The Legend of the Deathwalker

'It will be done,' said Druss.

'Come to me, blackbeard,' said Shul-sen, and Druss returned to the bed and sat. She looked deep into his eyes. 'Everything I am, or could ever be, is in your hands now. Are you a man I can trust?'

'I am,' he said.

'I believe you.' Turning her gaze to Talisman she spoke again. 'I shall return to the Dark Place, and free the soul of Zhusai. Do not fail me.'

Her eyes closed, then flickered. A long, broken sigh came from her throat. Talisman ran to the bedside, untying the cord that bound her wrists. Her eyes opened, and a scream formed. Talisman hugged her to him. 'It is all right, Zhusai. You are back with us!'

Nosta Khan moved to the bedside, and placed his hand upon her head. After a moment he said: 'She has returned. This is Zhusai. I shall now cast spells to prevent any re-entry. You did well, Talisman, to deceive her.'

'I did not deceive her,' replied the Nadir coldly. 'I shall fulfil my part of the bargain.'

'Pah! That is insane. An army is marching upon us and the destiny of the Nadir rests in your hands. This is no time to play the man of honour.'

Talisman walked to the far wall and picked up his dagger. Slowly he moved towards Nosta Khan. 'Who is the leader here?' he asked softly, his voice cold.

'You are, but. .'

'Yes, I am, you miserable worm. I am the leader. You are my shaman. I will tolerate no further disobedience. I do not play at honour. It is what I am. My word is iron. Now and ever more. We will go now to the Shrine. You will summon Oshikai, then do what you must to send Druss and myself into the Void. Is that clear, shaman?'

'It is clear, Talisman.'

'Not Talisman to you!' thundered the warrior. 'Now is it clear?'

'It is clear. . my Lord.'

* * *

'Why do you hold to my hand, po-et?' asked Niobe, as she and Sieben walked the ramparts of the western wall. Sieben, his passion spent during the last two hours with her, gave a weary smile.

'It is a custom among my people,' he said, lifting her fingers to his lips and kissing them. 'Lovers often walk hand-in-hand. It is, perhaps, a spiritual joining; or at least a touching that proclaims a couple are lovers. It is also considered pleasurable. Do you not like it?'

'I like feeling you inside me,' she said, withdrawing her hand and sitting back on the battlements. 'I like the taste of your tongue upon mine. I like the many delights your hands can conjure. But I like to feel free when I walk. Hand-holding is for mother and small child. I am not your child.'

Sieben chuckled, and sat back admiring the way the moonlight made her long hair shine. 'You are a delight to me,' he said. 'A breath of fresh air after a lifetime in musty rooms.'

'Your clothes are very pretty,' she noted, reaching out and stroking the blue silk of his shirt. 'The buttons contain many colours.'

'Mother-of-pearl,' he said. 'Exquisite, aren't they?' On an impulse he pulled the shirt over his head and stood bare-chested on the wall. 'Here. It is yours.'

Niobe giggled, then removed her own shirt of faded green wool. Sieben stared at her full breasts, and saw that the nipples were erect. Arousal flared afresh within him. Stepping forward he reached out to caress her. Niobe jumped back, holding the blue silk shirt to her body. 'No,' she said. 'First we talk.'

'Talk? What do you want to talk about?'

'Why no wife for you? Your friend has wife. And you are old.'

'Old? Thirty-four is not old. I am in the prime of my life.'

'You have balding patch at the crown. I have seen it.'

Sieben's hand swept up to his blond hair, pushing his fingers through to the scalp. 'Balding patch? It can't be.'

Her laughter pealed out. 'You are peacock,' she said. 'Worse than woman.'

'My grandfather had a full head of hair to his death at ninety. Baldness does not run in our family.'

Niobe slipped into the blue shirt and then moved alongside Sieben, taking his arm and pulling his hand from his hair.

'So why no wife?'

'It was a joke about the hair, yes?'

'No. Why no wife?'

'That's a difficult question.' He shrugged. 'I have known many beautiful women, but none I would wish to spend my life with. I mean, I like apples, but I wouldn't want to live on a permanent diet of them.'

'What is apples?'

'Fruit. Er. . like figs.'

'Good for bowels,' she said.

'Exactly. But let's move on from that, shall we? What I'm trying to say is that I like the company of many women. I am easily bored.'

'You are not strong man,' she said, sadness in her voice. 'You are frightened man. Many women is easy. Make children is easy. Life with them, help to raise them, that is hard. Watch babies die. . that is hard. I have had two husbands. Both die. Both good men. Strong. My third will be also strong. Many babies, so some will survive.'

Sieben gave a wry smile. 'I tend towards the belief that life holds more than making strong babies. I live for pleasure, for sudden bursts of joy. For surprises. There are enough people making babies and eking out their boring lives in the harshness of deserts, or the green splendour of mountains. The world will not miss my children.'

She considered his words thoughtfully. 'My people came over the tall mountains with Oshikai. They made babies, who grew proud and strong. They gave their blood to the land, and the land nurtured their young. For a thousand years. Now there is me. I owe it to my ancestors to bring life to the land, so that in a thousand years to come there will be those with the blood of Niobe and her ancestors. You are good lover, po-et. You bring many joy-trembles in your love-making. But joy-trembles are easy; I can do that for myself. I feel great love for you. But I will not wed frightened man. I have seen strong warrior of the Curved Horn. He has no wife. I think I will go to him.'

Sieben felt her words hit him like a blow to the belly. But he forced a smile. 'Of course, lovely one. You go and make babies.'

'You want shirt back?'

'No. It suits you. You look. . very fine.'

Without a word she left him there. Sieben shivered as a cold breeze touched his bare skin. What am I doing here, he wondered? A Nadir warrior with short hair and a pronounced widow's peak climbed to the ramparts and, ignoring Sieben, stood staring out to the west.

'A pleasant night,' remarked Sieben.

The man turned and stared at him. 'It will be a long night,' he said, his voice deep and cold.

Sieben saw a candle-flame flickering through the window of the Shrine. 'Still searching,' he said.

'Not searching,' said the man. 'My Lord, Talisman, and your friend are journeying to Giragast.'

'I fear something has been lost in the translation,' said Sieben. 'Giragast isn't a place, it is a myth.'

'It is a place,' said the man stubbornly. 'Their bodies are lying on the cold floor, their souls have gone to Giragast.'

Sieben's mouth was suddenly dry. 'Are you saying they are dead?'

'No, but they are going to the place of the dead. I do not think they will come back.'

Sieben left the man and ran to the Shrine. As the Nadir had said, Druss and Talisman were lying side by side on the dusty floor. The shaman, Nosta Khan, was sitting beside them. On top of the stone coffin was a lighted candle, marked with seven lines of black ink.

'What is happening?' he asked the shaman.

'They go with Oshikai to rescue the witch, Shul-sen,' whispered Nosta Khan.

'Into the Void?'

'Beyond the Void.' Nosta Khan glanced up at him, his eyes dark and malevolent. 'I saw you scatter the parchment to the winds. Did you also throw the knuckle-bones into the well?'

'Yes. And I burnt the hair and buried the pouch.'

'You gajin are soft and weak. Shaoshad deserved his punishment.'

'He wanted to bring Oshikai and Shul-sen back to life, to unite the Nadir,' said Sieben. 'That does not seem so terrible a crime.'