Read Online Drenai Series 03 - Waylander by David Gemmell - Free Book Online
Authors: David Gemmell
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death and killing ... Is there not enough trouble in the world? All right, we'll leave.' As he backed away, watching Waylander, his brothers joined him and all the men disappeared back into the trees.
'Run,' said Waylander.
'What?' asked Dardalion. But the dark-haired warrior was already sprinting towards the horses, pulling his crossbow clear and snapping the hinges open.
'Lie down!' he yelled and Danyal hurled herself to the ground, dragging the sisters with her.
Black-shafted arrows hissed from the trees. One flashed by Dardalion's head and he dived for the grass; a second missed Waylander by inches. Snapping two bolts into place and stretching the bow-arms tight, he ran for the trees, zig-zagging and ducking. Arrows flew perilously close. One hissed above Dardalion; he heard a choking cry and rolled over. The boy, Culas, had remained standing but now he knelt in pain, his small hands clutching a shaft buried in his belly.
Anger roared through Dardalion and with knife in hand he followed Waylander. As he went, a scream came from the forest . . . then another. Dardalion entered the trees at a run and saw two of the men down while Waylander, a knife in each hand, faced the other pair. Baloc ran forward, his sword flashing towards Waylander's neck, but Waylander ducked under the sweeping blade and rammed his right-hand knife in to the man's groin. Baloc doubled over and fell, dragging Waylander with him. As the last robber ran forward with sword raised, Dardalion's arm came up and swept down. The black blade thudded home in the robber's throat and he toppled backwards to writhe on the dark earth. Waylander wrenched his knife clear of Baloc and then, grabbing the man's hair, pulled his head back.
'There are some who never learn,' he said, opening the man's jugular.
Standing, he moved to the writhing man downed by Dardalion and, tearing the knife clear, wiped the blade on the man's jerkin before returning it to the priest. Recovering his two bolts from the other bodies, he cleaned his crossbow and pressed the bow-arms back into place alongside the handle.
'Well thrown!' he said.
"They've killed the boy,' Dardalion told him.
'Blame me,' said Waylander bitterly. 'I should have killed them instantly.'
"They may have meant no harm,' said Dardalion.
'Collect two swords and scabbards and one of the bows,' asked Waylander. Til see to the boy.'
Leaving Dardalion in the woods, he walked slowly back to the horses. The sisters were sitting together, silent in shock; Danyal was crying as Culas lay with his head in her lap, his eyes open and his hands still clutching the arrow.
Waylander knelt by his side. 'Is there much pain?'
The boy nodded. He bit his lip and tears flowed. 'I'm going to die! I know I am.'
'Of course you are not,' said Danyal fiercely. 'We'll just rest for a little while, then we'll take the arrow out for you.'
Culas let go of the arrow and lifted his hand; it was drenched in blood. 'I can't feel my legs,' he wailed. Waylander reached out and took the boy's hand.
'Listen to me, Culas. There is nothing to frighten you. In a little while you will go to sleep, that's all. Just a deep sleep . . . there will be no pain.'
'It hurts now,' said Culas. 'It's like fire.'
As Waylander gazed down on the young face, distorted now by agony, he saw again his son lying among the flowers.
'Close your eyes, Culas, and listen to my voice. A long time ago I had a farm. A lovely farm, and there was a white pony that could run like the wind . . .' And as he spoke Waylander drew his knife and touched it to Culas' thigh. The boy did not react. Waylander carried on speaking in a low, gentle voice and turned the knifepoint into Culas' groin, slicing the artery at the top of the thigh. Blood gushed from the wound and still Waylander's voice continued as Culas' face grew pale and a blue tinge appeared on his eyelids.
'Sleep softly,' whispered Waylander and the boy's head sagged sideways. Danyal blinked and looked up, seeing
'Run,' said Waylander.
'What?' asked Dardalion. But the dark-haired warrior was already sprinting towards the horses, pulling his crossbow clear and snapping the hinges open.
'Lie down!' he yelled and Danyal hurled herself to the ground, dragging the sisters with her.
Black-shafted arrows hissed from the trees. One flashed by Dardalion's head and he dived for the grass; a second missed Waylander by inches. Snapping two bolts into place and stretching the bow-arms tight, he ran for the trees, zig-zagging and ducking. Arrows flew perilously close. One hissed above Dardalion; he heard a choking cry and rolled over. The boy, Culas, had remained standing but now he knelt in pain, his small hands clutching a shaft buried in his belly.
Anger roared through Dardalion and with knife in hand he followed Waylander. As he went, a scream came from the forest . . . then another. Dardalion entered the trees at a run and saw two of the men down while Waylander, a knife in each hand, faced the other pair. Baloc ran forward, his sword flashing towards Waylander's neck, but Waylander ducked under the sweeping blade and rammed his right-hand knife in to the man's groin. Baloc doubled over and fell, dragging Waylander with him. As the last robber ran forward with sword raised, Dardalion's arm came up and swept down. The black blade thudded home in the robber's throat and he toppled backwards to writhe on the dark earth. Waylander wrenched his knife clear of Baloc and then, grabbing the man's hair, pulled his head back.
'There are some who never learn,' he said, opening the man's jugular.
Standing, he moved to the writhing man downed by Dardalion and, tearing the knife clear, wiped the blade on the man's jerkin before returning it to the priest. Recovering his two bolts from the other bodies, he cleaned his crossbow and pressed the bow-arms back into place alongside the handle.
'Well thrown!' he said.
"They've killed the boy,' Dardalion told him.
'Blame me,' said Waylander bitterly. 'I should have killed them instantly.'
"They may have meant no harm,' said Dardalion.
'Collect two swords and scabbards and one of the bows,' asked Waylander. Til see to the boy.'
Leaving Dardalion in the woods, he walked slowly back to the horses. The sisters were sitting together, silent in shock; Danyal was crying as Culas lay with his head in her lap, his eyes open and his hands still clutching the arrow.
Waylander knelt by his side. 'Is there much pain?'
The boy nodded. He bit his lip and tears flowed. 'I'm going to die! I know I am.'
'Of course you are not,' said Danyal fiercely. 'We'll just rest for a little while, then we'll take the arrow out for you.'
Culas let go of the arrow and lifted his hand; it was drenched in blood. 'I can't feel my legs,' he wailed. Waylander reached out and took the boy's hand.
'Listen to me, Culas. There is nothing to frighten you. In a little while you will go to sleep, that's all. Just a deep sleep . . . there will be no pain.'
'It hurts now,' said Culas. 'It's like fire.'
As Waylander gazed down on the young face, distorted now by agony, he saw again his son lying among the flowers.
'Close your eyes, Culas, and listen to my voice. A long time ago I had a farm. A lovely farm, and there was a white pony that could run like the wind . . .' And as he spoke Waylander drew his knife and touched it to Culas' thigh. The boy did not react. Waylander carried on speaking in a low, gentle voice and turned the knifepoint into Culas' groin, slicing the artery at the top of the thigh. Blood gushed from the wound and still Waylander's voice continued as Culas' face grew pale and a blue tinge appeared on his eyelids.
'Sleep softly,' whispered Waylander and the boy's head sagged sideways. Danyal blinked and looked up, seeing
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