‘You can rely on me, sir,’ answered Galen, bowing deeply.
Karnak swung to Asten. ‘What happened with the witch woman, Hewla?’
‘She would not use her powers against Waylander,’ answered the general.
112
‘Why?’
‘She didn’t tell me, sir. But she did say she would consider raising a storm against the Ventrian fleet. I told her no.’
‘No?’ raged Karnak, lurching from his seat. Wo? There’d better be a damn good reason, Asten.’
‘She wanted a hundred children sacrificed. Something about paying the price for demonic assistance.’
Karnak swore. ‘If we lose there’ll be a lot more than a hundred children suffering. More like ten thousand.’
‘You want me to go back to her?’
‘Of course I don’t want you to go back to her! Damn it, why does the enemy always have more power at his command? I’ll wager the Ventrian King wouldn’t think twice about a few scrawny brats.’
‘We could use captured Sathuli children,’ offered Galen. ‘Make a swift raid into the mountains. After all, they have allied with Gothir against us.’
Karnak shook his head. ‘Such an action would sully my reputation, turn the people against me. There’s no way it could be kept secret. No, my friends, I think we’ll have to rely on stout hearts and sharp swords. And luck, let’s not forget that! But in the meantime, find Bodalen.’
‘He probably believes he’s safer in hiding,’ said Asten.
‘Find him and convince him otherwise,’ ordered Karnak.
Waylander banked up the fire and settled back against the boulder, watching the sleeping Nadir. Beiash had tried to keep up, but had fallen several times, vomiting beside the trail. The blows to the head had weakened the warrior and Waylander had helped him to a sheltered hollow.
‘Your skull may be cracked,’ said Waylander, as the man lay shivering beside the fire.
‘No.’
‘It’s not made of stone, Beiash.’
‘Tomorrow I will be strong,’ promised the Nadir. In the dying light of the sun his face was grey, dark streaks colouring the skin beneath his slanted eyes.
113
Waylander touched the man’s throat. The pulse was strong, but erratic. ‘Sleep,’ he said, covering the man with his cloak. The flames licked hungrily at the dry wood and Waylander reached out his hands, enjoying the warmth. The hound lay at his side, huge head on massive paws. Idly Waylander stroked the beast’s ruined ears. A low rumbling growl came from its throat. ‘Quiet,’ said Waylander, smiling. ‘You know you enjoy it, so stop complaining.’
He gazed at the sleeping Nadir. I should have killed you, he thought idly, but he did not regret allowing the man to live. There was something about Belash that struck a chord in him. A shadow flickered at the edge of his vision. Waylander glanced to his left. Sitting by the fire was a hooded old woman, her face a remarkable picture of ancient decay and ugliness, her teeth rotten, her nose swollen and blue-veined, her eyes rheumy and yellow.
‘You move silently, Hewla,’ whispered Waylander.
‘No, I don’t. I move like an old crone with my joints cracking like dry twigs.’
‘I did not hear you.’
‘That’s because I’m not here, child,’ she told him, reaching out her hand and thrusting it into the flames, which danced and flickered through suddenly transparent skin and bone. ‘I am sitting by my own fire, in my own cabin.’
‘What do you require of me?’
Her eyes glinted with amusement, her mouth forming the parody of a smile. ‘Not impressed with my magic? How dull. You have no inkling of the concentration needed to produce this image. But do your eyes widen in wonder? Do you sit there jaw agape in amazement? No. You ask what I require. What makes you think I require anything, child? Perhaps I felt in need of company.’
‘Unlikely,’ he said, with a wry smile. ‘But you are welcome whatever. Are you well?’
‘When you are four hundred and eleven years old the question is irrelevant. I haven’t been well since the old King’s grandfather was a child. I’m just too stubborn to
114
die.’ She glanced at the sleeping Nadir. ‘He dreams of killing you,’ she said.
He shrugged. ‘His dreams are his own affair.’