Waylander III: Hero In The Shadows

Epilogue

Using a stiff broom Tanya swept the dust from the hard-packed clay floor. As much rose around her as was pushed out through the door. Dakeyras had carved designs in the clay, and around the hearth he had created a mosaic with coloured stones from the streambed. Last year's crop had barely supplied them with enough coin to last the year, but Dakeyras had promised that with the first profits from the farm a real floor would be laid.

Tanya was looking forward to such a time, though, as she gazed upon the mosaic, she felt a stab of anticipated regret. She had been pregnant with the twins when Dakeyras had returned from the stream with the sack of stones. Six-year-old Gellan had been with him, full of excitement. 'I found all the red stones, Mama. I picked them all,' he said. 'Isn't that right, Father?'

'You did well, Gil,' said Dakeyras.

'You also soaked your new leggings,' Tanya told the boy.

'You can't take stones from a streambed without getting wet,' said Dakeyras.

'That's right, Mama. And it was fun getting wet. I almost caught a fish with my hands.' Tanya gazed into the boy's bright-blue eyes. He grinned at her and her heart melted. 'All right,' she said, 'you are forgiven. But why do we need a sack of stones?'

For the next two days Dakeyras and Gellan had worked on the rectangular mosaic. Tanya remembered it fondly; the laughter and the joy, Gellan squealing with delight, Dakeyras, his face smeared with clay, tickling him. And when they had finished she recalled them stripping off their clothing and having a race to the stream, which Dakeyras let the boy win. Those were good days.

Tanya put down her broom and stood in the doorway. Gellan was out in the meadow with his wooden sword, the twins were asleep in their crib and Dakeyras had gone out hunting for venison. The day was quiet, the sun bright in a sky dotted with puffballs of white cloud. They looked like sheep grazing on a field of blue, she thought.

It would be good to have venison. Supplies were low, and though the town storekeeper extended them credit Tanya was loath to fall further into debt.

People had been kind. But, then, Dakeyras was a popular man. Everyone remembered him as the officer whose prompt action had saved the community from the Sathuli raid. He had fought with distinction, and he, and his friend Gellan – after whom they had named their son – had been awarded medals. Gellan had remained with the army. Tanya often wondered whether Dakeyras regretted becoming a farmer.

His commanding officer had come to see Tanya the day after Dakeyras said he wanted to resign his commission, telling her that he felt her husband was making a grave mistake. 'He is that rarest of animals, a natural fighting man but also a thinker. The men revere him. He could go far, Tanya.'

'I did not ask him to leave the service, sir,' she said. 'It was his own decision.'

'That is a shame,' he told her. 'I had hoped it was your idea, and that I could persuade you to change your mind.'

'I would be happy with him whether he was a soldier, a farmer, a baker. . . But he told me that he had to leave the service.'

'Did he say why? Was he unhappy?'

'No, sir. He was too happy.'

'I don't understand.'

'I can say no more. It would not be right.'

He had still been confused when he left. How could Tanya have told him what Dakeyras confided to her? The fighting and the killing, which dismayed most men, had begun to fill Dakeyras with a savage delight. 'If I stay,' he said, 'I will become someone I do not want to be.' In the end his commanding officer had convinced Dakeyras to take a year's sabbatical, while still holding his commission. That year was almost up.

Tanya walked out into the sunshine and untied the ribbon that held her long blond hair in place. Shaking out the dust, she moved to the well, and slowly drew up a bucket. Reaching out, she dragged it over until it rested on the stone wall. She drank deeply, then splashed water to her face.

'Riders, Mama!' shouted Gellan.

Tanya turned towards the north and saw a line of horsemen making their way down the slope. She wondered if they might be soldiers, but soon saw that, although they were heavily armed, they were not from the Drenai garrison.

She walked back towards the house and waited for them by the porch.

The first of the men, riding a tall bay, drew rein. He had a long face and deep-set eyes. Tanya, who liked most people, found herself vaguely repelled by him. She glanced at the other riders. They were unshaven, their clothes dirty. Alongside the lead rider was a man with Nadir features, high cheekbones and slanted eyes. No one spoke.

'If you would like to water your horses,' said Tanya, 'you may use the stream. It is a little further back into the trees.'

'We didn't come for water,' said the long-faced man. He stared at her, his eyes glittering. Tanya felt both anger and fear as his gaze flowed over her. 'You are a pretty thing, farm girl. I like a woman with good breasts. I think you can supply what we need.'

'You had better leave,' she said. 'My husband. . . and his friends . . . will be back soon. You are not welcome here.'

'We are not welcome anywhere,' said the rider. 'Now, you can do this easy or hard. Best to know that I gutted the last woman who chose hard.'

Tanya stood very still. One of the twins began to cry for food, the sound high and keening. Little Gellan had moved closer. 'What do they want, Mama?' he called.

The long-faced man turned towards the Nadir. 'Kill the brat!' he said.

A blast of cold air swept across the riders. Horses reared and were brought under control. Tanya turned her head, and saw another horseman. She had not heard him approach. The riders were all staring at him.

'Where the Hell did he come from?' she heard someone ask.

'From the back of the house,' said Long-face. 'Where else?'

Tanya stared hard at the newcomer. There was something familiar about him. He was old, his face masked by grey stubble. And he looked tired. Dark rings circled his eyes. He heeled his horse forward, and Tanya saw that in his left hand he held a small black crossbow.

'What do you want here?' asked Long-face.

'I know you,' said the newcomer. 'I know all of you.' Shock rippled through Tanya as she heard his voice, though she didn't know why. He moved his mount closer to Long-face. 'You are Bedrin, known as the Stalker. You are a man with no redeeming features. There is nothing I have to say to you.' The crossbow came up, and Long-face pitched from the saddle, a bolt through his brain. 'As for the rest of you,' continued the rider, 'there are some who can still find redemption.'

Tanya saw the Nadir draw his sword and heel his horse forward. A crossbow bolt slammed through into his throat, and he, too, fell to the ground, his horse cantering past the man, who continued to talk. There was no hint of emotion in his voice. He might as well have been discussing the weather. The seventeen remaining riders sat their mounts, almost mesmerized by this deadly, grey-faced stranger.

'It is fitting that Kityan should join his master,' he said, casually reloading the crossbow. 'He lived for torture, to inflict pain on others.' He glanced at the remaining raiders. 'But you,' he said, pointing at a broad-shouldered young man, 'you, Maneas, have better dreams. Back in Gothir, at the village of the Nine Oaks, there is a girl. You wanted to marry her, but her father gave her to another. You were heartbroken when you rode away. Would it help to know that her husband will drown this summer? She will be alone. If you return to her you will sire two sons and a daughter.'

'How do you know this?' asked the young man. 'Are you a wizard?'

'You can think of me as a prophet,' said the man. 'For I know what is, and what will be. I have seen the future. If you kill this woman and her children, Maneas, you will still go home. You will still wed Leandra, and she will bear you the three children I spoke of. And then one night this woman's husband will find you. He will have been searching for nine years. He will take you into the woods and put out your eyes. Then he will stake you to the ground and build a fire upon your belly.' Tanya saw all colour drain from the young man's face.

The newcomer's hand swept out, pointing to a thin, middle-aged man. 'And you, Patris. No matter what happens here today you will leave this band and journey to Gulgothir. You will seek to fulfil a dream you have had since childhood, to begin a business, designing jewellery for the nobles, wonderfully wrought rings and brooches. You will discover that what you thought of as talent is, in fact, genius. You will find happiness and wealth and fame in Gulgothir. But if this woman dies her man will find you. He will cut off your hands, and your body will be discovered impaled upon a sharp stake.'

He fell silent, and they waited. Finally he spoke again. 'The luckiest of you will survive for nineteen years. But many of those years will be lived in terror. You will hear of the murders of your comrades. One by one. Every day you will stare into the faces of strangers, wondering if the faceless killer is one of them. And one day he will be. This is the truth.

'Now it is time to make a choice. Ride from here and live. Or stay, and know the endless torment of the damned.'

For a moment no one moved. Then the young Maneas swung his horse and galloped back towards the north. One by one the others followed until only a swarthy, round-shouldered man remained. 'And what of me, prophet?' he asked. 'Is there some happiness I can find?'

'There is now, Lodrian. Now you can journey to Lentria. You will find a village and, short of coin, you will seek employment. A young widow will ask you to repair her roof. And your life will change.'

'Thank you,' said Lodrian. He looked down at Tanya. 'I am sorry for the fear we caused you.' Then he rode away.

The rider slowly dismounted. Tanya saw him stumble as he did so, dropping his crossbow to the ground. He took several steps towards Gellan then fell to his knees. Tanya ran to his side, putting her arms around his shoulders. 'You are ill, sir,' she said. 'Let me help you.'

The man swayed and, with difficulty, Tanya lowered him to the ground. He lay back, his head surrounded by the fading spring flowers of the meadow. He looked into her eyes.

'Do I know you, sir?' she asked.

'No. We have . . . never met. But I knew a woman once, who was . . . like you.'

'My husband will be home soon. He will help me get you to a bed. We will send for the surgeon.'

His voice was weaker. 'I will not be alive when he returns.'

She took his hand and kissed it. 'You saved us,' she said, tears in her eyes. 'There must be something we can do for you!'

'Let me see the boy,' he whispered. Tanya called out to Gellan and the child moved forward nervously. The man looked up at him. Tanya saw him relax, and upon his face appeared a look of utter contentment. He smiled at the boy. Then his eyes closed, his head lolling to one side. Tanya sat beside him, holding his hand.

After a while the child spoke. 'Is he sleeping, Mama?'

'No, Gil, he is dead.'

The sound of a galloping horse came to her. Fear flared and she spun round. But the raiders had not returned. The rider was Dakeyras. He leapt from the saddle.

'What happened here?' he asked. She told him of the raiders, and of the arrival of the grey-faced man.

'They were going to kill us all. I know it,' she concluded. 'He saved our lives, Dak. I'm sure I've seen him somewhere. Do you recognize him?'

Dakeyras knelt by the body. 'He looks familiar,' he said. 'Perhaps he was a soldier.'

Little Gellan ran to him. 'He killed the bad men, Father. And he made the others ride away. Then he lay down and died.'

The sound of a baby's cry came from the house. Tanya rose and went to feed it.

Dakeyras walked to where the stranger's crossbow was lying on the ground, and lifted it. It was perfectly balanced, and beautifully made. Extending his arm, Dakeyras loosed both bolts. They flew exactly where he aimed them, slamming into the fence post twenty paces to his left.

Tanya walked out into the sunlight, holding one of the twins to her breast.

Her husband was holding the bow.

She shivered suddenly.

'Are you all right?' he asked.

'Someone just walked over my grave,' she said.