In the Realm of the Wolf (44 page)

The creature that had been Zhu Chao stumbled forward, dislodging the delicate golden wires and scattering the black candlesticks.

Against the wall Karnak tore at his chains, using all his mighty strength. Two of the links stretched but did not give. Again and again the Drenai threw his weight against them.

Waylander backed away from the beast, and the smoke demon’s laughter filled the room.

Outside the sanctum the remaining knights of blood were hammering on the door, calling out for their master. Waylander ran back to where he had discarded his helm. Slipping it over his head, he lifted the bar on the door and stepped aside. The door burst open, and three knights tumbled inside, one falling to his knees directly before the awesome beast. The man
screamed and tried to rise. The beast’s talons tore into him, lifting him into the air, the deadly fangs ripping open his throat. Blood sprayed across the altar.

The other knights stood transfixed.

“It killed the master!” yelled Waylander. “Use your swords!”

But the knights turned and fled. The beast leapt at Waylander. Ducking under the sweep of its talons, the assassin sent a slashing cut to the creature’s belly, but the blade merely sliced the surface of the skin. Waylander dived and rolled to his feet.

Karnak, with one last effort, snapped the right-hand chain, then turned and used both hands to rip loose the left. Spinning on his heel, he swung the chains around above his head and charged the monster. The iron links hit the beast on the throat, whipping around the neck. It turned and reared high, dragging Karnak from his feet. Waylander darted forward and plunged his sword into the open belly, driving it home with all his weight and strength.

A great howl went up, and a taloned arm flashed down, opening the flesh of Waylander’s shoulder. He fell back. Karnak dragged back on the chain, which tightened around the beast’s throat. It tried to turn and rend its attacker, but Karnak, despite his great bulk, moved nimbly, keeping the chain taut. Waylander ran to the fallen knight, retrieving the man’s sword. Holding the blade double-handed, the assassin advanced once more, lifting the sword high and slamming it down on the elongated skull. The blade bounced clear on the first stroke, but twice more Waylander struck. The bone of the skull parted on the third blow, the sword wedging deep into the beast’s cranium. It sank to all fours, blood gushing from its mouth and its talons scratching at the stone.

And died.

The smoke demon was silent for a moment. “You offer me good sport, Waylander,” he said softly. “But then, you always have. I think you always will.”

The smoke billowed and faded, and the demon vanished.

Karnak unwound the chain from the dead beast’s throat and crossed to Waylander. “Good to see you, old lad,” he said with a wide smile.

“The men you sent are all dead,” said Waylander coldly. “Now only you remain.”

Karnak nodded. “I was trying to protect my son. No excuses. He’s … dead. You’re alive. Let that be an end to it.”

“I choose my own endings,” said Waylander, moving past the giant Drenai to where the emperor stood, still chained to the wall. “It has always been said that you are a man of honor,” Waylander told him.

“It is a source of pride to me,” said the emperor.

“Good. You see, I have two choices, Majesty. I can kill you or I can let you go. But there is a price for the latter.”

“Name it, and if it is within my power you may have it.”

“I want the attack on the Nadir Wolves stopped, the army ordered back.”

“What are the Nadir to you?”

“Less than nothing. But my daughter is with them.”

The emperor nodded. “It will be as you say, Waylander. Is there nothing you want for yourself?”

The assassin smiled wearily. “Nothing any man can give me,” he said.

Angel pushed the table onto the stairs, upending it to block the view of the enemy archers on the landing above, then sank to his haunches and stared around the hall.

The Gothir had forced the portcullis gate on the eleventh day of the siege, forcing the defenders back to the transient safety of the keep. The older women and children hid in the lower levels of the fortress while, as Angel had predicted, the younger women joined the men in the defense of the citadel.

Only eighty-five men remained, and they were desperately tired as the siege reached the thirteenth day. The barricades at the keep gate were holding, but the Gothir army had scaled the outside walls, climbing in through undefended windows, and was in control of all the upper levels, occasionally attacking down the narrow stairwells but more often merely loosing shafts into the packed hall below.

An arrow thudded into the upturned table. “I know you’re there, arse face!” yelled Angel.

Miriel joined him. She had lost weight, the skin of her face
taut and fleshless, her eyes gleaming unnaturally. Since Senta’s death she had fought like one possessed with a lust for death. Angel had been hard-pressed to defend her, and had taken two minor cuts, one to the shoulder and the other to the forearm, hurling himself into the path of warriors closing in on her.

“We’re finished here,” she said. “The barricade will not hold them for long.”

He shrugged. There was no need to reply. The point was all too obviously correct, and Angel could sense the mood of grim resignation among the Nadir. Miriel sat beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. He curled his arm around her. “I loved him, Angel,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I should have told him, but I didn’t know until he was gone.”

“That makes you feel guilty? That you didn’t say the words?”

“Yes. He deserved more. And it’s so hard to accept that he’s …” She swallowed hard, unable to give sound to the word. Forcing a smile, she brightened briefly. “He had such a zest for life, didn’t he? And always so witty. Nothing gray about Senta, was there?”

“Nothing gray,” he agreed. “He lived his life to the full. He fought, loved …”

“… and died.” She said it swiftly and fought to hold back the tears.

“Yes, he died. Shemak’s balls, we all die.” Angel sighed, then smiled. “For myself I’ve no regrets. I’ve had a full life. But it grieves me to know that … you’re here with me now. Everything is ahead of you, or it should be.”

She took his hand. “We’ll be together in the Void. Who knows what adventures await? And maybe he’s there … waiting!”

Another arrow thudded into the table, then Angel heard the sound of boots on the stairs. Surging to his feet, he drew his sword. As the Gothir swarmed down, Angel wrenched the table aside and leapt to meet them with Miriel just behind him.

Angel killed two, Miriel a third, and the Gothir fell back. An archer loomed at the top of the stairs. Miriel hurled a knife, which lanced into his shoulder, and he dived from sight. Angel backed away and wedged the table across the stairwell. “Well,” he said, with a wide grin, “we’re not finished yet.”

Striding across the hall, he saw the priest Ekodas kneeling beside the stricken Dardalion. The abbot was still sleeping, and Angel paused. “How is he?” he asked.

“Dying,” replied Ekodas.

“I thought you had healed the wound.”

“I did, but his heart has given out. It is almost ruptured, and the valves are thinner than papyrus.” It was the first time the two men had spoken since the battle against the beast. Ekodas glanced up, then stood before the former gladiator. “I am sorry for what happened,” he said. “I … I …”

“It was the crystal,” Angel put in swiftly. “I know. It had a similar effect on me.”

“Yet you destroyed it.”

“I never had it in my hands. Don’t torture yourself, priest.”

“Priest no longer. I am not worthy.”

“I’m no judge, Ekodas, but we all have weaknesses. We’re made that way.”

The slender priest shook his head. “That is generous of you. But I watched as your friend died, and I made a pact with evil. Zhu Chao came to me in that chamber. He seemed like … like a brother of the soul. And for that short time I had such vile dreams. I never realized there was so much … darkness inside me. I will walk another path now.” He shrugged. “The crystal didn’t change me, you see. It merely opened my eyes to what I am.”

Dardalion stirred. “Ekodas!” The young priest knelt by the abbot, taking his hand. Angel moved away toward the barricade.

“I am here, my friend,” said Ekodas.

“It … was all … done in faith, my son. And I can feel the others waiting for me. Summon the living for me.”

“There is only Vishna.”

“Ah. Fetch him, then.”

“Dardalion, I …”

“You wish to be … released from your vows. I know. The woman Shia.” Dardalion’s eyes closed, and a spasm of pain twisted his features. “You are free, Ekodas. Free to wed, free to live … free to be.”

“I am sorry, Father.”

“You have nothing to be … sorry for. I sent you down there. I knew your destiny, Ekodas. From the moment she came to the temple there was a bond between you. Know peace, Ekodas … and … the joys of love.” He smiled weakly. “You have done your duty by me, and by the others. Now … fetch Vishna, for time is short.”

Ekodas sent out a pulse, and the tall forked-bearded warrior came running from the far side of the hall to kneel beside the dying abbot.

“I can speak no more,” whispered Dardalion. “Join me in communion.”

Vishna closed his eyes, and Ekodas knew that their two spirits were united. He made no attempt to join the communion and waited patiently for it to end. He was holding Dardalion’s hand when the abbot died. Vishna jerked and groaned, then opened his dark eyes.

“What did he say?” asked Ekodas, releasing the hand.

“If we survive, I am to travel to Ventria and found a new temple. The Thirty will live on. I am sorry that you will not be accompanying me.”

“I cannot, Vishna. It’s gone from me. And truth to tell, I don’t want it back.”

Vishna stood. “You know, just as he died and flew from me, I felt the presence of the others: Merlon, Palista, Magnic. All waiting for him. It was wonderful. Truly wonderful.”

Ekodas gazed down on Dardalion’s dead face, which was perfectly still and serene. “Farewell, Father,” he whispered.

The silence beyond the keep was broken by the sound of distant trumpets.

“The Source be praised,” said Vishna.

“What is it?”

“That is the Gothir signal for withdrawal.” He sat down and closed his eyes, his spirit flying from the keep. Moments later he returned. “A messenger has come from the emperor. The siege is lifted. It is over, Ekodas! We live!”

At the barricade Angel peered into the courtyard. The Gothir were withdrawing in order, silently and in ranks of three. Angel sheathed his sword and turned to the defenders. “I think you have won, my lads!” he shouted.

Orsa Khan leapt to the barricade and watched the departing
soldiers. Swinging to Angel, he threw his arms around the gladiator and kissed both of his scarred cheeks. The other remaining Nadir surged forward, pulling Angel down and hoisting him to their shoulders, and a great cheer went up.

Watching the scene, Miriel smiled, but the smile faded as she gazed around the hall. The dead were lying everywhere. Kesa Khan emerged from the lower stair, leading women and children back to the light. The old shaman approached her.

“Your father has slain Zhu Chao,” he said, but he did not meet her gaze. “You have won for us, Miriel.”

“At great cost,” she told him.

“Yes, the price was not insignificant.” The small boy who had followed Angel was beside the shaman, and Kesa Khan reached out and patted his head. “Still, we have a future,” said the old man. “Without you we could have been dust in the mountains. I wish joy for you.”

Miriel took a deep, slow breath. “I can’t believe it is over.”

“Over? No. Only this battle. There will be others.”

“Not for me.”

“For you also. I have walked the futures, Miriel. You are a child of battle. You will remain so.”

“We shall see,” she said, turning away from him to see Angel striding toward her. She looked up into the scarred, ravaged face and the twinkling gray eyes. “It looks as though we’ve a little time left, after all,” she said.

“It certainly seems that way,” he agreed. Reaching down, Angel hoisted the young Nadir boy to his shoulder. The child giggled happily and waved his wooden sword in the air.

“You’re good with children,” said Miriel. “He adores you.”

“He’s a courageous pup. He followed me down into the depths and then charged the beast with a burning brand. Did you see him?”

“No.”

Angel turned to Kesa Khan. “Who will look after him?” he asked.

“I shall. As a son,” answered the shaman.

“Good, I may visit now and again. I’ll hold you to that.” Lifting the boy down, he watched as Kesa Khan led him away. The boy glanced back and waved his sword. Angel chuckled. “What now?” he asked Miriel.

“I’m pregnant,” she said, looking into his pale eyes.

“I know. Dardalion told me.”

“It frightens me.”

“You? The battle queen of Kar-Barzac? I don’t believe it.”

“I don’t have any right to ask, but—”

“Don’t say it, girl. There’s no need. Old Angel will be there. He’ll always be there. In any way that you want him.”

The walls of Dros Delnoch reared high into the southern sky as Waylander drew rein. Karnak heeled his mount alongside the black-clad assassin. “The war beckons,” he said.

“I’m sure you’ll conquer, General. It’s what you’re good at.”

Karnak laughed. “I expect I shall.” Then his smile faded. “What of you, Waylander? How does it stand between us?”

The assassin shrugged. “Whatever is said here will not change a jot of what is bound to follow. I know you, Karnak; I always did. You live for power, and your memory is long. Your son is dead—you’ll not forget that. And after a while you’ll come to blame me—or mine—for his passing. And I, too, have my memories. We are enemies, you and I. We will remain so.”

The Drenai leader gave a thin smile. “You do not think highly of me. I can’t say as I blame you, but you are wrong. I
am
willing to forget the past. You saved my life, and in so doing you have probably saved the Drenai from destruction. That’s what I shall remember.”