Read Online Drenai Series 03 - Waylander by David Gemmell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Gemmell
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appetites always had the better of me. I could never resist a pretty face or a fine wine. Now that I am old I wish for other delights, but even these are now denied me.'
'How did you find us?'
'Krylla showed me the way.'
'And I suppose you would like to travel with us?'
The man smiled. 'Would that I could! No, I shall bide with you tonight, and then I must embark on another journey.'
'We do not have much food,' said Waylander.
'But you are welcome to what we have,' said Dar-dalion, moving to sit beside the old man.
'I am not hungry, but thank you. You are the priest?'
'Yes.'
The old man reached out and touched the hilt of Dardalion's dagger. 'An unusual object for a priest to carry?'
'These are unusual days,' answered Dardalion, his face flushing.
'They must be.' He turned his head towards Waylander. 'I cannot see you, but I feel your power. And also your anger. Are you angry with me?'
'Not yet,' said Waylander, 'but I am wondering when you will arrive at the point of your visit.'
'You think I have some ulterior motive?'
'Not at all,' said Waylander drily. 'A blind man invites himself to supper through the mystic talents of a frightened child and finds our fire in the middle of a veritable wilderness. What could be more natural? Who are you and what do you want?'
'Do you always have to be so loathsome?' said Danyal. 'I don't care who he is, he's welcome. Or perhaps you'd like to kill him? After all, you haven't killed anyone for a couple of hours.'
'Gods, woman, your prattle turns my stomach,' snarled the warrior. 'What do you want from me? So the boy died. That's what happens in wars . . . people die. And before you let fly with your viper responses, remind yourself of this: when I shouted to get down I see you managed to save yourself. Perhaps if you had thought about the boy, he wouldn't have had an arrow in his guts.'
'That's not fair!' she shouted.
'Life is like that.' He swept up his blankets and walked away from the group, his heart pounding as rage threatened to engulf him. He strode to the top of the rise and stared out over the plain. Somewhere out there were riders hunting him. They could not allow him to live. For if they failed in their quest their own lives would be forfeit. And here was Waylander trapped by a priest and a woman - caught like a monkey in a net while the lions moved in.
Folly. Sheer folly.
He should never have accepted a contract from that Vagrian serpent, Kaem. The man's name was a byword for treachery: Kaem the Cruel, Kaem the Killer of Nations - the web-weaver at the centre of the Vagrian army.
All of Waylander's instincts had screamed at him to spurn Kaem's contract, but he had ignored them. Now the Vagrian general would have sent out groups of assassins in every direction; they would know he had not headed south or west, and the ports to the east would be closed to him. Only the north beckoned - and the killers would be watching all paths to Skultik.
Waylander cursed softly. Kaem had offered 24,000 gold pieces for the contract and, as a gesture of faith, had lodged half of the amount in Waylander's name with Cheros, the main banker in Gulgothir. Waylander had completed the contract with his customary skill, though his memory burned with the shame of it. Seeing again the arrow in flight, he squeezed shut his eyes . . .
The night was cool, the stars gleaming like spear-points. Waylander stretched, forcing his mind to the present, but his victim's face returned again and again ... a gentle face, haunted by failure . . . soft eyes and a kind smile. He had been stooping to pick a flower when Waylander's bolt pierced his back . . .
'No!' shouted Waylander, sitting upright, his hand lashing out as if to drive the memory from him. Think of something else . . . anything else!
After the kill he had slipped away to the east, for the journey to Vagria and the promise of Kaem's gold. While on the road he met a merchant travelling from the north who told him in conversation of the
'How did you find us?'
'Krylla showed me the way.'
'And I suppose you would like to travel with us?'
The man smiled. 'Would that I could! No, I shall bide with you tonight, and then I must embark on another journey.'
'We do not have much food,' said Waylander.
'But you are welcome to what we have,' said Dar-dalion, moving to sit beside the old man.
'I am not hungry, but thank you. You are the priest?'
'Yes.'
The old man reached out and touched the hilt of Dardalion's dagger. 'An unusual object for a priest to carry?'
'These are unusual days,' answered Dardalion, his face flushing.
'They must be.' He turned his head towards Waylander. 'I cannot see you, but I feel your power. And also your anger. Are you angry with me?'
'Not yet,' said Waylander, 'but I am wondering when you will arrive at the point of your visit.'
'You think I have some ulterior motive?'
'Not at all,' said Waylander drily. 'A blind man invites himself to supper through the mystic talents of a frightened child and finds our fire in the middle of a veritable wilderness. What could be more natural? Who are you and what do you want?'
'Do you always have to be so loathsome?' said Danyal. 'I don't care who he is, he's welcome. Or perhaps you'd like to kill him? After all, you haven't killed anyone for a couple of hours.'
'Gods, woman, your prattle turns my stomach,' snarled the warrior. 'What do you want from me? So the boy died. That's what happens in wars . . . people die. And before you let fly with your viper responses, remind yourself of this: when I shouted to get down I see you managed to save yourself. Perhaps if you had thought about the boy, he wouldn't have had an arrow in his guts.'
'That's not fair!' she shouted.
'Life is like that.' He swept up his blankets and walked away from the group, his heart pounding as rage threatened to engulf him. He strode to the top of the rise and stared out over the plain. Somewhere out there were riders hunting him. They could not allow him to live. For if they failed in their quest their own lives would be forfeit. And here was Waylander trapped by a priest and a woman - caught like a monkey in a net while the lions moved in.
Folly. Sheer folly.
He should never have accepted a contract from that Vagrian serpent, Kaem. The man's name was a byword for treachery: Kaem the Cruel, Kaem the Killer of Nations - the web-weaver at the centre of the Vagrian army.
All of Waylander's instincts had screamed at him to spurn Kaem's contract, but he had ignored them. Now the Vagrian general would have sent out groups of assassins in every direction; they would know he had not headed south or west, and the ports to the east would be closed to him. Only the north beckoned - and the killers would be watching all paths to Skultik.
Waylander cursed softly. Kaem had offered 24,000 gold pieces for the contract and, as a gesture of faith, had lodged half of the amount in Waylander's name with Cheros, the main banker in Gulgothir. Waylander had completed the contract with his customary skill, though his memory burned with the shame of it. Seeing again the arrow in flight, he squeezed shut his eyes . . .
The night was cool, the stars gleaming like spear-points. Waylander stretched, forcing his mind to the present, but his victim's face returned again and again ... a gentle face, haunted by failure . . . soft eyes and a kind smile. He had been stooping to pick a flower when Waylander's bolt pierced his back . . .
'No!' shouted Waylander, sitting upright, his hand lashing out as if to drive the memory from him. Think of something else . . . anything else!
After the kill he had slipped away to the east, for the journey to Vagria and the promise of Kaem's gold. While on the road he met a merchant travelling from the north who told him in conversation of the
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