White Wolf: A Novel of Druss the Legend dt-10 Read online

  which is doubtful — the child will be slain before our eyes.’

  Ustarte took a deep breath. ‘We do not usually take part in the affairs of this world,’ she said. ‘I shall make an exception now. I will help you, Olek.’

  Diagoras was enjoying the conversation with Nian. They had moved from the nature of the stars and the planets to the fundamental complexities of nature. So engrossed did the Drenai officer become that he quite forgot, for a while, that Nian was under sentence of death. Jared, meanwhile, sat back, taking little part in the discussion. He watched his brother, his expression showing a mixture of admiration and sadness.

  Garianne was sitting by the banks of a stream that flowed through the indoor garden. She was staring at the water as it bubbled over a bed of glistening white rocks.

  Nian walked over and kissed her golden hair. ‘It is good to see you again, my friend,’ he said.

  ‘We are happy that you have come back,’ she told him. Nian looked over her shoulder at the stream, then walked to the edge of the water, squatting down and pushing his hand into the pool at the base of the stream. Then he rose and examined the five foot high waterfall that bubbled from the rocks by the north wall.

  ‘What do you find so fascinating?’ asked Diagoras, moving to join him.

  ‘Do you not see? Watch the waterfall.’ Diagoras did so.

  ‘What am I supposed to be seeing?’

  ‘The pink rose petals swirling on the water’s surface.’

  ‘What about them? They are coming from the rose bushes on the other side of the stream,’ said Diagoras, indicating the small floribunda bushes.

  ‘Yes, they are. How then are they also falling from the waterfall, which appears to be coming from the rock wall?’

  ‘Obviously there are more rose bushes above us somewhere.’

  Nian shook his head. ‘I think the water just comes down the waterfall, and then is drawn back from the pool to go round again and again.

  Intriguing.’

  ‘Water does not flow uphill, Master Nian,’ Diagoras pointed out. ‘It is impossible.’

  Nian chuckled. ‘Master Diagoras, you are sitting in a temple that magic has made invisible, which is run by creatures half human and half beast, who have brought Rabalyn back from the dead, and have brought me back to the living. And you speak of the impossibility of water flowing uphill?’

  Diagoras gave an embarrassed laugh. Tut that way I can only agree with you.’

  Garianne rose lithely to her feet. ‘Hello, Uncle,’ she called. Diagoras saw Druss striding across the garden. The Drenai grinned.

  ‘Ah, that is better, Druss. Now you look like the man I knew.’ It was true. Druss’s grey eyes were sparkling and his skin glowed with health.

  ‘And I feel it, laddie. The water here is almost as good as Lentrian red -

  and that is saying something. Have you seen Skilgannon?’

  ‘No. He went off with the priestess last night. I’ve not seen him since.’

  ‘They are making a journey of the spirit,’ said Nian. ‘It is called soaring by some. It is a feat said to have been first mastered by the Chiatze thousands of years ago. The spirit is loosed from the body and can travel vast distances. I believe Ustarte is using her powers to allow your friend Skilgannon to examine the Citadel.’

  Diagoras looked doubtful. Nian laughed. ‘Truly, my friend. I would not lie to you.’

  ‘I believe you, laddie,’ said Druss. ‘My own wife had that talent. It is good to see you looking well.’

  ‘You have no idea how good it is to be myself. All I have had for these past few years are snatches of coherence, and odd memories of foolishness, or downright stupidity. It embarrasses me to think of what I became.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be embarrassed,’ said Druss. ‘You were a good companion, and a faithful friend. That counts for much.’

  Nian smiled, and reached out to shake Druss by the hand. ‘I thank you for that,’ he said, ‘though, truth to tell, I would sooner be dead than live as I did. And, though Jared has not admitted it thus far, I fear that death is waiting for me rather sooner than I would like.’ He glanced at his twin.

  ‘Not so, brother?’

  Jared said nothing, and looked away. Nian returned his gaze to Druss.

  ‘You will tell me the truth, axeman. I am a good judge of men, and you are no liar.’

  Druss nodded. ‘They couldn’t remove your cancers. That is the truth of it.’

  ‘How long do they give me?’

  ‘A month. Maybe less.’

  ‘As I thought. Jared’s long face was proof enough. You will understand, I hope, why I will not be travelling with you on your quest? I would like to stay here. There are books in the library that are filled with wonders. I’d like to read as many of them as I can before I die.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Druss. ‘I wish they could have helped you, Nian. You’re a good man. You deserved better.’

  ‘It has always been my belief that this stage of our existence is merely the beginning of a great journey. I am saddened — and a little frightened -

  to be facing the second stage so early. But I am also excited by the prospect. I wish you well, Druss. I hope you rescue the child.’

  ‘I usually do what I set out to do.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it.’ Nian turned to Diagoras and Garianne. ‘Excuse me, my friends. I have a little reading to catch up on.’

  As he walked away Jared rose to follow him. Nian placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘No, brother. Stay here with your friends. I need a little solitude.’ With that he left the gardens.

  The following morning the travellers assembled outside the temple. The beast that was Orastes was awake now, and clambered up on the back of the wagon, staying close to Druss who was in the driving seat. Skilgannon, Diagoras and Garianne were all mounted, and the priestess Ustarte was standing beside Skilgannon’s gelding.

  ‘I will watch over you all,’ she said. ‘When the enemy is close I will lay a spell over you. It will confuse those who gaze upon you, in much the same way as the temple deceives the eye. I will not be able to hold the spell for more than a few minutes. But it should suffice. When you are stopped say you are travellers bound for the market town. Say you are looking for work.’

  ‘I thank you, lady, for all you have done for us,’ said Skilgannon.

  ‘It was little enough. We will meet again, I think, Olek. Perhaps then I can do more.’

  As Skilgannon swung his horse the gate of the temple opened. Jared came out, leading his horse, followed closely by Nian. Diagoras rode back to them.

  ‘I’m glad you changed your mind, Nian,’ he said. ‘I would have missed your company.’

  ‘Going to Citadel,’ said Nian happily. ‘Chop up the bad people.’ Seeing that Jared had mounted, Nian scrambled onto his own mount.

  Reaching out, he took hold of the sash at his brother’s belt.

  Morcha had slept for no more than three hours of the last forty-eight.

  Everything was falling apart. Eighteen men had deserted, and morale among those remaining was low. Boranius himself seemed unconcerned.

  He spent most of his time in the roof hall, high in the Citadel, his bandaged face now permanently covered by the ornate black mask.

  Morcha had tried to interest him in the scouting reports, and the slow erosion of their fighting force. Boranius just shrugged.

  ‘Let them all go. I care not,’ he said, his voice muffled by the mask.

  This morning Morcha had found Boranius stripped to the waist and practising with his swords. He had stood and watched. The man was extraordinarily lithe, his movements lightning fast. At the rear of the hall sat the Nadir woman. On the floor before her was the Drenai child, Elanin.

  She was crouched down, hugging her knees and swaying slightly, her head cocked to one side, her blue eyes staring sightlessly into the distance.

  Morcha and the rest of the men had been told the child was being held for ransom. Morcha was beginnin
g to doubt it. No message had been sent to Earl Orastes at Dros Purdol. It was mystifying.

  Boranius saw Morcha and paused, sheathing the Swords of Blood and Fire. They were handsome blades, the ivory hilts superbly crafted.

  ‘Well?’ asked Boranius, draping a towel over his sweat-drenched shoulders. ‘Are our guests close?’

  Morcha strode forward, then began to refer to the sheaf of notes he carried. ‘It is most odd, lord. The enemy has been sighted in several places, some of them thirty miles apart. Our best Nadir scout sent word he saw Druss in the mountains, at the camp of Khalid Khan. I sent out twenty men to set up an ambush.’ Morcha shuffled through the notes. ‘Now I have had word he and the others have been sighted far to the west. I have sent two more riders to scout the high pass, and have another ten bowmen positioned at the only entrance to the lowlands. An hour ago a rider came in saying he had seen them going in to the Temple of Ustarte.’

  ‘They will come, regardless of your efforts, Morcha. I know this in my soul.’

  ‘With respect, lord, there are only four routes to the Citadel. All of them are now watched. We will have word when they approach.’

  ‘They will come,’ repeated Boranius. ‘I shall kill Skilgannon. It is my destiny.’

  ‘Are your wounds still troubling you?’

  ‘The surgeon has done well. My face is numb to pain. See that his body is removed from my quarters. I don’t want it starting to stink.’

  ‘You killed him? Why?’

  ‘Why not? I had no further need of him.’ Boranius strode to a window and gazed down at the land below. ‘At dusk bring twenty of our best swordsmen into the Citadel. The rest can man the walls. Their screams will alert us when the enemy attack. Go now. I need to practise.’

  Morcha bowed and left him. In his own office on the ground floor he sat by a window and went through the reports. There was increased movement into the market towns, but this was to be expected at this time of year. Many of the poorer hill people travelled down seeking work. No armed men had been reported travelling the roads. There were no reports from the east. This was hardly surprising, since it was the one direction that the enemy could not have taken. Having been with Khalid Khan it would have been impossible for them to cross the high peaks. They would first have to travel past the Citadel. Even so, Morcha made a mental note to send a rider to find out why the daily report had not been made. Maybe the eastern scouts have also deserted, he thought. He swore softly, and returned to studying the reports.

  A wagon had been seen on the road above the town. It was driven by a large old woman. Five children had been riding alongside. Their mounts were described as shaggy hill ponies. The wagon had contained a large bundle of furs. Morcha flicked through the reports. They should have been reported twice, once on the High Road, and once when they approached the town below the Citadel. Yet the only other wagon noted was driven by a crippled old man, travelling with four women and a simpleton. This wagon had three wolfhounds in the back.

  Noting the names on both reports Morcha strode from the office and walked back to the buildings being used as a barracks. He found the first of the men eating a meal in the tavern, and asked him if he recalled the wagon with the furs.

  ‘Yes, sir. Strange bunch. They had no weapons. Just the furs.’

  ‘What do you mean by strange?’

  ‘Hard to say. Just odd, really. The sun was very bright. Hurt the eyes.

  Then this family rode through. No problem at all. Called for them to stop, and they did. Didn’t say anything. We checked the wagon, saw they weren’t armed, and let them through.’

  ‘So what was strange?’

  ‘I feel foolish saying it, sir. One of the children said something as they went by. And just for a moment everything blurred. I think it was just the sunlight being so bright. I thought I saw two eyes staring at me from the furs. I ran up to the wagon, but there weren’t any eyes. See what I mean?

  Just odd. Strange moment.’

  ‘But you saw no other wagons?’

  ‘Just that one, sir, during my watch. It came in around noon yesterday.’

  The second of the men named on the report sheets rode in an hour before dusk. Morcha had left word for him to report to his office. He stepped into the room and saluted. Morcha questioned him about his report.

  ‘Nothing special, sir. Crippled old man and four women. Oh yes, and a simpleton. Thought he was a woman at first, and when he spoke it was quite a shock. Don’t know how I could have missed the beard.’

  ‘What did he say that made you realize he was a simpleton?’

  The soldier shrugged. ‘Just his manner of speaking, sir. You know how they sound. Don’t recall what he said.’

  ‘And there were dogs in the back of the wagon?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Thought they were furs at first. I poked at them and then one of the dogs snarled at me. I jumped like a startled rabbit.’

  ‘You walked up to the wagon and did not recognize three dogs?’

  ‘Yes. Odd, isn’t it? The sun was very bright about then. Could hardly see.’

  ‘And this was when?’

  ‘A little after noon yesterday.’

  Morcha shuffled through the reports, coming at last to the note concerning Skilgannon and the others reaching the temple. The Nadir scout said he had seen a large arena beast, a Joining. It was crouched down alongside the old axeman.

  ‘Are you finished with me, sir? I could do with a meal.’

  ‘Did you see all three dogs in the wagon?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Think for a moment. You heard a snarl and jumped back. What happened then?’

  ‘I saw the first dog snarling. The others were behind it.’

  ‘You saw all their heads?’

  ‘Yes.’ The man hesitated. ‘Well… no. But there must have been at least three.’

  ‘Forget the meal,’ said Morcha, rising. ‘Saddle a fast horse, and take a spare. Find Naklian. He is with twenty men, guarding the nomad road.

  Tell him to bring his men back here as soon as possible. What you saw was not three dogs. Nor was it a bale of fur, as the other report stated. It was a Joining. It is travelling with Druss and Skilgannon. The enemy is here.’

  ‘With respect, you are wrong, sir. There were no fighting men. Just the old cripple.’

  ‘They came from the temple. There was a spell put upon you. That is why the sun seemed so bright. Trust me. The enemy is close.’

  The soldier looked bemused. He was one of the newer recruits, from the Naashanite community in Mellicane. ‘Am I wrong, sir?’ he asked. ‘There are only a handful of men coming after us, aren’t there?’

  ‘Yes. Though two of them are more deadly than I could make you understand.’

  ‘I appreciate that, sir. I have listened to the men talking about Skilgannon and Druss. But even so, they can’t attack the Citadel, can they?

  If they are hunting Lord Ironmask, they’ll have to wait until he leaves the fortress. They’ll be looking for an ambush, surely?’

  ‘I cannot anticipate what they’ll do,’ admitted Morcha. ‘I fought against Skilgannon for years. What I learned was that he always found a way to attack. In every battle we were always, somehow, reacting to him. You understand? Action and reaction. Action is what usually wins battles and wars. Reaction is almost always defensive. You think six men cannot attack a fortress? I agree with you. But what I think does not matter. The question is this: does Skilgannon think he can attack the Citadel.’

  ‘It would be madness. They couldn’t survive.’

  ‘Perhaps survival is not uppermost in their minds. There is no more time to debate, soldier. Find Naklian, and get him and his men back here as soon as possible.’

  Survival was uppermost in the mind of Diagoras, as he waited for the sun to drop behind the mountains. The Drenai officer was standing in a grove of trees no more than a quarter of a mile from the Citadel. From here the fortress looked impressive. True, the walls around it were crumbling and
in disrepair, but the tall, round Citadel itself, with its murder holes, through which archers could shoot barbed shafts down at attackers, and its ramparts, from which defenders could hurl down rocks and hot oil, seemed particularly daunting.

  Diagoras had listened as Skilgannon outlined his plan. It was a good plan — if you were talking of it theoretically. It was a dreadful plan if you actually had to carry it out. There was no way they could accomplish what was required and escape unscathed. Diagoras gazed at the others. Jared and Nian were sitting apart from the rest. Nian’s head was causing him pain, and Jared had given him some powder, and was sitting alongside his brother, his arm round his shoulder. Garianne was lying down, apparently asleep, and Druss and Skilgannon were talking in low voices. Diagoras stared at the huge, grey beast crouched down at Druss’s side. He kept trying to tell himself that this was Orastes, but it was almost impossible to hold on to this thought. Fat Orastes was a jolly and timid fellow, the butt of many jokes when they had soldiered together. He never seemed to take offence. This massive beast, with its slavering jaws and its coldly glittering, golden eyes, made Diagoras’s blood run cold. It amazed him that Druss could be so calm around it. Diagoras believed that at any moment it might rend and rip at them.

  Returning his gaze to the Citadel he shuddered. I might be looking at my tomb, he thought. A rider emerged through the gateway. Diagoras ducked further back into the trees. The horseman galloped past the stand of trees, heading back towards Khalid Khan’s mountains.

  One less, thought Diagoras, trying to force himself to be cheerful. You survived Skein, he reminded himself. Surely this can’t be any worse. No, of course it can’t. All you have to do is walk into an enemy fortress, and defend the Citadel entrance against around seventy swordsmen. Diagoras glanced across at the brothers. Nian had said he would sooner die than live as a simpleton. Now Jared was aiming to grant him that wish. They weren’t here to rescue Elanin. They were here to die together.

  Dusk was less than an hour away.

  Diagoras strolled over to where Skilgannon and Druss were talking.