Waylander III: Hero In The Shadows ds-9

by David A. Gemmell

  'Of course.'

  'Then why did you do it?'

  Waylander ignored the question. 'Are you strong enough to withstand his power?'

  'No. Not directly.'

  'Then you and your companions should leave the palace. Find somewhere to hide – or return whence you came.'

  'I cannot leave now.'

  Waylander lifted the water jug and left the building, hurling the stale liquid to the flower garden and refilling the jug from the waterfall. Returning to the main room, he offered the priestess a drink. She shook her head and he filled his own goblet. 'What is it that Eldicar Manushan can offer to potential allies here?' he asked.

  'Have you looked closely at Aric?'

  'He seems fitter and leaner.'

  'Younger?'

  'I see,' said Waylander. 'Is it real, or an illusion?'

  'It is real, Grey Man. Some servant of Aric's will have died perhaps to supply it, but it is real. The Seven long ago mastered the art of enhancement and regeneration, just as they mastered the vileness of Joining.'

  'If I killed this magicker, would it aid you in keeping the gateway sealed?'

  'Perhaps. But you cannot kill him.'

  'There is no one I cannot kill, Lady. That is my curse.'

  'I know of your talent, Grey Man. But I mean what I say: Eldicar Manushan cannot be killed. You could put a bolt through his heart, or cut off his head and he would not die. Slice off his arm and another will grow. The Seven and their servants are immortal and virtually invulnerable.'

  'Virtually?'

  'The use of spells is dangerous. The summoning of Third Level demons carries few perils. Once made flesh they exist merely to feed. But the summoning of specific demons of the First and Second Level carries great danger. Such a demon must have a death. If it cannot succeed against the intended victim, then it will turn against the sorcerer who summoned it. If Eldicar Manushan was to summon a First Level demon, and that demon was thwarted, then Eldicar would be dragged back into the realm of Anharat and torn to pieces.'

  'That seems a good weakness to exploit,' said Waylander.

  'It would be. But that is why Eldicar Manushan has the boy with him. He is his loachai, his familiar. Eldicar Manushan casts his spells through the child. If anything were to go wrong the child would be slain.'

  Waylander swore softly. Crossing the room, he sat down in the hide chair beside the hearth. Weariness lay heavy upon him. Ustarte sat opposite him.

  'Can he read minds as well as you?' he asked her.

  'I do not believe so.'

  'Yet he knew I was lying about your departure?'

  She nodded. 'He would have sensed it. As I said, he is an Ipsissimus and his power is very great. But it is finite. He can summon demons, create illusions, enhance youth and strength. He can regenerate himself if wounded.' She looked at him closely. 'I sense your confusion,' she said softly. 'What is it?'

  'The boy,' said Waylander. 'He obviously loves his uncle. In turn Eldicar Manushan seems fond of him. It is hard to believe the boy is merely a tool.'

  'And because of this you doubt whether the Ipsissimus can be truly evil? I do understand that, Grey Man. You humans are wonderful creatures. You can show compassion and love that is awe-inspiring, and hatred of such power and vileness it could darken the sun itself. What you find hard to accept is that such extremes are in each and every one of you. You gaze upon the works of evil men and you tell yourselves that they must be monsters, inhuman and different. Because to accept that they are just like you would threaten the foundations of your existence. Can you not see that you are an example of this, Grey Man? In your hatred and your lust for vengeance you became what you hunted; savage and uncaring, callous and indifferent to suffering. How much further might you have travelled had you not met the priest Dardalion, and been touched by his purity of soul? Eldicar Manushan is not a monster. He is a man. He can laugh and know joy. He can hug a child and feel the warmth of human love. And he can order the death of thousands without regret. He can torture and kill, and rape and maim. It will not touch him.

  'Yes, he may love the boy, but he loves power more. The spells of Eldicar Manushan are great, but when cast through a loachai they become enhanced. The boy is a vessel, a source of untapped spiritual energy.'

  'You are sure of this?'

  'I sense both their energies, the Ipsissimus and the loachai. When joined together they are terrifyingly strong.' She rose from the chair. 'And now you must ride with the Duke, Grey Man,' she said.

  'I think I will stay here and sleep for a while,' he told her. 'There must be a hundred men with the Duke. He has no need of me.'

  'No, but Kysumu has. Eldicar Manushan will fear the shining sword. He will see the Rajnee dead if he can. Kysumu needs you, Waylander.'

  'This is not my fight,' he said, though he knew, even as he spoke, that he could not leave Kysumu to his fate.

  'Yes, it is, Waylander. It always was,' she said, moving away towards the door.

  'What does that mean?' he asked her.

  'This is a time for heroes,' she said softly. 'Even shadow warriors once touched by evil.'

  He watched her cross the threshold and draw the door closed behind her. With a soft curse he pushed himself to his feet and walked through to his armoury. From a chest at the rear of the room he removed a heavy linen sack. Placing it on a worktop he opened it, drawing forth a black leather shoulder-guard, reinforced by black mail rings. Returning to the chest he lifted two other wrapped items, followed by a sword-belt hung with two empty scabbards. Carefully he unwrapped the shortswords. Each had a round fist-guard of black iron beneath claw-shaped dark quillons. The bright blades gleamed with oil. Taking up a soft cloth he wiped them clean, careful to avoid the razor-sharp edges. Buckling the sword-belt to his lean waist he slipped the swords into the scabbards.

  His baldric, hung with throwing knives, was looped over the back of a chair. Fetching it, he removed each of the six diamond-shaped blades and honed them before slipping them back into place. Donning the chainmail shoulder-guard, he slipped the baldric over his head. Lastly he took up his small, double-winged crossbow and a quiver of twenty bolts.

  He strode from his rooms, climbing the steps to the upper buildings and the stable.

  Will you ever learn? he asked himself.

  Yu Yu Liang awoke to see sunshine streaming through a high-arched window. It was bright upon the white coverlet of his bed. He sighed, and felt a pang of deep regret. His shoulder was painful, though he could not remember why, but the sharpness of it meant he was back in the world of the flesh. Sadness filled his mind, as the feel of the sun and the whisper of a sea breeze leeched away the exquisite harmony he had come to value so highly. A figure loomed over him, the face thin and ascetic, the nose long and curved. 'How are you feeling?' asked the man. The noise was yet another intrusion, and Yu Yu felt the joy of the past years with Qin Chong slipping away. The question was asked again.

  'I am flesh again,' responded Yu Yu. 'It saddens me.'

  'Flesh? I was talking about your wound, young man.'

  'My wound?'

  'In your shoulder. You were bitten. The Gentleman and your Chiatze companion brought you. You have been injured, young man. You have been unconscious for around fourteen hours.'

  'Hours?' Yu Yu closed his eyes. It was incomprehensible. On his journeys he had seen the birth of worlds, and the fall of stars; great empires rising from the mists of savagery before being swallowed by the oceans. He became aware of a dull, throbbing pain in his left shoulder. 'Why am I back?' he asked.

  The man looked concerned. 'You were bitten last night by a demon beast,' he said slowly. 'But the wound is clean now. You are recovering well. I am Mendyr Syn, the surgeon. And you are resting in the palace of Dakeyras, the Gentleman.'

  Bitten last night.

  Yu Yu groaned as he struggled to sit. Instantly Mendyr Syn's hands came down on his good shoulder. 'Lie still. You will break the stitches.'

  'No. I must sit up,' muttered
Yu Yu.

  Mendyr Syn transferred his grip to Yu Yu's right biceps, assisting him. 'This is not wise, young man. You are very weak.' The surgeon adjusted the pillows behind the wounded man and Yu Yu sagged back to them.

  'Where is Kysumu?'

  'He has gone with the Duke and his men. He will be back shortly, I don't doubt. How does the wound feel?'

  'Painful.'

  Mendyr Syn filled a goblet with cool water and held it to Yu Yu's lips. It tasted divine as it slipped down his parched throat. Resting his head back against the pillow he closed his eyes once more and drifted into a dreamless sleep. When he awoke the sunshine no longer lit the bed, but was shining brightly against the far wall.

  The room was empty and Yu Yu was thirsty again. Pushing back the covers, he tried to swing his legs from the bed.

  'Stay where you are, yellow man,' said a voice. 'You are in no condition to get up.'

  Another figure loomed over him. He looked up into the man's face, noting the swollen nose and the two discoloured eyes. It was the golden-haired guard sergeant who had accosted him so many years ago. It was all so confusing. 'What is it you need?' asked the man.

  'Some water,' said Yu Yu. The sergeant filled a goblet and sat on the bed, offering it to Yu Yu, who took it with his right hand and drank deeply. 'Thank you.' He struggled to think. So many scenes were whirling inside his head – like a bag of pearls without a string. Closing his eyes he began slowly and carefully to thread the thoughts. He had left the lands of the Chiatze after thrashing Shi Da. Then he had met the robbers, and later Kysumu. Together they had come . . . For a moment he drifted. Then he recalled the palace and the mysterious Grey Man. His eyes flared open. 'Where is my sword?'

  'You won't need a sword for a while,' said the sergeant. 'But it is there by the wall.'

  'Pass it to me, please.'

  'Of course.'

  'Touch only scabbard,' warned Yu Yu. The guard hefted the weapon and laid it by Yu Yu's side. Then he returned to his chair by the door. 'Why are you here?' asked Yu Yu.

  'The Gentleman ordered me to guard you.' He smiled. 'He obviously thinks you have enemies.'

  'Are you one of them?'

  The man sighed. 'Yes, I am. I'll be honest. I don't like you, yellow man. But I take my pay from the Gentleman. He treats me well, and in return I obey his orders. Fully. I don't much care if you live or die, but not one of your – other – enemies will reach you while I live.'

  Yu Yu smiled. 'May you live long,' he said.

  'Is it true you were attacked by demon hounds?'

  The jagged memories filtered back, the ruins and the moonlight, the black hounds moving stealthily through the shadows. 'Yes, true.'

  'What were they like?'

  'Make wolves look like piglets,' answered Yu Yu, with an involuntary shudder.

  'You were frightened?'

  'Big fear. How is your nose?'

  'Painful.' The man shrugged. 'I should have remembered my father's advice: if you're going to fight then fight. Don't talk. You hit hard, yellow man.'

  'My name is Yu Yu.'

  'I am Emrin.'

  'Pleased for to meet with you,' said Yu Yu.

  'Don't be too pleased. It is my intention to pay you back just as soon as you are fit and strong.'

  Yu Yu smiled, then slept again. When he awoke there was no sunlight. Emrin had lit a lantern and hung it by the far wall. The soldier was dozing in his chair. Yu Yu was hungry and looked around the room for something to eat. There was nothing. Carefully he swung his legs over the side of the bed and, using his scabbarded sword as a support, pushed himself to his feet. His legs were a little unsteady.

  Emrin woke. 'What do you think you are doing?' he asked.

  'I am going to find food,' said Yu Yu.

  'The kitchen is two floors down. You'd never make it. Wait for a while. One of the girls will be bringing supper in an hour or so.'

  'I don't like lying here,' said Yu Yu. 'I don't like being . . . weak.' Suddenly his legs gave way and he slumped back down to the bed. He swore in Chiatze.

  'All right,' said Emrin. 'I'll assist you. But you can't go wandering about the palace naked.' Striding across the room he gathered up Yu Yu's clothes and tossed them to the bed. Yu Yu managed to pull on his leggings and Emrin helped him into his wolfskin boots. There was no way Yu Yu could lift his injured left arm to put on his shirt, so, bare-chested and supported by Emrin, he made his way to the door.

  'You are heavier than you look, yellow man,' said Emrin.

  'And you not as strong as you look, Broken Nose,' countered Yu Yu.

  Emrin chuckled and pulled open the door. Slowly they made their way down the corridor towards the stairs.

  A few minutes after they had gone a small globe of bright light materialized outside the door to Yu Yu's room. Cold air emanated from it. A layer of frost covered the carpet. The globe swelled, forming a white, icy mist that swirled and grew until it reached from floor to ceiling. A shuffling sound emanated from the mist, and two enormous creatures stepped clear of it. They were bone-white and hairless. One ducked its head and entered the room, its massive arm lashing out at the bed. The frame split as the bed crashed into the far wall. The second lowered its head, its small red eyes staring malevolently down the corridor. A third beast slithered from the mist, a scaled white serpent with a long flat head. The head swayed from side to side just above the carpet, snuffling air through four slitted nostrils. Then it began an undulating glide along the corridor towards the stairs.

  The mist rolled back across the other beasts.

  And flowed along the corridor, following the serpent.

  The kitchen was some fifty feet long and twenty wide, boasting several large, stone-dressed iron ovens. Shelves lined the north wall, upon which were placed stacks of plates, jugs and cups. There were five huge, and splendidly crafted, glass-fronted cabinets containing engraved crystal goblets and dishes. Below the shelves were cupboards filled with cooking utensils and cutlery. There were two main doors, one set against the eastern wall, leading to the stairs and the South Tower, the other opening on to a broad winding staircase that emerged on to the main banqueting hall.

  There were no windows, and despite a hidden series of chimneys that carried away much of the heat from the ovens, the kitchen could become intolerably warm when large amounts of cooked food were being prepared and a score of servants were scurrying around.

  Even now, with the servants abed and only two lanterns burning, it still retained some of the heat produced in the preparing of the evening meals some two hours before. Keeva moved to a drawer and took out a knife, then opened the pantry door and removed a round crusty loaf, a slab of honey-roasted ham, and a dish of butter, which she placed on the long, marble-topped table.

  'That is a meat knife,' said Norda, with a laugh. 'Do you know nothing, farm girl?'

  Keeva pushed out her tongue at her, and continued clumsily to carve slices from the loaf. 'A knife is a knife,' she said. 'If it is sharp it will cut bread.'

  Norda rolled her eyes in mock horror. 'There are fish knives, bread knives, meat knives, carving knives, shell knives, fruit knives, cheese knives. You'll have to learn them, you know, if you are ever to wait table at the Gentleman's banquets.'

  Keeva ignored her, lifted the top from the butter dish and smeared a slab over her bread.

  'Oh, yes,' said Norda, 'and there are butter knives.'

  'What a complete waste of metal,' mocked Keeva.

  Norda laughed again. 'Knives are like men: each has a different purpose. Some are great hunters, some are great lovers.'

  'Ssh! Not in front of the boy!'

  Norda laughed again. 'He is asleep. It is so like children. First they want to play, then they get hungry, and by the time you've brought them to the kitchen and prepared some food they are fast asleep and you are left with a mountain of bread.' The women gazed at the small blond boy, asleep on the bench, his head resting on his arm. 'So sweet,' whispered Norda. 'One day he'll be a ladies' man
. You can tell. Those baby-blue eyes will melt the hardest heart. They'll be slipping out of their dresses faster than you can say knife.'

  'Maybe he won't be like that,' said Keeva. 'Maybe he'll fall in love with one woman, get married and have a fine family.'

  'True,' agreed Norda. 'He might turn out dull.'

  'Oh, you are incorrigible!' Keeva cut some cold ham, placed it between two slices of buttered bread and took a huge bite.

  'That's disgusting!' cried Norda. 'And now you've got butter on your chin.'

  Keeva wiped her chin with her arm, then licked the butter from it. 'Too good to waste,' she said, laughing at Norda's expression of disgust. 'Now show me these wondrous knives.'

  The blonde woman moved to a pine drawer and gathered up two handfuls of bone-handled blades. These she arranged on the table before Keeva. They ranged in size from about eight inches long and fearsomely sharp to two inches with rounded tips. One was curved like a tulwar, ending in two prongs. 'What is that?' she asked.

  'It is for cheese. First you cut a chunk, then you reverse the blade and pierce it with the prongs.'

  'They are very beautiful,' said Keeva, examining the ornately carved bone handles.

  The door at the far end of the kitchen was pushed open and Keeva saw Emrin enter. He was supporting Yu Yu Liang. The Chiatze's face was grey with exhaustion, but he gave a wide smile when he saw Norda. Emrin was not so pleased, his handsome mouth becoming a grim line.

  'Ah, my day brightens!' said Yu Yu. 'Two beautiful women – and some food!' Emrin released his arm and Yu Yu tottered, holding his balance only by leaning on his scabbarded sword. Emrin stomped to the long table, drew his hunting knife and sliced himself several pieces of meat. Norda ran to Yu Yu's side and helped him to the table.

  'My two favourite men,' she said.

  'You have too many favourites,' barked Emrin.

  Norda turned to Keeva and gave a wink. 'He fought for me, you know. Isn't that gallant?'

  'I didn't fight for you,' snapped Emrin. 'I fought because of you. There is a difference.'

  'And doesn't he look handsome with his war wounds?' continued Norda. 'Those dark brooding eyes, that big, swollen nose.'