‘I have no idea, but he could be. He certainly doesn’t take after the husband. But that’s between you and me now! Understand?’
‘And yet you would have fought him back at the cabin?’
He nodded, his face solemn. ‘I wouldn’t have won. He’s very good. The best I’ve ever seen.’ Suddenly she laughed. ‘What’s so amusing?’ he asked.
‘He wasn’t going to try to kill you. I read that in his thoughts. He was looking to disarm or wound you.’
‘That would have been a bad mistake.’
She looked into his eyes and her smile faded. ‘But you might have been killing your own son!’
‘I know. Not very uplifting, is it? But I am a warrior, Miriel, and when swords are drawn there is no emotion. Merely survival or death.’ He glanced at the Nadir boy, who was sleeping now against a rock, his head resting on his stick-thin arms, his knees drawn up to his belly. Rising silently, Angel moved across to the lad, covering him with his cloak. Then he returned to Miriel. ‘What is the old man planning?’
‘I don’t know, but we will be moving – tomorrow. To an old fortress in the mountains.’
“That is good news. We cannot hold here for much longer. You should get some sleep.’
‘I can’t. He will need me soon.’
Tor what?’
Tor when the dead walk,’ she answered.
*
Kesa Khan sat by his fire, his ancient body shivering as the night winds fanned the flames. He was beyond tiredness now, a mortal weariness settling on him. It was all so complex, so many lines of destiny to be drawn together. Why, he wondered idly, had this not come to pass when he was young and in full strength? Why now, when he was old and weary and ready for the grave? The gods were indeed capricious at best.
Plans, ideas, strategies flowed through his mind. And each was dependent upon another for success. The journey of a thousand leagues begins with a single step, he told himself. Concentrate only on the step before you.
The demons would come, and with them the souls of the dead. How best to combat them? The Drenai woman was strong, stronger than she knew, but she alone could not guarantee success. Closing his eyes he mentally summoned Miriel. The time was close.
He reached for the clay pot and the grey powder, but his hand drew back. He had taken too much already. Ah, but the gods do love a reckless man! Dipping his finger into the powder he scooped a small amount to his mouth. His heart began to beat erratically, and he felt strength flowing into his limbs. The fire burned yellow, then gold, then purple, and the shadows on the walls became dancers, spinning and turning.
The Drenai woman entered the cave. My, but she was ugly, he thought. Too tall and stringy. Even in his youth he could not have found her attractive. The Drenai warrior with the scarred face moved in behind her. Kesa Khan’s dark eyes focused on the man. ‘This is no place for those with no power,’ he said.
‘I told him that,’ said Miriel, seating herself opposite the shaman, ‘but he came anyway.’
‘She said there would be demons and the undead. Can they be slain with a sword?’ asked Angel.
‘No,’ answered the shaman.
‘With bare hands, then?’
‘No.’
‘How then will Miriel fight them?’
‘With her courage and her Talent.’
‘Then I shall stand beside her. No one has yet doubted my courage.’
‘You are needed here, to man the wall, to stop the human enemy. It would be the worst folly to allow you to enter the Void. It would be a waste.’
‘You do not control my life,’ roared Angel. ‘I am here because of her. If she dies I leave. I care nothing for you lice-infested barbarians. You understand? So if she is in danger -I go with her.’
Kesa Khan’s eyes became hooded and wary as he gazed on the towering Drenai. How I hate them, he thought. Their casual arrogance, their monumental condescension. Lifting his eyes he met Angel’s pale gaze, and Kesa Khan allowed his hatred to transmit to the warrior. Angel smiled and nodded slowly. Kesa Khan rose. ‘As you wish, Hard-to-Kill. You will journey with the woman.’