David Gemmell: The Swords of Night and Day

‘For a man of science, Landis,’ said Gamal, ‘you spend rather too much time leaping to conclusions.

Yes, Cethelin wrote of him as a madman and a killer. But was he? One fact is clear: the mob had arrived at the church intent on killing the priests. Lantern stopped them.’

‘With murder,’ Landis pointed out.

‘Only after one of the mob had stabbed Cethelin.’ Gamal chuckled suddenly. ‘You chide me for mentioning the winged horse, my friend, but you are still trapped in memories of childhood. Skilgannon was a hero. Of this there is no doubt. He was also a killer. Those who stood against him died.’

‘He was a warrior. I know that!’ snapped Landis.

‘He was more than a warrior. However, for now you should not be concerned about how frightening he is, or how chilling he appears. Give him time, Landis. Then we will see if Ustarte was gifted or demented.’

‘We have had this conversation before,’ said Landis, with a wry smile. ‘Always you find a way to cast doubt on the prophecy.’

‘As I recall, the Blessed Priestess left a book of many prophecies.’

‘Ah, but that is unfair, Gamal. You know that they were not prophecies in the real sense. She said that there were many futures, and gave examples of how those futures might be shaped. Her prophecy concerning Skilgannon was altogether different.’

‘The principle remains the same. The priestess saw many futures. She was unable to distinguish between what would be and what could be. I have no doubt that in her visions she saw the rise of the Eternal. Equally I have no doubt that she saw the return of Skilgannon as a means of combating the Eternal. But don’t you see, Landis, that it still remains one of many futures? Nothing in life is certain.’

Landis sighed. ‘I need to believe in the prophecy, Gamal. And you know why.’ Rising from his chair, he walked to the edge of the balcony, and stared out over the mountains. ‘All the while it was a dream it burned bright in my heart and my mind. I did not doubt it for a second. Now that the reality is here it seems. . lessened. I thought to bring back a mighty hero, a man of unconquerable spirit. Now I am beginning to feel like a fool.’

‘Well, don’t! Do not judge him yet, Landis. I saw him in the Void. I felt his power and the unconquerable spirit you speak of. There are beasts there more terrifying than any that walk this earth.

Skilgannon faced them with courage. I think you will discover that the myths did not exaggerate his skills.

And do not take too much notice of my cynicism. Like so many cynics I am a romantic at heart. I too would like to believe in the Blessed Priestess and her prophecy. I too would like to see the Eternal humbled. So, let us concentrate on all that is positive. Skilgannon is reborn. That is the first miracle. We must now help him to restore his memory. Memories are what make us who we are, Landis. They are the building blocks of our souls.’

Landis relaxed a little. ‘So much rests upon him. It frightens me.’

‘It no longer frightens me,’ said Gamal. ‘Perhaps that is a gift of mortality.’

‘Why will you not let me revive you? I could give you another thirty years of perfect health. You know this. I still do not understand this yearning for death.’

Gamal chuckled. ‘I am content, Landis. I have lived many full lives. Too many. Now I find myself content with increasing frailty. Even my blindness is, in some ways, a blessing. I think my death will be too.’

‘But we need you, Gamal. Humanity needs you.’

‘You put too great a store in my talents. Now, tell me how Harad is faring?’

Landis leaned back in his chair. ‘He is strong — stronger than any man I have ever known. He seems to be enjoying his work. But he is short-tempered and still prone to sudden violence. People avoid him and he has no friends.’ He glanced at the old blind man. ‘You think it is time for Skilgannon to meet him?’

‘No. Not yet. But very soon.’ Gamal fell silent, and believing him to have fallen asleep Landis levered himself upright as quietly as he could. Gamal sighed. ‘It is not too late, Landis,’ he said. ‘There is still time for you to change your mind.’

‘Skilgannon is here now. I cannot put his bones back in the casket.’

‘That is not what I meant. I am talking of the other Reborn. What you are doing is more than foolish, Landis. It will bring ruin upon all you have built here.’

Landis sank back in his chair. ‘How long have you known?’

‘Almost from the moment I arrived here in the summer. I saw her face in your thoughts. I could scarce believe that any man who knew the Eternal could be so foolhardy. She has Memnon. His skills are far greater than mine. If I discovered your secret, so will he.’

‘Perhaps. Perhaps not.’ Landis rose and moved to stand alongside the old man. Leaning down, he patted Gamal’s hand. ‘You already knew my weakness. Memnon does not. And I too know how to cast ward spells.’

‘Ward spells will not turn aside a Shadow blade, Landis.’

‘No-one knows but you and I,’ said Landis.

‘Long may that remain true,’ replied Gamal, with feeling.

Skilgannon stood naked on the wide balcony. His breathing deepened. Drawing in a long breath he began to work through a series of stretching exercises. His body was more supple now, the young muscles lengthening easily. Balancing on his left foot, he bent his knee and stretched out his right leg behind him. Raising his arms, he placed his palms together and slowly — his breathing controlled and synchronized to the movement — arched his spine backwards, until the curve of his body formed the shape of a perfect crescent moon. Then the muscles of his right thigh began to ache and tremble, and he felt a slight pain flare under his left shoulder blade.

Once he could have accomplished these exercises with ease. Fragments of memory, jagged and transient, came to him. Slowly he straightened and stood, leaning on the balcony, allowing the images to form.

In his mind he saw a tall building, lit by moonlight. There was a high parapet above sharp rocks far below. He saw himself standing on the parapet, then leaping and spinning to land in perfect balance. One wrong step, one tiny misjudgement, and he would have plunged to his death.

The image faded. Skilgannon continued to exercise, not pushing his body too hard, seeking instead to stretch the muscles rather than work them at this stage. Even so it was tiring and after an hour he stopped.

Donning a shirt of cream-coloured linen and dark leather trousers, he pulled on a pair of soft leather ankle boots and walked out of the room, making his way towards the library Landis Kan had shown him on his first day. He saw several male servants, in tunics of blue cloth. They moved past him with downcast eyes. It did not bother him. He had no wish to speak to anyone.

In the library he continued his search through the oldest of the records. Stories of his own life had not proved as helpful to his memory as he had hoped. Apparently he had fought dragons at some point, and had owned a winged horse which flew above the mountains. He had also been given a cloak which made him invisible to his enemies. Incredibly, he was also supposed to have been born in six different lands, to four different fathers, and three separate mothers. He had been golden-haired, black-haired, bearded and beardless. He had been tall, and short, immensely muscled, and yet slim and lithe.

The agreements were few. He had owned two fighting swords that sat in a single scabbard. They were called the Swords of Night and Day. He had died in a battle to save a nation. He had been a general, whose wife had died. He had also loved a goddess, mysterious and enigmatic. All agreed on this, though none could agree on her name. In some tales she was the goddess of death, in others the goddess of love, or wisdom, or war.