Waylander by David A. Gemmell

Rolling to his left, Waylander lunged upright with knives in his hands as a dark figure leapt at him, He blocked the downward sweep of the sword, catching it on the hilt-guard of his left-hand knife. Dropping his shoulder, he stabbed his attacker low in the groin; the man twisted as he fell, tearing the knife from Waylander’s hand.

The clouds closed in once more and Waylander threw himself to the ground, rolled several yards and lay still.

There was no movement around him.

For several minutes he strained to hear, closing his eyes and calming his mind.

Satisfied that his attackers had fled, he slowly raised himself to his feet. The clouds cleared …

Waylander spun on his heel, his hand whipping out. The black-bladed knife thudded into the shoulder of a kneeling archer. Waylander ran forward as the man lunged to his feet, but his opponent side-stepped and ran off into the darkness.

Weaponless, Waylander dropped to one knee and waited.

A scream sounded from the direction the wounded man had taken. Then a voice drifted to the kneeling assassin:

‘You had best be more careful, Waylander.’ A dark object sailed into the air to land with a thud beside him. It was his knife.

‘Why did you save me?’

‘Because you are mine,’ replied Cadoras.

‘I will be ready.’

‘I hope so.’

Durmast and Danyal ran to him.

‘Who were you speaking to?’ asked the giant.

‘Cadoras. But it doesn’t matter – let’s go back to the wagons.’

Together the trio moved back into the relative sanctuary of the camp, where Durmast stoked a dying fire to life and then cleaned the blood from his axe.

‘That is some woman you have there,’ he said. ‘She killed three of the swine! And you had me thinking she was a casual bedmate! You are a subtle devil, Waylander.’

‘They were Brotherhood warriors,’ said the assassin, ‘and they used some kind of sorcery to push me into sleep. I should have guessed.’

‘Dardalion saved you,’ said Danyal. ‘He came to me in a dream.’

‘A silver warrior with fair hair?’ asked Durmast.

Danyal nodded.

‘He came to me also. You have powerful friends – a she-devil and a sorcerer.’

‘And a giant with a battleaxe,’ said Danyal.

‘Do not confuse business with friendship,’ muttered Durmast. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some sleep to catch up on.’

The old man gazed with weary eyes at the Vagrian warriors seated before him in what had once been the Palace of Purdol. Their faces shone with the arrogance born of victory, and he knew only too well how he appeared to them: old, tired and weak.

Gan Degas removed his helm and laid it on the table.

Stone-faced, Kaem sat opposite him.

‘I take it you are ready to surrender,’ said Kaem.

‘Yes. If certain conditions are met.’

‘Name them.’

‘My men are not to be harmed – they are to be released to return to their homes.’

‘Agreed … once they have laid down their weapons and the fortress is ours.’

‘Many citizens fled to the fortress; they also must be allowed to go free and reclaim the homes your men took from them.’

‘Petty bureaucracy,’ said Kaem. ‘It will cause us no problems.’

‘What guarantees of faith can you give me?’ asked Degas.

Kaem smiled. ‘What guarantees can any man give? You have my word – that should be enough between generals. If it is not, you have only to keep the gates barred and fight on.’

Degas dropped his eyes. ‘Very well. I have your word, then?’

‘Of course, Degas.’

‘The gates will be opened at dawn.’

The old warrior pushed himself to his feet and turned to leave.

‘Do not forget your helm,’ mocked Kaem.

Laughter echoed in the corridor as Degas was led from the hall, flanked by two men in black cloaks. Out in the night air he walked along the docks and up towards the eastern gate. There a rope was lowered from the gate tower; Degas looped his wrist around it and was hauled up into the fortress.

Back at the palace, Kaem silenced his officers and turned to Dalnor.

‘There are some four thousand men in the fortress. Killing them all will take some planning – I don’t want a mountain of rotting corpses spreading plague and disease. I suggest you split the prisoners into twenty groups, then take them down to the harbour group by group. There are a score of empty warehouses. Kill them and cart their bodies into the discharged grain ships. Then they can be dumped at sea.

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