The Sword in the Storm by David Gemmell

Author:David Gemmell [Gemmell, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780345432346
Publisher: * Clean Text
Published: 2001-01-30T08:00:00+00:00

'Frightening, but sad,' he told his new companion.

'Why sad?'

'It is chained,' said Conn. 'No creature that proud should be chained.'

The glowing figure moved in closer, taking his arm and leading him back to the stream. Conn tried to see the face, but the features seemed to shift and flow, ever changing under the light that glowed around it. A beard, then beardless, long hair, then no hair, as if his face was being reshaped moment by moment. The effort to focus made Conn's head swim, and he looked away. 'Which of the Seidh are you?' he asked.

'I am not Seidh, Connavar. I am a man long dead, whose soul was rescued and brought to the wood.'

'Why can I not see you clearly? Your features shift and change.'

'It is a very long time since I last assumed human form. Give me a moment.' The figure sat motionless. Slowly the flickering lights around him faded away, and Conn found himself sitting beside a young man, with dark hair and gentle brown eyes. 'Is that better?'

'Yes. Is this how you looked in life?'

'When I was young. I was almost a hundred years old when I died.'

'Why did the Seidh keep your soul alive?'

'They had their reasons. Now tell me why you saved the fawn.'

Conn shrugged. 'It was trapped in the brambles. I could not leave it there to die.'

'As you could not leave Riamfada?'

Conn shook his head. 'That was different. He was my friend. A man does not desert his friends.'

'How do you feel?'

Conn smiled. 'Tranquil. It is very pleasant here, but I know it is a dream place, and my body remains in your wood, cold and wet and bleeding.'

'Not so,' he said. 'It is being healed while you sit here. Fresh clothes will be there for you. And a gift from a friend.'

'My friends are all dead,' he said sadly, remembering Banouin. He found he could picture the corpse on the gibbet now without any hatred for the people who had killed him. He sighed. 'What is it that you have taken from me?' he asked.

'We have taken nothing. We have merely… separated you from your more… human instincts. Had we not done so you could not have come here.'

'My human instincts?'

'Your anger, your violence, your hatred, your lust for revenge. None of these have a place here.'

'But I am human,' said Conn, 'so which part of me is here?'

'The best part,' answered the figure. The spirit, free of the darkness of the flesh.'

Conn sat in the sunshine, realizing that he felt more at peace than at any time in his life. He looked back at the chained bear. 'Why is the bear here?' he asked. 'And why the chains? It is already motionless.'

'We did not put the chains on the bear, Connavar. They areyour chains.'

'Mine? I don't understand.'

'The bear is that part of you which cannot exist here. The chains are self-imposed: duty, responsibility, honour. Without them the bear would be merely a savage and selfish killer. Are you ready to return now?'

He thought about the question.

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