David Gemmell - The Swords of Night and Day

Gasping for breath, Jianna took up her sabre and hammered it against the glass cylinder protecting the crystal. The blade bounced clear. Twice more she struck it. To no effect.

Her strength failing, she turned towards Skilgannon.

‘Olek!’ she shouted. ‘I cannot destroy it! Throw me a sword!’

A three-armed creature lunged at Skilgannon. Ducking under a murderous punch, he drove the Sword of Day into the mutant’s heart. Even as the beast fell Skilgannon dragged the blade clear, spun away from another attack, then threw the Sword of Night towards Jianna. The razor sharp blade spun through the air. Jianna judged the flight — then her arm swept out, her fingers curling round the ivory hilt.

Darkness was closing in on her and she fought it back. The Sword of Night hammered against the glass. A small crack appeared in the cylinder. Then another. With the third stroke the cylinder disintegrated. Coloured smoke billowed from it, flowing out into the room. The floating crystal dropped to the base of the golden column with a dull thud. With the last of her strength Jianna raised the Sword of Night and hammered it down on the crystal. The massive gem shattered in a blinding blaze of multicoloured light.

As the shards of crystal exploded outwards all the lights in the shrine dimmed, and the floor ceased to hum and vibrate. All was silence. Around the room the beasts were standing very still. Then, one by one, they toppled to the floor. Some writhed for a while. Then there was no movement.

It grew darker. Soon the only light in the shrine came from moonlight shining through a high window.

Jianna dropped the Sword of Night and looked around for Skilgannon. He was kneeling beside the fallen Decado. Jianna staggered from the dais and made her way to the two men. Decado was conscious.

Moonlight glistened on the length of blood-smeared metal jutting from his belly. ‘There’s no pain,’ said Decado. ‘Which I must say is a novel experience for me. And I can’t feel my legs. I take it that is not a good sign?’

‘No,’ said Skilgannon. ‘Tell me why you didn’t kill me.’

‘You were too good, kinsman.’

‘I know how good I am,’ said Skilgannon. ‘But, as my old tutor once taught me, there is always someone better. You were that man. Three times you had me. Three times you withheld the death blow.

Why?’

Suddenly more figures entered the room. Skilgannon surged to his feet, his sword held high.

‘Whoa there, laddie,’ said Druss. Behind him came Alahir and several Legend Riders.

Skilgannon knelt again by Decado’s side. ‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘I need to know.’

But Decado was dead.

He glanced at Jianna. ‘Do you know why?’

He saw her face was unnaturally pale. She swayed and sagged forward into his arms. His hand touched the dagger. Gazing down he saw the black hilt, the blade buried deep in her chest. Jianna’s face settled against his shoulder. ‘I. . thought I had. . killed you,’ she whispered.

‘The old priest had a shard of. .’ In that moment he thought of the shattered crystal. Heaving her into his arms he ran for the dais. Jianna cried out.

‘The pain! Put me down, Olek. Please!’

‘In a moment, my love. Hold on!’ He carried her back up to the dais and laid her on the ground, then searched among the shattered glass. Finding a large shard of crystal he returned to her side, raised the crystal shard — then stopped. Realization struck him, and he groaned aloud.

‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I cannot save you. I would give my life to have Jianna by my side. But I can’t allow the Eternal to return.’

‘It is all right, Olek,’ she whispered. ‘The Eternal’s time is over. I’m glad we. . met. . again. I missed you. . so much.’

Her eyes closed, and her head sagged. Skilgannon leaned down and kissed her lips. Then he sat alongside her, head bowed. Her body spasmed. A single word escaped her lips.

‘Stavi!’

Skilgannon spun round. Grasping the dagger hilt he pulled it from her chest. She cried out. Instantly he took the crystal shard and held it to the wound. ‘Lie still, Askari,’ he ordered. ‘Just lie still until the strength returns.’

He saw her colour begin to return, and her eyes opened. ‘Where is Stavi?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Where am I?’

‘Lie still. I will explain all when you are well again.’

Her eyes closed. Alahir came alongside and touched Skilgannon on the shoulder. Leaning in close he whispered: ‘Stavut is dead.’

‘Sit with her for a while,’ Skilgannon told him. ‘Hold this crystal to the wound.’

He rose and walked across to Druss. ‘I’m ready to return to the Void. How do I do that, Druss?

How do I give that young man his body back?’

‘You can’t, laddie,’ said Druss. ‘I took Charis to the Golden Valley. The lad chose to cross with her.’

The shock was intense. ‘I don’t want it! The only person I ever loved has just gone to the Void! I should be there!’

‘You will be. But not now,’ said Druss. ‘If I see her there, I’ll help her as best I can.’

‘You are going back?’

‘Aye, laddie. My time here is done. I’m going home to Rowena. It was good to breathe the mountain air, but I am done with death and slaughter. I’ll not return.’

Skilgannon sighed, then reached out and shook Druss by the hand. ‘One day, perhaps, I’ll make it through to that Golden Valley.’

‘You could have done it any time, laddie.’

‘No. I remember I was scaled, like the other demons.’

‘There never was anything stopping you — save your own conscience. You believed you needed punishing — so you punished yourself. Now you have a life again. Live it well. There is a world full of evil out there, and a lot of defenceless people who will need your strength. Give it freely. Then when you go to the Void, walk straight towards the light. I’ll see you there.’

Druss walked to the wall beneath the window and lay down. ‘Harad will be here soon. Tell him I was proud of the way he stood his ground against the beasts.’

‘I’ll do that. You be careful in the Void, Druss. Wouldn’t like to think of a demon stopping you getting home.’

The axeman laughed. ‘In your dreams, laddie!’ he said. Lying back, he closed his eyes.

Skilgannon walked to the dais and retrieved the Sword of Night. Askari was sitting with Alahir. He had his arm round her shoulder.

Sheathing his swords Skilgannon began to fill his pockets with more shards of crystal. Then he returned to the priest’s chamber.

The old man was still alive, but he looked different now, his hair white and thin, his face heavily wrinkled. His breathing was ragged. Skilgannon knelt beside him, opening the man’s deformed hand and pressing a shard of crystal into it.

The priest sighed, and his eyes opened. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘It will not be enough to save me.’

Skilgannon reached into his pocket for more shards. ‘No!’ said the old man, placing his hand over Skilgannon’s arm. ‘Save them for those who will need them more.’

‘What is happening to you?’ asked the swordsman.

‘Time is. . catching up with me. Those five hundred years you spoke of were not cheated. They were merely waiting to claim us all.’ He fell silent for a moment. ‘You destroyed the crystal?’

‘Yes.’

The old man looked desolate. ‘No golden age to discover now,’ he whispered. ‘No end to disease and starvation. No bright, sparkling cities reaching the clouds.’

A slow rumbling sound came to Skilgannon, and the walls began to vibrate. ‘What is happening?’ he asked the priest.

‘The Mirror is closing, drawing itself back.’ Tears fell from his eyes. ‘All I have lived for is gone now. I am so tired.’