WAYLANDER II: In the Realm of the Wolf by David A. Gemmell

‘Good,’ said the gladiator, sitting beside Miriel.

‘No,’ she said. ‘This is not wise. If I am to fight then I cannot look after Angel.’

‘I need no looking after!’ he protested.

‘Be quiet!’ she snapped. ‘You have no conception of the journey – or the perils, or what is needed even to protect yourself. You will be like a babe in arms. And I will have no time to suckle you!’

He reddened and pushed himself to his feet. Kesa Khan stepped forward. ‘No, no!’ he said. ‘I think you misjudge the situation, Miriel, as did I at first. The Void is a deadly place, but a man with courage is not to be lightly dismissed. I will send you both. And I will arm Hard-to-Kill with weapons he understands.’

‘Where will you be?’

‘Here. Waiting. But I will be linked to you.’

‘But this is where the demons will come, surely?’

‘No. They will not be hunting me. Did you not realise? That is why I needed you. They will be seeking out your father. Zhu Chao knows he is a terrible danger to him. He has tried to kill him in this world, and failed. Now he will seek to lure his soul into the Void. He must be protected.’

‘He also has no Talent,’ said Miriel, fear rising.

‘There you are wrong,’ whispered Kesa Khan. ‘He has the greatest talent of all. He knows how to survive.’

15

Kasai and his men had been hunting for more than three hours when they saw the southerner on the giant red stallion. Kasai reined in his hill pony. It was a fine beast, fourteen hands tall, but the southerner’s horse was sixteen hands, maybe more. Kasai’s cousin Chulai reined in alongside him. ‘Do we kill him?’ he asked.

‘Wait,’ ordered Kasai, studying the approaching rider. The man was dressed in black, a dark fur-lined cloak slung across his shoulders. There was dried blood on his face. The rider saw them and angled his horse towards the waiting group. Kasai saw no sign of fear in the man.

‘Fine horse,’ said Kasai, as the man pulled back on the reins.

‘Better than the man I killed to get him,’ said the rider, his dark eyes scanning the group. He seemed amused, which angered Kasai.

‘It is a horse worth killing for,’ he said pointedly, hand on his sword-hilt.

‘True,’ agreed the rider. ‘But the question you must ask yourself is, whether he is worth dying for.’

‘We are five, you are one.’

‘Wrong. One and one. You and I. For when the action begins I will kill you within the first heartbeat.’ The words were spoken with a quiet certainty that swept over Kasai’s confidence like a winter wind.

‘You dismiss my brothers so easily?’ he said, trying to re-establish the fact that they outnumbered the southerner.

The rider laughed and swung his gaze over the other men. ‘I never dismiss any Nadir lightly. I’ve fought too many in the past. Now it seems you have two choices; you can fight, or we can ride to your camp and eat.’

‘Let us kill him,’ said Chulai, slipping into the Nadir tongue.

‘It will be the last move you make, dung-brain,’ said the rider, in perfect Nadir.

Chulai half-drew his sword, but Kasai ordered him back. ‘How do you know our tongue?’ he enquired.

‘Do we eat or fight?’ countered the man.

‘We eat. We offer you the hospitality of the tent. Now, how do you know our tongue?’

‘I have travelled among the Nadir for many years, both as friend and enemy. My name is Waylander, though I have other names among the people of the tents.’

Kasai nodded. ‘I have heard of you, Oxskull – you are a mighty warrior. Follow me, and you will have the food you desire.’ Kasai wheeled his pony and galloped towards the north. Chulai cast a murderous glance at the Drenai and then followed.

Two hours later they were seated around a burning brazier within a tall, goatskin tent. Waylander was sitting cross-legged upon a rug, Kasai before him. Both men had dined from a communal bowl of curdled cheese and shared a clay goblet of strong spirit.

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