Waylander III: Hero In The Shadows

Chapter Six

Leaving the steeldust tethered close to the lake, Waylander moved cautiously among the abandoned wagons, examining the tracks. The wagons had come over the pass and been drawn up here to rest the horses. Some of the footprints in the mud were of small feet, and several had run to the water's edge. A pair of shoes and a yellow shirt had been laid on a rock, indicating that at least one youngster had been preparing for a swim. The ground was too churned for Waylander to be exactly sure of what had happened next, save that the adults had herded together, pulling back towards the lake. Blood splashes to nearby trees and large stains upon the dead grass showed what happened next. They had been slaughtered – killed by huge creatures whose taloned feet left deep impressions in the earth.

The grass itself might have proved a mystery, had Kysumu not already told him of the immense cold that accompanied the coming of the mist. It was frost-damaged by temperatures far below freezing.

Waylander moved warily across the killing ground, examining the hoofprints of riders who had come upon the scene later. Twenty, maybe thirty riders had entered the wood, and left in the same direction. All around the site were the bodies of scores of birds. He found a dead fox in the bushes to the north of the wagons. There were no marks upon it.

Venturing deeper into the woods he followed the trail of dead birds and ice-scorched grass, coming at last to what he believed to be the point of origin. It was a perfect circle, some thirty feet in diameter. Waylander walked around it, picturing as best he could what must have happened here. An icy mist had formed in the spot, then rolled towards the west as if driven by a fierce breeze. Everything in its path had died, including the wagoners and their families.

But where then were the remains of the bodies, the discarded bones, the shredded clothing?

Backtracking towards the wagons, he stopped and examined an area where bushes had been crushed, or torn from the ground. Blood had seeped into the earth. This was where one of the dead horses had been dragged. Waylander found more deep imprints of taloned feet close by. One creature had killed the horse and torn it from its traces, pulling it deeper into the woods. The blood trail stopped suddenly. Waylander squatted down, his fingers tracing the indented earth. The horse had been dragged to this point, and then had lost all bodyweight. Yet it had not been devoured here. Even if the demon had been ten feet tall it could not have consumed an entire horse. And there were no signs that others of the creatures had gathered around to share in a feast. There were no split and discarded bones, no guts or offal.

Waylander rose and re-examined the surrounding area. The tracks of taloned feet just beyond this point were all heading in one direction, towards the lake. The demons, having slaughtered the wagoners and their horses, had returned to where he now stood – and vanished. As incredible as it seemed, there was no other explanation.

They had returned from wherever they had come, taking the bodies with them.

The light was beginning to fail. Waylander returned to the steeldust and stepped into the saddle.

What had caused the demons to materialize in the first place? Surely it could not have been chance that they had happened upon a convoy. As far as he knew, there had been two attacks, one upon Matze Chai and his men, the second upon these unfortunate wagoners. Both parties contained large numbers of men and horses.

Or, looked at from another viewpoint, a great deal of food.

Waylander headed the steeldust away from the woods, and began the long ride around the lake. In the years he had dwelt in Kydor there had been no such attacks. Why now?

The sun was setting behind the mountains as he skirted the lake. A feeling of unease grew within him as he headed towards the distant ruins. Lifting his crossbow he slid two bolts into place.

When the sword began to shine Yu Yu Liang had been frightened. Now, an hour later, he would give anything he possessed to be merely frightened. Clouds had obscured the moon and stars and the only light came from the blade in his hands. From beyond the ruined walls, and all around him, he could hear stealthy sounds. Sweat dripped into Yu Yu's eyes as he strained to see beyond the jagged stonework. Twice he had tried to wake Kysumu, the second time shaking him roughly. It was like trying to rouse the dead.

Yu Yu's mouth was dry. He heard a scratching upon the stony ground to his left and swung towards it, raising his sword high. As the light shone he saw a dark shadow disappear behind the rocks. A low growl came from somewhere close by, the sound echoing in the night air. Yu Yu was petrified now. His hands began to tremble, and he was gripping the sword hilt so powerfully that he could hardly feel his fingers. They are just wild dogs, he told himself. Scavenging for scraps. Nothing to fear.

Wild dogs that could make the Rajnee blade shine?

With a trembling hand he wiped sweat from his eyes and glanced back towards the horses. They were tethered within the ruin. The grey mare was also shivering with terror, her eyes wide, her ears flat back against her skull. Kysumu's bay gelding was pawing the ground nervously. From here Yu Yu could just make out the line of hills, and the slope he had ridden down only a few hours before. If he was to run to the mare and clamber into the saddle he could make that ride again, and be clear of these ruins within moments.

The thought was like cool water to a man dying of thirst.

He flicked a glance to the seated Kysumu. His face, as ever, was calm. Yu Yu swore loudly, feeling his anger rise. 'Only an idiot goes seeking demons,' he said, his voice sounding shrill.

High above him the clouds parted briefly, and moonlight bathed the ghostly city of Kuan-Hador. In that sudden light Yu Yu saw several dark shapes scatter to hide among the rocks. As he tried to focus upon them the clouds gathered once more. Yu Yu licked his lips and backed across the ruin to stand alongside Kysumu.

'Wake up!' he shouted, nudging the man with his foot.

The moon shone once more. Again the dark shapes scattered. But they were closer now. Yu Yu rubbed his sweating palms on the sides of his leggings and took up his sword once more, swinging it left and right to loosen the muscles of his shoulders. 'I am Yu Yu Liang!' he shouted. 'I am a great swordsman and I fear nothing!'

'I can taste your fear,' came a sibilant voice. Yu Yu leapt backwards, catching his leg on the low wall and falling over it. He scrambled to his feet.

At that moment a huge black form came hurtling towards him, its great jaws open, long fangs snapping for his face. Yu Yu swung the sword. It slashed into the beast's neck, slicing through flesh and bone and exiting in a bloody spray. The creature's dead body cannoned into him, hurling him from his feet. Yu Yu hit the ground hard, rolled to his knees, then surged to his feet. Smoke began to ooze from the carcass alongside him, and a terrible stench filled the air.

Five more of the beasts came padding towards the ruin, clambering over the broken stones, and forming a circle around him. Yu Yu saw that they were hounds, but of a kind he had never seen before. Their shoulders were bunched with muscle, their heads huge. Their eyes were upon him, and he sensed a feral intelligence within their baleful gaze.

To his left the grey mare suddenly reared, dragged her reins loose of the rock and leapt over the wall. The bay gelding followed her lead and the two horses galloped away towards the hills. The huge hounds ignored them.

The voice came again, and he realized it was somehow speaking inside his head.

'Your order has fallen a long way since the Great Battle. My brothers will be pleased to hear of your decline. The mighty Riaj-nor, who once were lions, are now frightened monkeys with bright swords.'

'You show yourself,' said Yu Yu, 'and this monkey will cut your poxy head from your poxy shoulders.'

'You cannot see me? Better and better.'

'No, but I can see you, creature of darkness,' came the voice of Kysumu. The little Rajnee stepped up alongside Yu Yu. 'Cloaked in shadow you stand just out of harm's way.' Yu Yu glanced at Kysumu and saw that he was staring towards the eastern wall. He squinted, trying to make out a figure there, but he could see nothing.

The demon hounds began to move. Kysumu had still not drawn his sword.

'I see there are still lions in this world. But lions can also die.'

The hounds rushed in. Kysumu's blade flashed left and right. Two of the beasts fell, writhing upon the stones. A third struck Yu Yu, fangs closing upon his shoulder. With a cry of pain Yu Yu rammed his sword deep into the beast's belly. In its agony the hound opened its jaws, letting out a ferocious howl. Yu Yu tore the blade clear and brought it down upon the hound's skull. The sword clove through bone and wedged itself. Desperately Yu Yu tried to haul it clear. The last two beasts rushed at him. Kysumu's sword sliced through the neck of the first, but the second leapt for Yu Yu's throat.

In that instant a black bolt materialized in the creature's skull, a second lancing through its neck. The hound fell at Yu Yu's feet. Freeing his sword Yu Yu swung round to see the Grey Man upon his steeldust gelding, a small crossbow in his hand.

'Time to go,' said the Grey Man softly, pointing towards the east.

A thick mist was moving across the ancient city, a wall of fog rolling slowly towards them. The Grey Man swung the gelding and galloped away. Yu Yu and Kysumu followed him. The pain in Yu Yu's shoulder was intense now, and he could feel blood flowing down his left arm. Even so he ran swiftly.

Far ahead he saw the Grey Man still riding away. 'A pox on you, bastard!' he shouted.

Glancing back, he saw that the wall of mist was closer, moving faster than he could run. Kysumu also glanced back. Yu Yu staggered and almost fell. Kysumu dropped back to take his arm. 'Just a little further,' said Kysumu.

'We . . . can't . . . outrun it.'

Kysumu said nothing, and the two men moved on in the darkness. Yu Yu heard hoofbeats and looked up to see the Grey Man riding back towards them, leading the grey mare and the bay gelding. Kysumu helped Yu Yu into the saddle, then ran to his own mount.

The mist was very close now, and Yu Yu could hear bestial sounds emanating from it.

The grey mare needed no urging and took off at speed, Yu Yu clinging to the saddle pommel. She was panting heavily by the time they reached the slope, but panic gave her greater strength and she fought her way up the steep incline.

A little ahead the Grey Man swung the steeldust, gazing back down towards the plain.

The mist was swirling at the foot of the slope – but not advancing. Yu Yu swayed in the saddle. He felt Kysumu's hand upon his arm, then passed into darkness.

The tall, blue-garbed surgeon, Mendyr Syn, replaced the poultice on the shoulder of the unconscious man and sighed. 'I have never seen a wound reacting like this,' he told Waylander. 'It is a simple bite, yet the flesh is peeling back rather than sealing itself. It is worse now than when you brought him in.'

'I can see that,' said Waylander. 'What can you do?' The middle-aged man shrugged, then moved to a washbasin and began to scrub his hands. 'I have bathed it in lorassium, which is usually effective against any infection, but the blood does not clot. In fact, were it not impossible, I would say that whatever is in the wound is eating away at the flesh.'

'He is dying, then?'

'I believe he is. His heart is labouring. He is losing body heat. He will not last the night. By rights he should be dead already, but he is a tough man.' Wiping his hands on a clean towel, he glanced down at the grey-faced Yu Yu Liang. 'You say it was a hound that bit him?'

'Yes.'

'I hope it was killed.'

'It was.'

'I can only assume there was some kind of poison in the bite. Perhaps it had eaten something and some rancid meat was caught between its teeth.' Pinching the bridge of his long nose, the surgeon sat down beside the dying man. 'I can do nothing for him,' he said, exasperation in his voice.

'I'll sit with him,' said Waylander. 'You should get some rest. You look exhausted.'

Mendyr Syn nodded. He glanced up at Waylander. 'I am sorry,' he said. 'You have been most kind to me in my research and my one chance to repay you is ending in failure.'

'You do not need to repay me. You have helped many who needed it.'

As the surgeon rose the door opened and the shaven-headed priestess, Ustarte, entered the room, followed by Kysumu. She dipped her head towards Waylander, and then to Mendyr Syn. 'Please pardon my intrusion,' she said, looking into the surgeon's pale blue eyes. 'I thought I might be of some assistance. However, I do not wish to offend.'

'I am not an arrogant man, Lady,' said Mendyr Syn. 'If there is anything you can do for this man I would be grateful.'

'That is most gracious,' she said, moving past him to the bedside. Her gloved hand lifted the poultice clear and she examined the festering wound. 'I will need a metal dish,' she said, 'and more light.' Mendyr Syn left the room, returning with a copper bowl and a second lantern, which he placed by the bedside. 'It may be too late to save him,' she continued. 'Much will depend on the power of his body and the strength of his spirit.'

Dipping her hand into a pocket at the front of her red silk robe, Ustarte drew forth a gold-rimmed circle of blue crystal some three inches in diameter. 'Bring a chair and sit beside me,' she told Mendyr Syn. The surgeon did so. Ustarte leant across him, placing her hand over the copper bowl. Flames sprang up within it, burning without fuel. Then she handed the blue crystal to Mendyr Syn. 'Look upon the wound through this,' she said.

Mendyr Syn held the crystal to his eye – then jerked back. 'By Missael!' he whispered. 'What magic is this?'

'The worst kind,' she told him. 'He has been bitten by a Kraloth. This is the result.'

Waylander stepped forward. 'May I see?' he asked. Mendyr Syn gave him the crystal. He leant over the wound, and lifted the crystal. Scores of luminous maggots were devouring the flesh, their bodies swelling as they fed. Ustarte drew a long, sharp pin from the sleeve of her robe, offering it to Mendyr Syn. 'Use this,' she said. 'Pierce the centre of each maggot then drop them into the fire.' With that she rose from her chair and turned to Waylander. 'The merest scratch inflicted by the teeth or talons of a Kraloth is generally fatal. Tiny eggs are deposited in the wound, and these swiftly become the maggots you saw.'

'And the removal of the maggots will give him a chance?' asked Waylander.

'It is a beginning,' she said. 'When the wound is clean I will show Mendyr Syn how to prepare a new poultice. This will destroy any eggs still present in the bite. You should know, however, that it is possible that some of the maggots may have moved deeper within his body, devouring his flesh from within. He may awake, or he may not. If he does he may be blind – or insane.'

'It seems that you know a great deal about the enemy we faced,' he said softly.

'Too much and too little,' she told him. 'We will speak after I have aided Mendyr Syn.'

'We will be outside, upon the terrace,' said Waylander. Bowing to the priestess, he spun on his heel and left the room.

Kysumu followed him and the two men walked along a wide corridor leading to a terraced flower garden overlooking the bay. The night was clear, and the first hint of a new dawn tinged the sky. Waylander wandered to the marble balustrade and stared out over the gleaming water. 'What did you learn from your trance?' he asked Kysumu.

'Nothing,' admitted the Rajnee.

'Yet you are convinced a spirit of a dead Rajnee came to your friend?'

'Yes.'

'It makes no sense to me,' said Waylander. 'Why would a dead Rajnee contact a labourer yet not appear to one of his own?'

'That is a question I have pondered upon,' admitted Kysumu.

Waylander glanced at the little swordsman. 'And this troubles you?'

'Of course. I also feel great shame for putting Yu Yu in such danger.'

'He chose to stand his ground,' said Waylander. 'He could have run.'

'Indeed. It amazes me that he did not.'

'Would you have run?' asked Waylander, quietly.

'No. But, then, I am Rajnee.'

'Tonight I saw a frightened man, with a shining sword, battling demons to protect a friend. What would you call him?'

Kysumu smiled, then offered a deep bow. 'I would say he has a Rajnee heart,' he said simply.

The two men sat together in silence for another hour, each lost in his own thoughts. Slowly the sky lightened, and birdsong filled the air. Waylander leant back in his seat, weariness heavy upon him. He closed his eyes and dozed. Immediately he fell into dreams, swirling colours that drew him down.

He awoke with a start as the red-robed priestess moved out on to the terrace. 'Is he dead?' he asked.

'No, he will recover, I think.'

'Then you found all the . . . eggs?'

'I had help,' she said, seating herself alongside him. 'His soul was being guarded, and power flowed from within him.'

'Qin Chong,' said Kysumu softly.

Ustarte glanced across at him. 'I do not know the name of the spirit. I could not commune with him.'

'It was Qin Chong,' said Kysumu. 'In legend he is named as the first of the Rajnee. He appeared to Yu Yu in the ruins. But not to me,' he added wistfully.

'Nor me,' she said. 'What can you tell me of him?'

'Very little. His deeds are lost among fables, oral tales expanded upon or invented. Depending which story you read, he fought dragons, evil gods, giant worms beneath the earth. He had a sword of fire called Pien'chi, and he was known as the Potter.'

'Do the legends say how he died?'

'Yes, in a dozen different ways, by fire, by sword, dragged down into the sea. One story has him walking down into the underworld to rescue his love, and never returning. Another even has him sprouting wings and soaring to the heavens. One has the gods appearing at his death and turning him into a mountain to watch over his people.'

Ustarte fell silent. 'Perhaps Yu Yu can tell us more when he wakes.'

'I would like to hear more of these Kraloth,' said Waylander. 'What are they?'

'They are meld-hounds,' Ustarte told him. 'Artificial creations born of dark magic. They are very powerful, and ordinary weapons cannot harm them . . .' she looked into his eyes and gave a wan smile '. . . unless they pierce the skull or the upper neck. As you know, their bite brings a painful death. They are led by a Bezha – a Houndmaster.'

'I caught a glimpse of him,' said Kysumu, 'but only the eyes.'

'He would have been wearing the robe of night,' Ustarte told him. 'It is true-black and reflects no light. The eye, therefore, cannot see it.'

'Why are they here?' asked Waylander.

'They are the advance guard of two terrible enemies. My followers and I had hoped to prevent their coming. We failed.'

'What enemies?' put in Kysumu.

'Anharat's demons – and the sorcerers of Kuan-Hador.'

'I have read the legends of Anharat,' said Kysumu. 'The Lord of Demons. I recall he was cast from the world after a war. I believe he had a brother who aided humankind.'

'The brother was Emsharas,' said Ustarte, 'and it is true that he sided with humanity. Great were the heroes who fought against Anharat. Mighty men, men of principle and courage. These were the men of Kuan-Hador.'

'I do not understand,' put in Kysumu. 'If these men were heroes, why do we fear their return?'

'Man never learns lessons from the past,' she said. 'It is his curse. My people and I have been trying to discover some evidence of the Great War. What we have found is that there was not one war but two. The first – let us call it the Demon War – saw great horror and devastation. Only when Emsharas aided the humans did the tide begin to turn. But that aid carried within it the seeds of Kuan-Hador's downfall. In order to defeat the enemy the rebel demon lord, Emsharas, gave the lords of Kuan-Hador instruction in the most arcane secrets of meld-magic. Warriors were enhanced, blended with the power of beasts; panthers, lions, wolves and bears. And they won. Anharat's demon legions were expelled from the world. Kuan-Hador was mankind's saviour.'

'How then did they become evil?' asked Kysumu.

'By taking one small step at a time towards the dark,' she answered. 'For a little while the world knew peace and tranquillity, under the city's benevolent rule. The people of Kuan-Hador were proud of what they had achieved. Yet it had cost them greatly. They asked other nations to help bear that cost, and huge amounts of gold and silver were despatched to the city. The following year they asked for more. Several nations refused. The proud lords of Kuan-Hador decided that this refusal was an affront to the world's saviours, and sent their armies to plunder those nations. Kuan-Hador had moved from benevolent rule to tyranny. They had saved mankind, therefore – so they believed – they had earned the right to rule. Nations that rose against them were considered treacherous, and were crushed mercilessly by the Kriaz-nor, the meld-legions.

This was the beginning of the second war – what is now termed the Great War. At first it was man against man. Kuan-Hador was powerful, yet it was but a city state and its resources were finite. By this time Emsharas was gone from the world, but his descendants aided the rebels. Slowly they began to force back the Kriaz-nor legions. In desperation the rulers of Kuan-Hador allied themselves with Anharat, opening portals to allow his demon warriors to return to the world.' She fell silent and stood staring out over the bay.

'Yet they were still defeated,' said Kysumu.

'Yes, they were,' she said softly. 'The rebels created their own legions – the Riaj-nor, men of noble hearts and great courage, wielding weapons of power. The Rajnee are the last embers of that fine order, and it seems, Kysumu, that of them all only you have been drawn here. Where once were legions there is now only a single warrior and a wounded labourer.' She sighed, then continued her tale. 'The Great War ended here, the survivors of Kuan-Hador retreating through a portal to another world. The city was destroyed by fire, and a sorcerer – or, perhaps, a group of sorcerers – laid powerful spells upon the portal, sealing it against the return of the enemy. These spells have endured the passing of the centuries. Now they are fading. The gateway will soon open fully, allowing legions of Kriaz-nor to invade this land. At the moment it is merely flickering, and only a few can cross. The sorcerers who once protected it are long dead, as are the original Riaj-nor. There is now no power in this world to defeat them if they come in force, which is why I had hoped to replicate the original spell and cast it once more. But there are no clues to be found. There are riddles, verses and garbled legends, none of which is helpful. My last hope now rests with Yu Yu and the spirit of Qin Chong.' She swung to Kysumu. 'It seems that the Rajnee swords retain their magic. Why, then, are more of your comrades not here to fight?'

'Few now hold fully to the old ways,' he said, sadly. 'Most Rajnee are now merely bodyguards, seeking to earn riches. They will not heed the call of the swords, nor journey to foreign lands.'

'And what of you, Grey Man?' she asked. 'Will you fight the demon lords?'

'Why should I?' he countered, his voice edged with bitterness. 'It is just another war – just another group of greedy men seeking to take what does not belong to them. And they will hold it for just so long as they are strong enough to resist the next group of greedy men who desire to take it from them.'

'This one is different,' she said softly. 'If they win, the world will know the nature of true terror. Children dragged from their mothers' arms to be melded into beasts, or have their organs removed in order to prolong the lives of the rulers. Thousands butchered in the name of arcane science. Magic of the most horrific kind will become commonplace.'

When Waylander spoke his voice was cold. 'During the Vagrian Wars babes were torn from their mothers' arms to have their heads smashed against walls of stone. Children were slaughtered and men slain in their thousands. Women were raped and mutilated. This was done by men. A grieving mother would not care whether her babe was destroyed by magic or by might. No, I have had my fill of wars, Lady.'

'Then think of it as a battle against evil,' she said.

'Look at me,' he said. 'Do I have a shining sword? You know my life, Lady. Does it seem to you that I have been a warrior of the light?'

'No,' she told him, 'you have also walked the path of evil, which gives you greater understanding of its nature. Yet you overcame it. You fought the darkness, and gave the Drenai people hope by recovering the Armour of Bronze. Now a greater evil looms.'

'How is it that you know so much about this evil?' he asked her.

'Because I was born of it,' she said. Her gloved hands moved to her high collar, pulling loose the hooks that held it. With a sudden wrench she opened the silken robe, letting it drop to the terrace. The morning sunlight shone upon her slim body, highlighting the striped fur of gold and black that covered her skin. Both men stood very still as she peeled off one of her gloves and raised the hand high. The fur ended at her wrists, but her fingers seemed unnatural and oddly shortened. She flexed the hand and long silver claws emerged from sheaths at her fingertips. 'I am a Joining, Grey Man. A failed experiment. It was intended that I should be a new form of Kraloth – a killing machine of great strength and speed. Instead the magic, which created this monstrosity of a body, also enhanced my mind. You are looking upon the future of mankind. Do you find it beautiful?'

Waylander said nothing, for there was nothing to say. Her face was human, and indescribably beautiful, but her body was feline, the joints crooked.

Kysumu stepped up behind the naked priestess, and raised her robe from the floor. Ustarte smiled her thanks and drew the garment around her. 'My followers and I came through the gateway. Six were killed in the attempt. We came to save this world. Will you help us?'

'I am not a general, Lady. I am an assassin. I have no armies. You want me to ride out alone against a horde of demons? For what? Honour and a swift death?'

'You would not be alone,' said Kysumu softly.

'I am always alone,' said Waylander. With that he strolled from the terrace.

He stared hard at the armour. It shone brightly in the lantern-light as if crafted from moonlight. The winged helm was gleaming, and he could see his reflection in the closed visor. The chainmail attached to the nape was impossibly delicate, light glittering from it as if from a hundred diamonds. The cuirass was beautifully fashioned, and engraved with runes he could not read.

'It would look fine upon you, sir,' said the armourer, his voice echoing in the high, domed hall.

'I do not want it,' said Waylander, swinging away and walking down a long, crooked corridor. He turned left then right, pushing open a door and stepping into another hall.

'Try it on,' said the armourer, removing the bright helm from its place on the armour tree and offering it to him.

Waylander did not reply. Angry now, he turned on his heel, moved back through the doorway and stood in the shadowed corridor. Then he walked on. Everywhere there were turnings and soon he lost all sense of direction. He came upon a set of stairs, and climbed and climbed. At the top, exhausted, he sat down. A doorway faced him, but he was reluctant to enter. He knew instinctively what he would find. And yet there was nowhere else to go. With a deep sigh he pushed open the door and gazed upon the armour tree.

'Why do you not want it?' asked the armourer.

'Because I am not worthy to wear it,' he told the man.

'No one is,' said the armourer.

The scene faded, and Waylander found himself seated beside a fast-flowing stream. The sky was bright and blue, the water fresh and cool. Cupping his hands he drank from the stream then sat back, leaning his shoulders against the trunk of a weeping willow, whose branches trailed all around him. It was peaceful here, and he wished he could stay for ever.

'Evil carries a price,' said a voice.

He glanced to his right. Just beyond the trailing branches stood a cold-eyed man. There was blood upon his face and his hands. He knelt by the stream to wash. But instead of the blood being cleansed the entire stream turned crimson, and began to bubble and steam. The willow branches darkened, the leaves falling away. The tree groaned. Waylander moved away from it, and the bark split, disgorging hordes of insects, which crawled over the dead wood.

'Why are you doing this?' Waylander asked the man.

'It is my nature,' he answered.

'Evil carries a price,' said Waylander, stepping forward. A knife appeared in his hand and he sliced it through the man's throat in one smooth motion. Blood sprayed from the wound, and the man fell back. The body disappeared. Waylander stood very still. His hands were drenched in blood. He moved to the stream to wash them, and the stream turned crimson and began to bubble and hiss.

'Why are you doing this?' asked a voice.

Surprised, Waylander turned, and saw a man beside the dying willow.

'It is my nature,' he told him – as the gleaming knife appeared in the newcomer's hand . . .

He awoke with a start. Pushing himself from the chair he walked out into the sunlight. He had slept for less than two hours, and he felt disoriented. Strolling down to the beach he found Omri waiting there, fresh white towels folded nearby, a pitcher of cool water and a goblet ready on the small wooden table.

'You look dreadful, sir,' said the white-haired servant. 'Perhaps you should forgo your swim and have some breakfast.'

Waylander stripped off his clothing. Wading into the cool water he flung himself forward and began to swim. His head cleared, but he couldn't shake himself from the mood the dreams had left. Turning, he headed back for the beach with long, easy strokes, then walked up to the waterfall and cleansed the salt and sand from his body.

Omri handed him a towel. 'I brought fresh clothes while you were swimming, sir,' he said.

Waylander towelled himself dry, then pulled on a shirt of soft white silk, and a pair of thin leather leggings. 'Thank you, my friend,' he said. Omri smiled, then poured a goblet of water, which Waylander drank.

Norda came running down the steps, curtsying to the Grey Man. 'There is a large party of horsemen coming up the hill, sir,' she said. 'There are knights and lancers and bowmen. Lord Aric is at the head. Emrin thinks the Duke is riding with them.'

'Thank you, Norda,' said Omri. 'We shall be there presently.'

The girl curtsied once more, then ran back up the steps. Omri glanced at his employer. 'Are we in some trouble, sir?' he enquired.

'Let us find out,' said Waylander, tugging on his boots.

'Might I suggest a shave first, sir?' offered Omri.

Waylander rubbed a hand over the black and silver bristles on his chin. 'Doesn't pay to keep a duke waiting,' he said, with a smile.

The two men strolled up the terrace steps side by side. 'Mendyr Syn said to tell you that the Chiatze warrior is sleeping more easily now. His heartbeat has steadied, and the wound is healing.'

'Good. He is a brave man.'

'Might I enquire how he came by the wound?' asked Omri.

Waylander glanced at the man, and saw the fear in his eyes. 'He was bitten by a large hound.'

'I see. The servants are all talking about a massacre in the woods by the lake. Apparently the Duke came upon the scene, and is now leading a company of soldiers to investigate.'

'Is that all the servants are saying?' asked Waylander, as they mounted the steps.

'No, sir. They are saying that there are demons abroad in the land. Is it true?'

'Yes,' said Waylander. 'It is true.'

Omri held his hand over his chest, made the Sign of the Protective Horn, and asked no more questions.

'Have you ever met the Duke?' Waylander asked Omri.

'Yes, sir. Three times.'

'Tell me of him.'

'He is a powerful man, both in mind and in body. He is a good ruler, fair and not capricious. He was originally of House Kilraith, but once he became Duke he renounced, as is the custom, all claims to leadership of Kilraith, the title passing to Aric. He is married to a Drenai princess and has several children, but only one son. The marriage is said to be happy.'

'A long time since I heard the words Drenai princess,' said Waylander. 'There are no kings in Drenan now.'

'No, sir, not now,' agreed Omri. 'The Duke's wife, Aldania, was the sister of King Niallad. He was murdered by a foul assassin just before the Vagrian War. After the war, so the story goes, the despot Karnak refused to allow her to come home. He forfeited all her estates and monies and issued a decree of banishment. So she married Elphons and came to Kydor.'

They reached the entrance hall. Beyond the double doors, Waylander could see horses and men waiting in the sunshine. Ordering Omri to organize refreshments for the riders, he walked into the long reception room. Lord Aric was there, wearing breastplate and helm. The black-bearded magicker Eldicar Manushan was standing by the far wall, his blond page beside him. A youth, dressed in dark riding clothes, and wearing a chainmail shoulder guard, was standing close by. His face was familiar, thought Waylander. He felt a small knot of tension form in his belly as he realized why. This was the grandson of Orien, and the nephew of Niallad, the Drenai king. For a moment only, Waylander saw again the tortured features of the dying monarch. Pushing the memory away he focused on the heavy-set man sprawled in the wide leather chair. The Duke was powerfully built, with great breadth of shoulder and massive forearms. He glanced up at Waylander, his cold eyes locking to the Grey Man's dark gaze.

Waylander offered the seated man a bow. 'Good morning, my lord, and welcome to my home.'

The Duke nodded curtly, and beckoned Waylander to the seat opposite.

'The day before yesterday,' said the Duke, 'some forty wagoners and their families were murdered less than two hours' ride from here.'

'I know,' said Waylander. 'I rode over the ground late yesterday.'

'Then you will also know that the killers were . . . shall we say? . . . not of this world?'

Waylander nodded. 'They were demons. There were some thirty of them. They move upright and the distance between the tracks suggests that the smallest is around eight feet tall.'

'It is my intention to find their lair and destroy them,' said the Duke.

'You will not find it, my lord.'

'And why is that?'

'I followed the tracks. The demons appeared in a circle some two hundred paces from the wagons. They disappeared in another circle, taking the bodies with them.'

'Ah,' said Eldicar Manushan, stepping forward, 'a Third Level manifestation, then. A powerful spell must have been cast in that area.'

'You have come across such . . . spells before?' asked the Duke.

'Sadly, yes, sire. They are known as portal-spells.'

'Why Third Level?' asked Waylander.

Eldicar Manushan turned towards him. 'According to the Ancients' texts, there are three levels of gateway magic. The Third Level opens on to the world of Anharat and his demons, but summons only mindless blood-feeders, such as the beast described by our host. The Second Level allows, it is said, the summoning of powerful individual demons, who can be directed against specific enemies.'

'And the First Level?' asked the Duke.

'A First Level spell would summon one of Anharat's companion demons – or even Anharat himself.'

'I understand little of magic and its uses,' snapped the Duke. 'It has always sounded like babble to me. But a Third Level spell is what brought these demons, yes?'

'Yes, sire.'

'And how was this done?'

Eldicar Manushan spread his hands. 'Once again, sire, we have only the words of the Ancients, as stored in sacred text. Many thousands of years ago man and demon coexisted on this world. The demons followed a great sorcerer god called Anharat. There was a war, which Anharat lost. He and all his followers were expelled from the earth, banished to another dimension. This very land, which now prospers under your rule, was instrumental in defeating Anharat. It was then called Kuan-Hador, and its people were versed in great magic. With the banishing of Anharat and his legions Kuan-Hador began an age of great enlightenment. However, Anharat still had followers among the more savage tribes, and these banded together to destroy Kuan-Hador, butchering its people and plunging the world into a new age of darkness and desolation.'

'Yes, yes,' said the Duke, 'I have always liked stories, but I would appreciate it if you would leap across the centuries and tell me about the demons who attacked the wagoners.'

'Of course, sire. My apologies,' said Eldicar Manushan. 'It is my belief that one of the spells used in the original battle against Kuan-Hador has been – somehow – reactivated, opening a Third Level portal. It may be that it was cast again by a sorcerer, or merely recharged by a natural event, lightning, for example, striking an altar stone where the spell was first spoken.'

'Can you reverse this spell?' asked the Duke.

'If we can find the source of it, my lord, I believe that I can.'

The Duke returned his attention to Waylander. 'I am told that a party of your friends was attacked recently by these demons, but that two of the party had magical blades which held the beasts at bay. Is this true?'

'That is my understanding,' said Waylander.

'I would like to see these men.'

'One is severely wounded, my lord,' Waylander told him. 'I will send for the other.' A servant was despatched, and some minutes later Kysumu entered the room. He bowed low to the Duke, and also to Waylander, then stood silently, his face impassive.

'It would be a great help, my lord,' said Eldicar Manu-shan, 'were I able to examine the sword. I could then, perhaps, identify which spells were cast upon the blade.'

'Give him your sword,' ordered the Duke.

'No man touches a Rajnee blade,' said Kysumu softly, 'save the one for whom it was forged.'

'Yes, yes,' said the Duke, 'I am also a great believer in tradition. But these are extraordinary circumstances. Hand it over.'

'I cannot,' said Kysumu.

'This is senseless,' said the Duke, without raising his voice. 'I can call fifty men to this room. Then they will take the sword from you.'

'Many will die,' said Kysumu calmly.

'You threaten me?' said the Duke, leaning forward in his chair.

Waylander rose and moved to stand before Kysumu. 'I have always found,' he said, 'in circumstances like these, that there is a subtle difference between a threat and a promise. I have read of these Rajnee blades. They are linked to the warriors who hold them. When a warrior dies his blade shatters and turns black. Perhaps the same would happen if he allowed Eldicar Manushan to take it from him. If that proves to be the case then we will have lost one of only two weapons proved to be of use against the demons.'

The Duke rose from his chair and stepped close to the small swordsman. 'Do you believe that your blade would become useless if handled by another?'

'It is more than belief,' said Kysumu. 'It is knowledge. I have seen it. Three years ago a Rajnee surrendered to an opponent and offered his sword. The blade splintered as soon as the opponent took hold of the hilt.'

'If this is true,' said Lord Aric suddenly, 'how is it that your companion carries such a blade? He is not Rajnee, nor was the blade fashioned for him.'

'The blade chose him,' said Kysumu.

Aric laughed. 'Then it must be a more fickle blade. Let us send for that and Eldicar Manushan can examine it.'

'No,' said Kysumu. The sword now belongs to Yu Yu Liang. He is my pupil, and, since he is still unconscious, I speak for him. The blade will not be examined or touched by anyone.'

'This is getting us nowhere,' said the Duke. 'I have no wish to use force here.' He looked at Kysumu. 'And I certainly have no desire to bring about either the death of a brave man or the destruction of such a powerful weapon. We are riding out to locate the source of the demon magic. Will you come with us, and aid us with your sword?'

'Of course.'

The Duke turned to Waylander. 'I would be obliged if you would offer hospitality to my son, Niallad, and his guards.'

The sound of the name struck Waylander like a dagger blade, but his face remained calm, and he bowed. 'It will be my pleasure, my lord.'

'But, Father, I want to ride with you,' said the youth.

'It would be folly to risk both myself and my heir,' said the Duke softly. 'We do not yet know the nature of the enemy. No, my son, you will remain here. Gaspir and Naren will stay with you. You will be safe.' The youth bowed, his expression downcast.

Eldicar Manushan approached him. 'Perhaps you would be kind enough to look after my page, Beric,' he asked. 'He is a good boy, but he becomes nervous when we are apart.'

Niallad looked down at the golden-haired page, and smiled ruefully. 'Do you swim, Beric?' he asked.

'No, sir,' answered the boy. 'But I like to sit by the water.'

'Then we will go to the beach while our elders and betters perform their manly tasks.' The sarcasm hung heavily in the air, and Waylander saw the Duke flush with embarrassment.

'Time to be on our way,' said the Duke.

As the men filed from the room Eldicar Manushan paused before Waylander.

'The Rajnee was bitten, I understand. How is the wound?'

'Healing.'

'Strange. Such wounds are usually fatal. You must have a highly skilled surgeon.'

'I do. He found translucent worms in the bite. Most unusual.'

'A clever man. Is he a mystic also?'

'I do not believe that he is. He used an ancient artefact, a blue crystal. With this he could see the infestation.'

'Ah! I have heard of such . . . artefacts. Very rare.'

'So I understand.'

Eldicar Manushan stood silently for a moment. 'Lord Aric informs me that there is a priestess currently in residence at the palace. She is said to have the gift of far-sight. I would very much like to meet her.'

'Sadly she left yesterday,' said Waylander. 'I believe she is returning to Chiatze lands.'

'How disappointing.'

'Are there sharks, Uncle?' asked the blond page, tugging at Eldicar Manushan's robe. Waylander gazed down at the boy's upturned face, and saw the love and trust the child had for the magicker.

Eldicar Manushan knelt by the boy. 'Sharks, Beric?'

'In the bay. Niallad is planning to swim.'

'No, there are no sharks.' The boy smiled happily and Eldicar drew him into a brief hug.

'I already told him that,' said Niallad, moving across the room. 'They prefer cooler, deeper water.'

Two soldiers entered the room, tough men with grim faces. Niallad grinned as he saw them. 'These are my bodyguards, Gaspir and Naren,' he said. 'There are no finer fighters in all of Kydor.'

'Is your life in danger?' asked Waylander.

'Always,' said Niallad. 'It is the curse of my family to be hunted by assassins. My uncle was the king of the Drenai. Did you know that?' Waylander nodded. 'He was killed by a cowardly traitor,' continued the young man. 'Shot through the back while he was praying.'

'Praying can be a perilous business,' said Eldicar Manushan.

The youth looked at him quizzically. 'Murder should not be the subject of jests, sir,' he said.

'I was not jesting, young man,' answered Eldicar Manushan. With a bow he turned and left the room.

Niallad watched him go. 'I will not be assassinated,' he told Waylander. 'Gaspir and Naren will see to that.'

'We will indeed, young sir,' said Gaspir, the taller of the men. He turned to Waylander. 'Which is the safest beach?' he asked.

'I shall have my manservant, Omri, show you,' said Waylander. 'And I will have fresh towels and cool drinks served there.'

'Most kind,' said Gaspir.

'When will Uncle Eldicar be back?' asked the blond page.

'I do not know, boy,' Waylander told him, 'but it might be after dark.'

'Where shall I stay? I do not like the dark.'

'I shall have a room prepared for you that shines with light, and someone to sit with you until he returns.'

'Could it be Keeva?' asked the youngster. 'I like her.'

'It shall be Keeva,' Waylander promised.