Waylander by David Gemmell

Author:David Gemmell [Gemmell, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
ISBN: 9780307797506
Publisher: Random House, Inc.
Published: 2011-06-07T23:00:00+00:00

14

DANYAL AND WAYLANDER made love in a sheltered hollow away from the wagons, and the experience shook Waylander. He could not recall the moment of penetration or any sense of passion. He had been filled with a desire to be closer to Danyal, to somehow absorb her body into his own or perhaps lose his own within hers. And for the first time in many years he had ceased to be aware of movement around him. He had been lost within the lovemaking.

Now that he was alone, fear tugged at him.

What if Cadoras had crept upon them?

What if the Nadir had returned?

What if the Brotherhood …?

What if?

Hewla was right. Love was a greater enemy at this time.

“You are getting old,” he told himself. “Old and tired.”

He knew he was no longer as swift or as strong, and the silver hairs were multiplying. Somewhere out in the vast blackness of the world was a young killer more swift, more deadly than the legendary Waylander. Was it Cadoras? Or one of the Brotherhood?

The moment of drama with the Nadir had been telling. Waylander had survived it on experience and bluff, for with Danyal beside him he had not wanted to die. His greatest strength had always been his lack of fear, but now, when he needed all his talents, the fear was returning.

He rubbed at his eyes, aware of the need for sleep yet reluctant to give in. Sleep was the brother of death, said the song. But it was gentle and kind. Weariness eased its warmth into his muscles, and the rock against which he sat seemed soft and welcoming. Too tired to pull his blankets over himself, he laid his head back on the rock and slept. As he fell into darkness, he saw the face of Dardalion; the priest was calling to him, but he could not hear the words.

Durmast was sleeping beneath the lead wagon when the dream came to him. He saw a man in silver armor: a handsome young man, clean-cut and strong. Durmast was dreaming of a woman with hair of shining chestnut brown and of a child, sturdy and strong. He pushed away the image of the warrior, but it returned again and again.

“What do you want?” shouted the giant as the woman and the child shimmered and disappeared. “Leave me!”

“Your profits are dust unless you wake,” said the warrior.

“Wake? I am awake.”

“You are dreaming. You are Durmast, and you lead the wagons to Gulgothir.”

“Wagons?”

“Wake up, man! The hunters of the night are upon you!”

The giant groaned and rolled over; he sat up, rapping his head sharply against the base of the wagon, and cursed loudly. Rolling clear, he straightened. The dream had gone, but a lingering doubt remained.

Taking up a short double-headed ax, he moved toward the west.

Danyal awoke with a start. The dream had been powerful, and in it Dardalion had urged her to seek Waylander. Easing herself past the sleeping baker and his family, she slid the saber clear of its scabbard and leapt forward from the tailboard.

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