Waylander by David A. Gemmell

‘I had a rest in the tunnel. You’ve no idea what a rest it was, old lad! But I am back now. I’ve listened to all of you for some time, and there’s something to be said for each argument. But my decision is the final one and it is this: We hold the wall. There will be no retreat to the Keep.

‘Those men out there have been magnificent they will continue to be so. But if we withdraw them to see their comrades butchered, they will lose that iron edge. Then the Keep would fall within days.’

He moved forward and slumped into a wide chair. ‘Dundas, get some clothes for me – garish clothes. And find me a leather patch to wear over this bandage. And fetch me another axe. I’m going out on to the ramparts.’

‘That is insane, sir,’ said Gellan. ‘You are in no condition to fight.’

‘Fight? I am not going to fight, Gellan. I’m going to be seen. There’s Karnak, they’ll say. A mountain fell on him and he’s back! Now get me the clothes!’ He turned to Dardalion. ‘One of your priests told me days ago that your powers to push back the Brotherhood have been cut so that you can hold some sort of magic shield over Waylander. Is that true?’

‘It is, sir.’

‘Where is Waylander now?’

‘Close to the mountain.’

‘Then lift the shield.’

‘I cannot.’

‘Listen to me, Dardalion, you believe in the power of the Source against all the forces of Chaos, and you have fought steadfastly in that belief.

‘But now I think you are guilty of arrogance. I don’t say that lightly, or even critically. I am an arrogant man myself. But you have decided that Waylander is more important to the Drenai than Purdol. Maybe you are right. But he is now close to the Armour and you have got him there. Let the Source bring him home.’

Dardalion looked up and met Karnak’s stare. ‘You must understand, sir, that the enemies Waylander faces are not all human. The Nadir and the Brotherhood trail him, yes, but there are others -beasts from the pit. If I lift the shield he will be alone.’

‘Understand this: If he is alone it means only that there is no Source. You follow the reasoning?’

‘I believe so, though I fear it is specious.’

‘And that is your arrogance speaking. The Source existed before you were born and will continue to exist after you are dead. You are not the only weapon he has.’

‘But if you are wrong!’

‘Then he dies, Dardalion. But trees will grow, streams will run to the seas and the sun will shine. Lift the damned shield!’

The priest pushed himself to his feet and moved towards the door.

‘Will you do it?’ said Karnak.

‘It is done,’ said Dardalion.

‘Good! Now push the Brotherhood from Purdol!’

It was close to midnight and the last of the Vagrians limped back to their camp-fires. Jonat leapt to the ramparts and bellowed after them: ‘Come back, you bastards, we’re not finished with you yet.’

Along the wall stretcher-bearers carried away the wounded, while the dead were thrown from the battlements. Jonat sent a dozen men to fetch food and water before patrolling his section, checking casualties. For days now he had felt the burden of his new responsibilities weighing him down, and his own deep well of bitterness had brought him close to despair. The knowledge that the Brotherhood were at work had helped him a little, but tonight he felt free. The stars shone, the breeze from the sea was fresh and clean and the enemy were scurrying to their tents like whipped dogs. Jonat felt stronger than at any time in his life, and his grin was wide as he swapped jests with the soldiers around him. He even waved to Sarvaj at the gate tower, his intense dislike of the man submerged in his new-found good humour.

Suddenly a ragged cheer went up from the right and Jonat turned to see Karnak striding up the battlement steps. Behind him were four soldiers bearing flagons of wine.

‘I see you, Jonat, you rascal,’ roared Karnak. Jonat chuckled and caught the bottle Karnak lobbed in his direction. ‘I take it you’ll drink with me?’