Oshikai chuckled and moved across to sit beside Druss. ‘By the Gods of Stone and Water, Druss, you are a man I would be proud to call brother. I wish I had known you in life. We could have downed a dozen flagons of wine, and filled the night with boasting.’
‘The wine sounds good,’ said Druss, ‘but I never was much of a boaster.’
‘It is an acquired skill,’ agreed Oshikai. ‘I always found that a story sounds better if a multiple of ten is added to the enemy. Unless of course it was known that there were, say, only three. Then they become giants.’
‘I have a friend who understands that very well,’ said Druss.
‘Is he a fine warrior?’
Druss looked into Oshikai’s violet eyes. ‘No, a poet.’
‘Ah! I always took a poet with me, to record my victories. I am no mean braggart myself, but when I listened to his songs of my deeds I felt put to shame. Where I would speak of slaying giants, he would sing of subduing the gods themselves. Are you feeling rested?’
‘Almost,’ lied Druss. ‘Tell me, little man,’ he said to Shaoshad, ‘what is this Great Bear you spoke of?’
‘The Guardian of the Bridge of Giragast. It is said to be eight feet tall; it has two heads, one of a bear with sharp fangs, the other of a snake. The snake spits venom, which will burn through all armour. Its talons are as long as a short sword, and sharper than spite. It has two hearts, one high in the chest, the other low in the belly.’
‘And how do you propose we pass this beast?’
‘My magic is all but spent now, but I shall cast one more Hide-spell, to mask Oshikai. Then I shall rest here, and await your return.’
Oshikai rose and laid his hand on the little man’s shoulder. ‘You have served me well, Shaoshad. I am a king no longer; but if there is justice in this vile realm, you will be rewarded. I am sorry that my refusal of your offer led to your death.’
‘All men die, Great King. And my own actions led to my death. I bear no ill-will towards any. But if . . . when . . . you reach Paradise, speak a word on my behalf to the Gatekeeper there.’
‘I shall.’ Taking up his golden axe, Kolmisai, the warrior turned to Druss. ‘Are you ready now, my brother?’
‘I was born ready,’ grunted Druss, forcing himself to his feet.
‘You will see the bridge about a hundred paces that way,’ said Shaoshad. ‘It spans the Abyss of Fire. If you fall it will be for an eternity, then the flames will devour you. The bridge is wide at the start, maybe fifty feet, but then it narrows. You must draw the bear to you on to the wide section, to allow Oshikai to slip past.’
‘No,’ said Oshikai, ‘we will face it together.’
‘Trust me, Great King, and follow my bidding. When the Bear dies Chakata will know you are coming. Then he will slay Shul-sen. It is vital that you cross the bridge to the Dark Place before that.’
‘In the meantime I dance with the bear and try not to kill it?’ queried Druss.
‘Delay for as long as you can,’ advised Shaoshad, ‘and do not look into its eyes. You will see only death there.’ The shaman closed his eyes and raised his hands. The air around Oshikai crackled with bright, nickering lights. The Great King’s image faded, becoming translucent and then transparent. Then it was gone.
Shaoshad opened his eyes, then clapped his hands with glee. ‘Arrogant I may be,’ he chortled, ‘but skilled am I!’ His smile faded and he turned to Druss. ‘When you approach the bridge Oshikai must be close behind you. Otherwise the bear will sense both spirits. Once the beast is engaged, Great King, you must slip by him and run. Make no sound. Do not call out for Shul-sen – you will sense her when she is close.’
‘I understand,’ came the voice of Oshikai. ‘You move on, Druss, and I will follow.’
Taking up his axe, Druss led the way. His legs were heavy, his arms weary. Never in his life, not even in his years in the prison dungeon, had he felt such a sense of physical weakness. Fear rose strong within him. His foot struck a stone, and he stumbled.