David Gemmell - Dark Moon

'Just you and I, Warain,' she said, with a sigh. 'Come, let us work some of that fat from you.' The big grey bunched his muscles and broke into a run.

High on a hillside overlooking the city of Corduin, a beautiful raven-haired girl beside him, Duvodas sat on a broken wall beside a trickling stream. His harp glinted in the sunlight as it lay on the green silk shirt he had removed to allow the sun's autumn warmth to his skin. 'What are you thinking, Song-man?' asked Shira. Her crippled leg was hidden by the folds of her rust-coloured skirt, and her beauty was now unsullied. Duvodas slid off the wall to sit beside her on the grass.

'I was thinking of far-off days and gentle music, Shira. Of sunshine on meadows, of laughter and song.

There was magic there - a magic born of love and caring. Where I grew up, they would have healed your leg. Then you would have been able to run across these hills.'

'Sometimes I try to forget about my leg,' she said, sadly. 'Especially when I am sitting down.'

He was instantly contrite, reaching out and stroking her cheek. 'I am sorry,' he said. 'That was thoughtless.

Forgive me?'

She smiled, and he was lost in wonder at the beauty of it. Joy radiated from her, as powerfully as any music from his harp. Her hair was dark and long, her skin ivory fair. But the magic of her was in that radiant smile; it was both enchanting and contagious. Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips. 'You are a beautiful woman, Shira.'

'And you are a rogue, Song-man,' she chided him.

'How can you say that?' he asked her, genuinely puzzled.

'A woman can tell. How many other girls have you complimented so prettily?'

'None,' he said. 'I have never met one with a smile like yours.' She wagged her finger at him, but he knew she was pleased. Twisting round, she opened the picnic hamper and produced two plates, some fresh-baked bread and two sealed pottery jars, one containing butter and the other a strawberry preserve.

'Customers have been asking Father where he purchased his new ale and wines. They say they have never tasted finer.'

'Music has that effect on appetites,' he said. 'How is your father's gout?'

'You are changing the subject again. You do that

every time I talk about the effect of your music. Are you embarrassed by your talent?'

He smiled and shook his head. 'I love my music. It is just.. . when I am with you, I don't want to think about taverns and customers. I want to enjoy the freshness of the fields, the smell of the flowers, and -

most of all - your company.' It was astonishing to Duvo that Shira, soon to be nineteen, was unmarried. He had understood the words when one of the tavern regulars told him: 'Shame about the leg. She's a wonderful girl, but she'll get no man.' How, he wondered, could a physical injury to a limb have such an effect? It was a mystery to Duvo. It was true that she walked clumsily, but her spirit was a delight and her personality extraordinary. She was kind and caring. What was it then that she now lacked in the eyes of suitors?

They ate in pleasant silence, finishing the meal with a jug of apple juice. Replete, Duvodas lay back on the grass, staring up at the sky. There was a fight outside the tavern last night,' she told him. 'People were queuing to get in. Father cannot believe his luck. And, to answer your question, his gout seems to have disappeared.'

'That is good news.'

'Where are you from, Duvo? Where is this land where my leg could be straightened?'

'It is in a far place,' he said softly, sitting up. 'A place we can no longer journey to. It exists only in here,' he said, tapping his temple. 'But I remember the joy of it. I will always treasure those memories.'

'Where was it?'

'It is better not to speak of it.'

She leaned in close to him, so close he could smell the perfume of her hair. The effect was disconcertingly pleasant. 'You lived with the Eldarin, didn't you?'

He sighed. 'Yes. With the gentle Eldarin.'

'They were going to destroy us all - that's what our schoolteacher told us.'

He shook his head. 'The Eldarin were peaceful; they had no wish to dominate others. But truth counts for nothing against the evil lies of men like Sirano. What I will never understand is the reason behind it all.

What did Sirano and the others hope to achieve by destroying the Eldarin? The world has been at war ever since. Thousands have died. And for what? Did they envy the Eldarin their civilization, their knowledge?

Was it just greed? I don't know. Hate seems so much stronger than love. A sculptor can spend years fashioning a statue from a single piece of marble. Another man can wreck it in a heartbeat with a heavy hammer. Love and hate.'

'I am sorry,' she said. 'Now I have saddened you.'

'You must not mention the Eldarin to anyone. I like my life as it is. Quiet.'

'Your secret is safe with me. All your secrets are safe with me.'

Leaning in he kissed her cheek. 'So chaste, Song-man,' she whispered. 'Is that all you wish for?'

'I wish for many things,' he told her, drawing her close. 'Most of them I cannot have.'

'You could have me,' she told him. He looked into her eyes and saw the fear of rejection there.

'Please do not fall in love with me, Shira,' he said. 'Soon I will be moving on.'

'Why must you go? Are you not happy here?'

'It is not a question of happiness.'

She pulled away from him, but as she did so she raised her hand and ran her fingers through his long blond hair. 'You cannot ask someone not to love you,' she said. 'It lessens love if you believe it can be controlled by mere will. I have loved you from the moment I saw you. You remember when you came into the tavern? Father said he had no need of a singer, and you told him that you would double his takings in the first week?'

'I do. I didn't know you were there.'

'I was in the kitchen doorway. When you came in the sun was at your back, and your hair shone like gold.

I'll never forget that day.'

Drawing her down to the grass, he kissed her gently on the lips. Then he sat up. 'There is no deceit in me, Shira. I love you as I have loved no other. That is the truth. But there is another truth.'

'You have a wife?'

'No! That is something I cannot have. What I mean is that it will not be long before someone - as you have - begins to question my music and the spells it weaves. Then I will be forced to flee into the night.'

'I would go with you.'

Tenderly he took her hand. 'What kind of life could I offer you? I am a wanderer with no home and no people.'

She sat in silence for a moment. 'Would you have taken me with you had I been able to run across these hills?' she asked.

'No, never that. I love you, Shira. I love you for everything you are; for your sweetness and your love of life, for your caring and your courage.'

'You speak of courage, Duvo. Where is yours? I know how hard life can be. Two of my brothers have died in this senseless war, and I have spent my life in constant pain. From the day the wagon wheel crushed my leg -until you played for me - I have rarely known a moment when I could not feel the scraping of bone as I moved. But I go on, Duvo. We all go on. Life is harsh, life is cruel, life is uncaring. But we go on. I could take it with better heart if you did not love me. You could say farewell then, and I would be sad for a long while. But I would recover, I would take the wound and let it heal. Yet to love me, and still leave me ... that is hard to bear.'

Duvodas sat very still, staring into her large, dark eyes. All tension flowed from him, and he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. Then he sighed. 'None of us can help the way we are, Shira.'

They returned the plates and cups to the hamper and Duvodas lifted it to his shoulder. Shira gathered up his green shirt and his harp and took his arm. Her twisted left leg, several inches shorter than the right, made her movements ungainly and clumsy. Slowly they made their way down the hillside and on to the path towards the gates. Several children ran by and two of them stopped and laughed at Shira. She did not seem to mind, but the sound cut through Duvodas.