Emperor’s shoulder. “Ah, cousin, you came so close to victory. It was a brave gamble and I honour you for it. But times change, needs change.”
Nazhreen was about to answer when he saw the firelight glint from the dagger blade. There was no time to struggle or to scream, and the blade plunged in between his ribs, cutting through his heart.
There was no pain, only release as he slumped sideways, his head resting on Anindais’ shoulder. The last feeling he experienced was of Anindais stroking his hair.
It was soothing…
Anindais pushed the body from him and stood. A figure shuffled from the shadows, an old woman in a wolfskin cloak. Kneeling by the body, she dipped her skeletal fingers into the blood and licked them. “Ah, the blood of kings,” she said. “Sweeter than wine.”
“Is that enough of a sacrifice?” Anindais asked.
“No - but it will suffice as a beginning,” she said. She shivered. “It is cold here. Not like Mashrapur. I think I shall return there when this is over. I miss my house.”
“How will you kill him?” asked Anindais.
She glanced up at the general. “We shall make it poetic. He is a Ventrian nobleman, and the sign of his house is the Bear. I shall send Kalith.”
Anindais licked his dry lips. “Kalith is just a dark legend, surely?”
“If you want to see him for yourself I can arrange it,” hissed the Old Woman.
Anindais fell back. “No, I believe you.”
“I like you, Anindais,” she said softly. “You do not have a single redeeming virtue - that is rare. So I will give you a gift, and charge nothing for it. Stay by me and you will see the Kalith kill the Ventrian.” She stood and walked to the cliff-face. “Come,” she called and Anindais followed. The Old Woman gestured at the grey rock and the wall became smoke. Taking the general’s hand, she led him through.
A long dark tunnel beckoned and Anindais shrank back. “Not a single redeeming feature,” she repeated, “not even courage. Stay by me, general, and no harm will befall you.”
The walk was not long, but to Anindais it stretched on for an eternity. He knew they were passing through a world that was not his own, and in the distance he could hear screams and cries that were not human. Great bats flew in a sky of dark ash, and not a living plant could be seen. The Old Woman followed a slender path, and took him across a narrow bridge that spanned an awesome chasm. At last she came to a fork in the path, and moved to the left towards a small cave. A three-headed dog guarded the entrance, but it backed away from her and they passed through. Within was a circular room stacked with tomes and scrolls. Two skeletons were hanging from hooks in the ceiling, their joints bound with golden wire. A cadaver lay across a long table, its chest and belly cut open, the heart lying beside the body like a grey stone about the size of a human fist.
The Old Woman lifted the heart and showed it to Anindais. “Here it is,” she said, “the secret of life. Four chambers and a number of valves, arteries and veins. Just a pump. No emotions, no secret storehouse for the soul.” She seemed disappointed. Anindais said nothing. “Blood,” she went on, “is pumped into the lungs to pick up oxygen, then distributed through the atria and the ventricles. Just a pump. Now, where were we? Ah yes, the Kalith.”
She sniffed loudly and threw the heart back towards the table; it hit the cadaver, then fell to the dusty floor. Swiftly she rummaged through the books on a high shelf, pulling one clear and flicking through the yellowed pages. Then she sat at a second desk and laid the book on the table. The left-hand page bore a neat script, the letters tiny. Anindais could not read, but he could see the picture painted on the right-hand page. It showed a huge bear, with claws of steel, its eyes of fire, its fangs dripping venom.
“It is a creature of earth and fire,” said the Old Woman, “and it will take great energy to summon it. That is why I need your assistance.”
“I know no sorcery,” said Anindais.
“You need to know none,” she snapped. “I will say the words, you will repeat them. Follow me.”
She led him further back into the cave, to an altar stone surrounded by gold wire fastened to a series of stalagmites. The stone sat at the centre of a circle of gold, and she bade Anindais step over the wires and approach the altar, upon which was a silver bowl full of water.
“Look into the water,” she said, “and repeat the words I speak.”
“Why do you stay outside the wire?” he asked.
“There is a seat here and my old legs are tired,” she told him. “Now let us begin.”
Drenai 6 - The First Chronicles of Druss The Legend
Chapter Five
Oliquar was the first of the Immortals to see Druss striding down the hill. The soldier was sitting on an upturned barrel darning the heel of a sock when the axeman appeared. Laying the worn garment aside, Oliquar stood and called out Druss’s name. Several of the soldiers sitting nearby looked up as Oliquar ran to meet him, throwing his brawny arms around Druss’s neck.
Hundreds of other warriors gathered round, craning to see the Emperor’s champion, the famed axeman who fought like ten tigers. Druss grinned at his old comrade. “There are more grey hairs in that beard than I remember,” he said.
Oliquar laughed. “I earned every one. By the Holy Hands, it is good to see you, friend!”
“Life has been dull without me?”
“Not exactly,” answered Oliquar, gesturing towards the walls of Resha. “They fight well, these Naashanites. And they have a champion too: Michanek, a great warrior.”
