“What do you think will happen now?”
“They’ll be more careful who they send after us. Tough men, trackers, foresters.”
“Demons?” asked the boy, trying to disguise his fear.
“Aye, and demons,” agreed the Gray Man.
“We are beaten, aren’t we? Panagyn and Aric have thousands of men. I have nothing. If I were to make it back to the capital, I wouldn’t know where to go.”
“The armies mean nothing without men to lead them,” said the Gray Man. “When I have you in a place of safety, I shall return. Then we will see.”
“You would go back to Carlis? Why?”
The Gray Man did not answer but pointed down to the plain below. In the distance Niall could see a line of riders. “Wake Emrin,” ordered the Gray Man. “It is time to be moving.”
Yu Yu groaned as he awoke. He felt as if a herd of oxen had spent the night walking across his body. With a grunt of pain he struggled up. Kysumu was at the mouth of the cave, his sword in his lap. “I don’t want to be a hero,” grumbled Yu Yu.
“You have been asleep for hours,” Kysumu said wearily. The little Rajnee rose and padded away from the cave. Yu Yu pushed himself to his knees and groaned again. Glancing down, he saw the fresh stitches in the new wound to his shoulder. “Every time I fight, I get hurt,” he said, though Kysumu was nowhere in sight. “Every time. And when a great hero takes over my body, he gets hurt. I’m tired of my body getting hurt. Once we find the Men of Clay, I’m going home. I’m going to dig ditches.” He thought about it for a moment, remembering the threat to his life. “No, first I’m going to sneak into Shi Da’s house and cut his throat. Then I’ll dig ditches.”
“You are talking to yourself,” said Kysumu, returning to the cave with a double handful of dark berries. He offered them to Yu Yu, who sat down and ate gratefully. They did no more than dent the edge of his appetite.
“Qin Chong came to me,” said Kysumu.
“I know. I was there. Here. Whatever! He was very complimentary about my strength and speed. We fought well, hey? Cut his bastard head off.”
“You fought well,” agreed Kysumu. “But now there are six more Kriaz-nor closing in on us.”
“Six? That’s a lot,” said Yu Yu. “Don’t know if I could kill six.”
“You couldn’t kill one,” said Kysumu, an edge of irritation in his voice.
“I know why you are angry. Qin Chong would not tell you why you weren’t the pria-shath.”
Kysumu sighed. “You are correct, Yu Yu. All my life I have struggled to be the perfect Rajnee, to be worthy of the name, and to uphold the standards set by men like Qin Chong. I could have been rich, the owner of a palace, the lord of a province. I could have wed the Star Lily.”
“The Star Lily?” queried Yu Yu.
“It is not important. I have eschewed all riches and remained a humble swordsman. What more could I have done to be worthy?”
“I don’t know,” said Yu Yu. “I haven’t done any of those things. But then, I didn’t want to be the pria-shath. Don’t know why anyone would, really.” He wandered out of the cave, seeking more berries and finding a bush some sixty paces away. They were not quite ripe, but they tasted heavenly. Yu Yu had no idea why Kysumu longed to be the pria-shath. What was so great about being hunted and hungry, with killers on your trail? As far as Yu Yu was concerned, he wished Kysumu had been the pria-shath. Having stripped the bush, Yu Yu turned and stopped in his tracks. The cave was set into the side of a domed hill. Yu Yu stared at it, remembering his spirit journeys with Qin Chong. As fast as his bruised limbs would carry him he hurried back to the cave. “We are here,” he told Kysumu. “This is it! This is the hill of the Men of Clay.”
“You are sure?”
“Certain.”
The two men moved to the open air, scanning the hillside. “How do we enter?” asked Kysumu.
“I don’t know.”
Slowly they traversed the base. No trees grew on the hillside, and there were no openings of any kind except for the cave in which they had rested. Kysumu climbed to the top, scanning the surrounding ground. Then he returned to where Yu Yu waited.
“I can see no sign of an entrance,” said Kysumu.
They walked back to the cave, and Kysumu began to examine the gray walls. They were seamless. Yu Yu waited outside. He, too, was mystified. In his dream he had seen the Riaj-nor walking to this hillside and vanishing inside. He did not recall there being a cave or indeed an overhang like the one above, jutting from the hillside like a lean- to roof.
He walked back to the berry bush and stared at the overhang and the land below it. He had been a ditchdigger and a builder for most of his adult life, and he knew a little about the movement of soil. It seemed to him then that the area around the cave mouth could have eroded, exposing the cave.
Kysumu joined him. “I can find nothing,” he said.
Yu Yu ignored him, and walked to the rock face, just to the left of the cave mouth. His body was still aching, but he reached up, found a handhold, and slowly began to climb. Had he not been so bruised and weary, the climb would have been easy. As it was, he was grunting as he hauled himself over the lip of the overhang.
“Up here!” he called, beckoning Kysumu to follow him.
The little Rajnee scaled the face swiftly. There was a slab of stone some six feet high and four feet wide set vertically into the hillside.
“It looks like a door,” said Kysumu, pushing at it. It did not budge.
Yu Yu did not answer. He was staring toward the tree line, where six warriors had emerged.
Kysumu saw them, too. “At least they don’t have bows,” he muttered. “Perhaps I can kill them as they climb.”
Yu Yu stepped toward the rock door, extending his hand. As his fingers touched the stone, it shimmered just like a pebble falling into a pond. Tiny waves rippled out. Yu Yu stood for a moment staring at the ripples, then reached out. His hand passed through the door as if through a cold fog. He gestured to Kysumu, who was watching the advancing Kriaz-nor. “I have found the way in,” he said, pointing to the cold stone.
“What are you talking about?”
Yu Yu swung back to see that the entrance was solid stone once more.
“Take my hand,” said Yu Yu.
“We have you now, little men!” shouted a Kriaz-nor, running forward and scrambling up toward them. Kysumu’s blade swept into the air.
Yu Yu touched the stone once more, and, as the ripples began, he grabbed Kysumu’s arm and dragged him through the fog.
On the other side they stood in pitch darkness.
“Oh this is wonderful!” said Yu Yu. “What now?”
Immediately a score of lanterns flared. Kysumu narrowed his eyes against the sudden glare. As his vision was acclimatized, he saw they were standing in a short tunnel leading to a vast domed hall. Releasing Yu Yu’s hand, Kysumu moved to the end of the tunnel. Within the hall, standing in ranks, were several hundred dazzlingly white full-sized clay figures. Each of the figures was of a Riaj-nor swordsman. They were magnificently cast and sculpted. Toward the front of the silent army three of the figures lay broken. A section of rock had fallen from the roof, shattering them. Kysumu picked up a section of a fragmented head and examined it. He had never seen such quality of workmanship. Reverently replacing it on the ground, he moved through the ghostly ranks, gazing upon their faces. Such nobility. Such humanity. Kysumu was awestruck. He felt he could see modest heroism in every face. These were the great ones who had fought a colossal evil for the benefit of mankind. Kysumu’s heart swelled. He felt immensely privileged merely to gaze upon their features.
Yu Yu sat down, leaning his back against the wall and closing his eyes.
After a while Kysumu came back and sat alongside him. “What do we do now?” he asked.
“You do as you please,” said Yu Yu. “I need to rest.” Stretching out, he laid his head on his arm and fell asleep.
Kysumu rose. He could not take his eyes from
the grim Men of Clay. Every face was different, though each wore the same armor: ornate helms that flared out to protect the neck, torso protectors that seemed to have been created from coins, perfectly round and held together by small rings. Each of the warriors was also clothed in a full-length tunic split to the waist at the front and back. Their swords were like his own, long and slightly curved. Kysumu strolled through the ranks again, wondering which of these men was Qin Chong.
The lanterns burned brightly. Kysumu examined one and saw that it carried no oil, no fuel of any kind. A globe of glass sat on a small cup, white light radiating from its center.
Slowly he walked around the domed hall. On one side he found hundreds of small golden items laid on a wide rocky shelf. Some were rings, others brooches or wrist bangles, scattered and piled one upon another. There were pendants, ornaments, and tiny good-luck figures shaped in the form of animals, dogs, cats, even the head of a bear. Mystified, Kysumu returned to where Yu Yu slept. He did not try to wake him. Yu Yu was exhausted.
A dull thumping sound echoed through the hall. Kysumu guessed that the Kriaz-nor had climbed to the overhang and were seeking a way through. They will not move that rock, he thought. But sooner or later he and Yu Yu would have to leave this place and face them.
He stared once more at the Men of Clay. “Well, we have found you, my brothers,” he said. “But what happens now?”
Matze Chai sat quietly, waiting for the interrogation to begin. He had heard of the massacre at the Winter Palace and knew that Waylander was once more a hunted man. What he did not know was why he had been summoned to the Oak Room of Waylander’s home.
The captain of his guard, young Liu, was standing at his master’s right-hand side. Opposite sat the magicker Eldicar Manushan and two men who had been introduced as the lords Aric and Panagyn. Matze instantly found himself disliking both of them. Aric had the look of a contented weasel, while Panagyn’s face was flat and brutal. A slender blond-haired little boy stood beside the magicker. Despite himself Matze found himself warming to the little lad, which was strange, since he loathed children.
The silence grew. Finally Eldicar Manushan spoke. “It is my understanding that the individual known as the Gray Man is one of your clients.”
Matze said nothing, but he held the magicker’s gaze and maintained an expression of icy disdain.
“Is it your intention to answer none of my questions?” asked the magicker.
“I was not aware that it was a question,” said Matze. “It seemed to me a statement of fact. There is no secret concerning my visit. I organize the financial dealings of the Gray Man, as you call him, within the lands of the Chiatze.”
“My apologies, Matze Chai,” Eldicar said with a thin smile. “By what name do you know this man?”
“I know him as Dakeyras.”
“Where is he from?”
“Some land in the far southwest. Drenan or Vagria. It is not my business to inquire too deeply into the backgrounds of my clients. I am retained to make their finances grow. That is my talent.”
“Are you aware that your client and a vile sorceress caused the deaths of more than a hundred people, including the duke and his lady?”
“If you say so,” answered Matze, pulling a perfumed handkerchief from his red silk sleeve. Delicately he dabbed it to his nose.
“We do say it, you slant-eyed horse turd,” snapped Lord Panagyn.
Matze did not look at the man but kept his gaze firmly on the face of the magicker.
“Your client also kidnapped the heir to the duchy and dragged him from the palace amid the slaughter.”
“An amazingly gifted man, obviously,” said Matze. “And yet apparently not very intelligent.”
“Why is that?” asked Eldicar.
“He summons demons to wipe out the duke and all his followers yet somehow fails to kill the two most powerful lords. Instead of slaying them—a feat he could accomplish with ease—he decides to kidnap the duke’s son and, thus burdened, rushes off into the night, leaving his enemies alive and in possession of his castle, his lands, and a great deal of his wealth. Hard to imagine what he thought he was achieving. Remarkably stupid.”
“What are you insinuating?” snarled Aric.
“I would have thought that was obvious,” said Matze. “My client, as you well know, was not responsible for the murders. He had no reason to kill the duke and certainly would not resort to summoning demons even if he could. So stop playing stupid games. I do not care who rules this realm or who summoned the demons. I am supremely disinterested in such matters. I am a merchant. My interests lie in commerce.”
“Very well, Matze Chai,” Eldicar said smoothly, “let us put aside questions of guilt and innocence. We need to find the Gray Man, and we need you to tell us all you know about him.”
“My clients require from me a great deal of discretion,” Matze told him. “I do not gossip about their affairs.”
“I am not sure that you realize the peril of your predicament, sir,” said Eldicar, his voice hardening. “The Gray Man is our enemy and must be found. The more we know about him, the easier the task. It would be better for you to speak freely than to have the words wrung from you. And believe me, I have the power to tear the words from you in between screams of agony.” Eldicar smiled and leaned back in his chair. “However, let us put aside such thoughts for a moment and examine ways in which you might reconsider your position and become my friend.”
“Friendship is always welcome,” said Matze.
“You are an old man, close to death. Would you like to be young again?”
“Who would not?”
“A small demonstration, then, as a gesture of good faith.”
Eldicar lifted his hand. A fist-sized globe of shimmering blue smoke appeared. It sped from his fingers, flowing into the nostrils and mouth of the startled Liu. The Chiatze guard fell to his knees, choking. Blue smoke exploded from his lungs, and he gasped, taking in great gulps of air. The smoke flowed around Matze Chai. The merchant tried to hold his breath, but the smoke clung to his face. At last he inhaled. A tingling sensation seeped through his limbs. He felt his heart beat faster, his muscles swell with new life. Energy roared within him. He felt strong again. His vision cleared, and he found that he could see with greater clarity than he had for years. He turned to Liu. The young captain had regained his feet. Matze’s expression hardened as he saw that Liu’s dark hair was showing gray at the temples.
“How does it feel, Matze Chai?” asked Eldicar Manushan.
“It feels very fine,” Matze answered coldly. “However, it would have been good manners to ask my captain if he objected to losing some of his youth.”
“I have given you twenty years, merchant. I can give you twenty more. You can be young and virile once more. You can enjoy your wealth in a manner denied to you for decades. Are you now willing to be my friend?”
Matze took a deep breath. “My client is unique, magicker. Some men are talented painters and sculptors; others can grow any kind of bloom in any kind of climate. You are obviously skilled in the arcane arts. But my client is a master of only one skill, one terrible talent. He is a killer. In all my long and thus far remarkably uneventful life I have neither known nor heard of anyone to match him. He has fought demons and magickers and werebeasts. He is still here.” Matze Chai gave a thin smile. “But then, I think you already realize this. He was supposed to have died in your massacre, and he did not. Now you believe you are hunting him. It is an illusion. He is hunting you. You are already dead men. I do not desire friendship with dead men.”
Eldicar looked at him in silence for several moments. “It is time to know pain, Matze Chai,” he said. As he spoke, he raised his hand and pointed to Liu. The officer’s dagger slid from its sheath, spun, and plunged through Liu’s right eye socket. He fell without a sound.
Matze sat silently, his hands on his lap, as the guards moved in.
Three-swords stepped back from the rock door. Iron-arm continued to
beat at the stone with the pommel of his sword.
“Enough,” said Three-swords. “It will not budge.”
“How, then, did they pass through?”
“I do not know. But we have searched the hillside, and this is the only way out. So we wait.”
The two Kriaz-nor climbed down to join the others. Longstride was sitting down in the cave mouth, Stone-four beside him. The two survivors of Striped-claw’s group were standing apart. Three-swords called them to him. They were both fresh from the pens. It was stupid of Striped-claw to have chosen them for this task but entirely predictable. Striped-claw liked to impress, and pen younglings were easier to impress than seasoned warriors were.
“Tell me of the fight,” said Three-swords.
One of the warriors began to speak. “Striped-claw told us to stand back while he made the kill. Then he fought the one in the wolfskin. It was very fast. The human moved like a Kriaz-nor. Great speed. Then Striped-claw went down. It was then that Hill-six attacked the second man. He died.”
“Then you ran?”
“Yes, sir.”
Three-swords stepped back from the pair and drew one of his swords. In one move of dazzling speed he beheaded the speaker. The second warrior turned to run, but Three-swords was upon him within a few paces, his blade slashing through the back of the Kriaz-nor’s neck.
Turning, he strolled back to Iron-arm. “Fresh meat,” he said. “But leave the hearts. I do not want the blood of cowards flowing in my veins.”
At that moment the ground began to vibrate. Three-swords almost lost his footing.
“Earthquake!” shouted Stone-four.
A dull sound like distant thunder boomed across the clearing. A dislodged boulder rolled past them.
“It is coming from inside the hill,” said Iron-arm.
Another boulder moved, falling on the overhang and bouncing out to crash to the ground close by. “Back to the tree line,” ordered Three-swords. Iron-arm ran to one of the bodies and, hauling it behind him, followed his three comrades back to the safety of the trees.
Hero in the Shadows: A Waylander the Slayer Novel Page 31
