‘The Source teaches us to do only kind deeds – to be honest and living, giving good for evil, to bring the tide back in.’
‘All very noble,’ said Gellan, ‘but wondrously impractical. When a wolf raids the fold, you don’t make it go away by feeding it lambs! However, this is not the time for theological debate. And you have already proved where your feelings lie.’
‘May I ask you something, Dun Gellan?’
‘Of course.’
‘I watched you fight today, and you were unlike any other warrior. You were calm and at peace. Amid the slaughter and the fear you alone remained calm. How was it done?’
‘I had nothing to lose,’ said Gellan.
‘You had your life.’
‘Ah yes, my life. Was there anything else you wished to know?’
‘No, but if you will forgive me, let me say this: all children are creatures of joy, and all people are capable of love. You feel you lost everything, but there was a time before your joy when your children did not exist and your wife was unknown to you. Could it not be that there is a woman somewhere who will fill your life with love, and bear you children to bring you joy?’
‘Go away, priest,’ said Gellan gently.
Waylander returned to the wall and watched the enemy. Their leader had finished his speech and the men were sitting, staring sullenly towards the fort. Waylander rubbed his eyes. He knew how they felt. This morning they had been confident of their skills, arrogant and proud. Now they were demoralised by the realisation of defeat.
His own thoughts echoed their despair. A week ago he had been Waylander the Slayer, secure in his talents and unaware of any guilt.
Now he felt more lonely than at any time in his life. How strange that loneliness should lay him how while he was surrounded by people, he thought. He had never sensed this emotion while living alone in the mountains or the forests. His conversation with
Gellan had hurt him deeply and he had withdrawn, as ever, into flippancy. Of all the people who thronged his memories, Gellan alone he regarded with affection.
But what could he have said to him? Well, Gellan my friend, I see you stayed with the army. Me? Oh, I became an assassin. I’ll kill anyone for money – I even killed your King. It was so easy; I shot him in the back while he walked in his garden.
Or perhaps he could have mentioned the murder of his family. Would Gellan have understood his despair and what it did to him? Why should he? Had he not lost his own?
It was the damned priest. He should have left him tied to the tree. The priest had power: when he had touched the clothes of the robbers he had sensed their evil through the cloth. Waylander had turned him into a killer by staining his purity. But was such power double-edged? Had the priest returned the unholy gift by touching Waylander with goodness? Waylander smiled.
A Vagrian rider galloped from the north and dragged his mount to a halt before the general. Within minutes the Vagrians were mounted and heading east.
Waylander shook his head and loosened the strings of his crossbow. Drenai soldiers ran to the walls to watch the enemy depart and a ragged cheer went up. Waylander sat down. Vanek yawned and stretched.
‘What’s happening?’ he asked, sitting up and yawning once more.
‘The Vagrians have gone.’
‘That’s good. Gods, I’m hungry.’
‘Do you always sleep in the middle of a battle?’
‘I don’t know, this is the first battle I’ve been in – unless you count when we captured the wagons, which was more of a massacre. I’ll let you know when I’ve been in a few more. Did you finish my canteen?’
Waylander threw him the half-empty canteen, then rose and wandered to the Keep. A barrel of apples had been opened by the cook and Waylander took two and ate them before making his way to the winding stair and the tower, emerging into the sunlight to see Danyal leaning on the rampart and staring north.
‘It’s over,’ said Waylander. ‘You are safe now.’