White Wolf

by David Gemmell

  On the mountainside to the west Skilgannon emerged from the lake tunnel, and out into the moonlight. He took a deep breath. His body, released from tensions by the lovemaking with Garianne, was relaxed, his thoughts untroubled. The woman was a mystery, fey and aloof when sober, passionate and vulnerable when drunk. They had not spoken when she came into the lake cavern. She had walked unsteadily toward him, then looped her arms around his neck. The kiss fired his blood. Garianne was not Jianna, but the touch of soft lips upon his own had brought back the memories of that one, unforgettable night in the woods, after his rescue of her. It was the only time he and Jianna had given in to their passion. He remembered every detail—the whisper of the night breeze in the branches above them, the scent of lemongrass in the air, the feel of her skin pressing against his own. And afterward the way she cuddled in close to him, slipping her right thigh across him, her arm draped over his chest, her hand stroking his cheek. The memory was almost unbearably sweet. It filled him with both longing and regret.

  With Garianne there was no affection. She did not stroke his face, nor cuddle in close. Her passion exhausted, she pulled away, dressed swiftly, and left without a word. He made no effort to stop her. They had both taken all they needed from each other. There was no point in prolonging the moment.

  Skilgannon stepped from the cave entrance and gazed down at the settlement. He was about to walk down toward the tents when he stopped. His relaxed mood evaporated. The night was silent, and there was no threat in sight. Even so he remained where he was, scanning the hillsides. He saw Druss walking purposefully toward the east, ax in hand. Below he spotted Diagoras moving through the tents. A breath of breeze blew across him. There was a slight scent upon it, musky and rank. Reaching up with his right hand, Skilgannon drew one of his swords. Glancing to his left he saw a jumble of boulders, the tallest over ten feet high. He closed his eyes, concentrating his hearing. There was nothing. Yet he did not relax. Reaching back he drew his second sword, and stood, statue still. The breeze blew again, caressing the back of his neck. This time the scent was stronger.

  Skilgannon spun.

  A massive beast rose up behind him and leapt. Its eyes glittered red, and its jaws spread, showing rows of gleaming fangs.

  The Swords of Night and Day flashed out, the first slashing through the huge neck, the second piercing the shaggy chest and cleaving the heart. The weight of the charging beast bore him backward, and they hit the slope together and rolled. Releasing his hold on the Sword of Night, Skilgannon kicked himself clear of the thrashing beast and came to his feet. Screams began from the settlement below. Skilgannon ignored them, fastening his gaze on the cave mouth.

  No other creatures came into sight. He glanced back at the beast he had stabbed. It was no longer moving. Warily he approached it. The Joining was lying on its back, dead eyes open to the sky. Grabbing the hilt of the blade jutting from its chest, Skilgannon drew it clear.

  From the camp below came the sounds of screaming. Skilgannon could see three beasts. One had torn through a tent wall and emerged back into the settlement, the cloth of the tent clinging to its back like a trailing cloak. It crouched over a fallen tribesman. Fangs crunched down on the man’s skull. A little to the left Diagoras was vainly trying to battle a huge, hunchbacked Joining. The cavalry saber was having little effect. Skilgannon began to run down the slope toward the fight. As he did so he saw Rabalyn emerge behind the Joining, slamming his short sword into the beast’s back.

  Other creatures emerged. Jared and Nian came into view, and charged them. Their longswords were more effective than the saber of Diagoras, and they drove the Joinings back. Khalid Khan appeared and began shouting orders to his men. This cut through the panic, and some of the warriors ran to gather bows and spears. Skilgannon saw Diagoras attempt a thrust into the chest of an oncoming Joining. The blade glanced over the powerful breatbone. Diagoras was thrown through the air by a backhanded blow from the creature. Skilgannon ran in. The beast swerved toward him, its fangs lunging for his throat. Skilgannon dropped to one knee and sent the golden Sword of Day ripping through the beast’s neck. Blood sprayed out and the creature staggered to its right. Nian leapt in, bringing his longsword down in a double-handed chop that split the Joining’s skull.

  Another beast hurled itself at Skilgannon. A crossbow bolt materialized in its right eye. Its great head jerked, and a terrifying roar burst from its throat. A second bolt thudded into its chest but did not penetrate deeply. Skilgannon ran in, plunging his blade into the beast’s belly, and ripping the blade upward. Diagoras was back on his feet. Skilgannon saw him bending over the limp form of Rabalyn.

  Garianne, reloading her crossbow, strode past Skilgannon, sending a bolt into the back of another creature. The Joining reared up then charged at the woman. Garianne stood her ground. As the beast was almost upon her she raised her arm, sending the second bolt into its snarling mouth. The iron point punched through the cartilage and bone, skewering the brain. In its death throes it lashed out. Garianne was punched from her feet. Then the creature toppled. Skilgannon hurdled the falling body and ran at the Joining still ensnared in the ruined tent. It reared up from the mutilated body upon which it was feeding and sprang away.

  Another Joining leapt to the wagon and let out a roar. Three other beasts ran in. Skilgannon swung to face them.

  Then, with a bellowing war cry Druss the Legend came out of the darkness, Snaga crunching through one creature’s skull. Skilgannon raced in to aid the axman. Jared and Nian followed him. Druss killed a second, and Skilgannon a third, before the surviving Joining turned and fled into the night. Glancing around the settlement Skilgannon saw the Joining with the tent-cloak was surrounded by tribesmen with bows. Its hide bristled with arrows. It tried to charge, but caught its front paw in the remains of the tent and tumbled over. Khalid Khan leapt toward it, driving his curved sword in the creature’s neck. It reared up, throwing the old leader through the air. More arrows thudded into it. The Joining tottered, then pitched to the ground. Tribesmen swarmed over the beast, plunging knives and swords into its flesh.

  For a while there was silence. Then some of the women, identifying dead loved ones, began to wail, the sound echoing through the hills.

  Skilgannon cleaned his blades and sheathed them. Druss walked back to where Diagoras was kneeling beside the unconscious Rabalyn. “Does he live?” asked the axman.

  “Aye. His nose is broken. He’s lucky. The talons missed him. I think it was the beast’s forearm that struck him.”

  “That’s because he was attacking the Joining,” said Druss. “Pushing forward. If he’d backed away, the talons would have ripped his throat out. Courage kept him alive.”

  “He’s a brave lad,” agreed Diagoras. “He’s too young and callow, though, Druss. He shouldn’t be with us.”

  “He’ll learn,” argued Druss.

  “You’ve a wound on your back,” said Skilgannon, approaching the axman.

  “It’s not deep.” Druss patted the silver steel shoulder guards on his black jerkin. “These took most of the hit.” The brothers, Jared and Nian, strolled over.

  “You think they’ll come back?” asked Jared.

  Druss shook his head, and gazed up into the hills. “Too few of them now. I killed two before coming back here. I think they’ll move on, seeking easier prey.” He seemed distracted.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Diagoras, rising from alongside the unconscious Rabalyn.

  “Damndest thing,” said Druss. “I walked up into the hills. Then three of them rushed at me. I killed the first quick, but the second threw me to the ground.” He fell silent, remembering the scene. “They had me. No question. Then a fourth beast attacked them. Big and gray. He just ripped in, scattering them. I managed to get to my feet. Killed a second. The gray one tore the throat out of the third. Then it just stood there. I knew it wasn’t going to attack me. No idea how I knew. We stared at one another, then it gave a cry of pure anguish and ran. Then I heard the attack on the ca
mp, so I returned.”

  “You think it was Orastes?” asked Diagoras.

  “I don’t know. I can’t think of any other reason why it would have saved me. I’m going to find him.”

  “Find him?” echoed Diagoras. “Are you insane? You can’t be sure it even intended to rescue you. These are not thinking creatures, Druss. They’ll lash out and kill at the slightest provocation. Maybe they were just fighting over who got to eat your liver.”

  “Maybe,” agreed the axman. “I need to know.”

  Diagoras swore. Then he took a deep breath. “Listen to me, my friend. If it is Orastes there’s nothing we can do for him. You said the Old Woman made that clear. Once these poor devils are melded it cannot be undone. So what will you do? Keep him as a pet? Shemak’s balls, Druss! This is not something you take for a walk and throw a stick for.”

  “I’ll take him to the temple. Maybe they can . . . bring Orastes back.”

  “Oh, I see. That’s all right then,” said Diagoras, his voice angry. “So, let me get this clear. Our new plan is to capture a werebeast, find a temple, which may or may not exist, then ask the priests to heal a tumor, and unmeld a wolf and a man? And all this before the two of us attack a fortress and despatch a couple of hundred warriors and rescue a child? Have I left anything out?”

  “I am hoping they can raise the dead,” said Skilgannon. Diagoras looked at him and blinked.

  “Is this a jest of some kind?”

  “Not to me.”

  “Ah, well then . . . I shall ask for a winged horse and a golden helm that makes me invisible. I’ll fly over the fortress and rescue the child without anyone seeing me.”

  “They can do amazing things,” said Jared, stepping forward. Nian moved alongside him, taking hold of the sash at Jared’s belt. “I know this. We have been there before.”

  “You’ve seen the temple?” put in Skilgannon.

  “I don’t remember much of it,” said Jared. “Our father took us there when we very young. No more than three years old.”

  “Were you sick?” asked Diagoras.

  “No, we were healthy enough. But we were joined at the waist. Born that way. Our mother died in childbirth. The surgeon cut us from her dead body. We were freaks. I don’t remember much of those early years. But I do remember being stared at, laughed at, pointed at. All I recall of the temple was a woman with a shaved skull. She had a kind face. Her name was Ustarte. One morning I awoke, and Nian was no longer joined to me. He was lying beside me, and we were both bandaged. I recall the pain from the wound.”

  For a moment there was silence, then Diagoras spoke: “I have seen your scars, and they tell me the priests at the temple must have cut your flesh in order to separate you. That was an incredible feat.” He swung back toward Druss. “But they cannot cut Orastes clear of the wolf. They have become one. If they could separate one from the other without slicing flesh they would have done that with the brothers.”

  “On the other hand,” put in Skilgannon, “Orastes and the wolf were joined magically. Perhaps that magic can be reversed. We won’t know until we get the beast to the temple.”

  Diagoras looked around the group. He saw Garianne sitting on a rock close by. “You haven’t offered anything,” he said, careful to avoid framing a question.

  “We would like to see Ustarte again,” she said.

  At that moment Rabalyn groaned. Druss knelt beside him. “How are you feeling, laddie?”

  “Can’t breathe through my nose, and it hurts.”

  “It’s broken. Can you stand?” Druss helped the boy to his feet. Rabalyn swayed slightly, then righted himself. He looked around. “Did we beat them off?”

  “Aye, we did,” said Druss. “Stand still and lean your head back.” Reaching up Druss clamped his fingers to the boy’s misshapen nose, then gave a sharp twist. There was a loud crack. Rabalyn cried out. “There, it’s straight now,” said Druss, patting Rabalyn on the back.” Rabalyn groaned and staggered away, falling to his knees and vomitting.

  “Always good to see the gentle touch,” observed Diagoras. “So how do we capture Orastes?”

  “I’ll go and find him,” said Druss. “The rest of you wait for me here.”

  “It would be folly to go alone, Axman,” said Skilgannon.

  “Maybe so, but if we go in a group Orastes will avoid us. I think some part of him still recognizes me as a friend. I might be able to reach him.”

  “There is sense in that. However, there are still more of the beasts out there, Druss. The group can remain behind, but I’ll go with you.”

  Druss stood quietly, thinking. Then he nodded.

  “You want me to stich that cut in your back before you go?” asked Diagoras.

  “No, the blood will help draw Orastes to me.”

  “Oh, good plan,” said Diagoras.

  16

  * * *

  The moon was high and bright as the two warriors trudged up the hillside. Skilgannon glanced at the axman. He looked tired and drawn, his eyes sunken. Skilgannon himself was weary, and he was half Druss’s age. They walked in silence for a while, coming at last to a rocky outcrop close to a high rock face, pitted with caves.

  “My guess is they are in there,” said Druss.

  “You want to go in?”

  “Let’s see what transpires.” Druss slumped down on a boulder and rubbed his eyes. Skilgannon looked at him.

  “This Orastes means a lot to you?”

  “No,” said Druss. “He was just a fat boy I knew back at Skeln. I liked him, though. He should never have been a soldier. I was amazed when he survived. War is a curious beast. Sometimes it will swallow the best and leave the worst alone. There were some great fighters at Skeln. Cut down in their prime. I’ll give Orastes his due, though. He stood his ground.”

  “No more can be asked,” said Skilgannon.

  “You’ll get no argument from me. I saw him few times after that. His father died and he became Earl of Dros Purdol. Another role to which he was not suited. Poor Orastes. A failure in almost everything he ever did.”

  “Everyone is good at something,” said Skilgannon.

  “Aye, that’s true. Orastes was a fine father. He adored Elanin. Just to see them together made the heart soar.”

  “And the wife?”

  “She left him. I’d like to say she was a bad woman, but my guess would be that Orastes was a poor husband. I suppose that she must have regretted leaving her child. Hence she stole her back while Orastes was away from Purdol. That would have torn him apart.”

  A slight breeze whispered across the rocks. Upon it Skilgannon could smell the rancid scent of fur. Druss was right. The beasts were close.

  Constantly alert, his eyes scanning the rocks, he sat beside the axman. “So, Orastes came to Tantria and sought help from the Old Woman. And she betrayed him. Tell me, why did you not take vengeance on her?”

  “I don’t make war on women, laddie.”

  “And yet they have just as great a capacity for evil.”

  “True, but I’m too old to change now. Ironmask destroyed Orastes. It is Ironmask who will pay.”

  “So you think that Orastes is still following his daughter?”

  “Aye, I do. I don’t know how much of Orastes survives in the beast. He probably doesn’t even know why he is heading into Pelucid. But that’s why he’s here. The child meant everything to him.”

  The two men fell silent, each lost in his own thoughts. The sky was cloudless, the moon high and bright. Something moved upon the rocks. The Sword of Day slid into Skilgannon’s hand. He relaxed as he saw a small lizard scurry into the shadows.

  “Why are you here, laddie?” asked Druss, suddenly.

  “You know why. I am hoping to bring my wife back from the dead.”

  “I meant why are you here? With me now. In this place. I could be wrong about Orastes. There could be more of the creatures than we can handle. This is not your fight.” Skilgannon was about to say something light when Druss spoke again
. “And don’t be flippant, laddie. ’Tis a serious question.”

  Skilgannon sighed. “You remind me of my father. I was too young to be alongside him when he needed me.”

  “Death always brings guilt,” said Druss. He pushed himself to his feet. “I am a good judge of men, Skilgannon. You believe that?”

  “I do.”

  “Then believe me when I tell you that you are a better man than you know. You can’t put right the evil you have done. All you can do is ensure it never happens again.”

  “And how do I do that?”

  “You find a code, laddie.” Druss hefted Snaga. “And now it’s time to enter those caves. I don’t think Orastes will be coming out to us.”

  Skilgannon stared at the nearest entrance. It seemed to him then that it resembled a gaping mouth. Fear touched him, but he drew his second sword and followed the axman toward the cliff face.

  Beyond the cave mouth was a twisting tunnel. Moonlight did not pierce the gloom for more than a few yards. Druss took several steps toward the darkness. “There’ll be light further on,” he said. “The whole of the cliff face is pockmarked with caves and openings.”

  “Let’s hope so,” said Skilgannon, following him into the dark. Within a few paces they could see nothing, and Druss moved warily, feeling ahead with every footfall. The stench of animal fur was stronger now, and some way ahead they heard a low growl.

  Skilgannon had sheathed one of his swords and was walking blindly with one hand on Druss’s shoulder. Ahead they saw a faint gleam of moonlight, shafting down at a forty-five degree angle. Slowly they approached it. They rounded a slight bend. Several shafts of moonlight could now be seen, coming from fissures in the rock face.

  The tunnel opened out into a cavern. Stalactites hung from the domed roof. “You could try calling his name,” offered Skilgannon. “Maybe some part of his mind still remembers it.”

  “Orastes!” shouted Druss, his voice booming and echoing. “It is I, Druss. Come out my friend. We mean you no harm.”