Waylander by David A. Gemmell

That night, with the temperature falling, they had slept under a single blanket and Durmast, still without a word, had removed his clothes and reached for her.

Turning into him she smiled sweetly, but his eyes widened as he felt the touch of cold steel at his loins.

‘The knife is very sharp, Durmast. I would suggest you calm yourself – and sleep.’

‘A simple “No” would have been sufficient, woman,’ he said, his blue eyes cold with anger.

Then I shall say “No”. Do you give your word not to touch me?’

‘Of course.’

‘Since I know your word is as strong as a withered stick, let me tell you this: If you rape me, I shall do my best to kill you.’

‘I am not a rapist, woman. Nor have I ever been.’

‘The name is Danyal.’ She withdrew the knife and turned her back to him.

He sat up and scratched his beard. ‘You do not think highly of me, Danyal. Why?’

‘Go to sleep, Durmast.’

‘Answer me.’

‘What a question! You led those people to slaughter and then fled without a backward glance. You are an animal – your own men stayed behind and died, but you just ran.’

‘We just ran,’ he pointed out.

‘Yes – and don’t think I don’t hate myself for it.’

‘What did you expect me to do, Danyal? Had I stayed I would have killed maybe six or seven Nadir, and then I would have died with the rest. There was no point.’

‘You betrayed them all.’

‘Yes, but then I was betrayed – I had an arrangement with the Nadir chieftan, Butaso.’

‘You amaze me. The traveller paid you and had a right to expect loyalty – instead you sold them to the Nadir.’

‘You have to pay a bounty to cross Nadir lands in safety.’

‘Tell that to the dead.’

‘The dead don’t hear so well.’

She sat up and moved away from him, taking the blanket and wrapping it round her shoulders.

‘They don’t touch you, do they? The deaths?’

‘Why should they? I lost no friends. All things die and their time had come.’

‘They were people, families. They had put their lives in your hands.’

‘What are you, my conscience?’

‘You have one?’

‘Your tongue is as sharp as your dagger. They paid me to guide them – am I responsible because some Nadir dog-eater breaks his word?’

‘Why did you bother to rescue me?’

‘Because I wanted to sleep with you. Is that a crime also?’

‘No, it’s just not a very attractive compliment.’

‘Gods, woman, Waylander is welcome to you! No wonder he’s changed – you’re like acid on the soul. Now, can we share the blanket?’

The following day they had travelled in silence until they reached the last line of hills before the river. Halting the horses, Durmast had pointed to the distant blue mountains of the north-west.

The tallest peak is Raboas, the Sacred Giant, and the river runs from that range and continues to the sea a hundred miles north of Purdol. It is called the Rostrias, the River of the Dead.’

‘What are you planning?’

‘There is a town yonder. There I shall book passage on a boat and head for Raboas.’

‘What about Waylander?’

‘If he is alive, we will see him there.’

‘Why not wait in the town for him?’

‘He won’t come here – he’ll strike north-west. We’ve moved north-east to avoid pursuit. Butaso is a Spear, a western tribe; this is Wolfshead land.’

‘I thought you were travelling only as far as Gulgothir.’

‘I’ve changed my mind.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I am a Drenai. Why should I not want to help Waylander regain the Armour of Bronze?’

‘Because there’s no profit in it for you.’

‘Let’s go,’ he snapped, spurring his horse forward into the trees.

Hiding the horses in a hollow, Durmast crept ‘to the crest of the hills overlooking the town. There were some twenty houses and seven warehouses built alongside a thick wooden jetty. Behind the warehouses was a long flat building with a shaded porch.

‘That’s the inn,’ said Durmast, ‘but it doubles as the main supply store. There don’t seem to be any Nadir riders around.’