Waylander by David A. Gemmell

‘Why not, general?’

Karnak sat down and called the men to him. ‘You’ve probably heard that I had to close the tunnel,’ he said, grinning. ‘It means the only way out is through the main gates. How do you feel about that?’

‘Just let us know when you’re ready to leave, general!’ called a man at the back.

‘Well, I would have said tonight, but the enemy seems downhearted enough,’ said Karnak. ‘After all, we don’t want to rub their noses in it.’

‘Is it true you caved in the mountain?’ asked another man.

‘I’m afraid so, old lad. My engineers left winches and pulleys in the tunnels and an elaborate set-up by one of the main beams. After all, you can’t have an open road into a fortress.’

‘We heard you were dead,’ said Jonat.

‘Good Gods, man, you think a mere mountain could kill me? What little faith you have! Anyway, how are you all faring?’

For some minutes Karnak sat and chatted with them, before moving further down the line. Two hours later he returned to his room, his eye a blistering agony, his strength all but gone. He lowered his body to the bed, rolled on to his back and groaned.

In the hall below Dardalion opened his eyes and looked about him. Eight priests met his gaze and nine more were stirring, but six lifeless bodies were slumped across the table.

‘The Brotherhood are no longer a threat,’ said Astila, ‘but the price of victory is high.’

‘The price is always high,’ said Dardalion. ‘Let us pray.’

‘For what should we pray, Dardalion?’ asked the young priest named Baynha. ‘That we kill more enemies? More than sixty of the Brotherhood died tonight. I cannot take much more of this endless slaying.’

‘You think we are wrong, Baynha?’ questioned Dardalion gently.

‘It is more a question of not knowing if we are right.’

‘May I speak, Dardalion?’ asked Astila and Dardalion nodded.

‘I am not as intellectually gifted as some of our Order,’ Astila began, ‘but bear with me, brothers. I recall a phrase the Abbot used when I was a novitiate. He said: “When a fool sees himself as he is, then he is a fool no longer; and when a wise man learns of his own wisdom, then he becomes a fool.” This caused me great trouble, for it seemed mere word play. But after many years I have come to this conclusion: that only in certainty is there moral danger. Doubt is the gift we must cherish, for it forces us to question our motives constantly. It guides us to truth. I do not know if we chose wisely the path we now walk. I do not know if we are right in what we do. But we walk it in faith.

‘I despise the slaying, but I will continue to fight the Brotherhood with all the powers the Source has allowed me. But if you, Baynha, believe it is wrong, you should fight no longer.’

Baynha bowed his head briefly, then smiled.

‘I am not wise, Astila. Does knowing this make me wise?’

‘It makes you human, my brother, and I for one am glad of it. My biggest fear was that we would grow to love the battle.’

‘I will fight on,’ said Baynha, ‘and on your advice will cherish my doubts. Yet I wonder what the future holds for us all. What happens if we win? Do we form a temple of warrior priests? Do we return to our former lives? We have begun something here which is new to the world. What is our purpose?’

Dardalion lifted his hand and they turned to him.

‘My friends, these are great questions. But we should not attempt to answer them now. Those of us who survive must decide our future. Yet I must say now that I have had many dreams these past days, terror-filled dreams. But each has ended in the same way. I see a desert of broken souls and undead beasts. At the centre of this desert is an oasis – and beside it a tree. Beneath its branches men gather for shade, and rest, and peace. Not one of the undead beasts can gather near the tree, nor any creature of evil approach it.’