David Gemmell - The Swords of Night and Day

‘What happened here?’ asked Unwallis.

Decado stretched and yawned. Then he rose and moved to a nearby table, filling a silver goblet with wine. ‘You want a drink?’

‘No.’ Unwallis waited. He had no power over Decado, nor any right to demand answers.

‘The blind man escaped,’ said Decado. ‘The people were hiding him.’

‘So you sent out the Jiamads to search the town?’

‘Of course. The Eternal ordered me to kill him.’

‘And the people panicked and fled?’

‘Yes.’

‘So the Jiamads chased them and killed them?’

‘It is what Jiamads do,’ said Decado, draining the goblet and refilling it.

‘And you found Gamal?’

‘Not yet. But I will. How far can a blind man get?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Unwallis. ‘Let me try to understand the situation. You killed Landis Kan, then sought Gamal and did not find him. What did the servants tell you? And where are they, by the way?’

‘I had to kill a few. The rest ran.’

‘I see. So there is no-one to supply us with food, the blind man remains at large, and a thriving, prosperous settlement has been brought to the edge of destruction. The Eternal will not be pleased, Decado. Is there any other ill news you would like to share? Where is the girl, Askari?’

‘We have had no contact from Corvin.’

‘Corvin?’ queried Unwallis.

‘The officer sent to apprehend her.’

‘Then we don’t have her either?’

‘Of course we have,’ snapped Decado. ‘He took a company of Jiamads. It is just that he has not reported back yet.’

‘At the risk of adding salt to the wounds, Decado, what became of Landis Kan’s nephew?’

‘He was not here when I came back for Landis. He too has gone.’

Unwallis was tempted to make another dry comment, but Decado’s eyes now had an almost feral glitter. Judging from the slaughter inside the palace he had already been involved in at least one killing frenzy. Unwallis decided to soften his approach. ‘I expect he will be discovered in due course,’ he said pacifically. ‘And now, by your leave, I shall instruct the soldiers with me to begin a clean-up of the settlement. There are rather too many bodies lying around.’

‘As you wish,’ said Decado. He gave a cold smile. ‘This is all your fault, Unwallis. You know that?’

‘No, I did not know that. By what miracle of logic did you arrive at such a conclusion?’

‘If I had killed them both, as I wanted to, when Callan first insulted me we would not have this problem.’

‘That sounds eminently reasonable,’ said Unwallis, with a short bow. ‘I take it you will lead the hunting party that goes after Gamal, and the man you call Callan.’

‘What do you mean, call him?’

‘The real Callan is dead. It was a ploy. I don’t yet know why he sought to fool me, but I intend to study Landis Kan’s notes. The man was an inveterate scribbler. The answer will be here somewhere.’

‘I don’t care who he is. I shall cut him into pieces.’

‘Of course, Decade’ Unwallis failed to keep a note of sarcasm from his voice. Decado’s face paled and he stepped forward.

‘Are you insulting me, old man?’

‘Far from it. Cutting people into pieces is a skill at which you excel. A man should always stick to what he is good at. Now, if you will excuse me.’

Unwallis bowed again, then turned and left the room. His heart was beating hard, and once he was free of the apartments fear flowed to the surface causing his hands to tremble. Do not be such a fool, he warned himself. The man is insane. Bait him again and he will kill you.

Not for the first time Unwallis found himself wondering just what the Eternal could possibly see in such a man. How could she treat him as a lover? He was as likely to kill her in a blind rage as any other.

Unwallis smiled suddenly at his own foolishness. How many times had she died already? Death held no fear for her. Through the original brilliance of Landis Kan, and the devotion of the sly Memnon, there were always fresh hosts for the Eternal’s soul.

Unwallis sought out the captain of cavalry, gave instructions for the removal of corpses. ‘Then send several of your men into the hills to seek out villagers. Make sure the men have friendly faces and easy personalities. Get them to tell whoever they find that it is now safe to return. And ensure that is true.

Keep the Jiamads away from them. Ideally, captain, find some palace servants who will know how to prepare a bath.’

The captain smiled. ‘Two of my men have already fired up the palace ovens. Give us an hour or two and I’ll arrange a hot bath for you.’

‘You are a prince among men, captain,’ said Unwallis. ‘I shall be in the library area downstairs. When the bath is ready, send someone to find me.’

The thought of relaxing in a hot bath eased his mind, and he felt calmer as he made his way downstairs to Landis Kan’s study.

He did not remain at ease for long. In the rear area, resting against a back wall, he found three picture frames containing stretched, dried, tattooed skin. The first was small, showing a black spider. The second had an eagle with flaring wings. The third was of a snarling panther. Holding to the last Unwallis sank into a chair, his mind reeling. He gazed at the long dead skin and shuddered. So, it was true then. Landis had discovered the true Tomb of the Damned.

‘What were you thinking, Landis?’ he said, aloud.

Leaning back in his chair Unwallis thought through the implications of Landis Kan’s treachery. A Reborn created from the bones of Skilgannon was not, in itself, a major problem. Unless, of course, one was stupid enough to believe in ancient prophecies. Surely Landis Kan was too intelligent for such nonsense? Unwallis stared at the tattooed skin in the frame.

Bad enough that Landis Kan had hidden away a child born of the bones of the Eternal. The reasons were not hard to discern. The poor man had been hopelessly in love with her, and had been discarded, like all her lovers and favourites. He had sought to recreate a woman who could love him. That treachery was understandable. But the Skilgannon question nagged at him. It was possible to be both an intelligent man and a fool, so perhaps Landis had believed in the old prophecy. Unwallis remembered it from childhood. A hero reborn would raid the nest of a silver eagle. He would do this after defeating a mountain giant bearing a great shield of gold. As a result an immortal would taste death.

Fascinating nonsense. Mountain giants and eagles of silver did not exist in the known world. So why did Landis Kan believe it to be true? Unwallis gathered all the papers he could find and began to study them.

An hour passed. Then another. Darkness began to fall, and Unwallis lit a lantern. A young soldier came to him, and told him a hot bath had been prepared. Unwallis rose and stretched, then took a sheaf of papers and followed the man to an empty apartment on the ground floor. Here there was a sunken bath of marble. It had taken the soldiers some time to fill it, and the water was now only lukewarm.

Unwallis thanked the men, discarded his clothing and climbed gratefully into the bath. Two more soldiers arrived, carrying buckets of steaming water, which raised the temperature briefly. Unwallis sat back and reached for the next sheet of paper.

Gamal is very weary today. His spirit journeys into the Void have taxed his strength. It is also undeniable that entering a trance state, while his hands rest on the sword hilts, is causing him some distress. Gamal says there is evil in the blades; an old evil, some dark enchantment that grates upon his soul. However, this gives me hope, for the legends maintain that Skilgannon’s swords were cursed. They are quite simply beautiful weapons to observe. Both have hilts of intricately worked ivory, set with precious gems, but the metal blades defy analysis. The Swords of Night and Day are well named. One is pale gold in colour, and yet harder than the strongest steel; the other is moonlight silver. There is not a blemish or a nick on either blade. They could have come straight from a master swordsmith. Hard to believe these swords saw any action at all.