David Gemmell - The Swords of Night and Day

‘He is in the lead barge, Highness,’ came the voice of Memnon. ‘He may be sleeping.’

‘Show me,’ she said, feeling a sense of rising excitement.

Her spirit was drawn closer to the boat. There were horses upon it, and sleeping men. At the prow stood Skilgannon, the Swords of Night and Day on his back. He was everything she remembered and a great sadness touched her. He was tall and dark, his eyes brilliant blue, his face handsome. He looked just as he had that last day at the citadel, when they had kissed for the last time. ‘Bring me closer to him, Memnon.’

Slowly her spirit floated over the deck, past the sleeping Drenai. She was now only a few feet from him. He was staring at the rearing cliffs, his eyes distant. Jianna knew that look. He was thinking and planning, examining every possibility that could thwart his mission. ‘Ah, Olek,’ she said. ‘I have missed you.’

‘He did not hear you,’ said the voice of Memnon. ‘I need a moment, Highness, to bring your image to life.’

Jianna waited. Skilgannon suddenly stepped back, his face a mask of astonishment.

‘I have dreamed of this moment for a thousand years,’ she said. ‘But never did I think we would meet as enemies.’ He said nothing, but she saw the surprise replaced by longing, and his expression softened.

‘What is it you want here?’ he said at last.

‘To be friends again, Olek. To talk as we once did.’

For a long moment he said nothing. Then he sighed. ‘Shall we talk of the day you chided that boy you caught pulling wings from a butterfly? Or of your dreams of gathering the finest surgeons and apothecaries to a central university, in order to advance the cause of medicine? Or perhaps the promises you made to make life more prosperous and happy for all the citizens of Naashan?’

‘Why must you always be so argumentative, Olek? You could at least say you are glad to see me.’

‘Aye. It would be true, too,’ he admitted. ‘When you died the sun ceased to shine for me.’

‘Then come to me, Olek. Together we will build that university you spoke of. We will put in place all the plans we ever made.’

‘And you would be Sashan for me again?’ he asked. His soft use of the name they had concocted, when she had masqueraded as a whore to escape capture, lanced into her. It brought back memories so distant they had all but disappeared from her consciousness.

‘I would love that, Olek.’

‘It cannot be,’ he said harshly. ‘Sashan is dead, Jianna. As indeed you and I are dead. We should not be here.’

‘Then you will not come to me?’

‘I intend to end your reign.’

‘You would kill me, Olek?’

‘No,’ he admitted, ‘I could never do that. But I can destroy the Eternal.’

‘You were a great general, Olek. You taught me much. I have a regiment of Eternal Guards on their way to the temple site. And two hundred of our strongest Jiamads. You think this rag-tag group of misfits and dreamers can oppose them? Even with you and Decado? Even with Druss’s axe and the Armour of Bronze? A thousand battle-hardened veterans, Olek. You really want to proceed with this folly? You really want all these boys to die?’

‘I think you should go now,’ he said. ‘There is no more for us to say. I love you. I have always loved you. But you are my enemy now, and I will bring you down.’ He turned away from her then, and gripped the boat rail.

‘I love you too,’ she said.

Memnon’s voice whispered into her mind. ‘Is it finished now, Highness?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she told him.

The world spun and she gasped as the weight of her body returned. Replacing the bronze amulet in its ornate box she walked from her tent into the moonlight. She sent a sentry to find Agrippon. The officer had obviously not been sleeping for he arrived swiftly.

‘Dig up Agrias,’ she said.

‘Highness?’

‘I have changed my mind. Bring him out.’

‘At once, Highness.’

Jianna returned to her tent, and filled a goblet with rich red wine. She did not often drink, but tonight she wanted that warm, enveloping mist that would soften the sharp pangs of her regrets.

She had not set out to become the Eternal, back on that distant day when her new eyes opened to a world of blue skies and fresh, sweet air. That was when she had first seen Landis Kan. In those early days in the temple she had merely been glad to be back in the world of the flesh, enjoying the long forgotten delights of eating, sleeping, feeling the sun on her face, the wind in her hair. And she had been fascinated by the temple and its artefacts. There had been no thought of building armies, or regaining thrones. She learned within the first few days of her new existence that the old empire of Naashan had survived a mere fifty years after her death, and that, now, her old palace was a ruin. At first she had thought it would be good to travel across the sea, and gaze once more on familiar mountains. Common sense told her that this was not wise. The new world was much like the old, torn by wars, greed and the lust of men. A woman without wealth, travelling alone, would be prey to any bandit chief, slaver, or mercenary warlord.

The decision which set her on her current path had been made with the best intentions. Landis Kan told her that a former priest, now a renegade warlord, had gathered a force and was said to be marching on the temple, desiring its power, and the wealth it contained. The priests were terrified. The ward spell which protected them could be pierced by the renegade. Jianna asked them why they were not making plans to defend themselves. Landis Kan pointed out that the men here were academics, and not warriors.

They commanded no soldiers, and no defence force.

By this time Landis Kan was her lover, and would do anything to please her. She told him that the answer lay in hiring mercenaries, from among the bandits who roamed the wild lands. He was aghast at the thought. ‘Anyone who tried to approach them would be taken and tortured,’ he said. ‘These are savage, unholy creatures.’

‘Who is the worst of them?’ she had asked.

‘Abadai. He is vicious and cruel.’

‘How many men does he have?’

‘I have no idea. Nor do I want to know.’

‘How old is he?’

‘In his middle years. He has been raiding the caravans and sacking towns for three decades at least.’

‘Then he will do,’ said Jianna. Two days later, on a borrowed horse and armed with a sabre, Jianna had ridden from the temple. She still had a crystal clear memory of the moment she glanced back, and saw nothing but a mountain behind her. No sign of the great doors, or the many windows. Merely blank rock. Even the great, golden mirror atop the peak was no longer visible.

She pushed on, following the directions Landis had reluctantly given her. He had even offered to come with her, and she had seen the gratitude in his eyes when she refused. By late afternoon, high in the mountains, she saw the first of Abadai’s riders. There were three of them sitting their horses on the trail ahead. Jianna realized that from their position they must have been watching her for some time. As she rode closer she saw the hunger and the lust in their eyes. The men were of Nadir extraction, with high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes.

They wore breastplates of baked leather, and carried long lances.

Jianna drew rein. ‘I am seeking Abadai,’ she said.

‘I am Abadai,’ answered one of the men. ‘Step down and let us talk.’

‘You are far too ugly to be Abadai.’ The other riders smiled at her insult — the smiles vanishing as the first man glared at them.

‘You will regret those words,’ he said.

‘Regret is pointless,’ she told him. ‘Now, either take me to Abadai, or. .’ The sabre flashed into her hand. ‘. . or just try to take me.’