Read Online Drenai Series 05 - Waylander II: In the Realm of the Wolf by David Gemmell - Free Book Online
Book: Drenai Series 05 - Waylander II: In the Realm of the Wolf by David Gemmell
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Authors: David Gemmell
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talented. You are fast and you have courage. But the men hunting your father are warriors. Belash would kill you in two. . . three . . . heartbeats. Morak would not take much longer. Senta and Courail both learned their skills in the arena.'
'Can I be as good?'
He shook his head. 'I don't think so. Much as I hate to admit it I think there is an evil in men like them . . . men like me. We are natural killers, and though we may not talk of our feelings yet each of us knows the bitter truth. We enjoy fighting. We enjoy killing. I don't think you will. Indeed, I don't think you should.'
'You think my father enjoys killing?'
'He's a mystery,' admitted Angel. 'I remember talking to Danyal about that. She said he was two men, the one kind, the other a demon. There are gates in the soul which should never be unlocked. He found a key.'
'He has always been kind to me, and to my sister.'
'I don't doubt that. What happened to Krylla?'
'She married and moved away.'
'When I knew you as children you had a ... power, a Talent. You and she could talk to each other without speaking. You could see things far off. Can you still do it?'
'No,' she said, turning away.
'When did it fail?'
'I don't want to talk about it. Are you ready to teach me?'
'Of course,' he answered. 'That is why I am being paid. Stand still.' Rising he moved to stand before her, his hands running over her shoulders and arms, fingers pressing into the muscles, tracing the lines of her biceps and triceps, up over the deltoids and the joints of her shoulders.
She felt herself reddening. 'What are you doing?' she asked, forcing herself to meet his eyes.
'Your arms are not strong enough,' he told her, 'especially at the back here,' he added, squeezing her triceps. 'All your power is in your legs and lungs. And your balance is wrong. Give me your hand.' Even as he spoke he took hold of her wrist, lifting her arm and staring down at her fingers. 'Long,' he said, almost to himself. Too long. It means you cannot get a good grip on the sword-hilt. We'll cut more leather for it tonight. Follow!'
He strode to the edge of the tree line and walked from trunk to trunk, examining the branches. At last satisfied he stood beneath a spreading elm, a thick limb sprouting just out of reach above him. 'I want you to jump and catch hold of that branch and then slowly pull yourself up until your chin touches the bark. Then - and still slowly, mind lower yourself until the arms are almost straight. Understand?'
'Of course I understand,' she snapped. 'It was hardly the most complex of instructions.'
'Then do it!'
'How many times?'
'As many as you can. I want to see the limits of your strength.'
She leapt upwards, her fingers hooking over the branch, and hung for a moment adjusting her grip. Then slowly she hauled herself up.
'How does it feel?' he asked.
'Easy,' she answered, lowering herself.
'Again!'
At three she began to feel her biceps stretching. At five they began to
burn. At seven her arms trembled and gave way and she dropped to the ground. 'Pathetic,' said Angel. 'But it is a start. Tomorrow morning you will begin your day with seven, eight if you can. Then you can run. When you return you will do another seven. In three days I will expect you to complete twelve.'
'How many could you do?'
'At least a hundred,' he replied. 'Follow!'
'Will you stop saying follow! It makes me feel like a dog.'
But he was moving even as she spoke and Miriel followed him back across the clearing. 'Wait here,' he ordered, then walked to the side of the cabin where the winter wood was stored. Selecting two large chunks he carried them back to where Miriel was waiting and laid them on the ground twenty feet apart. 'I want you to run from one to the other,' he said.
'You want me to run twenty feet? Why?'
His hand snaked out, rapping against her cheek. 'Stop asking stupid questions and do
'Can I be as good?'
He shook his head. 'I don't think so. Much as I hate to admit it I think there is an evil in men like them . . . men like me. We are natural killers, and though we may not talk of our feelings yet each of us knows the bitter truth. We enjoy fighting. We enjoy killing. I don't think you will. Indeed, I don't think you should.'
'You think my father enjoys killing?'
'He's a mystery,' admitted Angel. 'I remember talking to Danyal about that. She said he was two men, the one kind, the other a demon. There are gates in the soul which should never be unlocked. He found a key.'
'He has always been kind to me, and to my sister.'
'I don't doubt that. What happened to Krylla?'
'She married and moved away.'
'When I knew you as children you had a ... power, a Talent. You and she could talk to each other without speaking. You could see things far off. Can you still do it?'
'No,' she said, turning away.
'When did it fail?'
'I don't want to talk about it. Are you ready to teach me?'
'Of course,' he answered. 'That is why I am being paid. Stand still.' Rising he moved to stand before her, his hands running over her shoulders and arms, fingers pressing into the muscles, tracing the lines of her biceps and triceps, up over the deltoids and the joints of her shoulders.
She felt herself reddening. 'What are you doing?' she asked, forcing herself to meet his eyes.
'Your arms are not strong enough,' he told her, 'especially at the back here,' he added, squeezing her triceps. 'All your power is in your legs and lungs. And your balance is wrong. Give me your hand.' Even as he spoke he took hold of her wrist, lifting her arm and staring down at her fingers. 'Long,' he said, almost to himself. Too long. It means you cannot get a good grip on the sword-hilt. We'll cut more leather for it tonight. Follow!'
He strode to the edge of the tree line and walked from trunk to trunk, examining the branches. At last satisfied he stood beneath a spreading elm, a thick limb sprouting just out of reach above him. 'I want you to jump and catch hold of that branch and then slowly pull yourself up until your chin touches the bark. Then - and still slowly, mind lower yourself until the arms are almost straight. Understand?'
'Of course I understand,' she snapped. 'It was hardly the most complex of instructions.'
'Then do it!'
'How many times?'
'As many as you can. I want to see the limits of your strength.'
She leapt upwards, her fingers hooking over the branch, and hung for a moment adjusting her grip. Then slowly she hauled herself up.
'How does it feel?' he asked.
'Easy,' she answered, lowering herself.
'Again!'
At three she began to feel her biceps stretching. At five they began to
burn. At seven her arms trembled and gave way and she dropped to the ground. 'Pathetic,' said Angel. 'But it is a start. Tomorrow morning you will begin your day with seven, eight if you can. Then you can run. When you return you will do another seven. In three days I will expect you to complete twelve.'
'How many could you do?'
'At least a hundred,' he replied. 'Follow!'
'Will you stop saying follow! It makes me feel like a dog.'
But he was moving even as she spoke and Miriel followed him back across the clearing. 'Wait here,' he ordered, then walked to the side of the cabin where the winter wood was stored. Selecting two large chunks he carried them back to where Miriel was waiting and laid them on the ground twenty feet apart. 'I want you to run from one to the other,' he said.
'You want me to run twenty feet? Why?'
His hand snaked out, rapping against her cheek. 'Stop asking stupid questions and do
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