Part 43 (1/2)

'He is that. Too many s.h.i.+rkers and cowards in this world,' said Druss. 'Too many people who live life selfishly and care nothing for their fellows. It grieved me greatly when I thought the boy was dead. Did I tell you that he leapt from a tree and took up my axe to fight a Joining?'

'Only ten or twelve times.'

'That kind of courage is rare. I think this boy will achieve something in his life. d.a.m.n, but I hope so.'

'Let us hope he achieves more than we have,' said Skilgannon.

'Amen to that.' The axeman glanced at Skilgannon, his piercing grey eyes holding to the sapphire blue gaze of the Naashanite warrior. 'So why are you coming with me, laddie?'

'Perhaps I just enjoy your company.'

'Who wouldn't? Now tell me the truth.'

'Boranius killed my friends. He threatened the life of the woman I love.'

'And what else?'

'Why does there need to be something else? You are going after Boranius because he . . .'

Skilgannon struggled to find an adequate description of the horror that had befallen Orastes '. . . because he destroyed your friend. He also killed all who loved me.'

'Aye, they are good enough reasons. I don't quibble with them. There's something else, though. Something deeper, I think.'

Skilgannon fell silent. Then he took a deep breath. 'Why do you play the simple man, Druss? You are far more subtle and intuitive than you generally let others see. Very well then. The full truth. He frightens me, Druss. There, it is said. Skilgannon the d.a.m.ned is afraid.'

'You are not afraid of dying,' said Druss. 'I have seen that. So what is it about this . . . this Boranius that causes such terror?'

Quietly Skilgannon told the axeman about the mutilations suffered by Sperian and Molaire, the dismemberments and the blindings. 'The strongest of men would be unmanned and mewling like a babe under his ministrations, Druss. He would end his life as a wretched, broken, bleeding piece of flesh. Everything in me screams to run away. To leave Boranius to his own fate.'

'Every man has a breaking point. I don't doubt that,' said Druss. 'With luck you'll get to meet him blade to blade. You are perhaps the best swordsman I ever saw.'

'Boranius is better. Stronger and faster - or at least he was when last we met. He would have killed me, but one of my men threw a spear at him. It did not pierce his armour, but it broke his concentration. Even then he managed to avoid the first death blow.'

'Maybe you should just let me have him, laddie. Snaga will cut him down to size.'

Skilgannon nodded. 'Perhaps I will.'

They sat with Rabalyn for a little while, but the boy did not wake. The door opened and Weldi entered, bowing low. 'Good morning,' he said. 'I trust you slept well.' Before they could answer he spoke again, this time to Skilgannon. 'The priestess Ustarte has requested your presence, sir. Come, I shall take you to her.'

Druss looked up as Skilgannon rose. 'I'll stay awhile with the boy. He might wake.'

Skilgannon reached out his hand. 'Thank you, Druss. You know, you would have made a fine father.'

'I doubt that, laddie,' answered Druss, taking the offered hand in the warrior's grip, wrist to wrist. 'The most important thing for a father is to be there when his child needs him. I am never anywhere for long.'

Skilgannon followed Weldi to the upper chamber of greenery, where Ustarte was waiting upon the balcony. In the bright morning suns.h.i.+ne Skilgannon could see beyond her beauty, to the weariness and age she carried. The tiniest of fine lines etched her fragile Chiatze features. She smiled at him as he walked out onto the balcony.

'You sent for me, lady?'

'I thought you might like to travel with me, warrior. To the Citadel.'

'Now?'

'If you wish.'

'You will travel with us?'

'No. Just you and I, Olek. It will take but a matter of moments.'

Skilgannon was uneasy. 'And how are we to do this?'

'Merely sit in the chair there, and relax. I will lead your spirit there.'

Nonplussed, he removed his scabbard and sat down, leaning his head back against a cus.h.i.+on. He heard the rustle of her robes, then felt the warmth of her hand upon his brow.

Instantly he was asleep.

He rose from the welcoming darkness, towards a bright and s.h.i.+ning light. He became aware that someone was holding his hand. For some reason he thought it was Molaire, and he wondered where they were going. Then he recalled that Molaire was dead. Momentary panic touched him as the light neared.

'Do not be afraid,' the voice of Ustarte whispered inside his head. 'Do not struggle or you will wake too early. Trust me.'

Suddenly he was above the clouds, and the bright light was that of the sun, s.h.i.+ning in a sky of unbelievable blue. Below him were the red mountains through which he had travelled, and a long, winding river that glittered brilliantly as it snaked towards the distant sea. He felt his hand tugged and his spirit soared towards the northwest, away from the rising sun.

Far below he saw villages and farming communities, and two small towns, the largest of which had grown up around the crossing point of four major roads. Just beyond this was an ancient fort. A crumbling, rectangular outer wall enclosed an area of around a mile.

Within it were warehouses and tall buildings. At the centre of the fortress stood a circular keep, four storeys high. A domed wooden roof had been added.

'It was built hundreds of years ago to guard the trade roads,' said Ustarte. 'But when the kingdom of Pelucid fell the fortress became derelict for decades. Lately it has been used by robber bands, who control the trade routes. They levy taxes upon the land caravans pa.s.sing through from the coastal cities. The silks of Gothir, the spices of Namib, gold and silver from the mines to the west. All these fall under the sway of those who control the Citadel. Ironmask captured it over a year ago, ostensibly to allow free trade to flow into Tantria.'

The Citadel loomed closer. 'As you can see it is still a formidable castle. It could withstand a besieging enemy for some time. A few willing fighters, however, could enter the outer wall largely unnoticed.'

'What of the Nadir shaman? Would he not see us coming?'

'The Old Woman killed him last night. Burned him alive. He tried to jump to his death to avoid the pain, but she fixed him with a spell of holding. She is like Boranius. She lives to enjoy the suffering of others. Now let us see the inside.'

For some while their spirits flowed through the Citadel, and Skilgannon mentally noted the rooms and halls, the corridors and exits. Finally they came to an upper room, small and cramped. 'What is here?' he asked, seeing only a shabby bed, and an old wooden closet.

'Here is sadness and pain of the worst kind,' she told him. They pa.s.sed through the thin door of the closet and Skilgannon saw a small, blond-haired child, sitting against the closet wall. She was hugging her knees and swaying back and forth. 'This is the child Druss seeks to rescue.'

Pulling back from the gloom of the closet they floated within the room beyond. 'Look there,' said Ustarte, 'by the bed.'

He saw the blackened, rotting fingers, and the insects crawling across them. 'Her mother's fingers,' said Ustarte. 'Boranius cut them away before killing the woman. He gave them to the child as playthings.'

'She will never recover from this,' said Skilgannon. 'He has destroyed her future.'

'You may be right, but it is best not to be hasty in these judgements. The child has fled in her terror. She needs to be found and comforted before the rescue. She needs to know that help is coming. She needs to feel that she is loved.'

'How would that be possible?'

'I can take you to her, Olek.'