Waylander by David A. Gemmell

Kesa Khan took a deep breath and stood, moving along the squatting wolves to touch each gently on the neck. As he touched them they tensed and growled, their eyes fixed on the silent men.

Suddenly the shaman screamed and the wolves leapt, their great fangs fastening on the throats before them. The men made no move as the fangs sliced through flesh and bone.

The wolves shuddered.

And swelled …

While the men shrank, their skin hanging in flapping folds, the wolves stretched, paws swelling into fur-covered fingers, nails darkening and curving into talons. Rib-cages expanded, bloated with new muscle; shoulders formed and the creatures loomed upright, dropping to the ground what appeared to be wizened sacks of old bones.

‘Turn to me, my children,’ said Kesa Khan. The six beasts obeyed him and he felt the power of their blood-red eyes upon him, felt the full savagery of their stares.

‘Go forth and kill,’ he whispered.

And six beasts padded into the night.

After a while the acolytes returned.

‘Remove the bodies,’ said the shaman.

‘Can we call these things bodies?’ asked a young man, his face ashen.

‘Call them what you will, boy, but remove them.’

Kesa Khan watched them depart, then built a fire and wrapped himself in a goatskin robe. The ritual had drained him and he felt very old and very tired. There had been a day when only the strongest of warriors had been used, but that offended Kesa Khan. This way was better, for it gave a last glimpse of true life to men bowed by disaster.

They would hunt Waylander and devour him. Then they would die. If they drank water, it would choke them. If they ate meat, it would poison them. Within a month they would starve to death.

But they would have one last fine meal, as their great jaws closed upon the flesh of Waylander.

Kaem sat silently listening to the reports: sixty-eight men dead; forty-seven injured. Four hundred tents had been destroyed and two warehouses burnt to the ground, both containing meat and grain. One ship moored to the jetty had lost its sails in the blaze, but had otherwise survived intact. The rats, however, had infiltrated the remaining food stores and were overrunning the warehouses. Kaem dismissed the officers and turned to the black-coated figure beside him.

‘Restore my good humour, Nemodes. Tell me once more how the Brotherhood is in sight of victory against the priests.’

Nemodes shrugged, his heavy-lidded eyes avoiding the general’s gaze. The Brotherhood leader was a small, emaciated man with a thick fleshy nose which seemed out of place on his thin features. His mouth was lipless, his teeth like tombstones.

“Three of them died last night. The end is near,’ he whispered.

“Three? I lost forty-eight.’

‘The three are worth more than your scum,’ snapped Nemodes. ‘Soon they will lose the strength to keep us out and then we will work on Karnak as we destroyed Degas.’

‘Your promises are as pig-wind,’ said Kaem. ‘Strong, but not lasting. Do you know how badly I need this fortress? Ironlatch has smashed our armies in the south and is advancing on Drenan. I cannot release men to stop him because Egel is still at large in Skultik and Karnak holds this last fortress. I cannot lose … and yet I cannot win.’

‘We will kill the renegade priests,’ Nemodes assured him.

‘I don’t want them dying of old age, Nemodes! You promised me the fortress would fall. It did not. You promised me the priests would be dead. They live. You promised me Waylander. What bad news have you on this front?’

‘Cadoras betrayed us. He rescued the assassin from a Nadir village where his death would have been certain.’

‘Why? Why would Cadoras do such a thing?’

Nemodes shrugged. ‘It is beyond me. In all his life Cadoras never acted without self-interest. Perhaps he and Waylander struck a bargain. It matters not, for Cadoras is dead. However, nine of my brethren are currently approaching Raboas; they are the best warriors of my Order, and that means the best on the continent. And always we have Durmast.’

‘I don’t trust him.’

‘That’s why he can be trusted. Greed is the spur and that one will always sell to the highest bidder.’