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

“This is difficult for me,’ said Vishna, with a sigh. ‘I am the only Gothir present among the Thirty. My family and friends are high in the council of the Emperor. It is likely that old friends will be riding against these same Nadir. It does not make me feel comfortable to know that I may have to draw a sword against these men.’

‘I understand that,’ said Dardalion. ‘But it is my belief that Shia is sent to us, and that the Mountains of the Moon beckon. What else can I say?’

‘I think we all need more prayer – and more guidance,’ observed Ekodas. The others nodded in agreement.

‘Faith is essential,’ added Vishna. ‘But there must be another sign.’

‘It is unlikely to come with letters of fire in the sky,’ said Dardalion softly.

‘Even so,’ put in Ekodas, ‘if it is our destiny to die in Nadir lands then the Source will lead us there.’

Dardalion looked to each of the young men before him, then he rose. ‘Very well, my brothers, we will wait. And we will pray.’

*

Ekodas slept fitfully, Shia’s words haunting him like a curse. And he did dream of her, and woke often, his body tense with suppressed passion. He tried prayer, and when that failed he repeated the longest, most complex meditation mantras. For a while his concentration held. Then he would picture her ivory skin, tinged with gold, her dark almond-shaped eyes …

He rose silently from his bed in the hour before dawn, moving with care so as not to awaken the five brothers who shared the small dormitory. Taking a clean white robe from the chest beneath his bed he dressed swiftly and made his way down to the kitchens.

Fat Merlon was already there, removing the rough linen from several large rounds of cheese. In the far corner Glendrin was supervising the baking, and the smell of fresh bread filled the room.

‘You are awake early,’ said Merlon, as Ekodas entered.

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ he admitted.

‘I would dearly love another hour, brother,’ said Merlon expectantly.

‘Of course,’ Ekodas told him. ‘I will take your duty.’

‘I will say ten blessings for you, Ekodas,’ beamed Merlon, embracing the smaller man and patting his back. Merlon was a large man, balding already at twenty-six, and his strength was prodigious. The other priests gently mocked him for his vast appetite, but in truth there was little fat upon him, save for his belly, and Ekodas felt himself being crushed by the man.

‘Enough, Merlon!’ he gasped.

‘I’ll see you at breakfast,’ yawned Merlon, ambling away towards the sleeping area.

Glendrin glanced back. ‘Fetch me the tray and pole, Ekodas,’ he called, flicking the latch on the oven doors. The two-pronged pole was hanging upon hooks on the far wall. Ekodas lifted it clear, attached the prongs to a ridged metal plate and passed the implement to Glendrin. Using a cloth to protect his hands Glendrin opened wide the oven doors then pushed the pole inside, the plate sliding under three golden crusted loaves. These he withdrew and Ekodas, slipping on gloves of white wool, removed the bread, placing it on the long kitchen table. There were twelve loaves in all and the smell made Ekodas feel as if he had not eaten for a week.

‘Merlon churned the butter,’ said Glendrin, sitting down at the table. ‘But I’ll wager he ate half of it.’

‘You have flour in your beard,’ Ekodas pointed out. ‘It makes you look older than time.’

Glendrin grinned and rubbed his hand across the red trident beard. ‘You think the woman was sent?’ he asked.

Ekodas shrugged. ‘If she was she came to haunt me,’ he answered.

Glendrin chuckled. ‘You’ll need those ten blessings Merlon promised you,’ he said, wagging a finger at his friend. ‘Carnal thoughts are a sin!’

‘How do you deal with them?’ asked Ekodas.

Glendrin’s smile faded. ‘I don’t,’he admitted. ‘Now let us get on.’

Together they prepared the cheese, drew fresh water from the well, and carried the food through to the dining-hall, setting out the plates and cutlery, jugs and goblets.

Then Ekodas prepared a tray of bread and cheese for Shia, feeling his excitement rise at the prospect of seeing her once more. ‘I cannot find the apple juice,’ he told Glendrin.

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