Page 33 of Waylander

  On the wall below, Jonat sat with Sarvaj. For some while both men had watched for Gellan; now they knew he was either taken or slain.

  'He was a good man,' said Sarvaj at last.

  'He was a fool,' hissed Jonat. 'He didn't have to kill himself.'

  'No,' agreed Sarvaj, 'but I shall miss him.'

  'I won't! I couldn't care less how many officers die. I just wonder why I stay at this cursed fortress. I used to have a dream, an ambition if you like . . . Have you ever been up into the Skoda mountains?'

  'No.'

  'There are peaks there which have never been climbed; they are bathed in mist for nine months of the year. I wanted to build a home near one of those peaks - there is a glen, sheltered, where horses could be raised. I know about horses. I like horses.'

  'I'm glad to hear there's something you like.'

  'I like a lot of things, Sarvaj. But not many people.'

  'Gellan liked you.'

  'Stop it! I don't want to hear any more about Gellan. You understand?'

  'I don't think that I do.'

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  'Because I care. Does that satisfy you? Is that what you wanted to hear? I am sorry that he's gone. There! And ... I don't want to talk about it.'

  Sarvaj removed his helmet and leaned back against the cold stone. 'I had a dream once too. There was a girl back in Drenan - bright, talented and available. Her father owned a fleet of traders which sailed from Mashrapur to the east. I was going to marry her and become a merchant.'

  'What happened?'

  'She married someone else.'

  'Did she not love you?'

  'She said she did.'

  'You were better off without her.'

  Sarvaj chuckled. 'Does this look like better off?'

  'At least you are among friends,' said Jonat, extending his hand. Sarvaj took it.

  'I always wanted to die among friends.'

  'Well, that is one ambition you'll achieve.

  Danyal had been riding for four days across rough open country. In that time she had seen no one but now, as she rode through thick forest, she knew she was not alone. In the undergrowth to her right she had seen a dark shadow, moving from the thick cover and darting between the trees.

  She had spurred her horse away, the pack pony following.

  But still the shadower stayed in touch. She rarely caught more than a glimpse of him, but he moved with great speed and supernatural silence.

  The light was fading and Danyal's fears grew. Her mouth was dry, but her hands were slick with sweat. She wished Waylander were here - or even Durmast.

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  Momentarily her fear eased as her last conver­sation with Durmast rose in her mind.

  When they had travelled for some five miles, they had come across the party of warriors in black armour. Durmast had cursed and reached for his battleaxe, but they had ridden by with scarcely a glance at the two travellers.

  Durmast's anger had been a sight to behold.

  'They ignored me,' he had said.

  'I'm glad,' she had told him. 'Did you want to fight them?'

  They were Brotherhood warriors seeking the Armour. They can read minds and they know we have it.'

  "Then why did they not take it?'

  He had dismounted and walked to a nearby rock where he sat and stared at the now distant mountain of Raboas.

  Danyal joined him. 'We cannot stay here. Way-lander is risking his life to give us time.'

  'They knew,' said Durmast.

  'Knew what?'

  'They knew my thoughts.'

  'I do not understand you.'

  'You know what I am, Danyal . . . what I have been. There is no real strength in me except what I have in the muscles of this over-large body. I am a wretch, always have been. Take the Armour and go-'

  'And what will you do?'

  'I'll travel east - maybe go to Ventria. They say it is a rare experience to view the Opal Mountains in winter.'

  'I cannot get through alone.'

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  'You don't understand, do you? I'll betray you, Danyal, and steal the Armour. It's worth a fortune.'

  'You gave your word.'

  'My word isn't worth pig-droppings.'

  'You are going back to help Waylander.'

  Durmast laughed. 'Do I look stupid? That would be the act of a madman. Go on. Ride! Go before I change my mind.'

  As the days passed Danyal had hoped to see Way­lander riding the back trail. She would not accept that he might be dead - could not accept it. He was strong. Invincible. No one could bring him down. She remembered the day when he had stood against the warriors in the forest. One man standing strong in the fading light, the red glow all around him. And he had won. He always won - he could not be dead.

  She jerked back to the present as tears blurred her vision, blinking hard. The path was narrow and the darkness was gathering; she was loth to camp, but the horses were tired. Glancing to her right, she peered into the undergrowth, but there was no sign of the other traveller. Perhaps it had been a bear hunting for food. Perhaps her imagination had fuelled her fear.

  Danyal rode on until she heard the sound of run­ning water and then made camp by a shallow stream, determined to stay awake through the night, sword in hand.

  She awoke with the dawn and stretched. Swiftly she washed in the icy stream, the water stinging the sleep from her. Then she tightened the saddle cinch of her mare and mounted. Durmast had told her to steer south-east until she reached the river. There was a ferry - cross that and head due south to Delnoch Pass.

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  The forest was silent as she rode and the day warm and close.

  Four Nadir riders came into sight and Danyal jerked on the reins, her heart pounding as they came closer. One of them had a dead antelope roped across his saddle and the others carried bows. The lead rider halted before her.

  'You are blocking the path,' he said.

  Danyal steered the mare to the left and the men rode on.

  That night she lit a small fire and fell asleep within seconds.

  She awoke just after midnight to see a towering figure sitting by the fire, feeding branches to the flames. As silently as she could, she drew her dagger and pushed back the blanket. His back was to her, his naked skin shining in the moonlight - he was big, and would dwarf even Durmast. She moved to her feet. He turned . . .

  And she found herself staring into a single dread­ful eye about a slitted nose and a fang-rimmed slash of a mouth.

  'Vrend,' grunted Kai, tapping chest. 'Vrend.'

  Danyal's legs felt weak, but she took a deep breath and advanced with the knife outstretched. 'Go away,' she said.

  Kai pushed out a taloned finger and began scratch­ing at the earth. He was not looking at her. Tensing herself to spring and plunge the knife into him, she suddenly saw what he was doing: in the hard-baked clay, he had sketched a stick-figured man holding a small crossbow.

  'Waylander,' said Danyal. 'You know Waylan-der?'

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  'Vrend,' said Kai, nodding. He pointed at her. 'Anyal.'

  'Danyal. Yes, yes. I am Danyal. Is Waylander alive?'

  'Vrend.' Kai curled his hand into a fist as if it held a dagger. Then he stabbed his shoulder and hip.

  'He has been badly hurt? Is that what you are saying?'

  The monster merely looked at her.

  'The Brotherhood warriors. Did they find him? Tall men in black armour.'

  'Dead,' said Kai, mimicking the actions of a sword or axe. Danyal sheathed her knife and sat beside Kai, reaching out and touching his arm. 'Listen to me. The man who killed them - is he alive?'

  'Dead,' said Kai.

  Danyal sat back and closed her eyes.

  A few months ago she had been performing a dance in front of a king. Weeks later she had fallen in love with that king's assassin. Now she sat in a lonely forest with a monster who could not speak. She began to laugh at the lunacy of it all.

  Kai listened to the laughter, heard it chan
ge and become weeping and watched the tears flow on her pretty cheeks. So pretty, he thought. Like the Nadir girl he had watched. So small, fragile and bird-boned.

  Way back, Kai had wanted one of these soft beings as a friend. And he had seized a girl as she washed clothes by a stream, carrying her into the mountains where he had gathered fruit and pretty stones. But when they had arrived Kai had found her broken and lifeless, her ribs in shards where his arm had encircled her. Not all his healing power could help her.

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  He didn't touch them any more . . .

  Six hundred men hauled the ballista into place some fifty paces from the gate. Then six carts came into view, pulled by teams of oxen, the Drenai watched as men milled around the carts, unyoking the beasts. Then a winch was set up behind the ballista.

  Karnak called Dundas, Jonat and several other nearby officers to him.

  'Get the majority of the men back into the Keep. Leave only a token force on the walls,' he instructed.

  Within minutes the men had streamed back through the Keep gates, taking up positions on the battlements.

  Karnak opened a leather pouch at his side and removed a hard cake of rolled oats and sugar. Tear­ing off a chunk, he chewed it thoughtfully as the preparations continued.

  Several soldiers had manoeuvred a massive boulder to the rear of the cart and were tying ropes around it. At a signal, four soldiers winched it into place on the ballista. An officer raised an arm, a lever was swiftly pulled and the ballista arm shot forward.

  Karnak watched the boulder soar through the air, seeming to grow as it approached. With a thundering crash it struck the wall beside the gate tower. Rocks exploded and an entire section of battlements crumbled under the impact.

  The general finished his cake and walked to the rampart edge, stepping up on to the crenellated wall.

  'Up here, you whoresons!' he bellowed. Then he stepped back and walked slowly down the stairwell to the main battlements.

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  'Get off the wall, you men,' he shouted. 'Back to the Keep!'

  As a second section of wall exploded some thirty feet from the general, rocks and stones shrieked past his head. Two men were hurled from the battlements to smash against the cobbled courtyard.

  Karnak cursed and ran down the steps to them. Both were dead.

  A boulder struck the gate tower, sheering off to crash into the field hospital roof. Timbers cracked, but the boulder did not penetrate. Twice more the gate tower endured against the missiles, but on the third strike the entire structure shifted and sagged. With a creaking groan, the stone blocks gave way and the tower slid to the right to crash behind the gates.

  In the hospital, Evris was completing the stitching of a stomach would in a young soldier. The boy had been lucky; no vital organs had been sliced by the thrusting sword and now all he had to fear was gangrene.

  The wall came apart and Evris' last sight was of an immense black cloud engulfing the room. The slight surgeon was crushed against the far wall beside the body of his patient. Four more boulders struck the hospital and a fallen lantern spread fire through a linen basket. The flames licked out through a door frame, and up between the walls of the hospital. Soon the blaze grew into an inferno. Many of the wards had no windows and smoke killed hundreds of wounded men. Orderlies struggled at first to con­trol the fire, and then to carry their patients to safety; they succeeded only in trapping themselves.

  The gates splintered as a huge rock punched through the oak beams. A second missile finished

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  the work and the massive bronze hinges buckled; the left-hand gate sagged and fell.

  Karnak spat and cursed loudly. Then he walked to the Keep gates.

  'It's all over, general,' said a soldier as the general entered.

  'It's not looking too hopeful,' agreed Karnak. 'Shut the gates.'

  'Someone may get out of the hospital,' protested the man.

  'No one will live through that inferno. Shut the gates.'

  Karnak made his way to the great hall where Dar-dalion and the surviving twelve priests of the The Thirty were deep in prayer.

  'Dardalion!'

  The priest opened his eyes. 'Yes, general?'

  'Tell me that Egel is on his way.'

  'I cannot, the Brotherhood are everywhere and we cannot break out.'

  'Without Egel, we are doomed. Finished. It will all have been for nothing.'

  'We will have done our best, general. No one can ask for more.'

  'I damn well can. Trying is for losers - all that counts is winning.'

  'Waylander is dead,' said Dardalion suddenly, 'but the Armour is on its way to Egel.'

  'The Armour is too late for us now, it was to have been a rallying point. If Egel has not yet raised an army,/it will matter not at all.'

  'Not to us, general. But Egel could link with Ironlatch.'

  Karnak said nothing. The logic was irresistible and perhaps that had been Egel's plan all along. He must

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  have known Karnak was a potential enemy in the long term - what better way to handle him than to allow the Vagrians to end his ambitions? And a link with Ironlatch would drive a wedge through the Vagrian forces, freeing the capital.

  Purdol would wait.

  Egel would have it all: the Armour, the army and the nation.

  'He will come if he can, general,' said Dardalion.

  'Why should he?'

  'Egel is a man of honour.'

  'What does that mean?' snapped Karnak.

  'I hope that it means Egel will do exactly what you would if you were in his place.'

  Karnak laughed, his good humour restored. 'I do hope not, Dardalion. I am rather counting on him getting here!'

  As she slept, Danyal became aware of a voice pierc­ing her dreams, blending with her sleeping thoughts. The awareness grew and she recognised Dardalion; he seemed thinner now and older, bowed down by enormous pressures.

  'Danyal, can you hear me?'

  'Yes,' she said and smiled wearily.

  'Are you well?

  'I am unhurt, no more than that.'

  'Do you have the Armour still?'

  'Yes.'

  'Where are you?'

  'Less than a day from the river and the ferry. There is someone with me - a monster creature. He saw Waylander die.'

  'Open your eyes and show me,' he said and

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  Danyal sat up. Kai still sat by the fire, his great eye closed, his huge mouth hanging open.

  'There is no evil in him,' said Dardalion. 'Now listen to me, Danyal - I am going to try to reach Egel and urge him to send a troop to escort you home. Wait at the ferry until you hear from me.'

  'Where are you?'

  'I am at Dros Purdol, but the situation here is desperate and we are mere days from destruction. There are fewer than six hundred men to hold the fortress and we have barricaded ourselves within the Keep. The food is almost gone and the water is stale.'

  'What can I do?

  'Wait at the ferry. May the Source bless you, Danyal.'

  'And you, priest.'

  'Priest no longer. The war has come to me and I have killed.'

  'We are all sullied, Dardalion.'

  'Yes. But the end is very near - then I shall know.'

  'What will you know?'

  'Whether I was right. I must go now. Wait at the ferry!'

  Danyal and Kai found the crossing at dusk the following day. There was no sign of life and the ferry itself was moored on the far side of the river. Danyal unsaddled her horse and Kai carried the bulging pack containing the Armour into a small hut. She prepared a fire and some food, averting her eyes as Kai ate, spooning the oats into his mouth with his fingers.

  She slept in a narrow bed while the monster sat, cross-legged before the fire.

  Just after dawn she awoke to find herself alone.

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  After a breakfast of dried fruit she wandered to the river and washed, removing her tunic and wading
naked into the waist-deep water by the bank. The current was swift and she had difficulty in keeping her feet. After several minutes she returned to the shore and washed the tunic as best she could, beating it against a rock to dislodge the grit of travel.