Waylander

13

Waylander leaned back in the saddle and stared out over the Delnoch Pass to the Nadir plains beyond. Behind him the wagons had bunched for the night, ready for the perilous descent tomorrow. The pass sloped down for over a mile in a series of treacherous scree-covered ledges, and it took a brave man to drive a wagon over the narrow winding trail. Most of the refugees had paid Durmast's men handsome sums to take over the reins for the descent, while they walked behind in comparative safety.

A cool breeze was blowing from the north and Waylander allowed himself to relax. There had been no sign of Cadoras or of the Brotherhood, and he had checked the back trails with care. Suddenly he grinned. It was said of Cadoras that when you saw him there was danger – that when you did not see him, there was death. Waylander slid from his horse's back and led the animal to the picket ropes. Stripping off the saddle, he rubbed the horse down, fed it with grain and moved into the centre of the camp where the fires crackled under iron cooking-pots.

Durmast was sitting with a group of travellers, regaling them with tales of Gulgothir. In the red firelight his face was less brutal and his smile warm and friendly. Children sat around him, gazing in awe at the giant and relishing his outrageous stories. It was hard to believe that these people were fleeing from a terrible war; that many of them had lost friends, brothers and sons. Their relief at the prospect of escape was showing itself in over-loud laughter and jests. Waylander transferred his gaze to Durmast's men, sitting in a group apart from the others. Hard men, Durmast had said, and Waylander knew their type. They were not hard, they were murderous. In days of peace and plenty, the worthy townsfolk who now laughed and sang would bolt their doors against such as these; you could not have paid them enough to travel with Durmast. Now they laughed like children, unable to see that their danger was just as great.

Waylander turned to fetch his blankets – and froze. Standing not ten feet away from him, facing a fire, was Danyal. The firelight danced in her red-gold hair, and she was wearing a new dress tunic of wool embroidered and edged with gold thread. Waylander swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Then she lifted a hand to her hair and turned, seeing him for the first time. Her smile was genuine and he hated her for it.

'So you notice me at last,' she said, moving towards him.

'I thought you were staying in Skarta with the children?'

'I left them with the Source priests. I am tired of war, Waylander. I want to go somewhere where I can sleep at night without fearing tomorrow.'

'There is no such place,' he said bitterly. 'Come, walk with me.'

'I am preparing some food.'

'Later,' he said, walking away towards the pass. She followed him to a grassy knoll where they sat on jutting boulders. 'Do you know who is leading this caravan?'

'Yes,' she answered. 'A man called Durmast.'

'He is a killer.'

'So are you.'

'You don't understand. You are in more danger here than back in Skultik.'

'But you are here.'

'What has that to do with it? Durmast and I understand one another. I need him to help me find the Armour; he knows the Nadir and I might not get through without him.'

'Will you allow him to harm us?'

'Allow , woman? What on earth do you think I could do to stop him? He has twenty men. Damn you, Danyal, why are you dogging my footsteps?'

'How dare you?' she stormed. 'I didn't know you were travelling with us. Your conceit is colossal.'

"That's not what I meant,' he said defensively. 'It just seems that whenever I turn round you are there.'

'How depressing for you!'

'For pity's sake, woman – can you not hold back from jumping down my throat? I do not want to fight with you.'

'In that case, let me say that you have a regrettable line in small talk.'

For a while they sat in silence, watching the moon traverse the Delnoch Pass.

'I am not going to live very long, Danyal,' he said at last. 'Maybe three weeks, maybe less. I would very much like to end my life successfully …'

'Just the sort of stupid remark I would expect from a man! Who is going to care if you find that Armour of yours? It is not magic, it is just metal. And not even precious metal.'

'I will care.'

'Why?'

'What sort of question is that?'

'Stalling for time, Waylander?'

'No, I meant it. You think men stupid when they lust after glory? So do I. But this is not about glory – it concerns honour. I have lived in shame for many years and I fell to a level I would not have believed possible. I killed a good man … ended his life for money. I cannot undo that act. But I can atone. I do believe in Gods who care about humans. I do not seek forgiveness from some higher authority. I want to forgive myself. I want to find the Armour for Egel and the Drenai and fulfil a promise I made Orien.'

'You do not have to die to do that,' she said softly, placing her hand gently on his.

'No, I don't – and would prefer to live. But I am a hunted man. Cadoras hunts me. The Brotherhood seek me. And Durmast will sell me when the time is right.'

'Then why stay here like a tethered goat? Strike out on your own.'

'No. I need Durmast for the first part of my journey. I have an advantage! I know my enemies and I have no one to rely on.'

'That makes no sense.'

'Only because you are a woman and cannot understand the simplicity of the words. I am alone, so there is no one to let me down. When I run – if I run – I carry no baggage. I am self-sufficient and very, very deadly.'

'Which brings us to our first point,' said Danyal. 'You are trying to tell me that I am baggage to weigh you down.'

'Yes, Durmast must not realise that we know one another, else he will use you against me.'

'It is too late for that,' said Danyal, looking away. 'I wondered why he changed his mind about allowing me to ride with the wagons when I had no money. But I thought it was my body he desired.'

'Explain,' said Waylander wearily.

'A woman I met directed me to Durmast, but he told me that with no money I was useless to him. Then he asked where I was from, as he had not seen me before in Skarta, and I told him that I came in with you. Then he changed and asked me all about you, after which he said I could come.'

'You are leaving something out.'

'Yes. I told him I loved you.'

'Why? Why would you do that?'

'Because it's true!' she snapped.

'And he asked you whether I felt the same?'

'Yes. I told him no.'

'But he did not believe you.'

'How do you know?'

'Because you are here.' Waylander lapsed into silence, remembering Hewla's words about the redheaded woman and Orien's enigmatic warning concerning companions. What was it the old man had said?

That success or failure would depend on Waylander's companions. Or rather on whom he chose to accompany him.

'What are you thinking?' she asked, seeing him smile, and the tension fade from his face.

'I was thinking that I am glad you are here. It is very selfish of me. I will die, Danyal. I am a realist and the odds are too great. But knowing you will be with me, for a few days at least, gives me pleasure.'

'Even though Durmast will use me against you?'

'Even so.'

'Do you have a small copper coin?' she asked.

He fished in his money-sack, producing a tiny coin carrying the head of Niallad which he handed to her.

'What do you want it for?'

'You once said you never took a woman you had not paid for. Now you have paid.'

Leaning over, she kissed him softly and his arms moved round her waist, pulling her in to him.

Hidden in the trees, Durmast watched the lovers move to the grass beside the boulders. The big man shook his head and smiled.

The dawn broke bright and clear, but dark clouds loomed in the north and Durmast cursed loudly. 'Rain,' he spat. 'That's all we damned well need!' The first of the wagons was led to the crest of the Pass. Pulled by six oxen, it was some twenty feet long and heavily laden with boxes and crates. The driver licked his lips, his eyes narrowing as he gauged the dangers of the trail. Then he cracked his whip over the head of the lead oxen and the wagon lurched forward. Waylander walked behind, with Durmast and seven of his men. The first two hundred yards were steep, though relatively simple to travel for the path was wide and firm. But then it narrowed and dipped to the right. The driver hauled back on the reins and jammed the wheel-brake tight against the rim, but the wagon slid slowly sideways towards the yawning drop on the left.

'Ropes!' bellowed Durmast and the men ran forward to hook inch-thick hemp ropes about the axles. The wagon stopped its slide. Waylander, Durmast and the others took up the two ropes and gathered in the slack.

'Now!' called Durmast and the wagoner gently released the brake. The wagon inched forward, slithering to a stop some twenty paces on. The trail was angled here, and the weight of the wagon caused it to pull towards the edge. But the men on the ropes were strong, and well-used to the perils of the Delnoch Pass.

For over an hour they toiled, until at last the wagon came to level ground.

Far behind them a second wagon was making the descent, with seven more of Durmast's men hauling on ropes. The giant sat back and grinned as he watched them strain.

'They earn their money when they work with me,' he said.

Waylander nodded, too weary to speak. 'You've gone soft, Waylander. A little gentle exercise and you're sweating like a pig in heat!'

'Pulling wagons is not my usual occupation,' said Waylander.

'Did you sleep well?' asked Durmast.

'Yes.'

'Alone?'

'What sort of question is that from a man who hid in the bushes and watched?'

Durmast chuckled and scratched his beard. 'You don't miss much, my friend. Soft you may be, but you eyes have lost nothing in sharpness.'

'Thank you for allowing her to come,' said Waylander. 'It will make the first few days of the journey more pleasurable.'

'The least I could do for an old friend. Are you taken with her?'

'She loves me,' replied Waylander with a grin.

'And you?'

'I shall say farewell at Gulgothir – with regret.'

'Then you are fond of her?'

'Durmast, you watched us last night. Did you see what happened before we made love?'

'I saw you pass her something.'

'You saw me give her money. Love! You tell me.'

Durmast leaned back, closing his eyes against the morning sun.

'You ever wished you had settled down? Raised a family?'

'I did once, they died,' said Waylander.

'Me too. Only mine didn't die – she ran off with a Ventrian trader and took my sons with her.'

'I am surprised you didn't go after her.'

Durmast sat up and stretched his back. 'I did, Waylander,' he said.

'And?'

'I gutted the trader.'

'And your wife?'

'She became a whore in the dockside taverns.'

'What a fine pair we make! I pay for my pleasures because I will never again risk love, while you are haunted by love's betrayal.'

'Who says I am haunted?' demanded the giant.

'I do. And don't let yourself get too angry, my friend, for soft though I may be you cannot handle me.'

For several seconds Durmast's angry glare remained, then it faded from his eyes and he smiled. 'At least some of the old Waylander remains,' he said. 'Come, it's time for the long climb and another wagon.'

Throughout the day the men toiled and by dusk all the wagons were safely at the foot of the pass. Waylander had rested through the afternoon, his instincts warning him that he would need all his strength over the next few days.

The rain passed them by and by nightfall the camp-fires were blazing and the smell of cooking meat hung in the air. Waylander made his way to the wagon of the baker, Caymal, who had allowed Danyal to ride with him and his family. On his arrival he found Caymal nursing a bruised eye, his wife Lyda, beside him.

'Where is Danyal?' asked Waylander.

Caymal shrugged. His wife, a lean dark-haired woman in her late thirties, looked up.

'You animals!' she hissed.

'Where is she?'

'Wait your turn,' said Lyda, her lip trembling.

'Listen to me, woman – I am a friend of Danyal's. Now where is she?'

'A man took her. She didn't want to go and my husband tried to stop him but he hit Caymal with a club.'

'Which way?'

The woman pointed to a small grove of trees. Waylander lifted a rope from the back of the wagon, coiled it over his shoulder and loped off in that direction. The moon shone bright in a clear sky and he slowed his pace as he neared the grove, closing his eyes and focusing his hearing.

There! To the left was the sound of coarse cloth against tree bark. And to the right, a muffled cry. Angling towards the left Waylander moved slowly forward, bursting into a sprint just as he reached the trees.

A knife flashed past his head and he hit the ground on one shoulder and rolled. A dark shadow detached itself from the trees, moonlight shining from a curved sword. Waylander rolled to his feet and leapt, his right foot crashed into the man's head and then – as the stranger staggered – Waylander spun on his heel, his right elbow exploding against the man's ear. He fell without a sound. Waylander crept to the right. There in a shallow hollow lay Danyal, her dress ripped open, her legs spread. A man was kneeling over her as Waylander slid the rope from his shoulder and opened the noose.

Moving forward silently he came up behind the man, slipping the noose over his head and jerking it tight. He fell back, scrabbling at the noose, but Waylander pulled him from his feet and dragged him across the hollow to a tall elm. Swiftly he hurled the rope over a branch some ten feet from the ground and hauled the struggling man to his feet. The attacker's eyes were bulging and his face above the dark beard was purple.

Waylander had never seen him before.

Then a whisper of movement from behind caused him to drop the rope and dive to his right. An arrow hissed past him to thud into the bearded attacker. The man grunted and his knees gave way. Waylander bunched his legs under him and came up running, cutting left and right to hinder the aim of the hidden assassin. Once into the trees he dropped low and began to crawl through the bushes, circling the hollow.

The sound of horse's hooves caused him to curse and he straightened, slipping his dagger into his sheath. Returning to the clearing he found Danyal unconscious. Across her naked breasts someone had laid a goose-feathered arrow. Waylander snapped it in half.

Cadoras!

Lifting Danyal, he walked back to the wagons, where he left her with the baker's wife and returned to the grove. The first man who had attacked him lay where he had fallen; Waylander had hoped to question him, but his throat had been cut. Swiftly he searched the body, but there was nothing to identify him. The second man had three gold coins in a belt pouch. Waylander took the coins back to the camp and gave them to Lyda.

'Hide them about your person,' he told her.

She nodded and lifted the canvas flap, allowing Waylander to climb into the wagon.

Danyal was awake, her lip swollen and a bruise on her cheek. Caymal sat beside her. The wagon was cramped and the baker's two young children were sleeping beside Danyal.

'Thank you,' she said, forcing a smile.

'They will not trouble you again.'

Caymal eased himself past Waylander and climbed out over the tailboard. Waylander moved up to sit beside Danyal.

'Are you hurt?' he asked.

'No. Not much anyway. Did you kill them?'

'Yes.'

'How is it you can do these things?'

'Practice,' he said.

'No, that's not what I meant. Caymal tried to stop the man … and Caymal is strong, but he was brushed aside like a child.'

'It is all about fear, Danyal. Do you want to rest now?'

'No, I want some air. Let's walk somewhere.'

He helped her from the wagon and they walked to the cliff face and sat on the rocks.

'Tell me about fear,' she said.

He walked away from her and stooped to lift a pebble.

'Catch this,' he said, flicking the stone towards her. Her hand snaked out and she caught the pebble deftly. 'That was easy, was it not?'

'Yes,' she admitted.

'Now if I had Krylla and Miriel here, and two men had knives at their throats and you were told that if you missed the pebble they would die, would it still be easy to catch? Think of those times in your life when you were nervous, and your movements became disjointed.

'Fear makes fools of us all. So too does anger, rage and excitement. And then we move too fast and there is no control. You follow me?'

'I think so. When I had to give my first performance before the King in Drenan, I froze. All I had to do was walk across the stage, but my legs felt as if they were carved from wood.'

'That is it. Exactly! The onset of fear makes the simplest of actions complex and difficult. No more so than when we fight … and I can fight better than most because I can bring all my concentration to bear on the small things. The pebble remains a pebble, no matter what hangs upon success or failure.'

'Can you teach me?'

'I don't have time.'

'You are not obeying your own maxim. This is a small thing. Forget the quest and concentrate on me, Waylander – I need to learn.'

'How to fight?'

'No – how to conquer fear. Then you can teach me to fight.'

'Very well. Start by telling me what is death?'

'An ending.'

'Make it worse.'

'Maggots and grey rotting flesh?'

'Good. And where are you?'

'Gone. Finished.'

'Do you feel anything?'

'No … perhaps. If there is a paradise.'

'Forget paradise.'

'Then I feel nothing. I am no longer alive.'

'This death, can you avoid it?'

'Of course not.'

'But you can delay it?'

'Yes.'

'And what will that give you?'

'The prospect of more happiness.'

'But at worst?'

'The prospect of more pain,' she said. 'Old age, wrinkles, decay.'

'Which is worse? Death or decay?'

'I am young. At the moment I fear both.'

'To conquer fear, you must realise that there is no escape from what you dread. You must absorb it. Live with it. Taste it. Understand it. Overcome it.'

'I understand that,' she said.

'Good. What do you fear most at this moment?'

'I fear losing you.'

He moved away from her and lifted a pebble. Clouds partly obscured the moonlight and she strained to see his hand.

'I am going to throw this to you,' he said. 'If you catch it, you stay – if you miss it, you return to Skarta.'

'No, that's not fair! The light is poor.'

'Life is not fair, Danyal. If you do not agree, I shall ride away from the wagons alone.'

'Then I agree.'

Without another word he flicked the stone towards her – a bad throw, moving fast and to her left. Her hand flashed out and the pebble bounced against her palm, but she caught it at the second attempt. Relief swept through her and her eyes were triumphant.

'Why so pleased?' he asked.

'I won!'

'No. Tell me what you did.'

'I conquered my fear?'

'No.'

'Well, what then? I don't understand you.'

'But you must, if you wish to learn.'

Suddenly she smiled. 'I understand the mystery. Waylander.'

'Then tell me what you did.'

'I caught a pebble in the moonlight.'

During the first three days of travel Danyal's progress astonished Waylander. He had known she was strong and supple and quick-witted but, as he discovered, her reflexes were staggeringly swift and her ability to assimilate instructions defied belief.

'You forget,' she told him, 'I performed on the stages of Drenan. I have been trained to dance and to juggle, and I spent three months with a group of acrobats.'

Every morning they rode away from the wagons out on to the undulating terrain of the Steppes. On the first day he taught her to throw a knife; the ease with which she adapted to the skill caused him to re-think his training methods. He had planned to humour her at first, but now he pushed her in earnest. Her juggling skills gave her a sense of balance which was truly extraordinary. His knives were of different weights and lengths, but in her hands they performed equally. She merely hefted the blade in her fingers, judging the weight, and then let fly at the target. Of her first five throws, only one failed to thud home into the lightning-blasted tree.

Waylander found a rock with high chalk content and outlined the figure of a man on the tree bole. Handing Danyal a knife he turned her round, facing away from the tree.

'Without pause I want you to turn and throw, aiming for the neck,' he said. Spinning on her heel, her arm flashed forward and the knife hammered into the tree just above the right shoulder of the chalk figure.

'Damn!' she said. Waylander smiled and retrieved the knife.

'I said turn, not spin. You were still moving to your left when you threw – and that carried your arm past the target. But, nevertheless, it was a fine effort.'

On the second day he borrowed a bow and quiver of arrows. She was less skilled with this weapon, but her eye was good. For some time Waylander watched her, then he bade her remove her shirt. Taking it by the sleeves, he moved behind her and tied it tightly around her, flattening her breasts against her ribs.

'That is not very comfortable,' she protested.

'I know. But you are bending your back as you pull, to avoid the string catching your body – that affects your aim.'

But the idea was not a success and Waylander moved on to the sword. One of Durmast's men had sold him a slender sabre with an ivory hilt and a filigreed fist-shield. The weapon was well-balanced and light enough to allow Danyal's greater speed to offset her lack of strength.

'Always remember,' he told her as they sat together after an hour of work, 'that most swords are used as hacking weapons. Your enemy, in the main, will be right-handed. He will lift his sword over his right shoulder and sweep it down from right to left, aiming at your head. But the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. So thrust! Use the point of the sword. Nine times out of ten you will kill your opponent. Most men are untrained, they hack and slash in a frenzy and are easy to despatch.' Taking up two sticks he had whittled to resemble swords, he handed one to Danyal. 'Come, I will play the part of your opponent.'

On the fourth day he began to teach her the principles of unarmed combat.

'Hammer this thought into your mind: Think ! Harness your emotions and act on the instincts this training will inspire. Rage is useless, so do not lash out. Think. Your weapons are fists, fingers, feet, elbows, and head. Your targets are eyes, throat, belly and groin. These are the areas in which a well-timed blow will disable an enemy – you have one great advantage in this kind of combat: you are a woman. Your enemies will expect, fear, terror … and ultimately surrender. If you stay cool you will survive – and they will die.'

On the afternoon of the fifth day, as Waylander and Danyal rode back towards the wagons a group of Nadir warriors galloped into sight whooping and cheering. Waylander reined in his horse as they approached. There were some two hundred riders and they were heavily laden with blankets, trade goods and saddlebags bulging with coins and jewels. Danyal had never seen Nadir tribesmen, but she knew of their reputation as ferocious killers. Squat and powerful men they were, with slanted eyes and flat faces; many wore lacquered breastplates and fur-trimmed helms; most carried two swords and an assortment of knives.

The Nadir pulled up, spreading across the trail. Meanwhile Waylander sat quietly, trying to pick out the leader.

After several tense seconds a middle-aged warrior rode from the group; his eyes were dark and malicious, his smile cruel. The eyes flickered to Danyal and Waylander read his thought.

'Who are you?' asked the leader, leaning forward on the pommel of his saddle.

'I ride with Ice-eyes,' said Waylander, using the Nadir form of Durmast's name.

'You say.'

'Who is there to doubt me?'

The dark eyes fixed on Waylander and the Nadir nodded.

'We have come from Ice-eyes' wagons. Many gifts. You have gifts?'

'Only one,' said Waylander.

'Then give it to me.'

'I already have. I gave you the gift of life.'

'Who are you to give what I already possess?'

'I am the Soul Stealer,'

The Nadir showed no emotion. 'You ride with Ice-eyes?'

'Yes. We are brothers.'

'Of the blood?'

'No. Of the blade.'

'Ride in peace on this day,' said the Nadir. 'But remember – there will be other days,'

Lifting his arm, the Nadir leader waved on his men and the group thundered past the two riders.

'What was that all about?' asked Danyal.

'He did not want to die,' said Waylander. 'There is a lesson there, if you care to consider it.'

'I have had enough lessons for one day. What did he mean – many gifts?'

Waylander shrugged. 'Durmast betrayed the wagon folk. He took their money to lead them to Gulgothir, but he already had a deal with the Nadir. So the Nadir rob the wagons and Durmast takes a percentage. At the moment they still have their wagons, but the Nadir will come again before Gulgothir and take even those. The people who survive will arrive in Gulgothir as paupers.'

"That is despicable.'

'No. It is the way of the world. Only the weak run … now they must pay for their weakness.'

'Are you really that callous?'

'I am afraid so, Danyal.'

'That is a shame.'

'I agree with you.'

'You are an infuriating man!'

'And you are a very special woman – but let us think about that this evening. For now, answer me the question of the Nadir rider: Why did he let us live?'

Danyal smiled. 'Because you isolated him from his men and threatened him as an individual. Gods, will these lessons never cease?'

'All too soon.' said Waylander.