Waylander 3 – Hero in the Shadows By David Gemmell

‘It will be as you say, sir,’ said Jonan miserably.

Keeva pulled away from the hatch as Conae returned with a dress of blue wool, a pair of high-laced ankle-length shoes, and a brown woollen cloak lined with rabbit fur. Keeva put them on. The dress was a little loose, the shoes a perfect fit.

Jonan called out for the women and they both returned to the living room. The Grey Man was on his feet. Reaching into a pouch by his side, he gave Jonan several small silver coin, in payment for the clothes.

‘That is not necessary, sir,’ said Jonan.

Ignoring him, the Grey Man turned to Conae. ‘Thank you for your hospitality, lady.’

Conae curtsied.

The horses were outside, the saddlebags bulging with food for the journey. The Grey Man helped Keeva to mount, then stepped into the saddle.

Without a word of farewell he rode from the settlement, Keeva following.

Chapter Two

They rode in silence for a little while and Keeva saw that the Grey Man’s face was stern. She guessed he was angry. Even so, she noted that he studied the lands as he rode, always alert and watchful. Clouds obscured the sun and a little light rain began to fall. Keeva lifted her hood into place and drew her new fur-lined cloak about her.

The rain passed swiftly, sunlight spearing through a break in the clouds. The Grey Man angled his horse up a shallow slope and paused at the top. Keeva drew alongside. ‘How are your wounds?’ she asked him.

‘Almost healed,’ he said.

‘In such a short time? I don’t think so.’

He shrugged and, satisfied the way was clear of danger, heeled the steeldust forward.

Throughout the long afternoon they rode steadily, once more entering the forest. An hour before dusk the Grey Man found a campsite beside a stream and set a fire. ‘Are you angry with the villagers for cheating you?’ asked Keeva, as the flames licked at the dry wood.

‘No. I am angry at their stupidity.’ He looked at her. ‘You were listening?’

She nodded. The Grey Man’s face softened. ‘You are a canny girl, Keeva. You remind me of my daughter.’

‘Does she live with you?’

‘No, she lives far away in another land. I have not seen her in several years. She is married now to an old friend of mine. They had two sons, last I heard.’

‘You have grandsons.’

‘In a manner of speaking. She is my adopted daughter.’

‘Do you have children of your own?’

He fell silent for a moment, and in the firelight she saw a look of deep sadness touch him. ‘I had children, but they . . . died,’ he said. ‘Let us see what food Jonan’s wife prepared for us.’ Rising smoothly he moved to the saddlebags, returning with a hunk of ham and some freshly baked bread. They ate in silence. Keeva gathered more dry wood and fed the fire. The clouds had returned, but the night was not cold.

The Grey Man removed his shirt. ‘Time to draw these stitches,’ he said.

‘The wounds cannot have healed,’ she told him sternly. ‘The stitches should remain for at least ten days. My uncle . . .’

‘. . . was a very wise man,’ said the Grey Man. ‘But see for yourself.’

Keeva moved closer to him and examined the wounds. He was right. The skin had healed, and already scar tissue had formed. Taking his hunting knife, she carefully cut through the twine, pulling each stitch clear. ‘I have never heard of anyone healing this fast,’ she said, as he pulled on his shirt. ‘Do you know magic?’

‘No. But once I was healed by a monster. It changed me.’

‘A monster?’

He grinned at her. ‘Aye, a monster. Seven feet tall, with a single eye in the centre of his forehead – an eye that had two pupils.’

‘You are making fun of me,’ she chided him.

The Grey Man shook his head. ‘No, I am not. His name was Kai. He was a freak of nature – a man beast. I was dying and he laid his hands upon me and all my wounds closed, healed in a heartbeat. Ever since then I have known no sickness, no winter chills, no fevers, no boils. I think even time has slowed for me, for by now I should be spending my days sitting in a comfortable chair with a blanket around my knees. He was a fine man, Kai.’