David Gemmell. Winter Warriors

‘We killed one. But only because the leader wanted him dead. They are deadly foes, Dagorian. More terrible than any I have faced before.’

‘And yet two are dead, and we have suffered no losses.’

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‘Not yet,’ whispered Nogusta.

Dagorian shivered suddenly. He glanced at the black warrior. ‘What have you seen with that Third Eye of yours?’

‘Do not ask,’ advised Nogusta.

Ulmenetha’s spirit rose above the campsite, hovering in the night air. The moon was bright, the sky clear over the mountains. From here she could see Nogusta, sitting alone on a hillside. Close by Kebra was talking to Conalin. Axiana, Pharis and Sufia were asleep in the wagon. Bison sat alone by the camp-fire, finishing the last of the stew prepared by Kebra.

There was freedom here in this astral solitude, and Ulmenetha gloried in it. There were no demons over the forest, no Entukku with their slashing talons. She allowed herself to rise further, the moonlit forest shrink­ing below her. Ulmenetha flew north, over the ruined bridge, intending to seek out the Krayakin.

A glowing form materialized in the air alongside her. This time she could make out a face. It was that of a young man, golden haired and handsome. ‘It is not wise,’ he said, ‘to journey far. The Krayakin will be able to see you, and they can summon the Entukku to attack you.’

‘I need to know how close they are,’ said Ulmenetha.

‘The group heading east will lose two days. Those heading west will cross the river at Lercis, forty miles from here. They will not catch up with you by tomorrow.’

‘Why is this happening to us, Kalizkan? What did you do?’

‘It is not safe here, lady. Return to your body and sleep. We will talk again in a place of sanctuary.’

The figure vanished.

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Ulmenetha flew back to the campsite, and there hovered for a while, enjoying a last taste of freedom.

Back within her body she settled down, covering her­self with a blanket. Sleep came easily, for she was very tired.

She became aware of the smell of honeysuckle, and opened her eyes to see a small garden. A latticework arch was close by, red and cream honeysuckle growing up and through it. There were flower beds full of summer plants, blazing with colour in the sunlight. Ulmenetha looked around, and saw a small cottage, with a thatched roof. She recognized it instantly. It was her grand­mother’s house.

The door opened, and a tall man stepped out. He was silver-haired and silver-bearded, and dressed in a long robe of silver satin. Kalizkan bowed. ‘Now we can talk,’ he said.

‘I preferred you as the golden-haired young man,’ said Ulmenetha.

Kalizkan chuckled. ‘I must admit to you, lady, that he is a conceit. I never was golden haired, nor handsome . . . save in the spirit form. Were you ever as you appear now? So slim and innocent.’

‘Indeed I was. But those days are long gone.’

‘Not here,’ said Kalizkan.

‘No, not here,’ she agreed, wistfully.

‘So what would you have me tell you?’

‘All of it.’

Kalizkan led her to a wooden bench beneath the honeysuckle arch, and they sat down in the shade. ‘I was dying,’ he said. ‘Cancer was spreading through me. For more than ten years I used my magick to hold it at bay, but as I grew older my powers began to fade. I was frightened. Simply that. I studied many ancient

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grimoires, seeking spells to prolong my life, but always avoiding blood magick. Finally I sank to that. I sacrificed an old man. I told myself he was dying anyway – which he was – and I was only robbing him of a few days of life. He came willingly for I offered to create a pension for his widow.’ Kalizkan lapsed into silence. Then he spoke again. ‘The deed was an evil one, though I tried to convince myself otherwise. I thought of all the good I could still do if I lived. I reasoned that a small evil was acceptable, if it led to a greater good.’ He smiled rue­fully. ‘Such is the path to perdition. I summoned a Demon Lord and sought to control him, ordering him to heal me. Instead he possessed me. With the last of my strength I hurled my spirit clear. From that day to this I have watched all the good I have done in my life eroded and stained by the evils he used my form to commit. All my children were sacrificed. And now thousands are dead, and the city of Usa is in torment.