Waylander 3 – Hero in the Shadows By David Gemmell

‘He could have killed me,’ whispered Aric. ‘He almost did. Had that cut been a hair’s breadth lower it would have opened your jugular. A formidable opponent. He hides where no one would think of looking, in the very heart of his enemy’s fortress.’ Eldicar sighed. ‘Such a shame he would not join us.’

Aric lay quietly on the bed, feeling nauseous. Eldicar spoke again: ‘You were very lucky, Aric. The enhancements to your body enabled you to react with far greater speed than the average human. That allowed you – just – to avoid your throat being cut. It also helped your body absorb the impact of the fall.’

‘What else do these . . . enhancements do, Eldicar?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I seem to have . . . changed in other ways. To have lost . . . something.’

‘You have lost nothing you will need as a servant of Kuan-Hador. Now, let me seal that cut.’

As the ride progressed Keeva’s tension grew. From the start she had realized this was not going to be an easy task. Most of the horses shied away from Ustarte, nostrils flaring, ears flat against their skulls. There was something about her scent that frightened them. Finally Emrin had brought out an old, sway-backed mare. She was almost bund, and allowed Ustarte to approach. Emrin lifted a saddle from a nearby rail. ‘I cannot ride in the usual fashion,’ said Ustarte. Emrin stood still, confused. ‘My legs are . . . deformed,’ she told him. His expression changed to one of embarrassment.

‘Perhaps a shabraque would be more suitable,’ he said. ‘We have several, though they are not comfortable for a long ride. But you will be able to sit sideways upon old Grimtail. Will that suit, Lady?’

‘You are very kind. I am sorry to put you to this trouble.’

‘No trouble, I assure you.’ Emrin moved to the back of the stable and returned with a leopardskin shabraque which he fastened around the pony’s neck and belly. He swung to Keeva, who was already sitting upon a tall chestnut gelding. ‘I have packed supplies for around three days, and two sacks of grain for the mounts.’

‘We must be swift,’ said Ustarte suddenly. ‘There are riders heading up from the town.’

Emrin tried to lift Ustarte to the pony. He failed. ‘Your . . . robes must be very heavy,’ he said. The soldier searched around the barn, returning with a three-legged stool. Ustarte stepped on to it, then carefully sat down on the mare’s back.

‘Keep hold of her mane, Lady. Keeva will take the reins. And you had better carry the stool with you for when you want to mount again.’

Keeva heeled the chestnut forward. Leaning down, she took up the reins of the pony. It did not move. Emrin slapped the beast lightly on the rump and the two mounts walked out into the moonlit yard. In the distance Keeva caught sight of a troop of riders cresting a hill some half a mile away.

Now, an hour later, the two women had covered very little ground. The pony kept stopping and standing stubbornly in place for several minutes at a time, breathing heavily. Its dark flanks were already wet with sweat. Ustarte seemed untroubled. ‘They are not following yet,’ she said. ‘They are searching the palace.’

‘If we were being chased by a cripple with a crutch he would have overtaken us by now,’ said Keeva.

‘The pony is old and tired. I think I shall walk for a while.’ Ustarte slipped from the mare’s back. Keeva dismounted alongside her, and the two women moved off into the darkness of the trees.

They walked in silence for another hour, then Ustarte stopped. Keeva heard her sigh. She saw tears on the face of the priestess. ‘What is wrong?’ she asked.

‘The killing has begun.’

‘At the palace?’

‘No, at the Duke’s Feast. The Ipsissimus has summoned demons into the hall. The people there are being slaughtered. It is vile!’

‘The Grey Man?’ asked Keeva, fear swelling.

‘He is not there. But he is close by.’ Ustarte placed the stool she was carrying on the ground and sat down. ‘He is scaling the wall behind the palace, and climbing into a room. Now he waits.’