior who still sat his mount.

'You are not a priest,' she said.

'No. And you are not a whore.'

'How would you know?'

'I spend my life around whores,' he answered. Lifting his leg over the pommel of his saddle he slid to the ground and approached her. He smelt of stale sweat and horseflesh and close up he was as terrifying as any of the raiders she had known. Yet strangely she viewed the terror from a distance as if she were watching a play, knowing that the villain is terrible but comforted by the thought that he cannot leave the stage. The power in him encompassed her without threat.

'You hid in the bushes,' he said. 'Wise. Very wise.'

'You were watching?'

'No. I read the tracks. We hid from the same raiders an hour back. Mercenaries – not true Hounds.'

' True Hounds? What more do they need to do to serve their apprenticeship?'

'They were sloppy – they left you alive. You would not escape the Hounds so easily.'

'How is it,' asked Danyal, 'that a man like you travels with a priest of the Source?'

'A man like me? How swiftly you judge, woman,' he answered equably. 'Perhaps I should have shaved.'

She turned from him as Dardalion approached.

'We must find a place to camp,' said the priest. 'The children need sleep.'

'It is only three hours after noon,' said Waylander.

'They need a special kind of sleep,' said Dardalion. 'Trust me. Can you find a place?'

'Walk with me aways,' said the warrior, moving some thirty feet down the trail. Dardalion joined him. 'What is the matter with you? We cannot saddle ourselves with them. We have two horses and the Hounds are everywhere. And where they are not, there are mercenaries.'

'I cannot leave them. But you are right – you go.'

'What have you done to me, priest?' snapped the warrior.

'I? Nothing.'

'Have you put a spell on me? Answer me!'

'I know no spells. You are free to do as you please, obey whatever whims you care to.'

'I don't like children. And I don't like women I can't pay for.'

'We must find a resting place where I can ease their torment. Will you do that before you go?'

'Go? Where should I go?'

'I thought you wanted to leave, to be free of us.'

'I cannot be free. Gods, if I thought you had put a spell on me I would kill you. I swear it!'

'But I have not,' said Dardalion. 'Nor would I if I could.'

Muttering dark curses under his breath, Waylander walked back to Danyal and the children. As he approached the girls clutched Danyal's skirt, their eyes wide with fear.

He waited by his horse until Dardalion was with the children. 'Anyone want to ride with me?' he asked. There was no answer and he chuckled, 'I thought not. Follow me into the trees yonder. I will find a place.'

Later, as Dardalion sat with the children telling them wondrous tales of elder magic, his voice softly hypnotic, Waylander lay by the fire watching the woman.

'You want me?' she asked suddenly, breaking his concentration.

'How much?' he asked.

'For you, nothing.'

'Then I don't want you. Your eyes don't lie as well as your mouth.'

'What does that mean?'

'It means you loathe me. I don't mind that; I've slept with women aplenty who've loathed me.'

'I don't doubt it.'

'Honesty at last?'

'I don't want any harm to come to the children.'

'You think I would harm them?'

'If you could.'

'You misjudge me, woman.'

'And you underestimate my intelligence. Did you not seek to stop the priest from aiding us? Well?'

'Yes, but …'

'There are no buts. Without aid our chance of survival is next to nothing. You don't call that harm?'

'Woman, you have a tongue like a whip. I owe you nothing and you have no right to criticise me.'

'I don't criticise you. That would suggest I cared enough to improve you. I despise you and all your loathsome brethren. Leave me alone, damn you!'

Dardalion sat with the children until the last was asleep, then he placed his hand on each brow in turn and whispered the Prayer of Peace. The two girls lay with arms entwined under a single blanket, while Culas was stretched out beside them with his head pillowed on his arm. The priest concluded his prayer and sat back exhausted. Somehow it was hard to concentrate while wearing Waylander's clothes. The blurred images of pain and tragedy had softened now, but still they kept Dardalion from the uppermost pathways of the Road to the Source.

A distant scream pulled him to the present. Somewhere out in the darkness another soul was suffering.

Dardalion shivered and moved to the fireside where the young woman Danyal was sitting alone. Waylander was gone.

'I insulted him,' said Danyal as the priest sat opposite her. 'He is so cold. So hard. So fitted to the times.'

'Yes, he is,' agreed Dardalion, 'but he is also the man who can lead us to safety.'

'I know. Do you think he will come back?'

'I think so. Where are you from?'

Danyal shrugged. 'Here and there. I was born in Drenan.'

'A pleasant city with many libraries.'

'Yes.'

'Tell me about your days as an actress,' said Dardalion.

'How did you … oh yes, there are no secrets from the Source.'

'Nothing so magical, Danyal. The children told me; they said you once performed the Spirit of Circea before King Niallad.'

'I played the sixth daughter and had three lines,' she said, smiling. 'But it was an experience to remember. They say the King is dead, slain by traitors.'

'So I have heard,' said Dardalion. 'Still, let us not concentrate on such things. The night is clear, the stars are beautiful, the children sleep dreaming sweet dreams. Tomorrow we will worry about death and despair.'

'I cannot stop from thinking about it,' she said. 'Fate is cruel. At any moment raiders may run from the trees and the terror will begin again. You know it is two hundred miles to the Delnoch range where Egel trains his army?'

'I know.'

'Will you fight for us? Or will you stand by and let them kill us?'

'I do not fight, Danyal. But I will stand with you.'

'But your friend will fight?'

'Yes. It is all he knows.'

'He is a killer,' said Danyal, lifting her blanket around her shoulders. 'He is no different from the mercenaries or the Vagrians. And yet I hope he comes back – is that not strange?'