Waylander III: Hero In The Shadows

Chapter Sixteen

The massive nave of the temple was thronged with people; mothers holding fast to their children, husbands staying close to their loved ones. Hundreds of the citizens of Carlis had taken refuge here, workers, merchants, tanners and clerics all huddled together. A few soldiers were with them, men who had been ordered to watch for the renegade priest Chardyn.

Priests moved among the crowds, offering blessings, leading prayers.

The corpse of an elderly man lay by one of the walls, the face covered by a cloak. His heart had failed. The body was a reminder of the perils that awaited them outside. Fear was almost palpable, and conversations were held in hushed whispers. The topic was the same everywhere. Would the hallowed walls keep out the demons? Were they safe within this holy place?

A white-robed figure moved into sight, climbing the steps to the high altar. A cry went up from the crowd as they recognized Chardyn. People began to cheer. Relief swept through the crowd.

Chardyn stood in full sight of them all and spread his arms. 'My children!' he bellowed. Several soldiers moved forward. Chardyn looked down at them. 'Stand where you are!' he thundered. Such was the power in his voice that the soldiers stopped, and glanced at one another. The crowd would tear to pieces any who tried to harm the priest. The soldiers relaxed.

'The Duke is dead," said Chardyn, transferring his gaze to the crowd. 'He was slain by sorcery. And now demons stalk the land. You know this. You know that a magicker summoned Hell-hounds to kill and to maim. That is why you are here. But let me ask you this: do you think these walls might protect you? These walls were built by men.' He fell silent, his eyes scanning the silent congregation. Then he pointed at a large man standing at the centre of the throng. 'I see you, Benae Tarlin! You and your team constructed the south wall. What power do you possess that will hold back demons? What magic did you invest in these stones? What ward-spells did you cast?' He waited for an answer. The crowd swung to stare at the hulking man, who reddened and said nothing. 'The answer is none!' roared Chardyn. 'They are merely walls of stone. Cold, lifeless stone. And so, you might ask, where is the sanctuary against the evil that is outside? Where can we hide to be safe?' He paused and allowed the silence to grow.

'Where is anyone safe from evil?' he said at last. 'The answer is nowhere. You cannot run from evil. It will find you. You cannot hide from evil. It will burrow down to the deepest place in your heart and it will discover you.'

'And what of the Source?' shouted a man. 'Why does He not protect us?'

'Aye, what of the Source?' responded Chardyn. 'Where is He in our hour of need? Well, He is here, my friends. He is ready. He waits with a shield of thunder and a spear of lightning. He waits.'

'What is he waiting for?' came another shout, this time from the stone-mason Chardyn had picked out earlier.

'He is waiting for you, Benae Tarlin,' answered Chardyn. 'He is waiting for you, and he is waiting for me. At the palace of the Grey Man there is a magicker, a man who summons demons. He has bewitched the lords Aric and Panagyn, and arranged the massacre of many of our leading citizens. He now rules Carlis, and soon, perhaps, all of Kydor. One man. One vile and evil man. One man who believes that the murder of a group of nobles will cow and terrorize an entire population. Is he right? Of course he is. Here we are, cowering behind walls of stone. And the Source waits. He waits to see if we have the courage to believe. If we have the faith to act. Every week we assemble here and we sing songs of the Source, of His greatness and His power. Do we believe them? We do when times are good. You listen to sermons about the heroes of the Source, of the Abbot Dardalion and the Thirty, his warrior priests. My, but they make great listening, do they not? A few men who, with courage and faith, set themselves against a terrible enemy. Did they cower behind walls and ask the Source to fight for them? No, for the Source was within them. The Source fed their courage, their spirit, their strength. That same Source is within us, my friends.'

'Well, I don't feel it!' called Benae Tarlin.

'Nor can you while you hide,' Chardyn told him. 'Your son slipped down that cliff last year, and you climbed down to the ledge to rescue him. He clung to your back and you felt you did not have the strength to carry him clear. We have talked of this, Benae. You prayed for the strength to bring your son to safety. And you did so. Did you sit upon that cliff and call out for the Source to raise your boy on a magical cloud? No. You set off in faith and your faith was rewarded.

'I tell you now that the Source waits. He waits with power greater than any magicker. You want to see that power – then walk with me to the palace of the Grey Man. We will find the magicker. And we will destroy him.'

'If we march with you,' asked another man, 'do you promise the Source will be with us?'

'With us and within us,' said Chardyn. 'I pledge it upon my life.'

Three-swords was standing by the window, looking out over the bay, when he caught what seemed to be a flash of light on one of the lower terraces. He stepped out on to the balcony and peered at the area below. Two human guards were walking down the steps. They were heading in the direction from which the light came. Three-swords relaxed and went back into the library.

Iron-arm was stretched out on a long bench. Stone-four and Long-stride were sitting at the base of the stairs. There had been no screams from the upper chamber for some time. Three-swords did not like the sound of screams, especially from young females. He had little stomach for cruelty. In battle you fought an enemy and killed it. You did not set out to make it suffer. Iron-arm strolled across to join him. 'The magicker is on his way back,' said Iron-arm. Three-swords nodded. He had not yet scented the man, but Iron-arm was never wrong. Then Three-swords caught the scent. It was faintly acrid, the scent of fear.

The black-bearded magicker came up the stairs and stopped. He stared at the circular steps leading to the upper chamber. Then he moved to a seat and slumped down, rubbing his eyes. 'All is quiet out there,' he said to Three-swords.

The warrior knew he was merely making conversation in a bid to delay his return to Deresh Karany. 'So far,' said Three-swords.

Iron-arm rose suddenly and strode to the window.

'Blood,' he said, opening his mouth and drawing in a hiss of air over his tongue. 'Human blood.' Three-swords and Long-stride joined him instantly.

Three-swords closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Yes. He could just taste it on the air. He turned to Eldicar Manushan. 'At least one man is bleeding heavily.'

'Two,' said Iron-arm. 'And there is something else.' His broad nostrils flared. 'It is very faint. But. . . yes . . . big cat. Lion, maybe. No. Not a lion – a meld.'

'Ustarte!' whispered Eldicar Manushan. He backed away from the window, then swung to Stone-four and Long-stride. 'Get out there. Find her. Kill anyone with her.'

'It might be better to stay together,' said Three-swords.

'This Waylander must not reach the tower,' said Eldicar Manushan. 'Do as I say.'

'Move warily,' Three-swords told Long-stride and Stone-four. 'This human is a hunter and a canny fighter. He uses a crossbow that shoots two bolts.'

The two warriors descended the staircase. Eldicar Manushan sat down. The smell of fear was strong on him now, and Three-swords joined Iron-arm at the window. 'The cat-woman is sick,' said Iron-arm, 'or weak. I cannot tell which. She is out of sight, just below those gardens. She has not moved.'

'Can you scent any humans?'

'No – only the wounded or dead. I would think they are dead, for there is no movement or sound from them.'

From where they stood they saw Long-stride and Stone-four emerge into the gardens. Stone-four was moving swiftly, but Long-stride tapped him on the shoulder, ordering him to slow down.

'They won't surprise Long-stride,' said Iron-arm. 'He's careful.'

Three-swords did not answer. He glanced back at Eldicar Manushan. Why was the man so terrified?

He strolled across to where the magicker sat. 'What is it that I do not know?' he asked.

'I don't know what you mean.'

'What is happening here, Eldicar? Why were so many women killed? Why are you so frightened?'

Eldicar licked his lips, then rose and moved in close to Three-swords. 'If the human gets through,' he whispered, 'Deresh Karany will perform the Summoning.'

'So he will use a demon to kill him. He has done this before.'

'Not any demon,' said Eldicar. 'He plans to summon Anharat himself.'

Three-swords said nothing. What was there to say? The arrogance of these humans was beyond his understanding. He saw Iron-arm looking at him quizzically, and he knew why.

He is scenting my fear now, thought Three-swords.

As the air shimmered around her Keeva felt an icy wind swirl over her body. Bright colours exploded before her eyes. Then, as if a curtain had opened, she saw the moonlit apartments of the Grey Man appear before her. The ground shifted under her feet and she half staggered. Ustarte gave out a low moan and sank to the ground. Instantly Waylander knelt by her. 'What is wrong?'

'I am . . . exhausted. It . . . takes great energy. I will be fine.' Ustarte stretched herself out. 'So . . . little power left,' she whispered. She closed her eyes. Waylander moved towards the door of his apartments, and two guards appeared on the pathway to the right. One was holding a hunting bow, an arrow notched to the string.

The second carried a spear. Both men froze as they took in the scene.

Keeva raised her crossbow. 'Put down your weapons,' she said.

For a moment it seemed they would obey her, but then the bowman drew back on the string. A bolt from Waylander's weapon slammed into his chest. He grunted and fell back, his arrow slashing through the air, missing Keeva by inches. The spearman charged at Keeva. Instinctively she pressed both trigger studs on her crossbow. One bolt struck the spearman in the mouth, smashing his teeth, the second entered his skull between the eyes. His charge faltered and he dropped the spear. His hand went to his mouth. Then, as if his bones had turned to water, his body crumpled and he fell at Keeva's feet.

She looked round for the Grey Man, but he had entered the apartments. She transferred her gaze to the dead man, and felt sick. The other guard groaned. Rolling to his stomach, he tried to crawl away. Keeva crossed the ground and stood over him. 'Lie still,' she told him. 'No one is going to harm you further.'

Kneeling by his side, she put a hand to his shoulder, to help him turn on to his back. He relaxed at her touch and she looked into his eyes. He was young and beardless, with large brown eyes. Keeva smiled at him. He seemed about to say something. Then a bolt smashed into the side of his head, crunching through the temple.

Fury swept through Keeva and she swung on the Grey Man. 'Why?' she hissed.

'Look at his hand,' said Waylander.

Keeva glanced down. Moonlight shone upon the dagger blade. 'You do not know that he was going to use it,' she said.

'I did not know that he wasn't,' Waylander told her.

Moving past her, he wrenched the bolt clear of the soldier's head, cleaned it on the man's tunic, and slipped it back into his quiver. 'We do not have time for lessons, Keeva Taliana,' he said. 'We are surrounded by enemies who will seek to take our lives. To hesitate is to die. Learn fast – or you will not survive the night.'

Behind them Ustarte called out weakly. Waylander knelt by her. 'There are Kriaz-nor within the tower. The wind is off the sea and they will scent the blood.'

'How many can you sense?' he asked.

'Four. There is something else. I cannot quite fasten to it. There has been murder done and there is a tremor in the air. Magic is being cast, but for what purpose I cannot tell.'

Waylander took her hand. 'How soon before you can walk?'

'A few moments more. My limbs are trembling. I have no strength yet.'

'Then rest,' said Waylander, rising and moving to Keeva. 'I have something for you that will give you an edge,' he said.

Ustarte called out again. 'Two Kriaz-nor are moving down the terrace steps.'

Long-stride moved warily. He had not yet drawn his sword. There would be time for that. For now he was using all his senses. He could smell the blood, and the sour odour of urine. The bladders of the dead had emptied. The scent of the meld-woman was also strong, and Long-stride could detect within it an unhealthy aroma. The woman was sick. Stone-four was moving too fast, and was some paces ahead now. Irritated, Long-stride caught up with him. 'Wait!' he ordered.

Stone-four obeyed him and they moved stealthily around the corner. Some fifteen paces ahead of them, sitting upon a rock, was a dark-garbed human. In his left hand he held a double-winged crossbow. Beyond him lay the cat-woman. 'Let me kill him,' said Stone-four. 'I want to win a name!'

Long-stride nodded, and continued to sniff at the air.

Stone-four stepped towards the human. 'Your weapon looks formidable,' he said. 'Why don't you show me how formidable?'

'Come a little closer,' said the human, his voice calm.

'Surely this range is adequate,' replied Stone-four.

'Aye, it is adequate. Did you wish to draw your sword?'

'I will not need it, human. I shall remove your heart with my hands.'

The human rose. 'I am told you are very fast, and that bows are useless against you. Is this true?'

'It is true.'

'Let us find out,' said the man, his voice suddenly cold. Long-stride felt the beginning of apprehension as he heard the man's tone, but Stone-four was tensed and ready. The bow came up. Stone-four's right hand swept up, snatching the bolt from mid-air. Instantly a second bolt followed the first. Stone-four moved with lightning speed, catching this with his left hand. He grinned widely and glanced at Long-stride. 'Easy!' he said. Before Long-stride could warn his comrade the human's right hand flashed out. The throwing knife sped through the air, slamming into Stone-four's throat. The Kriaz-nor, his windpipe severed, took two faltering steps towards the human, then toppled face-first to the ground.

Long-stride drew his sword. 'You have any more tricks to play, human?' he asked.

'Only one,' said the man, drawing a shortsword.

'And what might that be?'

Long-stride heard a whisper of movement behind him.

Spinning on his heel, he scanned the area. Nothing was there. Low bushes and rocks that could not hide a human. Then he saw something so weird that he did not at first register what it was. A crossbow suddenly extended from low to the ground. Long-stride blinked. He could not focus properly on the area around it. The weapon tilted and, in that fraction of a heartbeat, Long-stride saw a slim hand upon the weapon. Two bolts slashed towards him. His sword swept up blocking the first. The second slammed into his chest, burying itself deep into his lungs. A sword blade plunged into his back. Long-stride arched, then swung, his own sword slicing the air. But the human had not crept up behind him as he had thought. The man was still standing some fifteen paces away. He had hurled the sword! Long-stride felt all strength seeping away. Letting fall his blade, he walked stiffly to a rock and sat down heavily. 'You are very skilful, human,' he said. 'How did you make the crossbow shoot?'

'He didn't,' said a female voice.

Long-stride looked towards his left and saw a woman's head appear, floating in the air. Then an arm came into sight, sweeping upwards, as if pushing a cloak aside. Then it came to him. 'A Bezha cloak,' he said, slipping from the rock.

Pain roared through him as he fell, and he realized his weight had come down upon the sword jutting from his back, driving it deeper. He struggled to rise, but there was no power left in his limbs. His face was resting against a cold flagstone.

It felt surprisingly pleasant.

Waylander and Keeva helped Ustarte inside the apartments. 'I just need to rest for an hour or so,' said the priestess. 'Leave me here. Do what you have to do.'

Keeva reloaded her crossbow and walked to the doorway. 'Do you have a plan?' she asked Waylander.

He smiled at her. 'Always.'

'How are you feeling?'

The smile faded. 'I've felt better.'

She looked into his face. Dark rings showed under his eyes, and his skin was pallid, the cheeks sunken. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered. 'I don't know what else to say.'

'No one lives for ever, Keeva. Are you ready?'

'I am.'

Waylander moved out into the darkness, and ran along the path, cutting left towards the waterfall. Keeva followed him. He clambered up the rocks and entered a dark opening. He waited for her there and took her hand. 'These steps lead up into the palace,' he said. 'Once we are there I want you to make your way to the stairs underneath the library. Cover yourself with the cloak then climb the stairs until you can see into it. Do nothing more until I make my move. You understand this?'

'I understand.'

Still holding her hand he climbed the stairs. The darkness was total. At the top he paused, listening. There was no sound from beyond and he slid open the panel leading to the corridor outside the Great Hall. Lanterns had been lit here, but there was no sign of people. Waylander released her hand. 'Be lucky, Keeva,' he said, then moved away swiftly.

Keeva was suddenly fearful. All the time he had been with her she had felt somehow protected. Now alone, she found her hands trembling.

'Be strong,' she told herself, then ran along the corridor towards the library stairs.

'I cannot see them,' said Eldicar Manushan, staring out over the terraced gardens. Three-swords did not answer. He exchanged glances with Iron-arm. The huge warrior nodded. Three-swords turned away. He had always liked Long-stride. The warrior was reliable and cool under pressure. He would be hard to replace. 'What can be taking them so long?' asked Eldicar Manushan. 'Are they eating his heart, do you think?'

'They are not eating anything,' said Three-swords. 'They are dead.'

'Dead?' responded the magicker, his voice rising. 'They are Kriaz-nor. How can they be dead?'

'We die too, magicker. We are not invulnerable. This assassin is obviously everything you feared. Are you sure he is human, and not meld?'

Eldicar Manushan wiped sweat from his face. 'I don't know what he is, but he killed a Bezha. I was there. A little while ago he entered a house, surrounded by guards and killer dogs. He killed the merchant who lived there and then left. No one saw him.'

'Perhaps he knows magic,' said Iron-arm.

'I would have sensed it,' said Eldicar. 'No, he is just a man.'

'Well,' continued Iron-arm, 'just a man has killed two Kriaz-nor. And now he is coming to kill you.'

'Be quiet!' stormed Eldicar, swinging round and staring out over the balcony. He gazed down at the ground some fifty feet below and watched for any sign of movement on the steps. Dark clouds obscured the moon and lightning flashed over the bay, followed some seconds later by a rolling boom of thunder. Rain began to lash down, hissing against the white walls of the palace. Eldicar could see little now, and moved to the shelter of the balcony doorway.

Back in the library Three-swords was just about to pour a goblet of water, when he paused, nostrils flaring. Iron-arm had also caught the scent. Three-swords carefully replaced the goblet on the table and turned, his golden gaze raking the room and the wrought-iron stairs leading up to it. He could see nothing, but he knew someone was close. Iron-arm moved stealthily along the wall.

Three-swords strolled casually towards the stairs, then darted forward. As he did so a crossbow appeared from thin air, and loosed a bolt. Three-swords swayed to one side. The bolt flashed by him. A second followed the first. Three-swords' arm swept up. The point of the bolt gashed the back of his hand, before careering across the library and clattering against the shelves. Three-swords leapt down the stairs, grabbing the outstretched arm. With one heave he threw the assassin back over his shoulder and into the room. The archer landed heavily. Three-swords spun and ran up the stairs. The assassin had come to his knees, although that was not what Three-swords saw. He saw a head and one arm, and a disembodied foot. Reaching out, he tore away the Bezha cloak with one hand, while dragging the assassin to his feet with the other. He was about to rip out the man's throat when he saw that he held a slim young woman. She kicked him, but he ignored it and turned towards Eldicar Manushan.

'This is not your Waylander,' he said. 'It is a female.'

'Well, kill her,' shouted Eldicar.

The woman drew a dagger from its sheath. Three-swords absently batted it from her hand. 'Stop struggling,' he said. 'It is beginning to annoy me.'

'What are you waiting for?' said Eldicar. 'Kill her.'

'I have already killed one woman for you, magicker. I did not relish that task, but I did it. It still sits badly with me. I am a warrior, not a woman-killer.'

'Then you do it,' Eldicar ordered Iron-arm.

'That's my captain,' said Iron-arm. 'Where he goes I follow.'

'You insolent dogs! I'll kill her myself!' Eldicar pulled his dagger from his belt and took one step away from the balcony door. At that moment something dark moved into sight behind him. A hand hooked into the collar of his robe, dragging him back. His hips hit the balcony rail and his body cartwheeled over the edge. Iron-arm sprang towards the balcony. There was no one there. He glanced up.

Through the lashing rain he saw a dark figure scaling the wall, heading towards the upper balcony of the library tower.

Iron-arm looked down. Fifty feet below the magicker lay spreadeagled on the stones. Moving back into the room, Iron-arm headed for the upper stairs.

Three-swords stopped him. 'Trust me, my friend, you do not want to go up there.' He looked down at the woman in his grasp, then released her. She half fell. Three-swords saw a swelling on the side of her face, and her left eye was closing fast. 'Sit down,' he said, 'and drink some water. What is your name?'

'Keeva Taliana.'

'Well, Keeva Taliana, have your drink and gather your strength. Then, were I you, I would leave this tower.'

Eldicar Manushan lay very still. Pain threatened to engulf him, but he concentrated his powers, blocking the agony. Fighting for calm, he sent his spirit flowing through his broken body. He had landed heavily on his back, but, thankfully, his spine was not severed. His right hip was smashed, and his left leg broken in three places, his left wrist fractured. His head had missed the stone of the path, striking the soft earth of a flower-bed beside it. Otherwise his neck might have been broken. There were some internal injuries, but quietly and carefully Eldicar healed them. Occasionally the pain would burst through his defences, but he held it back and continued to direct power to his injuries, accelerating the healing. He could do little about the broken bones in such a short time, but he swelled and stiffened the muscles around them, forcing them back into position.

The rain pounded down upon him as he lay there. Lightning speared across the sky. By its light he saw Waylander scaling the wall. He had almost reached the upper balcony. Despite his broken bones Eldicar felt a wave of relief sweep over him. He would not now have to be in the room when Anharat was summoned. Even better, the Lord of Demons could not be summoned through him.

Carefully Eldicar rolled to his stomach and pushed himself to his knees. Sharp pain flared in his ruined hip, but the muscles around it held firm. Rising to his feet, he let out a groan as his broken leg twisted, a jagged shard biting into the cramped muscles of his calf. Bending down he forced the bone back into place with his thumbs, then tightened the muscles once more.

Taking a deep breath he put weight on the injured limb. It held. Almost all of his talent had been used, and Eldicar knew he had to find a place of safety where he could rest and recoup his power. Slowly he inched his way towards the palace, entering a corridor opposite the Oak Room. It came to him then that he did not want to remain in this place. He wanted to go home. If he could just make it to the stables and saddle a horse he could ride for the gateway and never again be forced to serve monsters like Deresh Karany. Eldicar thought of the family house beside the lake, the cool breezes flowing over the snow-capped mountains.

He paused as pain swamped him.

I should never have come, he thought. This venture has ruined me. He saw again the contempt in the Kriaz-nor's eyes as he called for the death of the girl, and remembered the night of horror when the Kraloth had ripped into the nobles of Kydor.

'I am not an evil man,' he whispered. 'The cause was just.'

He tried to hold to the teachings of his youth, about the greatness of Kuan-Hador, and its divine purpose to bring peace and civilization to all peoples. Peace and civilization? Desiccated corpses were strewn around Deresh .Karany, who was summoning the Lord of Demons.

'I am going home,' said Eldicar Manushan.

He limped towards the main doors and dragged them open, stepping out into the storm-swept night.

And came face to face with an angry crowd, led by the priest Chardyn.

There were many conflicting thoughts and emotions within the Source priest Chardyn as he led the townspeople up the hill towards the White Palace. First and foremost was a terrible fear. Righteous anger had led him to make his speech at the temple, allied to an underlying belief that an army of common folk would prove a match for a few score soldiers and a magicker.

But when the march began many of the townspeople had drifted away. And when the storm came even more hung back. And so it was that Chardyn arrived at the White Palace leading a bedraggled group of around a hundred people, many of them women.

He had promised them that the Source would show His power. He had pledged a shield of thunder and a spear of lightning. Well, he had the thunder and the lightning – and with it the sheeting rain that had drenched his followers, cooling their ardour.

Very few of the people with him had weapons. They had not come to fight. They had come to witness the miracle. The stone-mason, Benae Tarlin, was carrying an iron spear, and, to his right, Lalitia was holding her dagger. Benae had asked Chardyn to bless the spear, and the priest had solemnly laid his hands upon it, and in a loud voice had intoned, 'This is a weapon of righteousness. May it blaze with the Light of the Source!' That had been back in Carlis, and the crowd had cheered mightily. What Chardyn had noticed was that the spear was old and dull, the point pitted with rust.

The small crowd crested the hill and saw the palace. 'When will we see the magic?' asked Benae Tarlin.

Chardyn did not answer. His white robes were soaked and he felt a great weariness upon him. His own anger had long since been replaced by a feeling of impending doom. All he knew was that he would enter the palace and do his best to wring the throat of Eldicar Manushan. He marched on, Lalitia beside him.

'I hope you are right about the Source,' she said.

As they came closer the doors of the palace opened, and Eldicar Manushan stepped out to meet them.

Chardyn saw him, and hesitated. Thunder rumbled above them, and Chardyn could feel the fear in the crowd swelling. Eldicar Manushan looked at him. 'What do you want here?' he called.

'I am here, in the name of the Source, to put an end to your evil,' replied Chardyn, aware that his normally powerful voice lacked conviction.

Eldicar moved out from the doorway. The crowd fell back. 'Leave here now,' boomed the magicker, 'or I shall summon demons to destroy you all!'

Benae Tarlin backed away from Chardyn. Lailtia swore and stepped in. 'Give me that!' she hissed, snatching the iron spear from the stone-mason's hand. Spinning on her heel Lailtia took two running steps towards Eldicar Man-ushan and launched the weapon.

The surprised magicker threw up his arm but the spear plunged into his belly. He staggered and almost fell. Then he grabbed the iron haft with both hands, dragging it clear. 'I cannot die!' he shouted.

Thunder boomed as he spoke – and a blast of lightning tore down from the sky. The iron spear in Eldicar's hand exploded in a tremendous flash of white light. The magicker's body was hurled high into the air. The force of the explosion threw Lailtia from her feet. Chardyn ran to her, helping her up. Then he walked slowly towards the charred body of Eldicar Manushan. One arm was completely gone and a part of the man's chest had been torn open. A blackened section of the iron haft had crashed through Eldicar's face and was jutting from the rear of his skull.

As Chardyn stood there he saw the body twitch. One hand opened and closed. The leg jerked. Eldicar's eyes flared open. Blood bubbled from his ruined chest, but the wound began to close.

Lailtia dropped to her knees beside the magicker and rammed her dagger into his throat, severing the jugular. Blood pumped out. Eldicar's eyes stayed open for a little while, wide and terrified. Then they closed, and all movement ceased.

Benae Tarlin moved alongside Chardyn, and then the other townspeople crowded around.

'All praise to the Source!' someone said.

'The spear of lightning,' said another.

Chardyn looked up from the charred corpse and saw people staring at him, their faces awestricken. Benae Tarlin took his hand and kissed it. Chardyn realized that the crowd were waiting for him to say something; some grand words, something memorable to match the occasion. But he had nothing to say.

He turned away from them and began the long walk back to Carlis.

Lalitia came alongside him, taking his arm. 'Well, you are a saint now, my friend,' she said. 'A man of miracles.'

'It was no miracle. He was struck by lightning in a storm,' said Chardyn. 'And I am a fraud.'

'How can you say that? You promised them the Source would strike him down. He was struck down. Why do you continue to doubt?'

Chardyn gave a sigh. 'I am a liar and a charlatan. You – though I love you dearly – are a whore and a thief. You think the Source would work his wonders through people like us?'

'Perhaps that is the real miracle,' she said.

The fingers of Waylander's left hand were cramping as he eased himself up the wall, reaching for the cracks where the sections of marble dressing joined. The cracks were thin, no more than half an inch wide in places. Rain swept over him, making the handholds slippery. Waylander paused and opened and closed his left fist, trying to keep the fingers supple. Then he pushed on.

A figure appeared on the balcony just above him. Waylander froze. Lightning flashed over the bay and the assassin saw in its fierce light a nightmare face. Hideously stretched at the temples, the head was triangular, with huge almond-shaped eyes. The texture of the grey skin was scaly, like that of a serpent. Then the creature moved back from the balcony and into the tower beyond. Waylander gripped one of the stone balcony rails and hauled himself up. Lifting the crossbow from the clip at his belt, he vaulted the rail then dived into the room.

Something bright flashed by his face. He rolled to his right. A second burning missile flew past. Coming to his knees, bow raised, he saw the creature's hand come up. A ball of fire appeared in the palm. Waylander shot swiftly. The bolt slammed through the fiery globe, embedding itself in the shoulder of the creature. It leapt forward, then spun, its huge tail raking out. Waylander threw himself to his left. A sharp claw missed him by inches. He shot again. The bolt sliced through the creature's face. It reared up, then fell heavily. Waylander notched the upper string of his bow and slipped another bolt into place.

The creature lay still.

Suddenly Waylander felt immense pity for it, and a powerful yearning to befriend the beast. He knew, in that instant, that it could not be evil, that it desired only love and friendship. He could not believe that he had come here to kill it. The creature rose slowly and turned. Waylander relaxed. Then his eyes fell upon the bodies around the walls. In the corner he saw a dried-out husk. Braided golden hair clung to the skull. He knew the style of the braid. The corpse had once been Norda.

He looked back at the creature. Never in his life had he known such love as he felt now. From somewhere deep in his mind he recalled Ustarte telling him about the charm-spell used by Deresh Karany. The creature was closer now. Its tail swept round, the claw glinting in the lantern-light.

'Will you die for me?' asked the creature sweetly.

'Not tonight,' said Waylander. With a huge effort of will he raised his weapon and touched the trigger. The bolt tore through the creature's neck. Deresh Karany gave a terrible cry. The spell broke.

Waylander dropped the crossbow and drew a throwing knife, which he hurled into Deresh Karany's chest. The creature screamed and rushed at him. Talons snaked out. Waylander dropped to his knees and flung himself to the right. The tail lashed at him, throwing him against an oak table. Waylander came to his feet and drew his short-sword. The tail swept up. Waylander's blade cut deep into it. A high-pitched scream sounded from Deresh Karany, who backed away, his tail oozing blood to the floor. 'You cannot kill me, mortal,' he said.

'But I can bring you a world of pain,' answered Waylander. Another knife sliced through the air, plunging deep into the creature's biceps.

Deresh Karany backed away once more, and began to chant. Waylander had never before heard the language. It was guttural and harsh, yet powerfully rhythmic. The air in the room grew colder as the chanting grew louder. The walls began to vibrate. Shelves came crashing down. Realizing that the creature was summoning a demon, Waylander hurled himself at him. Deresh Karany spun, his blood-smeared tail whiplashing out.

The assassin was thrown across the room. He landed hard, striking his head against the wall. Groggy now, he struggled to rise. A bright light was forming by the far wall. The stone began to ripple. In desperation Waylander drew another knife and hurled it with all his might. It hammered into Deresh Karany's outstretched hand. Waylander heard him grunt with pain. For a moment only the chanting ceased. Then it began again. The cold intensified. Waylander shivered. Fear swelled within him. Not fear of death, or even fear of failure. But fear itself, undiluted and pure. He felt the unseen presence of something so primal, so powerful, that all his strength and guile were as nothing against it. Like a blade of grass trying to withstand a hurricane.

His limbs trembled. Deresh Karany screeched with laughter, the sound bizarre and insane. 'You can feel it, can't you?' he shouted. 'Where are your knives now, little man? Here is one for you!' The Ipsissimus pulled the throwing knife from the flesh of his face and tossed it towards Waylander. It clattered on the floor close by. Plucking the other blades from his flesh, he casually threw them down. 'Quick, gather them up,' he said. 'I will enjoy watching you use them against the greatest of demons, the Lord of the Pit. Do you feel honoured? Your soul is to be devoured by Anharat himself!'

The air around Waylander vibrated. Terror, pure and undiluted, swept through him, and he felt a desperate need to escape this place.

'Why not run?' mocked Deresh Karany. 'If you are fast enough his wings will not be able to catch you!'

Waylander hefted his sword, anger coming to his aid. He was still unsteady on his feet, but he prepared himself for one last attack.

A dark figure appeared in the rippling wall, then ducked down and stepped into the room. Its skin was black and scaled, its head round, its ears long and pointed. As it entered it raised itself up until it stood more than ten feet tall, its head just below the rafters. Black wings stretched out, touching the walls on either side. Fire burned in the demon's eye sockets and flames flickered from its wide mouth. A sickening odour filled the room. Waylander recognized it. It was the stench of decaying flesh.

'I summoned thee, Anharat,' said Deresh Karany.

'For what purpose, human?' came the response. As it spoke, fire billowed from the gaping mouth, curling up against the skin of its face. The words hung in the cold air, echoing around the rafters.

'To kill my enemy.'

The Demon Lord's burning eyes fastened on Waylander. Ponderously he advanced across the room. As his taloned feet touched the ornate rugs the cloth burst into flame. Smoke rose around the creature.

Waylander flipped the shortsword, catching it by the blade as he prepared to hurl it into the breast of the demon.

The beast paused. Its head arched back and it began to laugh. Flames roared from its mouth, the sound causing the room to tremble. Waylander threw the sword. As it left his hand it burst into flame then flew up to plunge into one of the rafters. The Demon Lord swung to face Deresh Karany. 'Ah, but this is a good moment!' he said. 'I have always loathed humans, Deresh Karany, but you I hold in utter contempt. Did I not warn you that this gateway would be protected? Did I not tell you that only the death of three kings would open the portals? Did you listen? No. Hundreds of my people have been slain, and now you have the effrontery to call upon Anharat to kill a single human.'

'You must obey, Demon!' shouted Deresh Karany. 'I have followed all the ancient rituals. To the last detail. Ten deaths I have given you, and the incantations were perfect. You have no choice but to accept my order.'

'Oh, this is exquisite! You are a skilled sorcerer, Deresh Karany. You know all the laws governing the Summoning. And what, pray, is the prime law?'

'There must be a death. That is the price! And there he is, Anharat. Kill him, and the ritual is complete.'

'And how many times can a man be killed?' asked the Demon Lord, moving slowly towards Deresh Karany until he towered over the Ipsissimus. Waylander stood silently by. Deresh Karany tried to back away. The wall stopped him.

'I don't understand,' he said, his voice shaking. 'Kill him – and go!'

'I cannot kill him, mortal. For he is already dead. His heart no longer beats. His body stands only because a magicker laid a spell upon it.'

'No. This cannot be!' shouted Deresh. 'You are trying to trick me!'

'The prime law,' said Anharat. 'There must be a life.' His huge arm snaked out. Sharp talons crunched through Deresh Karany's body, hauling him into the air. As Waylander watched, the Demon Lord tore open the sorcerer's chest, ripping out his heart. Yet still Deresh struggled. 'Even better,' said Anharat. 'You have mastered the art of regeneration. You will wish you had not. For now it may take a hundred years for you to die.' A blast of flame roared from the demon's mouth, engulfing the beating heart in his hand. Ponderously he turned and moved back to the rippling wall. Deresh Karany was still struggling as Anharat ducked down and stepped through.

As the portal closed Waylander heard one last despairing scream.

Then there was silence.

Kysumu had never fought better in his life. He was the representative of humanity in a battle to save his world, and pride flooded his muscles with a power he had never before experienced. This was what he had been waiting for his entire life. To be the instrument of good against evil, to be the hero. He was unstoppable, and fought beside the Riaj-nor with a chilling ferocity.

At first they clove deep into the superior ranks of the Kriaz-nor, driving towards the great arch. It was a curious sight and, even as he battled, Kysumu found it wondrous. Above him the sky was lit by moon and stars, and yet sunshine was beaming through the gateway, casting a golden light upon the stark ruins of Kuan-Hador. Intermittently dark-blue lightning would ripple across the opening, filling the air with an acrid smell.

The Riaj-nor had hacked and cut their way forward. Four warriors burst through the Kriaz-nor lines and sprinted towards the gateway. A dozen Kriaz-nor gave chase. As the grey-garbed warriors reached the portal they hurled their blades towards the golden light. As the swords crossed the opening they flared with a brilliance that dazzled the eye. Blue lightning tore across the huge arch. To Kysumu it seemed fractionally darker than before, but still the sunlight from another world streamed through. Unarmed now, the four Riaj-nor had turned and flung themselves at their enemies. They were cut down in moments.

That had been almost an hour ago.

Now the lightning was pale, and within its flare Kysumu could see white streaks. Only around thirty of the Riaj-nor were still fighting, and though they had taken a terrible toll on the enemy they were still outnumbered two to one. Ren Tang had fallen moments before, cut down by two Kriaz-nor. As he fell, his chest pierced, he reached out and pulled one of the warriors in close, ripping out his throat with his teeth.

The sound of thunder rumbled from some distance away, as a storm broke over the Bay of Carlis. The wind changed and a light rain began to fall over the ruins. Kysumu's grey robes were saturated with blood, and now the rain made the ground slippery beneath his feet. Yet still he fought with controlled frenzy. Two more Riaj-nor forced a way past the enemy, running at the gateway and throwing their swords towards it. As the blades disappeared the white streaks faded, the lightning becoming a blue so deep that the sunlight could no longer shine through. Three Kriaz-nor fighters peeled back from the battle, killing the unarmed warriors, and taking up positions directly in front of the gateway, ready to cut down any who broke through.

Song Xiu killed two warriors, then darted through the gap. Kysumu ducked under a slashing blade, disembowelled the wielder, then ran after him. But before they could reach the gateway a group of Kriaz-nor cut them off. Back to back Kysumu and Song Xiu struggled to defend themselves. The remaining Riaj-nor swept forward to aid them. Many were killed.

Only a dozen made it, forming a defensive circle. They were exhausted now.

'It would take no more than one – maybe two blades,' said Song Xiu, during a momentary lull in the fighting. He swore and cast an angry glance at the stone arch. They were so close now that their faces, and those of their enemies, were bathed in blue light. One warrior tried to fling his sword over the heads of the Kriaz-nor. It spun towards the gateway, but an enemy warrior leapt and caught it by the hilt. The blade shivered and broke.

Song Xiu stared venomously at the remaining Kriaz-nor, who were standing now some ten feet away. They were equally weary. 'One last charge,' said Song Xiu. A movement caught Kysumu's eye. He glanced to the left.

Low to the ground, moving behind a ruined wall, was a crawling figure. Kysumu saw the edge of a wolfskin jerkin. Suddenly Yu Yu Liang surged to his feet, sprinting towards the gateway. The three Kriaz-nor stationed there ran to block his way.

Yu Yu leapt at them, his sword cleaving through the air.

'Now!' shouted Song Xiu.

The Riaj-nor charged. Kysumu lost sight of Yu Yu and joined Song Xiu and the others. They threw themselves at the enemy. The Kriaz-nor did not give ground, nor could the weary attackers force them back.

The battle was being fought as if in a dream, the movements of the warriors slow and sluggish. Finally both sides fell back and stared malevolently at each other. There were only eight attackers still standing, and fourteen Kriaz-nor.

In the lull Kysumu looked around for Yu Yu. He knew what he would see.

His body lay close to the gateway. His sword arm had been severed. The Rajnee blade lay beside it. Kysumu felt sick with grief. Then he saw the body twitch. The Kriaz-nor guarding the gateway had moved forward to stand with their comrades. None of them could see Yu Yu.

Kysumu watched as Yu Yu rolled to his side. There was a ghastly wound in his belly, and his entrails had spilled out. Even so, he began to crawl, leaving a bloody smear upon the rocks. Reaching out with his left hand, Yu Yu gathered up the fallen sword. He groaned as he did so. One of the Kriaz-nor swung round. Yu Yu flung the blade into the gateway.

There was a searing burst of brightness, accompanied by a high-pitched hum that made the ground vibrate. The blue lightning ceased to crackle. Instead a silver sheen covered the gateway.

The Kriaz-nor turned suddenly and raced towards the arch. Thirteen made it through, but as the last warrior crossed it the silver became grey rock. At first it seemed that the warrior had merely stopped in the gateway, but then his body slid down the stone and flopped to its back. He had been cut in half.

Kysumu ran to where Yu Yu lay. Gently he turned him. Yu Yu's eyes were open.

'Oh, my friend,' said Kysumu, tears flowing, 'you closed the gateway.'

Yu Yu could not hear him, and Kysumu gazed down into the dead face. He hugged Yu Yu to him and sat rocking back and forth. Song Xiu moved to his side and sat down. For a while he was silent as Kysumu wept. Then he spoke. 'He was a good man,' he said.

Kysumu kissed Yu Yu's brow, then laid him back on the ground. 'It makes no sense to me,' said Kysumu, brushing away his tears. 'He could have lived. He didn't want to be the pria-shath. He didn't want to fight demons and die. So why? Why did he throw away his life?'

'He did not throw it away, human. He gave it. For you, for me, for this land. Why do you think he was chosen? If the Source had wanted the best swordsman he might have picked you. But He didn't. He wanted a man. An ordinary man.' Song Xiu chuckled. 'A ditch-digger with a stolen sword. And look what that ditch-digger achieved.'

'It just makes me sad,' said Kysumu, reaching down and stroking Yu Yu's face.

'It makes me proud,' said Song Xiu. 'I shall find his soul in the Void, and we will walk together.'

Kysumu looked into the warrior's face. Song Xiu's hair was grey, his face ageing. 'What is happening to you?'

'I am dying,' said Song Xiu. 'We are out of time.'

Kysumu swung round and saw that the other Riaj-nor were all stretched out on the ground, unmoving. 'Why?' asked Kysumu.

'We should have died thousands of years ago,' Song Xiu told him, his voice no more than a whisper. 'We knew when we returned that there would be only days left to us. Yu Yu Liang made it worth the price we paid.'

Song Xiu lay down. His hair was white now, the skin of his face as dry as parchment. Kysumu moved to him. 'I am so sorry,' he said. 'I… misjudged you. All of you. I have been a fool. Forgive me!'

The Riaj-nor did not answer. A breeze blew across the ruins. Song Xiu's body shivered and turned to dust.

Kysumu sat for a while, lost in thoughts and bittersweet memories. Then he took his sword and dug out a grave for Yu Yu Liang. He covered it with stones, then sheathed his weapon and walked away from the ruins of Kuan-Hador.

Waylander gathered up his crossbow, and his knives, and moved down the stairs to the lower library. Keeva was sitting there, but there was no sign of the two warriors.

'They left,' said Keeva, rising and putting her arms around the Grey Man. 'How are you feeling?'

'Like death,' he told her, with a wry grin.

'I heard the. . . demon,' she said. 'I have never been more terrified. Not even when Camran took me from the village.'

'That seems a long time ago now,' he replied. Taking her hand Waylander made his way down to the terrace steps where he found Ustarte waiting.

'The gateway is closed,' she told him. 'Yu Yu Liang died to seal it. Kysumu survived.'

Waylander glanced around him, seeking the body of Eldicar Manushan. 'He is dead,' said Ustarte.

'Truly dead?' queried Waylander. 'I would have thought the fall would have killed him.'

'He had some regenerative powers. They could not withstand being struck by a bolt of lightning.'

'So it is over,' said Waylander wearily. 'That is good. Where is Matze?'

'He is still tied in the cellar. Keeva can release him. You and I have to go to the stables.'

'Why there?'

'I have one last gift for you, my friend.'

Waylander smiled. 'I can feel death approaching, Ustarte. My blood is flowing sluggishly and your spell is wearing off. I do not think this is a time for gifts.'

'Trust me, Grey Man.'

Taking his arm she led him back into the palace.

Keeva ran down to the cellar to free Matze Chai. The old man was naked and tied to a chair. He looked up as she entered, and stared at her quizzically.

'I am here to free you,' she told him. 'The Grey Man has killed the sorcerer.'

'Of course he has,' said Matze. 'And what, pray, possessed you to come to me without bearing any clothing for me to wear? Does a little peril make people lose all sense of good manners? Untie me, then go to my rooms and fetch a suitable robe and some soft shoes.'

Keeva shook her head and smiled. 'My apologies, Lord,' she said, with a bow. 'Is there anything else you require?'

Matze nodded, 'If any of my servants have survived you can tell them to prepare a sweet tisane.'

The dawn was breaking as Keeva made her way to the stables. She found Ustarte sitting on a stone bench under a willow tree. The two Kriaz-nor warriors were beside her. There was no sign of the Grey Man. 'Where is he?' she asked.

'He is gone, Keeva. I opened a portal for him.'

'Where did you send him?'

'Where he always wanted to be.'

Keeva sat down. A great sadness settled upon her. 'It is hard to believe,' she said, 'that there is no Grey Man. He seemed somehow . . . immortal, unbeatable.'

'And he is, my dear,' Ustarte told her. 'He is only gone from this world. Waylander will never truly die. Men like him are eternal. Somewhere, even as we speak, there is another Grey Man, preparing to face his destiny.' Keeva glanced at the two warriors, then back at the priestess. 'And what of you? Where will you go?'

'We do not belong here, Keeva. Now that I am no longer using most of my power to thwart Deresh Karany I have enough energy to take us home.'

'You will go back to the land of Deresh Karany?'

'The fight is over for you – but not for me. I cannot rest while the evil that spawned Deresh Karany still thrives.' Keeva turned to the warriors. 'And you will help her?'

'I think that we will,' said Three-swords.