Waylander II by David A. Gemmell

‘Such confusion in the beast’s mind,’ said Zhu Chao. ‘Part of it is still Bodalen. It recognises the girl, the twin of a maid he killed by accident. See it hesitate! And can you feel the rising anger from the souls that were once of the Brotherhood?’

‘I can,’ admitted Ekodas. ‘Hunger, desire, bafflement. Amusing, is it not?’

A figure moved in the background.

‘More entertainment,’ whispered the voice of Zhu Chao. ‘Sadly I cannot retain the spell, and must miss the inevitable conclusion. We will share the memory in Gulgothir.’

The sorceror faded from Ekodas, and the young priest

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returned his attention to the gladiator who had entered the hall.

You shouldn’t have come, he thought. You are too weary for such an adventure.

Angel had heard the awful screams and was already running as he entered the hall. He saw Senta stretched out, unconscious on the floor and witnessed the monster lunge down, grabbing Miriel and dragging her into the air.

Reversing his sword, holding it now like a dagger, Angel angled his run, leaping first to a metal table and then launching himself at the beast’s bloated back. He landed knees first and plunged his sword deep in the creature’s flesh, driving it down with all of his weight. The monster reared up and swung. Angel was thrown clear. It still held Miriel in one huge hand, but now it turned on Angel. Half-stunned he rolled to his feet and staggered.

The boy carrying the torch ran forward, thrusting the burning brand at the beast. One of its many arms thrashed out, but the boy was nimble enough to duck and run back. Angel, his pale eyes glittering with battle fury, saw the beast charge again. Instead of running away, he hurled himself at the grotesque colossus, his hand reaching out for Senta’s sword, where it jutted from the swaying belly. Massive fingers caught at Angel’s left shoulder, just as his own hand curled around the sword-hilt. The beast lifted him high, the movement tearing the sword free of its prison of flesh. Blood gouted from the wound. Angel smashed the blade into the brow of the second head, splitting the skull.

The creature dropped Miriel, as pain from the awful injury flared through it. Angel struck again. And again. Another hand grabbed Angel’s leg, drawing him towards the gaping mouth and the sabre-long fangs.

Miriel swung to see Ekodas, holding tightly to the crystal and leaning on the door-frame watching the drama.

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Running to him she pulled his sword from its scabbard and returned to the fray.

‘Between the shoulders,’ said Ekodas, conversationally. ‘That’s where the brain is located. Can you see the hump there?’

Holding the broadsword two-handed, Miriel sent a powerful cut into the beast’s leg, just above the knee. Blood spurted from the wound and the creature staggered back, one hand releasing its hold on Angel’s leg. The former gladiator hacked his own sword into the arm holding him. The great fingers spasmed, and he fell to the floor. Blood was pouring from the monster, gushing from both heads, and numerous wounds to the body.

Still it came on. Miriel saw Angel backing away, and knew he was trying to draw it away from her. But now Miriel felt the power of the crystal, enhancing her Talent, filling her with rage. Images flooded her mind, radiating from the beast. Confusion, anger, hunger.

But one image flickered above the rest. Miriel saw Krylla running through the woods, a tall wide-shouldered man pursuing her.

Bodalen.

And she knew. Locked within this loathsome beast was the man who murdered her sister.

A huge arm swept down towards her. Ducking under the clumsy lunge she ran to the left – then charged in at the beast, leaping high, her foot coming down on one massive knee joint. Using this as a foothold she propelled herself up on to its back. A hand reached for her, but she threw herself forward. Reversing the sword she stood high on the beast’s shoulders. ‘Die!’ she screamed. The blade lanced down through the bulging hump. As it pierced the skin the sword seemed to accelerate, for there was no muscle beneath to hold it back, and the skin split like an overripe melon, brains gushing out.

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