David Gemmell - Dark Moon

with the mercenaries your lancers destroyed. I barely got away. Did life prove too dull with Sirano?'

'Something like that,' she agreed. Karis glanced at Brune. 'What is the matter with his eye?'

'Nothing. He sees better than any man alive. What is it you want?'

Karis smiled. 'A little hospitality would be pleasant. A drink perhaps? Then we can talk.'

Tarantio sent Brune inside to fetch wine. Vint sat perched on the edge of the stone table, while Karis sat down opposite Tarantio. She told him of the return of the Daroth, and the murder of the villagers and the soldiers from the northern garrison. Tarantio listened, astonished. Brune returned with a pitcher of wine and four clay cups, but no-one touched the drink.

'You saw them yourself?' asked Tarantio.

'I did, Chio. Horses of eighteen hands or more, huge warriors with white, naked skulls and twisted faces.

And the desert is no more. Trust me. The Daroth are back.' She told him of Sirano's assault on the Pearl, and of the ghostly Eldarin. Lastly she outlined the decision of the Council to send a group of riders to meet with the Daroth. 'I will be leading the group,' she said. 'I want you with me.'

'Who else have you chosen?'

'Vint, the boy Goran, and a politician called Pooris. But it must be a small group.'

'Forin is in Corduin,' he told her. 'He is a good man -and he knows many stories of the Daroth. He could be useful.'

'I will have him found. Will you come?'

'You have not mentioned a price,' he pointed out.

Karis grinned. 'One hundred in silver.'

'That is agreeable. And what about him?' he asked, gesturing at the green-clad swordsman.

'What about him?' countered Karis.

'He wants to kill me. I do not relish being stabbed to death as I sleep.'

'How dare you?' snapped Vint. 'I never murdered a man in my life. You have my word that our duel will wait until we return. Or is my word not good enough for you?'

'Is his word good, Karis?' asked Tarantio.

'Yes.'

'Then I agree. I won't kill him until we return.'

Vint's handsome face lost its colour. 'You are an arrogant man, Tarantio,' he said, 'but it would be wise to remember the old adage - never a horse that couldn't be rode, never a man that couldn't be throwed.'

'I'll remember that when I find a horse I can't ride.'

'Would either of you mind,' put in Karis, 'if I enquired as to what caused this enmity?'

'A friend of his attacked Brune. Hit him from behind, then tried to kick him while he was unconscious.

I stopped him. He drew a knife on me and I broke his arm. Should have killed him, but I didn't.'

'That is not how it happened,' said Vint to Karis. 'My friend was dining when this . . . drunken savage

... attacked him for no reason.'

'For what it is worth, Vint, I have never known Tarantio to lie. Nor have I ever seen him drunk. But that is beside the point. You are both strong men, the kind I would want with me on this mission. I will not however take either of you if you do not grip hands now, and swear to be sword brothers until we return. I cannot afford such hatred. While we are in Daroth lands, you must each be willing to risk your life for the other. You understand me?'

'Why would he need a sword brother?' asked Vint. 'Surely he could master the Daroth on his own.'

'That is enough!' snapped Karis. 'Shake hands and swear your oath. Both of you.'

For a moment the two men sat in stony silence, then Tarantio rose and offered his hand. Vint stared at it for several heartbeats, then thrust out his own, and the two men clasped each other wrist to wrist. 'I will defend your life as my own,' said Tarantio.

'And I likewise,' hissed Vint.

'We will depart at dawn,' said Karis. 'If your man Forin has not been found by then, we will leave without him.'

'I would like to bring my . . . friend . . . Brune,' put in Tarantio, as Karis moved towards her horse.

She swung back. 'Can he fight?'

Tarantio shrugged. 'No, General, but he has the eyes of an eagle. Trust me on this.'

'As you wish,' she said.

Of all the joys Duvodas had ever known, this was the most intense, the most beautiful. In his young life he had summoned the music of the earth, and watched its magic flow across the land. He had healed the sick, and felt the lifeblood of the universe flowing in his veins. But here and now, as he lay beside his new bride, he felt complete and utterly happy. He stroked her long dark hair as she slept, and stared down at her beautiful face lit by the virgin light of a new dawn. Duvo sighed.

The wedding had been joyous and raucous. Ceofrin had opened his tavern to friends, family and loyal customers. The food and drink were free, and Duvo had played for them. The priest had arrived at noon, the guests pushing back the tables so that he could lay the ceremonial sword and sheaf of corn upon the freshly swept floor. Duvo had put aside his harp and led Shira to the centre of the room. The words were simple.

'Do you, Duvodas of the Harp, agree to this binding of soul and flesh?'

'I do.'

'Do you swear to value the life of this, your beloved, as you value your own?'

'I do.'

'Will you honour her with the truth, and bless her with love for all the days of your life?'

'I will.'

'Then take up the sword.'

Duvo had never before held a blade, and he was loath to touch it. But it was a ceremonial piece, representing defence of the family, that had never been used in combat, and he knelt and lifted it by the hilt. The crowd cheered and Shira's father, Ceofrin, stood by misty-eyed as he did so.

'Do you, Shira, agree to this binding of soul and flesh?' asked the priest.

'I do.'

'Do you swear to value the life of this, your beloved, as you value your own?'

'Always.'

'Will you honour him with the truth, and bless him with love for all the days of your life?'

'I will.'

'Then take up the sheaf, which represents life and the continuation of life.'

She did so, then turned to Duvo, offering it to him. He took it from her hand, then drew her to him, kissing her. The crowd roared their approval, and the revelry began again.

Now it was dawn, and Shira slept on. Dipping his head, he kissed her brow. Sorrow slipped through his joy like a cold breeze, and he shivered.

The Daroth were coming.

That was why he had changed his mind about marrying the girl beside him, for only thus could he guarantee her safety. Now when he left Corduin, she would be beside him, and he would take her far from the threat of war and violence.

Rising from the bed, he took up his harp and sat by the window. Nervously he stroked the strings, reaching out

for the harmony. He quite expected to feel nothing, and remembered a walk with Ranaloth through the gardens of the Temple of the Oltor.

'Why did you raise me, Master Ranaloth?' he had asked. 'You do not like humans.'

'I do not dislike them,' answered the Eldarin. 'I dislike no-one.'

'I understand that. But you have said that we are like the Daroth, natural destroyers.'

Ranaloth had nodded agreement. 'This is true, Duvo, and many among the Eldarin did not want to see a child of your race among us. But you were lost and alone, an abandoned babe on a winter hillside. I had always wondered if a human could learn to be civilized - if you could put aside the violence of your nature and the evils of your heart. So I brought you here. You have proved it possible, and made me happy and proud. The triumph of will over the pull of the flesh - this is what the Eldarin achieved many aeons ago. We learned the value of harmony. Now you understand it also, and perhaps you can carry this gift back to your race.'

'What must I beware of, sir?' he had asked.