David Gemmell. Winter Warriors

159

‘Then take your stomach elsewhere,’ stormed Malikada. ‘Go! Leave me to my pleasure.’ Antikas bowed and walked away. Malikada watched the swordsman. He moved with such grace. The deadliest bladesman Malikada had ever seen, and yet, beneath it all, it now transpired, he was soft and weak! He had always envied Antikas, yet now he felt only contempt.

Malikada forced the image of the man from his mind, picturing again the moment when Skanda had signalled the charge. Oh, how he wished he could have been closer, to see the expression on the bastard’s face, to witness the realization that he was doomed, that Malikada was ending his dreams of empire. Oh, how that must have eaten into Skanda’s soul.

Irritation flared again within him. When Skanda had been dragged unconscious from the battlefield Kalizkan had refused permission for Malikada to witness the sacrifice. He would like to have seen that; to see the living heart cut from the body. A truly magnificent moment it would have been to stand over the king, their gaze locked together, watching the death agony, feeling Skanda’s dying hatred. Malikada shivered with pleasure at the thought.

But then Kalizkan was a secretive man. Malikada had not been allowed to watch the old emperor’s sacrifice either.

The corpses were being tumbled into the pit now, and covered with oil and dry wood. As the flames spread and black smoke spiralled up Malikada turned away. It was almost noon, and he needed to see Kalizkan. This was only the beginning. There were other Drenai garrisons along the coast, and there was still the problem of the White Wolf.

Also there was the question of Malikada’s coronation.

160

Emperor Malikada! Now that had a fine sound. He would order Kalizkan to create an even greater illusion in the night skies over Usa – something that would dwarf the display Skanda had enjoyed.

He strolled back through the Ventrian camp towards the cliffs beyond. Red dust rose up around him as he walked, staining his highly polished boots. The cave entrance was dark, but he could see lantern light further inside. Stepping into the cave he felt a momentary fear. Kalizkan had become so withdrawn lately, and had ceased to treat him with his customary respect. Malikada had allowed the discourtesy, for he needed the man. His spells and his wizardry had been vital.

Had been vital.

The thought struck him that he no longer needed Kalizkan.

I need no-one, he realized. But I shall keep him with me. His skills will be more than useful when it comes time to invade the lands of the Drenai. But first there is Axiana. I shall wait until she has birthed the child, see it strangled, and then wed her myself. Who can then deny me the crown?

His good humour restored he continued on his way.

The body of Skanda was laid on a stone altar, the chest cut open. A linen cloth had been laid over his face. Kalizkan was sitting by a small fire, his blue satin robes stained with blood.

‘Did he scream as he died?’ asked Malikada.

Kalizkan rose. ‘No, he did not scream. He cursed you with his last breath.’

‘I would like to have heard that,’ said Malikada.

There was a foul odour in the cave, and Malikada pulled a perfumed handkerchief from his pocket, holding it to his nose. ‘What is that smell?’ he asked.

161

‘It is this form,’ said Kalizkan. ‘It has served its purpose, and is now rotting. And I have no wish to waste my enhanced powers sustaining it any longer.’

‘Form? What are you talking about?’

‘Kalizkan’s body. It was already dying when I in­habited it. That was why he summoned me. To take away his cancer. I took him instead. His arrogance was overwhelming. How could he think to control Anharat, Lord of the Night?’

‘You are making no sense, wizard.’

‘On the contrary, Malikada. It all makes perfect sense, depending, of course, upon your perspective. I listened to your conversation with the swordsman. You were quite right. It is all a question of perspectives. Skanda believed you betrayed him, whereas you and I know you remained true to the one cause you believed in, the restoration of the Ventrian throne. Naturally with you to sit upon it. I, on the other hand, have no interest in the throne. And I have also remained true to my cause -the restoration of my people to the land which was once theirs by right and by force of arms.’