by Glen Cook
Rogala shrugged, his face a mask of indifference.
"Once you said they'd endured too much already. I've heard you say this thing has gone too far." The youth nodded toward the mausoleum where his sister and Loida lay.
"She's a jealous woman, Gathrid. And insane by your way of looking at things. Don't forget. She dreams. Are we responsible for her nightmares? Her power is godlike. She doesn't realize that she shapes reality. A moment of pique gives us pain, but she doesn't know she's hurt anyone real." Thoughtfully, he added, "She may have lost track of the line between reality and fantasy even before the trap took her."
"I owe her, Theis. For my sister. For Loida. For Count Cuneo and the Mindak. She's taken a lot from me, Theis."
"But you want to waken her?"
"Maybe so I don't have to kill anymore. I really don't want to. Especially not tonight."
"What the dream has raped away the dreamer might restore."
"What?" Gathrid spoke so sharply, so suddenly, that Rogala exploded like a startled quail. He came to a halt ten feet away. His knife was in his hand.
"Calm down, Theis. I was startled. What did you mean? She could bring back the dead?"
"I think so. No guarantees. I can't pretend to speak for her. But she has the souls of all those Daubendiek has slain. They went into you, but also into the blade. You lost them, but they're not lost. If you see what I mean."
"Theis, I don't really trust you. But I'll try to make you a deal. I'll give you your life and Suchara's awakening. If . . . If you can get her to give me back what I've lost."
Rogala shifted tack. "No one can turn back the sands."
"I want my dead. You want your dreamer. Help me and I'll help you. Could it be simpler?"
Rogala continued facing him from a fighting crouch, his head turning slowly back and forth as he listened for movement. He waited. And waited. Finally, "All right." He sheathed his dagger. "Unless she changes my mind."
Gathrid laughed nervously. "Let's go get supper." He approached the dwarf carefully, rested a gentle hand on the man's shoulder. "Partner."
Halfway down the hill, Rogala said, "You ever hear the tale of Lundt Kharmine?"
"No."
"It's old. Probably lost now. Lundt Kharmine went down into Hell to rescue his lost love."
"Sounds like the story of Whylas Rus. So?"
"You may wish you'd killed me after all."
"Theis, I've been to Hell already. Nothing terrifies me anymore."
The distant campfires all flared at once. For a moment they illuminated Rogala's face. He wore his wicked, knowing smile.
Gathrid shuddered, forced it out of mind.
About the Author
Glen Cook is the author of dozens of novels of fantasy and science fiction, including The Black Company, The Garret Files, Instrumentalities of the Night, and The Dread Empire Series. Cook was born in 1944 in New York City. He attended the Clarion Writers Workshop in 1970, where he met his wife, Carol. "Unlike most writers, I have not had strange jobs like chicken plucking and swamping out health bars. Only full-time employer I've ever had is General Motors." He currently makes his home in St. Louis, Missouri.
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The Swordbearer
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
About the Author
