Waylander II: In The Realm of the Wolf

18

The passing of the years, and with them the fading of his powers, was a source of intense irritation to Kesa Khan. As a young man in his physical prime, he had sought to master the arcane arts, to command demons, to walk the paths of mist, scouring the past, exploring the future. But when young, though strong enough, his skills were not honed to the perfection needed for such missions of the spirit. Now that his mind burned with power, his aged frame could not support his desires.

Even while acknowledging the manifest unfairness of life he found himself chuckling at the absurdity of existence.

He banked up his fire, not in the hearth, but in an ancient brazier he had set upon the stone floor at the centre of the small room high in the keep-tower. His precious clay pots were set around it, and from one of them he took a handful of green powder which he sprinkled on to the dancing flames. Instantly an image formed of Waylander entering the great gates of Gulgothir. He was disguised as a Sathuli trader in flowing robes of grey wool and a burnoose, bound with braided black horsehair. His back was bent under a huge pack, and he shuffled like an old man, crippled with the rheumatism. Kesa Khan smiled.

'You will not fool Zhu Chao, but no other will recognise you,' he said. The scene faded before he was ready. Kesa Khan cursed softly, and thought of the crystal lying on the golden floor below the castle. With it you could be young again he told himself. You could bide through the centuries, assisting the Uniter.

'Pah,' he said aloud. 'Were that the case would I not have seen myself in one of the futures? Do not delude yourself, old man. Death approaches. You have done all that you can for the future of your people. You have no cause to regret. No cause at all.'

'Not many can say that,' came the voice of Dardalion.

'Not many have lived as single-mindedly as I,' answered Kesa Khan. He glanced towards the doorway in which the Abbot was standing. 'Come in, priest. There is a draught, and my bones are not as young as they were.'

There was no furniture in the room and Dardalion sat cross-legged upon the rug. 'To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?' asked the old shaman.

'You are a devious man, Kesa Khan, and I lack your guile. But I do not lack powers of my own. I, too, have walked the paths of mist since last we spoke. I, too, have seen the Uniter you dream of.'

The shaman's eyes glittered with malice. 'You have seen but one? There are hundreds.'

'No,' said Dardalion. 'There are thousands. A vast spider's web of possible futures. But most of them did not interest me. I followed the path that leads from Kar-Barzac, and the child to be conceived here. A girl. A beautiful girl, who will wed a young warlord. Their son will be mighty, their grandson mightier still.'

Kesa Khan shivered. 'You saw all this in a single day? It has taken me fifty years.'

'I had fifty years less to travel.'

'What else did you see?'

'What is there that you wish to know?' countered the Drenai.

Kesa Khan bit his lip, and said nothing for a moment. 'I know it all,' he lied, shrugging his shoulders. 'There is nothing new. Have you located Waylander?'

'Yes. He has entered Gulgothir in disguise. Two of my priests are watching him, seeking to divert any search spells.'

Kesa Khan nodded. 'It is almost time to retrieve the crystal,' he said, transferring his gaze to the flickering fire.

'It should be destroyed,' advised Dardalion.

'As you wish. You will need to send one of your men – a priest who is unlikely to be corrupted by its power. You have such a man?'

'Corrupted?'

'Aye. Even in its dormant state it exerts great influence, firing the senses like strong drink that removes inhibition. The man you send must have great control over his … passions, shall we say? Any weakness he has will be multiplied a hundred times. I will send no Nadir on such a quest.'

'As you well know there is one among my priests with the strength to overcome such evil,' said Dardalion. He leaned in close to the wizened shaman. 'But tell me, Kesa Khan, what else is down there?'

'Have you not used your great powers to find out?' countered the wizened Nadir, unable to keep a sneer from disfiguring his face.

'No spirit can penetrate the lower levels. There is a force there many times stronger than I have encountered before. But you know all this, old man, and more. I do not ask for your gratitude –it is meaningless to me. We are not here for you. But I would ask for a little honesty.'

'Ask all you like, Drenai. I owe you nothing! You want the crystal – then seek it out.'

Dardalion sighed. 'Very well, I shall do just that. But I will not send Ekodas into the Pit. I shall go myself.'

"The crystal will destroy you!'

'Perhaps.'

'You are a fool, Dardalion. Ekodas is many times stronger than you. You know this.'

The Abbot smiled. 'Yes, I know.' The smile faded and his eyes hardened. 'And now the time for pretence is over. You need Ekodas. Without him your dreams are dust. I have seen the future, Kesa Khan. I have seen more than you know. Everything here is in a state of delicate balance. One wrong strategy and your hopes will die.'

The shaman relaxed, and added fuel to the flames in the brazier. 'We are not so different, you and I. Very well, I will tell you all that you desire to know. But it must be Ekodas who destroys the evil. You agree?'

'Let us talk, and then I will decide.'

'That is acceptable, Drenai.' Kesa Khan took a deep breath. 'Ask your questions.'

'What perils wait in the lower levels?'

The shaman shrugged. 'How would I know? As you say, no spirit power can enter there.'

'Who would you send with Ekodas?' asked Dardalion softly.

'The Drenai woman and her lover.'

Dardalion caught the gleam in the shaman's eyes. 'You are transparent in your hate, Kesa Khan. You need us now, but you want us all dead, eventually. Especially the woman. Why is that?'

'Pah, she is of no consequence!'

'And still the lies flow,' snapped Dardalion. 'But we will talk again, Kesa Khan.'

'You will send Ekodas?'

Dardalion remained silent for a moment. Then he nodded. 'But not,' he said, 'for the reasons you believe.'

The Abbot stood and left the room. The shaman fought down his anger, and remained sitting cross-legged before the fire. How much more did the Drenai know? What had he said of the Uniter? Kesa Khan summoned the words from memory: 'A vast spider's web of possible futures. But most of them did not interest me. I followed the path thatleads from Kar-Barzac, and the child to be conceived here.A girl. A beautiful girl, who will wed a young warlord. Theirson will be mighty, their grandson mightier still.'

Did he know the identity of the young warlord? Where he might be found? Kesa Khan cursed softly, and wished he had the strength to walk the paths of mist once more. But he could feel his heart beating within the cage of his ribs, fluttering weakly like a dying sparrow. His dark eyes narrowed. He had no choice. He must go on with his plans. Let the Drenai destroy the crystal – it was not important to the future of the Nadir. What was vital was that Ekodas should journey to the chamber, and with him the woman, Miriel.

The merest moment of regret touched him then. She was a strong woman, proud and caring.

It was, he admitted, a shame she had to die.

Angel looked down at the perfectly-healed skin of his torn palms, then up into the face of the young priest. 'There is no mark,' he said. 'No scab or scar!'

The young man smiled wearily. 'I merely accelerated your own healing processes. I have also removed a small growth from one of your lungs.'

'A cancer?' whispered Angel, fear rising in his throat.

'Yes, but it is gone.'

'I felt no pain from it.'

'Nor would you until it was much larger.'

'You saved my life, then? By all the gods, priest, I don't know what to say. My name is Angel.' He thrust out his newly-healed hand.

The priest took it. 'Ekodas. How goes it on the wall?'

'We're holding them. They'll not try scaling the battle­ments again. Next time it will be the portcullis.'

Ekodas nodded. 'You are correct. But it will not be until tomorrow. Get some rest, Angel. You are no longer a young man and your body is very tired.' The priest glanced over Angel's shoulder. 'The boy is with you?' he asked.

Angel looked round. The deaf child was standing close, Angel's green cloak draped over his shoulders. 'Yes. Your large friend – Merlon? – suggested I ask you to look at him. He's deaf.'

'I am very weary. My powers are not inexhaustible.'

'Another time, then,' said Angel, rising.

'No,' insisted Ekodas. 'Let us at least examine him.'

Angel waved the boy to him, but he shied away when the priest reached out. Ekodas closed his eyes. The child immediately slumped into Angel's arms, deeply asleep. 'What did you do?'

'He will come to no harm, Angel. He will merely sleep until I wake him.' Ekodas placed his open palms over the child's ears and stood, stock still, for several minutes. At last he stepped back and sat down opposite the gladiator. 'He had a severe infection when very young. It was not treated, and spread through the bones around the ears. This damaged the eardrums, making them incapable of relaying vibrations to the brain. You understand?'

'Not a word of it,' admitted Angel. 'But can you heal him?'

'I have already done so,' said Ekodas. 'But you must stay with him for a while. He will be frightened. Every noise will be new to him.'

Angel watched the young priest move away across the hall. The boy stirred in his arms. His eyes opened.

'Feel better?' asked Angel. The boy stiffened, his eyes flaring with shock. Angel grinned and tapped his own ear. 'You can hear now.' A woman moved past them, behind the child. He swivelled and stared at her feet as they padded across the stone floor. Angel touched the boy on the arm, gaining his attention, then began to rhythmically tap at the table at which they sat, making small drumming sounds. The child scrambled from his lap and ran from the hall.

'What a great teacher you are,' muttered Angel. Weari­ness flooded him and he rose and walked through the hall, finding a small unoccupied room in a corridor beyond it. There was no furniture here, but Angel lay down on the stone floor, his head pillowed on his arm.

And he slept without dreams.

Miriel woke him and he sat up. She had brought him a bowl of weak broth and a chunk of bread. 'How are your hands?' she asked him.

'Healed,' he told her, turning them palms upwards. 'By one of the priests – Ekodas. He has a rare Talent.'

She nodded. 'I have just met him.' He took the soup and began to eat. Miriel sat silently beside him. She seemed preoccupied, and continually tugged at a long lock of hair by her temple.

'What is wrong?'

'Nothing.'

'Lying doesn't suit you, Miriel. Are we not friends?'

She nodded, but did not meet his eyes. 'I feel ashamed,' she said, her voice barely above a whisper. 'People are dying here. Every day. And yet I have never been happier. Even on the wall, when the Gothir were advancing I felt alive in a way I have never known before. I could smell the air – so sweet and cold. And with Senta . . .' She blushed and looked away.

'I know,' he told her. 'I have been in love.'

'It seems so stupid, but a part of me doesn't want this to end. Do you know what I mean?'

'Everything ends,' he said, with a sigh. 'In a curious way it is what makes life so beautiful. I knew an artist once, who could craft flowers from glass – fabulous items. But one night, as we were drinking in a small tavern, he told me he had never once fashioned anything with the beauty of a genuine rose. And he knew he never would. For the secret of its beauty is that it must die.'

'I don't want it to die. Ever.'

He laughed. 'I know that feeling, girl. But Shemak's balls! You're young – not yet twenty. Draw every ounce of pleasure you can from life, savour it, hold it on your tongue. But don't waste time with thoughts of loss. My first wife was a harridan. I adored her, and we fought like tigers. When she died I was bereft but, given the chance, I would not go back and live differently. The years with her were golden.'

She smiled at him sheepishly. 'I don't want the pain my father suffered. I know that sounds pathetic.'

'There's nothing pathetic about it. Where is the man himself?'

'Gathering torches.'

'For what?'

'Kesa Khan has asked me to lead Ekodas through the lower levels. We are to seek out a crystal.'

'I'll come with you.'

'No,' she said firmly as he started to rise. 'Ekodas says you are more tired than you will admit. You don't need a walk in the dark.'

'There could be danger,' he objected.

'Kesa Khan says not. Now you rest. We'll be back within a couple of hours.'

For the merchant, Matze Chai, sleep was a joy to be treasured. Each night, no matter what pressures his ventures loaded upon him, he would sleep undisturbed for exactly four hours. It was Matze Chai's belief that it was this blissful rest that kept his mind sharp while dealing with treacherous Gothir tradesmen and wily nobles.

So it was with some surprise that when he was awakened by his manservant, Luo, he noticed the dawn was still some way off, and that the night stars could still be seen through the balcony window.

'I am sorry, master,' whispered Luo, bobbing and bowing in the moonlight, 'but there is a man to see you.'

Matze Chai absorbed this information, and much more. No ordinary man could have prevailed upon Luo to disturb his rest. Nor would anyone of Matze's acquaintance leave the servant in such a state of fear.

He sat up and removed the net of silk that covered his waxed and gleaming hair. 'Light a lantern or two, Luo,' he said softly.

'Yes, master. I am sorry, master. But he was insistent that you should be awakened.'

'Of course. Think no more of it. You did exactly the right thing. Fetch me a comb.' Luo lit two lanterns, placing them on the desk beside the bed. Then he brought a bronze mirror and an ivory comb. Matze Chai tilted his head and Luo carefully combed his master's long beard, parting it at the centre and braiding it expertly. 'Where did you leave this man?' he asked.

'In the library, master. He asked for some water.'

'Ah, water!' Matze Chai smiled. 'I will dress myself. Be a good fellow and go to my study. In the third cabinet from the garden window you will find, wrapped I believe in red vellum and tied with blue twine, a set of parchments and scrolls. Bring them to the library as soon as you can.'

'Should I summon the guard, master?'

'For what purpose?' inquired Matze Chai. 'Are we in danger?'

'He is a rough and violent man. I know these things.'

'The world is full of rough and violent men. And yet I am still rich and safe. Do not concern yourself, Luo. Merely do as I have bid you.'

'Yes, master. Red vellum. Third cabinet from the window.'

'Tied with blue twine,' reminded Matze Chai. Luo bowed and backed from the room. Matze Chai stretched and rose, moving to his wardrobe and selecting an open-fronted robe of shimmering purple, which he belted to his waist with a golden sash. In slippers of softest velvet he moved down the curving staircase into the long, richly-carpeted hall and across into the library.

His guest was seated upon a silk-covered couch. He had discarded a filthy Sathuli robe and burnoose and his clothes of black leather were travel-stained and dusty. A small black cross-bow lay beside him.

'Welcome to my home, Dakeyras,' said Matze Chai, with a wide smile.

The man smiled back. 'I'd say you were investing my money well – judging from the antiquities I see around me.'

'Your wealth is safe and growing apace,' Matze told him. He sat down on the couch opposite the newcomer, having first lifted the foul-smelling Sathuli robe between index finger and thumb and dropping it to the floor. 'I take it you are travelling in disguise.'

'Sometimes it is advisable,' admitted his guest.

Luo appeared, carrying the scrolls and ledgers. 'Put them on the table,' said Matze. 'Oh . . . and remove these items,' he added, touching the robes with the toe of his velvet slipper. 'Prepare a hot scented bath in the lower guest-room. Send for Ru Lai and tell her there is a guest who will require a hot-oil massage.'

'Yes, master,' answered Luo, gathering up the Sathuli robes and backing from the room.

'Now, Dakeyras, would you like to examine the accounts?'

The man smiled. 'Ever one step ahead, Matze. How did you know it was me?'

'A midnight guest who frightens Luo and asks for a glass of water? Who else would it be? I understand there is a price on your head once more. Who have you offended now?'

'Just about everyone. But Karnak set the price.'

'Then it should please you to know he is currently languishing in the dungeons of Gulgothir.'

'So I understand. What other news is there?'

'The price of silk is up. And spices. You have investments in both.'

'I didn't mean the markets, Matze. What news from Drenai?'

'The Ventrians have had some success. They stormed Skein but were pushed back at Erekban. But without Karnak they are set to lose the war. At present there is a cessation of hostilities. The Ventrians are holding the ground they have taken, and a Gothir force is camped in the Delnoch mountains. The fighting has ceased tempo­rarily. No one knows why.'

'I could hazard a guess,' said the newcomer. 'There are Brotherhood knights in all three camps. I think there is a deeper game being played.'

Matze nodded. 'You could be right, Dakeyras. Zhu Chao has become more powerful in these last few months: only yesterday a decree from the Emperor was published bearing the royal seal, but Zhu Chao's signature. Worrying times. Still, that should not affect business. Now how can I help you?'

'I have an enemy in Gulgothir who desires my death.'

'Then kill him and be done with it.'

'I intend to. But I will need information.'

'Everything is available in Gulgothir, my friend. You know that. Who is this . . . unwise person?'

'A countryman of yours, Matze Chai. We have already spoken of him. He has a palace here and is close to the Emperor.'

Matze Chai licked his lips nervously. 'I do hope this is merely a bad jest.' The newcomer shook his head. 'You realise his home is guarded by men and demons, and that his powers are very great. He could even now be watching us.'

'Aye, he could. But there's nothing I can do about that.'

'What do you need?'

'I need a plan of the palace, and an estimate of the numbers of guards and their placements.'

Matze sighed. 'You are asking a great deal, my friend. If I aid you and you are captured – and confess – then my life would be forfeit.'

'Indeed it would.'

'Twenty-five thousand Raq,' said Matze Chai.

'Drenai or Gothir?' countered the newcomer.

'Gothir. The Drenai Raq has suffered in recent months.'

'That is close to the sum I have invested with you.'

'No, my friend, that is exactly the sum you have invested with me.'

'Your friendship carries a high price, Matze Chai.'

'I know of a man who was once a member of the Brotherhood, but he became overly addicted to Lorassium. He is a former captain of Zhu Chao's guard. And there are two others who once served the man we speak of and will be helpful with information as to his habits.'

'Send for them in the morning,' said Waylander, rising. 'And now I shall take the bath – and the massage. Oh, one small point. Before I visited you I went to another merchant who invests for me. I left him with sealed instructions. If I do not collect them tomorrow by noon he will open them and act upon the contents.'

'I take it,' said Matze, with a tight smile, 'we are talking about a contract for my death?'

'I have always liked you, Matze. You have a sharp mind.'

'This speaks of a certain lack of trust,' said Matze Chai, aggrieved.

'I trust you with my money, my friend. Let that be sufficient.'

The Gothir attacked three times in the night, twice trying to scale the walls but the third time launching their assault on the portcullis. The Nadir sent volley after volley of arrows into the attackers, but to little effect. Hundreds of soldiers clustered around the portcullis making a wall of shields against the rusted iron, while other men hacked and sawed at the metal bars.

Orsa Khan, the tall half-breed, threw lantern-oil over the barricade of carts and wagons and set fire to the base. Thick black smoke swirled around the gateway, and the attackers were driven back. On the walls Dardalion and the last of the Thirty battled alongside Nadir warriors, repelling assaults.

By dawn the last of the attacks had ceased and Dardalion made his way back through the hall, leaving Vishna and the others on the ramparts. He tried to commune with Ekodas, but could not break through the wall of power emanating from below the castle. He found Kesa Khan alone in his high room, the old shaman standing by the crooked window staring out over the valley.

'Three more days is all we have,' said Dardalion.

Kesa Khan shrugged. 'Much can happen in three days, Drenai.'

Dardalion unbuckled his silver breastplate, pulling it clear. Removing his helm he sat down on the rug by the glowing brazier.

Kesa Khan joined him. 'You are tired, priest.'

'I am,' admitted Dardalion. "The paths of the future drained me.'

'As they have me on many occasions. But it was worth it to see the days of Ulric.'

'Ulric?'

'The Uniter,' said Kesa Khan.

'Ah yes, the First Uniter. I am afraid I spent little time observing him. I was more interested in the Second. An unusual man, don't you think? Despite his mixed blood and his torn loyalties he still drew the Nadir together and accomplished all that Ulric failed to do.'

Kesa Khan said nothing for a moment. 'Can you show me this man?'

Dardalion's eyes narrowed. 'But you have seen him, surely? He is the Uniter you spoke of.'

'No, he is not.'

Dardalion sighed. 'Take my hand, Kesa Khan, and share my memories.' The shaman reached out, gripping hard to Dardalion's palm. He shuddered, and his mind swam. Dardalion summoned his concentration, and together they witnessed the rise of Ulric Khan, the merging of the tribes, the great hordes sweeping across the steppes, the sacking of Gulgothir and the first siege of Dros Delnoch.

They watched the Earl of Bronze turn back the Nadir host, and saw the signing of the peace treaty, and the honouring of the terms; the marriage between the Earl's son and one of Ulric's daughters, and the birth of the child, Tenaka Khan, the Prince of Shadows, the King Beyond the Gate.

Dardalion felt Kesa Khan's pride swell, followed im­mediately by a sense of despair. The separation was swift, and brought a groan from the Drenai. He opened his eyes and saw the fear on Kesa Khan's face. 'What is it? What is wrong?'

'The woman, Miriel. From her will come the line of men leading to this Earl of Bronze?'

'Yes – I thought you understood that? You knew that a child would be conceived here.'

'But not to her, Drenai! I did not know about her! The line of Ulric begins here also.'

'So?'

Kesa Khan's breathing was shallow, his face distorted. 'I … I believed Ulric was the Uniter. And that Miriel's descendants would seek to thwart him. I. . she . . .'

'Out with it, man!'

'There are beasts guarding the crystal. There were three, but their hunger was great and they turned upon one another. Now there is only one. They were men sent by Zhu Chao to kill me. Karnak's son, Bodalen, was one of them. The crystal merged them.'

'You could breach the power all along! What treachery is this?' stormed Dardalion.

'The girl will die down there. It is written!' The shaman's face was pale and stricken. 'I have destroyed the line of the Uniter.'

'Not yet,' said Dardalion, surging to his feet.

Kesa Khan lunged out, grabbing the priest's arm. 'You don't understand! I have made a pact with Shemak. She will die. Nothing can alter it now.'

Dardalion tore himself clear of Kesa Khan's grip. 'Nothing is inalterable. And no demon will hold sway over me!'

'If I could change it I would,' wailed Kesa Khan. 'The Uniter is everything to me! But there must be a death. You cannot stop it!'

Dardalion ran from the room, down the winding stair to the hall, and on to the deep stairwell leading to the subterranean chambers. Just as he was entering the darkness Vishna pulsed to him from the ramparts. 'The Brotherhood are attacking, brother. We need you!'

'I cannot!'

'Without you we are lost! The castle will fall!'

Dardalion reeled back from the doorway, his mind whirling. Hundreds of women and children would be slain if he deserted his post. Yet if he did not, then Miriel was doomed. He fell to his knees in the doorway, desperately seeking the path of prayer, but his mind was lost in thoughts of the coming chaos. A hand touched his shoulder. He looked up. It was the scarred, ugly gladiator.

'Are you ill?' asked the man. Dardalion rose and took a deep breath. Then he told all to Angel. The man's face was grim as he listened. 'A death, you say? But not necessarily Miriel's?'

'I don't know. But I am needed on the wall. I cannot go to her.'

'I can,' said Angel, drawing his sword.