The Legend Of Deathwalker By David Gemmell

‘Blue-skin demons? What are they?’

‘Truly you know little of wounds. They are the invisible devils who creep in through the open flesh and turn it blue, so it stinks and men die.’

‘Gangrene. I see. And what does one do with these hakka roots?’

‘We make poultice and lay it over the wound. It smells very bad. The demons avoid it.’

‘And what cures do you have, my lady, for trembling hands?’ he asked her.

She laughed and slid her hand over his belly and down. ‘I have big cure,’ she said. Curling her left arm around his neck, she drew down his head and kissed him. He felt the warmth and sweetness of her tongue upon his. Arousal swept through him.

She pulled away. ‘Now look at your hands,’ she said. They were no longer trembling. ‘Big cure, yes?’

‘I can offer no argument there,’ he said. ‘Where can we go?’

‘Nowhere. I have much to do. Shi-sai will be in labour soon, and I have promised to help when the waters break. But if you have trembling hands in the night, you may come to me by the north wall.’

Kissing him once more, she spun away from his embrace and walked from the room. Sieben took a last look at the hospital, then blew out the lantern and made his way to the compound. Some work was still being done in the moonlight, repairing the ramparts beside the crack in the west-facing wall. Elsewhere Nadir warriors were sitting around camp-fires. Druss was talking to Talisman and Bartsai on the ramparts above the gates.

Sieben thought of joining them, but realized he did not want to listen to more talk of battles and death. His mind flickered to Niobe. She was unlike any woman he had ever known. When first he had seen her he had thought her to be mildly attractive – certainly no more than that. Up close, her laughing eyes had made him re-appraise her. Even so she would pale against the beauties who had shared his bed. Yet each time he made love to her it seemed her beauty grew. It was uncanny. All his previous lovers were drab by comparison. As he was thinking, two Nadir warriors approached him. One of them spoke to him in Nadir.

‘Sorry, lads,’ he said, with a nervous smile. ‘I don’t understand the language.’ The taller of the two, a ferocious-looking man with narrow, malevolent eyes, pointed to his companion and said, ‘This one have big pain.’

‘Big pain,’ echoed Sieben.

‘You doctor. Fix it.’ Sieben glanced down at the second warrior. The man’s face was grey, his eyes sunken and his jaws clenched. ‘We go in,’ muttered the first man, leading his friend into the new hospital. With a sinking heart Sieben followed them and, re-lighting the lantern, he led them to the table. The small warrior tried to tug off his faded crimson shirt, but groaned as he did so. The taller man dragged the garment clear, and in the flickering light Sieben saw a growth on the man’s spine the size of a small apple. The area all around it was red, swollen and angry. ‘You cut,’ said the taller man.

Sieben indicated that the warrior should lie down on the table; then he reached out and, with great care, touched the swelling. The man stiffened, but made no sound. The lump was rock-hard. ‘Fetch the lantern,’ Sieben ordered the taller man. The warrior did so, and Sieben peered more closely at the growth. Then taking the sharpest of the knives, he drew in a deep breath. He had no idea what the growth was – it looked like a giant boil, but for all he knew it might be a cancer. What was certain was that he had no choice of action, burdened as he was by the expectations of both men. Touching the point of the knife to the lump, he pressed down hard. Thick yellow pus exploded from the cut, and the skin peeled away as if from a section of rotten fruit. The warrior cried out, the sound strangled and inhuman. Laying aside the knife, Sieben gripped the lump and squeezed it. More pus – this time mixed with blood – oozed from the cut, covering his fingers. The wounded man sighed and relaxed on the table. Sieben moved to a water barrel and filled a wooden bowl, cleaning his hands and wrists. Then he returned to the warrior. Fresh blood was oozing from the three-inch cut and flowing down to the wood of the table. With a wet cloth Sieben cleaned the wound, then ordered the man to sit up while he applied a wedge of cloth to it, strapping it in place with a bandage around the man’s waist. The patient spoke in Nadir to his companion; then without another word both men walked from the building.