to a small room. Soft, golden light blossomed around them as Ustarte entered. The room was cool and quiet, and the scent of cedarwood hung in the air. There were no windows, and no furniture of any kind. Three of the four walls were of rugged red rock, the fourth was of smooth glass. Ustarte stood for a moment, staring at their reflections. ‘I will show you one possible future,’ she said. ‘No more than that. It is one that pleases me. Though it will only make you the more curious. Are you ready?’
‘I am, priestess,’ said Weldi happily.
Ustarte lifted her arm and the glass shimmered and went dark. Bright stars appeared in a distant sky, and they found themselves staring down at a colossal fortress bathed in moonlight. A vast army was camped before the fortress. Weldi peered at the campsite. ‘What are they doing?’ he asked.
‘Preparing a funeral pyre.’
‘Who is dead?’
‘Druss the Legend.’
‘No!’ wailed Weldi. ‘I don’t want to see an unhappy future.’
‘Wait!’ The glass shimmered once more, and now it was as if Weldi and the priestess were standing inside a large tent. A powerful figure stood there, surrounded by Nadir warriors. The figure turned and Weldi saw that he had violet eyes of striking power. Another man entered the tent.
‘It is Skilgannon,’ said Weldi. ‘He is older.’
‘Ten years older,’ said Ustarte. ‘Now listen!’
‘Why are you here, my friend?’ asked the violet-eyed man. ‘I know it is not to fight in my cause.’
‘I came for the reward you promised me, Great Khan.’
‘This is a battlefield, Skilgannon. My riches are not here.’
‘I do not require riches.’
‘I owe you my life. You may ask of me anything I have and I will grant it.’
‘Druss was dear to me, Ulric. We were friends. I require only a keepsake: a lock of his hair, and a small sliver of bone. I would ask also for his axe.’
The Great Khan stood silently for a moment. ‘He was dear to me also.
What will you do with the hair and bone?’
‘I will place them in a locket, my lord, and carry it round my neck.’
‘Then it shall be done,’ said Ulric.
Once more the glass shimmered. Weldi saw Skilgannon riding from the Nadir camp, the great axe, Snaga, strapped to his shoulders. Then the image faded. Weldi stood for a moment, staring at his reflection.
‘What happened then?’ he asked.
‘I told you it would only arouse your curiosity further.’
‘Oh, this is unfair, priestess! Tell me, I implore you.’
‘I do not know, Weldi. I looked no further. Unlike you, I am fond of mysteries. I am also enchanted by legends. And you know that, with all great legends, the same story circulates. When the realm is under threat the greatest hero will return. So we will leave it there.’
‘I think you are very cruel,’ said Weldi.
Ustarte laughed. ‘What else would you expect from someone who is part wolf?’
The End
