David Gemmell - Waylander

Hewla had been right – love was very nearly the downfall. But now the Nadir had killed Danyal and for that they would suffer. No matter that there were hundreds of them. No matter that he could not win.

Only one truth was of importance.

Waylander the Slayer was back.

Danyal knelt beside Durmast on the slopes of a hill overlooking a riverside town of rambling wooden buildings. The hill was thickly wooded and their horses were hidden in a hollow some sixty paces to the south.

She was tired. The previous day they had escaped from the Nadir raiders with seconds to spare and she had felt a deep sense of shame at their flight. Durmast had been scouting to the west and she had seen him galloping ahead of a Nadir war party, his axe in his hand. Arrows flashed by him as he thundered his bay gelding into line with the wagons, hauled on the reins alongside the baker's wagon and shouted for Danyal. Without thinking she had climbed alongside him and he had spurred his mount for the hills. She would be lying to herself if she claimed she had not known he was taking her to safety while those around her were doomed to savage and cruel deaths. And she hated herself for her weakness.

Four Nadir riders had pursued them into the hills. Once into the woods Durmast had dumped her from the saddle and swung his horse to meet their charge. The first had died as Durmast's axe smashed his rib-cage. The second had thrust out a lance which the giant brushed aside before slashing the man's head from his shoulders. The rest of the vicious action had been so swift and chaotic that Danyal could not take it in. Durmast had charged the remaining riders and the horses had gone down in a welter of flailing hooves. He had risen first, looming like a god of war with his silver axe flashing in the sunlight. With the four men dead, he had looted their saddlebags for food and water and without a word brought her a Nadir pony. Together they had headed north into the trees.

That night, with the temperature falling, they had slept under a single blanket and Durmast, still without a word, had removed his clothes and reached for her.

Turning into him she smiled sweetly, but his eyes widened as he felt the touch of cold steel at his loins.

'The knife is very sharp, Durmast. I would suggest you calm yourself – and sleep.'

'A simple "No" would have been sufficient, woman,' he said, his blue eyes cold with anger.

'Then I shall say "No". Do you give your word not to touch me?'

'Of course.'

'Since I know your word is as strong as a withered stick, let me tell you this: If you rape me, I shall do my best to kill you.'

'I am not a rapist, woman. Nor have I ever been.'

'The name is Danyal.' She withdrew the knife and turned her back to him.

He sat up and scratched his beard. 'You do not think highly of me, Danyal. Why?'

'Go to sleep, Durmast.'

'Answer me.'

'What a question! You led those people to slaughter and then fled without a backward glance. You are an animal – your own men stayed behind and died, but you just ran.'

'We just ran,' he pointed out.

'Yes – and don't think I don't hate myself for it.'

'What did you expect me to do, Danyal? Had I stayed I would have killed maybe six or seven Nadir, and then I would have died with the rest. There was no point.'

'You betrayed them all.'

'Yes, but then I was betrayed – I had an arrangement with the Nadir chieftan, Butaso.'

'You amaze me. The traveller paid you and had a right to expect loyalty – instead you sold them to the Nadir.'

'You have to pay a bounty to cross Nadir lands in safety.'

'Tell that to the dead.'

'The dead don't hear so well.'

She sat up and moved away from him, taking the blanket and wrapping it round her shoulders.

'They don't touch you, do they? The deaths?'

'Why should they? I lost no friends. All things die and their time had come.'

'They were people, families. They had put their lives in your hands.'

'What are you, my conscience?'

'You have one?'

'Your tongue is as sharp as your dagger. They paid me to guide them – am I responsible because some Nadir dog-eater breaks his word?'

'Why did you bother to rescue me?'

'Because I wanted to sleep with you. Is that a crime also?'

'No, it's just not a very attractive compliment.'

'Gods, woman, Waylander is welcome to you! No wonder he's changed – you're like acid on the soul. Now, can we share the blanket?'

The following day they had travelled in silence until they reached the last line of hills before the river. Halting the horses, Durmast had pointed to the distant blue mountains of the north-west.

'The tallest peak is Raboas, the Sacred Giant, and the river runs from that range and continues to the sea a hundred miles north of Purdol. It is called the Rostrias, the River of the Dead.'

'What are you planning?'

'There is a town yonder. There I shall book passage on a boat and head for Raboas.'

'What about Waylander?'

'If he is alive, we will see him there.'

'Why not wait in the town for him?'

'He won't come here – he'll strike north-west. We've moved north-east to avoid pursuit. Butaso is a Spear, a western tribe; this is Wolfshead land.'

'I thought you were travelling only as far as Gulgothir.'

'I've changed my mind.'

'Why?'

'Because I am a Drenai. Why should I not want to help Waylander regain the Armour of Bronze?'

'Because there's no profit in it for you.'

'Let's go,' he snapped, spurring his horse forward into the trees.

Hiding the horses in a hollow, Durmast crept to the crest of the hills overlooking the town. There were some twenty houses and seven warehouses built alongside a thick wooden jetty. Behind the warehouses was a long flat building with a shaded porch.

'That's the inn,' said Durmast, 'but it doubles as the main supply store. There don't seem to be any Nadir riders around.'

'Aren't those people Nadir?' asked Danyal, pointing to a group of men sitting beside the jetty.

'No. They are Notas – no tribe. Outcasts originally, now they farm and ply the river for trade and the Nadir come to them for iron tools and weapons, blankets and the like.'

'Are you known here?'

'I am known in most places, Danyal.'

Together they rode into the town, where they tied their horses to a hitching rail outside the inn. The inside was dimly lit and smelled of sweat, stale beer and food swimming in grease. Danyal moved to a table by a shuttered window; lifting the bar, she pushed the shutters open, rapping them firmly into the back of a man standing outside.

'You clumsy cow!' he shouted. Danyal turned away from him and sat down, but when he stormed into the inn, still shouting, she stood and drew her sword. The man stopped in his tracks as she advanced on him. He was stocky and dressed in a fur jacket with a thick black belt from which hung two long knives.

'Go away or I'll kill you,' snarled Danyal.

Durmast appeared behind the man and, grabbing his belt from the back, lifted him from his feet and carried him past Danyal.

'You heard the lady,' said Durmast. 'Go away!' Twisting, he hurled the man through the open window, watching in satisfaction as he crashed into the dust several feet beyond the wooden walkway. Then he turned to Danyal with a broad grin on his wide face.

'I see you are maintaining your reputation for sweetness.'

'I didn't need your help.'

'I am aware of that. I was doing him a favour. If he was lucky you would merely have stabbed him, but you might have lost your temper and used your acid tongue and he would never have recovered from that.'

'That's not very funny.'

'It depends on your standpoint. I have booked us passage on a sailing-boat which leaves tomorrow at mid-morning. I have also booked us a room … with two beds,' he added pointedly.