‘Is there a point to this tale?’
‘That depends on you, for you enter the tale at this juncture. My son saw that everything I had left him to care for was in peril, and he tried desperately to save it. But he was too soft, and raiders came to my lands and slew my people. Then my son learnt the error of his ways and became truly a man, for he now knew that life often brings hard decisions. So he gathered his generals and worked on a plan to free his people. And then an assassin slew him.
‘His life was ended … and as he died all he could see was a failure, and a terrible despair went out from him that touched me a thousand leagues away.
‘A terrible rage filled me and I thought to kill you. I could, even now. But then the Source touched me. And I am now here merely to talk.’
‘You son was King Niallad?’
‘Yes. I am Orien of the Two Blades. Or, more exactly, I was Orien once.’
‘I am sorry for your son. But it is what I do.’
‘You speak of the death of innocents. Perhaps -had my son lived – many of those innocents would also have lived.’
‘I know. And I regret it … but I can’t change it.’
‘It is not important,’ said Oren. ‘But you are important. The Source has chosen you, but the choice is yours.’
‘Chosen me for what? My only talent is hardly one your Source would admire.’
‘It is not your only talent. You know of my early life?’
‘I know you were a great warrior, never beaten in battle.’
‘Have you seen the stature of me in Drenan?’
‘Yes. The Armour of Bronze.’
‘Indeed. The Armour. Many would like to know its whereabouts and the Brotherhood seek it, for it threatens the Vagrian empire.’
‘Is it magic then?’
‘No – at least, not in the sense that you mean. It was made long ago by the great Axellian. Superb workmanship and the two swords are of a metal beyond compare – a silver steel that never dulls. With that Armour Egel has a chance – no more than that.’
‘But you said it carries no magic?’
‘The magic is in the minds of men. When Egel wears that Armour it will be as if Orien has returned. And Orien was never beaten. Men will flock to Egel and he will grow – he is the best of them, an iron man of indomitable will.’
‘And you want me to fetch this Armour?’
‘Yes.’
‘I take it there is some danger involved?’
‘I think that is a fair assessment.’
‘But the Source will be with me?’
‘Perhaps. Perhaps not.’
‘I thought you said I was chosen for this task. What is the point of having aid from a God without power?’
‘A good question, Waylander. I hope you learn the answer.’
‘Where is the Armour?’
‘I hid it in a deep cave high up the side of a tall mountain.’
‘Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. Where?’
‘Do you know the Nadir Steppes?’
‘I am not going to like this.’
‘I take it that you do. Well, two hundred miles west of Gulgothir is a range of mountains …’
‘The Mountains of the Moon.’
‘Exactly. At the centre of the range is Raboas …’
‘The Sacred Giant.’
‘Yes,’ said Orien, grinning. ‘And that’s where it is.’
‘That is insane. No Drenai has ever penetrated that far into Nadir lands.’
‘I did.’
‘Why? What purpose could you have had?’
‘I wondered that at the time. Put it down to a whim, Waylander; you know about whims. Will you fetch the Armour?’
Tell me, Orien, how much of a mystic are you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Can you see the future?’
‘In part,’ admitted Orien.
‘What are my chances of success?’
‘That depends on who accompanies you.’
‘Then let’s say that the Source chooses the right company.’
The old man rubbed his ruined sockets and leaned back.
‘You have no chance,’ he admitted.
‘That’s what I thought.’
‘But that is no reason to refuse.’
‘You are asking me to ride a thousand miles through hostile lands swarming with savages. You tell me that the Brotherhood are also seeking the Armour? Do they know it is in Nadir lands?’