How Skilgannon’s heart would sink when he saw this place.
He thought of the man he had encountered in Gamal’s dream place. Jianna was right. There was a fierce intelligence in his eyes, and there was no doubt he was possessed of an indomitable spirit. Memnon had observed the peasant girl placing the swords in his hands, and had seen him awaken. He was weak and disoriented — and yet still he summoned the strength to kill the beast that came at him.
Memnon turned south, soaring high above the river Rostrias and back towards the distant mountains.
He passed over valleys and hills, forests and streams, seeking out the swordsman. At one point he saw a group of Joinings and a small man in a red tunic. It was an incongruous sight. Two of the Joinings were hauling a wagon. At any other time such a tableau would have piqued his interest. He flew on, scanning the forest trails.
Then he saw a flickering campfire set in a wooded hollow. It was well placed and could not have been seen from ground level. Memnon floated down, to hover above the trio sitting quietly by the fire. He gazed at Skilgannon. The man’s expression was stern and distant. Close by, the Eternal Reborn kept glancing at him. Beyond them both was the huge peasant with the ancient axe.
‘How did you die. . the first time?’ he heard the woman ask.
‘Painfully,’ replied Skilgannon. He glanced across at the peasant. ‘How are you faring, Harad?’
‘I’m hungry,’ answered the man. He looked up. ‘Did you see Druss in the Void when you were there?’
‘I do not remember. It is all hazy now.’
‘Why did you not reach the Golden Valley he spoke of?’
‘The evils of my life prevented me. All I remember is that I did not look as you see me now. My arms were scaled. There were no mirrors there, but I would guess my face was scaled also. The evil do not cross into the Valley.’
‘What do they do?’ asked the woman.
‘They fight to survive.’
‘But they are already dead,’ said the woman. ‘What more can happen to them?’
Skilgannon shrugged. ‘I do not have the answer to that. When you kill a beast in the Void it simply disappears. Ceases to exist, perhaps.’
‘And these beasts attack those who. . who are not scaled?’ asked Harad.
‘Yes.’
‘Hardly seems fair,’ pointed out the woman. ‘Someone good dies, enters the Void, and is then killed again by a demon.’
Skilgannon laughed. ‘Fair? In my previous life I heard that so often. I would like to meet the man who first suggested that life was fair. It is not. It is just life. Some people are lucky. Some are not. Fairness has nothing to do with it. And if that is the situation in life, then why should the Void operate any differently?’
‘Do you fear returning to it?’
‘Would it make a difference?’ he responded. ‘I do not fear the inevitable.’
‘Druss said he would take Charis to the Golden Valley,’ said Harad.
‘Then he will,’ said Skilgannon. ‘Be assured of that.’
‘I wish that I had been killed with her,’ said Harad. ‘We would be together then.’
‘One day you will be together,’ said the woman.
That day will be soon, thought Memnon. Judging by the distance his spirit had travelled it would take the Shadows no more than three nights to reach them. Memnon was about to return to his body when the woman spoke again, this time to Skilgannon.
‘Do you regret loving the Eternal?’
He smiled. ‘One fact I learned in my life is that we should never regret love. In many ways it is what defines us. In that respect I have been lucky. I have been loved, and I have loved. Ultimately that is all that counts. The dreams of men all come to dust. If I did not know that in my first life, I know it now.
Nothing remains of the world I knew — not even its history. All is fable and shadow.’
‘The Eternal remains,’ she said.
‘For now,’ he told her.
‘You really believe we can end her reign?’
‘Askari, there are many areas of my life which have fallen short of what could have been. There were -
and there are — men more clever, more powerful, more wise than I. But I have never been defeated in life or in war. Ustarte — whom you call the Blessed Priestess — said I would change this world. And I trust her wisdom.’
Arrogant man, thought Memnon, but then he looked into the sapphire eyes.
And felt a stab of fear.
Gilden rode down the slope and onto the flatland. The troop was some little way behind him, and Gilden had volunteered to scout ahead. Some way ahead was a thick, wooded area that could conceal enemy troops. Gilden rode slowly towards it, his bow in his left hand, an arrow notched. As he approached the trees the wind changed. His mount’s ears pricked up, and it veered to the left. Calming the horse he stared into the wood. At first there was nothing to be seen. Then came a movement, as the undergrowth rustled. A Jiamad stepped out, and stood staring at the rider. It was a big beast, maybe seven and a half feet tall, with a massive breadth of shoulder. Gently pulling back on the reins Gilden walked his horse backwards, creating space between himself and the monster. Over short distances a Jiamad could run down a horse. Another Jiamad appeared. Then another. They made no hostile move towards him, but they watched him. None of them were wearing baldrics, or other indications of army apparel. It was likely they were runaways.
Suddenly a familiar voice called out: ‘Is that you, Gilden?’ Before he could answer he saw the young merchant, Stavut, emerge from the trees. He strolled past the beasts and out into the open. ‘Good to see you. Is Alahir with you?’
It was like a dream. There was no sense to it. ‘What are you doing here?’ asked Gilden, staring at the merchant. His clothes were filthy, and stained with what looked like dried blood. He was unshaven, but as jaunty as ever.
‘It is a long story. You can relax. Not one of my lads will attack you.’
‘Your lads?’
‘As I said, it is a long story. I’ve been teaching them how to hunt.’
Gilden’s horse backed away as more Jiamads emerged from the trees. Gilden watched them. There were over forty beasts. ‘These are all yours?’
‘Not mine exactly. They are free, you see.’
‘Oh, yes, I see. I also see you have blood on your clothes. Did you get that bringing down a deer, Stavut?’
Stavut sighed. ‘No. We were in a battle. We killed the soldiers who had massacred some villagers. It was not pretty.’
‘Why don’t you climb up behind me, Stavut?’ said Gilden softly. ‘I’ll ride you away from here. We’ll see Alahir together.’
‘Can’t leave my lads,’ said Stavut. ‘Did you know there is an army marching from the south? We saw them. Must be twenty, thirty thousand strong. That’s why we are moving north. Keeping out of their way.’
If Gilden had been surprised to find Stavut with a pack of beasts he was even more amazed moments later. Two huge Jiamads came into sight, pulling Stavut’s wagon behind them. They paused at the tree line. Stavut turned. ‘Wolves killed my horses,’ he said.
‘I don’t understand any of this,’ admitted Gilden. ‘I think you should ride with me. You may think these beasts are tame, Stavut, but you are in great danger. You can’t trust them. They are vermin.’
‘Vermin? Did you know they don’t even like killing people?’ said Stavut, his eyes angry. ‘We don’t taste good. They kill us because they are bred to do that, trained to do that, ordered to do that. By men.