‘I am sorry if it wakened you. Tell me, does Hewla still live in Skarta?’
‘She has a cabin north of the town.’ The girl was frightened, but she gave Waylander directions and he left the merchant’s house, saddled his horse and rode north.
The cabin was badly built; the unseasoned wood was beginning to warp and mud had been pushed into the cracks. The main door was poorly fitted and a curtain had been hung behind it so as to cut down the draughts. Waylander dismounted, tethered his horse to a stout bush and knocked on the door. There was no answer and he moved inside warily.
Hewla was sitting at a pine table staring into a copper dish filled to the brim with water. She was old and almost bald, and even more skeletal than the last time Waylander had visited her two years before.
‘Welcome, Dark One,’ she said, grinning. Her teeth were white and even, strangely out of place amidst the ruin of her face.
‘You have come down in the world, Hewla.’
‘All life is a pendulum. I shall return,’ she answered. ‘Help yourself to wine – or there is water if you prefer.’
‘Wine will be fine,’ he said, filling a clay goblet from a stone carafe and sitting opposite her.
‘Two years ago,’ he said softly, ‘you warned me against Kaem. You spoke of the death of princes, and of a priest with a sword of fire. It was pretty, poetic and meaningless. Now it has meaning … and I wish to know more.’
‘You do not believe in predestiny, Waylander. I cannot help you.’
‘I am not a fatalist, Hewla.’
‘There is a war being waged.’
‘You surprise me.’ His tone was ironic.
‘Close your mouth, boy!’ she snapped. ‘You learn nothing while your lips flap.’
‘I apologise. Please go on.’
‘The war is on another plane, between forces whose very nature we do not understand. Some men would call these forces Good and Evil, others refer to them as Nature and Chaos. Still others believe the power is of one Source that wars on itself. But whatever the truth, the war is real. I myself tend towards the simplistic: good and evil. In this struggle there are only small triumphs and no final victory. You are now a part of this war – a mercenary who has changed sides at a crucial time.’
‘Tell me of my quest,’ said Waylander.
‘I see the global view does not excite your interest. Vwey well. You have allied yourself with Durmast, a brave decision. He is a killer without conscience and in his time has slain men, women and babes. He is without morality, neither evil nor good – and he will betray you, for he has no understanding of true friendship. You are hunted by Cadoras, the Scarred One, the Stalker, and he is deadly for, like you, he has never been bested with the sword or the bow. The Dark Brotherhood seek you, for they desire Orien’s armour and your death, and the Ventrian emperor has ordered a team of assassins against you for killing his nephew.’
‘I did not kill him,’ said Waylander.
‘No. The deed was arranged by Kaem.’
‘Go on.’
Hewla gazed into the bowl of water. ‘Death is being drawn to you from every side. You are trapped at the centre of a web of fate and the spiders are closing in.’
‘But will I succeed?’
‘It depends on your definition of success.’
‘No riddles, Hewla. I have no time.’
‘That is true. Very well then, let me explain about prophecy. Much depends on interpretation, nothing is clear-cut. If you were to take your knife and hurl it into the forest, what chance would you have of hitting the fox that killed my chickens?’
‘None at all.’
‘That is not strictly true. The law of probability says you might kill it. And that is the size of your task.’
‘Why me, Hewla?’
‘Now that is a question I have heard before. If I could lose a year for every time it has been asked, I would be sitting before you as a virgin beauty. But it was honestly asked and I will answer it. You are nothing in this game but a catalyst. Through your actions a new force has been birthed in the world. This was born the moment you saved the priest. It is invulnerable and immortal and will ride through the centuries until the end of time. But no one will remember you for it, Waylander. You will fade into the dust of history.’