'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 expel
led 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.
Chapter Seven
Waylander watched the Duke and his soldiers ride away from the palace, then moved back out on to the terrace. The sunshine was bright against his tired eyes, but the breeze from the bay felt good upon his face. Omri joined him there and Waylander gave him various instructions. The white-haired manservant bowed and walked away.
Waylander continued down the steps, past the waterfall, across the rock garden and on to his spartan accommodation. The door was open. He moved to the porch then closed his eyes. He felt calm, and sensed no danger. Pushing the door further open, he stepped inside. The priestess Ustarte was seated by the hearth, her gloved hands folded on her lap, her high-collared red silk robe buttoned to the chin. She rose as he entered. 'I am sorry for the impertinence of entering your home-place,' she said, bowing her head.
'You are welcome here, Lady.'
'Why did you tell Eldicar Manushan that I had left?'
'You know why.'
'Yes,' she admitted. 'But how did you know he was the enemy?'
Moving past her, he poured himself a goblet of water. 'Tell me of him,' he said, ignoring her question.
'I do not know him, though I know his masters. He is an Ipsissimus – a sorcerer of great power. I have felt the emanations of his power for some time now. He has crossed the gateway for two reasons. First, in order to establish allies in this world, and, second, to break the Great Spell, which prevents their armies from crossing over.'
'Is he a king of some kind?'
'No, merely a servant of the Council of Seven. Believe me, that makes him more powerful than many kings of your world. Are you aware that he knew you were lying?'
Waylander III: Hero In The Shadows ds-9 Page 17
