David Gemmell - The Swords of Night and Day

‘So, what became of the reborn Skilgannon?’ she asked. ‘Did Decado kill him?’

‘He was gone, Highness, when Decado came for Landis. He is somewhere in the forests with another Reborn.’

‘Another?’

‘Apparently Landis experimented with bones found in a locket in Skilgannon’s tomb.’

‘His wife, Dayan,’ said Jianna. ‘It was his dream to bring her back to life.’

‘No, Highness. It was a man. Landis described him as a brooding giant, immensely powerful and short tempered. The last notes talk of a double-headed silver axe which Landis asked Skilgannon to give to the man. This too was found in the tomb.’

‘The axe is called Snaga,’ said Jianna. ‘The man who wielded it in life was known as Druss the Legend.’ Leaning back in the bath she suddenly laughed. ‘Ah, Landis, you were such a clever, clever man.’

She relaxed for a while, then rose from the bath. Unwallis was waiting with a long, soft towel, which he held out for her. Taking it from him, she swirled it round her shoulders and walked back to the balcony.

The air was cool on her wet skin.

‘Do you still desire me, Unwallis?’ she called back to him.

‘I do, Majesty, but I fear I am a little too old to perform as I should.’

‘Then we shall take it gently, for I am in need of a little distraction.’

‘I am sure Decado will return shortly.’

‘Are you frightened of him, Unwallis?’ she asked, moving closer to the statesman, and laying her hands upon his shoulders.

‘Yes, Highness.’

‘And this will stop you making love to me?’ Her hand slid down the front of his tunic.

‘Apparently not,’ he said.

As night fell Askari, Harad and Skilgannon had still not found the blind man and Charis. Askari had discovered tracks. At first she had believed there was a Jiamad on their trail, but she had soon realized the beast travelled with them. In places his footprints overlaid those of the two humans, but in others their tracks overlaid his. They were heading northwest, and not moving at any great speed. Even so, with the coming of night, it was foolish to press on. They could lose the trail at any time. So Askari found a secluded hollow for a night camp, and they settled down, without a fire, to wait for the dawn. Harad stretched out without a word and went to sleep. Skilgannon sat apart, his expression bleak and distant.

He had seemed changed since that moment on the hillside, when she watched and listened as he railed at the heavens. There was such rage in him, such power. And before that, as she had watched silently, she had seen him dance, twisting and leaping with extraordinary grace. The contrast had been stark. Even more so now she had seen him fight. He killed the Jiamads with cold precision, and murdered the officer without a second thought. He was — in every way — a dangerous man, and Askari felt uncomfortable with his brooding silence.

‘What is it that makes a good swordsman?’ she asked him, in a bid to start a conversation. His expression flickered as his thoughts were interrupted. At first she thought he was going to tell her to leave him alone, but then he seemed to relax.

‘A combination of strengths,’ he told her. ‘Some learned, some granted by nature. Speed of hand and a good eye, balance. An ability to close off fears, and free the mind.’

‘Are there tricks you learn?’

‘Tricks?’

‘Yes. Like when shooting a bow. The secret is to loose the shaft between breaths, so there is no movement in the upper chest. If you hold your breath you will be too tense. If you breathe in, or out, there will be movement that affects the steadiness of the arm. Therefore you breathe out, slowly, and then, with the lungs empty, you let fly.’

‘Yes, I see. With the blade, and against another master, one must seek the illusion of elsewhere . The mind empties of all distractions, like heat, cold, pain, hunger, fear. The body is then freed to do what it has been trained for. A swordsman will have learned scores of moves, variations of attack, counter-attack and defence. He will flow into the combat like a dancer.’

Askari glanced down at the sleeping Harad. His huge hand was curled around the haft of the silver axe. ‘How would a swordsman fare against a man with such a weapon?’

‘That would depend on who was wielding it. There is only one sure fact about such a combat: it would not take long. To kill an axeman one must come within range of his axe. If he has speed and skill he will bury the blades in you before you can strike and step back. A good swordsman would kill the axeman, because the axe is a heavy offensive weapon, and ill suited to defence. But that axe was once carried by a Legend. I know of no swordsman who could have bested him and survived. At least none ever did.’

‘What happened to him?’

‘He was killed in a battle, not far from here. He was sixty years old and he still fought like a giant.’

‘You speak as if you knew him.’

Harad grunted and sat up. ‘How is anyone expected to sleep with such chatter?’ he grumbled, scratching his thick black beard. ‘Is there any food left?’

‘No,’ said Askari. ‘We carried only enough to bring us to Petar. Tomorrow I will find meat, but we may have to eat it raw. The smell of roasting flesh will carry on the breeze.’

The sound of horses’ hooves came to them, and they fell silent. Skilgannon beckoned Harad to stay where he was, then he and Askari rose smoothly to their feet and edged towards the undergrowth to the south of the hollow. The ground rose here and they carefully made their way to the rim. Below, on a wide track, they saw six horsemen, following a lean Jiamad. The breeze was blowing towards the two watchers, and there was no way the beast could scent them. It dropped to all fours and sniffed the track.

Then it pointed to the northwest, and the small group moved on.

Skilgannon and Askari made their way back to the camp. Harad was standing, axe in hand, waiting for them. ‘Riders,’ said Skilgannon. ‘They have moved on. We must follow.’

‘Why?’ asked Harad.

‘The lead rider was a killer named Decado. I think he is hunting Gamal.’

‘Landis Kan told me of Decado,’ said Askari. ‘He said he was terrifying. He carries two swords, like you. He has killed many men. Landis said no-one alive could best him with a blade.’

‘That is not the problem now,’ said Skilgannon. ‘First we must follow them. They cannot suspect they have enemies behind. The wind is with us at the moment, but we must move without undue noise. Askari, you set off first. Leave sign on the trail so that we can track you in the dark. With luck they will lose the scent, or stop for the night. If either should prove true we will bypass them and seek out Gamal before they do.’

‘And if not?’ asked Harad.

‘Then we kill them all. You and Askari will take out the Jiamad tracker and the riders. I will deal with Decado.’

Askari looked uncertain. ‘You need to know that Decado is not human,’ she said. ‘He is one of those soulless Reborns, brought back from Hell. Landis told me this.’ Touching her brow and chest in the sign of the Blessed Priestess, she went on. ‘They are cursed creatures who only look like men. They have demon power and are unconquerable.’

Harad’s face darkened. Skilgannon’s reply was cold. ‘Let us hope you are right,’ he told Askari.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You will, but this is not the time to discuss it. Set off and we will follow.’

Askari hooked her bow over her shoulder, then turned and loped off towards the northwest.

Skilgannon glanced at Harad, whose expression was thunderous. ‘She is merely mouthing superstition.