Morcha.
Even up to the last battle we believed we would conquer. A sudden shiver rippled through him. The day, begun in high spirits, had ended with Morcha and five others carrying the mutilated Boranius from the field.
Now, years later, Boranius was mutilated again, and once more Skilgannon was coming. Codis had been right. The only sensible course was to ride away now.
And yet he could not.
In a world of shifting values Morcha believed in loyalty. He had pledged himself to Boranius, and he would stand by him.
‘Have you seen enough?’ asked Ustarte. Skilgannon struggled to open his eyes. His body felt as if it had been without sleep for a month. Every muscle ached. He could not raise himself from the chair. Ustarte’s gloved hand stroked his face. ‘Humans without training find the journey of the spirit exhausting,’ she said. ‘Water will help.’ It was all Skilgannon could do to raise the goblet to his lips. His hand trembled. He drank, then fell back into the chair and closed his eyes.
‘I feel I have aged twenty years,’ he said.
‘It will pass when you have rested. Sleep a little. I will come back in a while.’
Skilgannon needed no urging. He fell asleep immediately, deep and dreamlessly. When he awoke the new dawn was breaking. Ustarte was standing by the balcony’s edge, the sunlight glinting on her red and gold gown.
‘Do you feel better?’
‘I do, lady. It was the best sleep I have had in years.’
‘You did not see the White Wolf?’
He smiled. ‘It seems my curse to meet people who know my dreams.
But, no, the wolf did not come to me. I almost slew it the last time.’
‘It is as well that you did not.’
He sat up, and drank some more water. ‘I feel it would stop it disturbing my sleep.’
‘Indeed it would. Which is why you must not.’
‘You think I need troubled dreams?’
‘I think you need to understand the nature of the wolf. Has it ever attacked you?’
‘No.’
‘It is you who hunt the wolf, yes?’
‘That is true. Whenever I see it I draw my swords. Usually it disappears.
The last time, though, it padded towards me.’
‘It did not charge? Its fangs were not bared?’
‘No. It just walked towards me. I raised my swords to kill it, but Diagoras woke me.’
‘The swords again. Did you know that the Old Woman conjured demons and trapped them within the blades?’ Skilgannon shook his head. ‘The demons give them power. It is a trade, however. Slowly the demons will exert an influence over you. They will corrupt you, increasing your angers and your hatreds. It is they who wish to kill the White Wolf. That is why whenever you see it in your dreams they leap to your hands.’
‘Why do they need to kill the wolf?’
‘That is for you to answer, Olek. The White Wolf is usually driven from the pack. He is different, and the other wolves fear him. So this wolf stands alone. He has no mate, no pack to follow or to lead. Does he remind you of anyone?’
‘The wolf is me.’
‘Yes — or rather your soul. He is all that is good in you. The swords need him dead before they can overcome you. Did the journey to the Citadel help you?’
‘I believe that it did. The troops there are demoralized. The Nadir have fled. More will desert as the days pass. They fear Druss. Merely knowing he is coming is filling the soldiers with terror.’
‘And you, Olek Skilgannon. They fear you mightily.’
‘Yes, that is true.’
‘I sense you knew one of those we saw. You even have affection for him.’
‘I knew him years ago. And, yes, I liked him then. Strange to see a man like him following a monster like Boranius.’
She laughed then. ‘You humans amuse me. When someone is evil you need to demonize them. He is a monster, you say. No, Olek, he is merely a man who has given in to the evils of his nature. All of you have a potential for evil, and for good. Much depends on the stimuli applied. The soldiers you led into Perapolis butchered and raped, mutilated and destroyed other humans. Then they went home to their wives and their sweethearts, and raised children and loved them. You are all monsters, Olek. Massively complex and uniquely insane. You teach your children that to lie is wrong.
But your lives are governed by small lies. The peasant does not tell the lord what he truly thinks of him. The wife does not tell the husband she saw a man in the marketplace who made her loins burn. The husband does not tell his wife he went to the whorehouse. You follow a god of love and forgiveness, and yet you rush into war bellowing, 'The Source is with us.'
Need I go on? Boranius is evil. That is true. Yet in all his life he has not ordered as many innocents slain as you.’
‘I cannot argue with you, lady,’ said Skilgannon sadly. ‘I cannot undo the past. I cannot bring them back.’
‘You can give them peace,’ she said softly.
He looked at her, meeting her gaze. ‘By letting Garianne kill me? You said yourself that she is probably unhinged, and that there are no ghosts inside her head.’
‘I could be wrong.’
He laughed then. ‘One problem at a time, lady. First we need to rescue the child. After that I will consider the problem of Garianne, Where is Druss?’
‘He is with Rabalyn. The boy is recovering well.’
‘And Diagoras?’
‘He and the twins are in the lower gardens with Garianne. Diagoras has discovered much in common with Nian. They argue wonderfully about the nature of the stars.’ Ustarte turned and stared out over the red mountains.
‘There is something else you should know, Olek. The Old Woman has cast a concealing spell over the lands to the northeast of the Citadel. I cannot penetrate it.’
‘The northeast?’ he repeated. The lands of Sherak?’
‘Not all of Sherak. Even she is not that powerful. No, it is merely a…
mist, if you like… over a small area.’
‘Her purposes are a mystery to me,’ he said, ‘save that she wants Boranius dead.’
‘There is something more,’ said Ustarte. ‘I know that she hates Druss.
Twice he has thwarted her.’
‘She is none too fond of me,’ said Skilgannon, ‘though, to my knowledge, I have done nothing to cause her harm.’
‘She has sent Garianne to kill you. Of that I have no doubt. So, at the very least, she requires three deaths. Boranius is obviously the most important. Otherwise Garianne would already have tried to slay you. The Old Woman’s actions are most odd. She slew the Nadir shaman with a fire spell. His body became a living candle. This is powerful magic, Olek. To achieve it, while in spiritual form, is awesome indeed. What it means, though, is that, if she desired it, she could kill you and Druss in precisely the same manner. Or indeed Boranius. The question then is: why does she not? Why this elaborate quest?’
‘Our deaths alone are not sufficient,’ said Skilgannon.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Take Boranius, for example. You might ask why, when he kills, he does it so slowly. He takes pleasure in torture and pain. The Old Woman is no different. To merely kill us holds no attraction for her. Druss is a proud man. He wants to rescue the child. Imagine how he would feel if that rescue were to fail. Worse, if he were to arrive and watch her die.’
