Part 26 (2/2)

'How can we not?' he countered. 'There are millions of us, and but a few of them. When the Uniter comes they will be swept away like gra.s.s-seeds.'

'I meant now.'

'Ah, the impatience of youth! Let us see what there is to be seen.'

The stars spun and Miriel found herself looking down at a small campfire in a shallow cave on a mountainside. She saw Waylander sitting hunched before the flames, the hound, Scar, stretched out beside him. Waylander looked tired and she sensed his thoughts. He had been hunted, but had eluded the trackers, killing several. He was clear of Sathuli lands now, and was thinking about stealing a horse from a Gothir town some three leagues to the north.

'A strong man,' said Kesa Khan. 'The Dragon Shadow.'

'He is weary,' said Miriel, wis.h.i.+ng she could reach out and hug the lonely man by the campfire.

The scene s.h.i.+fted to a city of stone set in the mountains, and a deep dungeon where a large man was chained to a dank, wet wall. 'You treacherous cur, Galen,' said the prisoner.

A tall, thin warrior in the red cloak of a Drenai lancer stepped forward, taking hold of the prisoner's hair and wrenching back the head. 'Enjoy your insults, you wh.o.r.eson! Your day is over, and harsh words are all you have now. Yet they will avail you nothing: tomorrow you travel in chains to Gulgothir.'

'I'll come for you, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d!' swore the prisoner. 'They won't hold me!' The thin warrior laughed, then bunched his fist and struck the helpless man three times in the face, splitting his lip.

Blood flowed to his chin and his one pale eye focused on the red-cloaked soldier. 'I suppose you'll tell Asten we were betrayed, but you managed to escape?'

'Yes. Then, when the time is right, I'll kill the peasant. And the Brotherhood will rule in Drenan.

How does that make you feel?'

'It should be an interesting meeting. I'd like to be there to see you telling Asten how I was captured.'

'Oh, I shall tell it well. I shall speak of your enormous bravery, and how you were slain. It will bring a tear to his eye.'

'Rot in h.e.l.l!' said the prisoner.

Miriel felt the close presence of Kesa Khan and the old shaman's voice whispered into her mind.

'You know who this is?'

'No.'

'You are gazing upon Karnak the One-Eyed, Lord Protector of the Drenai. He does not look mighty now, chained in a Sathuli dungeon. Can you feel his emotions?'

Miriel concentrated, and the warm rush of Karnak's anger swept over her. 'Yes. I can feel it. He is picturing his tormentor being killed by a soldier with red hair.'

'Yes. But there is something else to consider, girl. There is no despair in Karnak, yes? Only anger and the burning desire for revenge. His conceit is colossal, but so is his strength. He has no fear of the chains, or the enemies around him. Already he is planning, building his hopes. Such a man can never be discounted.'

'He is a prisoner, unarmed and helpless. What can he do?' asked Miriel.

'Let us return to the mountains. I am tiring. And tomorrow the real enemy will show himself. We must be ready to face the evil they will unleash.' All light faded in an instant and Miriel opened the eyes of her body and sat up. The fire in the cave had burned low. Kesa Khan added wood to the dying flames and stretched, the bones of his back creaking and cracking. 'Aya! Age is no blessing,'

he said.

'What is this evil you spoke of?' asked Miriel.

'In a moment, in a moment! I am old, child, and the transit ion from spirit to flesh takes a little time. Let me gather my thoughts. Talk to me!'

She looked at the wizened old man. 'What do you wish me to talk about?'

'Anything!' he snapped. 'Life, love, dreams. Tell me which of the two men you wish to bed!'

Miriel reddened. 'Such thoughts are not for idle chatter,' she scolded.

He cackled and fixed her with a piercing gaze. 'Foolish girl! You cannot make up your mind.

The young one is witty and handsome, but you know his love is fickle. The older one is like the oak, powerful and enduring, but you feel his lovemaking would lack excitement.'

'If you already know my thoughts, why ask me?'

'It entertains me. Would you like my advice?'

'No.'

'Good. I like a woman who can think for herself.' He sniffed and reached for one of the many clay pots beside the fire, dipping his finger into the contents and scooping a pale grey powder into his mouth. He closed his eyes and sighed. 'Yes ... yes ...' He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

Miriel leaned forward. His pupils had all but disappeared and the irises had changed from dark dark brown to pale blue. 'I am Kesa Khan,' he whispered, his voice lighter, friendlier. 'And I am Lao s.h.i.+n, the spirit of the mountains. And I am Wu Deyang, the Traveller. I am He Who Sees All.'

'The powder is narcotic?' asked Miriel softly.

'Of course. It opens the window of worlds. Now listen to me, Drenai girl. You are brave, of that there is no question. But tomorrow the dead will walk again. Do you have the heart to face them?'

She licked her lips. 'I am here to help you,' she answered.

'Excellent. No false bravado. I will show you how to armour yourself. I will teach you to summon weapons as you need them. But the greatest weapon you possess is the courage in your heart. Let us hope that the Dragon Shadow has taught you well, for if he has not you will bed neither of those fine warriors. Your soul will wander the Grey Paths for eternity.'

'He taught me well,' said Miriel.

'We shall see.'

With the hound loping off ahead Waylander moved on to the boulder-strewn plain. There were few trees here, and the land sloped gently downward towards a white stone village by a river bank.

A horse pasture was fenced off at the north of the village and to the south sheep grazed on the last of the autumn gra.s.s. It was a small settlement, built without walls, evidence of the longstanding agreement between Gothir and Sathuli. There were no raids here. It struck Waylander as strange that the Gothir could treat the Sathuli so well and the Nadir so badly. Both were nomadic tribes which had moved slowly down from the north and east. Both were warrior races, who wors.h.i.+pped different G.o.ds from the Gothir, and yet they were perceived as opposites. The Sathuli, in Gothir tales, were proud, intelligent and honourable. The Nadir, on the other hand, were seen as base, treacherous and cunning. All his adult life Waylander had moved among the tribes and could find no evidence to support the Gothir view.

Save, perhaps, for the sheer numbers of Nadir who roamed the steppes. The Sathuli posed no threat, whereas the Nadir, in their millions, were a future enemy to be feared.

He shrugged away such considerations and looked for the hound. It was nowhere to be seen. He stopped and scanned the slopes. There were many boulders and the dog was probably scratching at a rabbit burrow. Waylander smiled and walked on. It was cold, the weak suns.h.i.+ne unable to counter the biting wind. He pulled his fur-lined cloak more tightly around his shoulders.

The Sathuli would remember the chase as they sang the Songs of Pa.s.sing over the hunters who would not return. He thought back to the boy who had first tried to ambush him, and was pleased that he had not killed him. As to the others, well, they had made their choices and he regretted their deaths not at all.

He could see people moving in the village below, a shepherd with a long crook striding up the hill, a dog at his side, several women at the main well, drawing buckets of cool water, children playing by the horse pasture fence. It was a peaceful scene.

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