Hero in the Shadows (53 page)

Only a dozen made it, forming a defensive circle. They were exhausted now.

“It would take no more than one, maybe two blades,” said Song Xiu in a momentary lull in the fighting. He swore and cast an angry glance at the stone arch. They were so close now that their faces and those of their enemies were bathed in blue light. One warrior tried to fling his sword over the heads of the
Kriaz-nor
. It spun toward the gateway, but an enemy warrior leapt and caught it by the hilt. The blade shivered and broke.

Song Xiu stared venomously at the remaining
Kriaz-nor
, who were standing now some ten feet away. They were equally weary. “One last charge,” said Song Xiu.

A movement caught Kysumu’s eye. He glanced to the left.

Low to the ground, moving behind a ruined wall, was a crawling figure. Kysumu saw the edge of a wolfskin jerkin. Suddenly Yu Yu Liang surged to his feet, sprinting toward the gateway. The three
Kriaz-nor
stationed there ran to block his way.

Yu Yu leapt at them, his sword cleaving the air.

“Now!” shouted Song Xiu.

The
Riaj-nor
charged. Kysumu lost sight of Yu Yu and joined Song Xiu and the others. They threw themselves at the enemy. The
Kriaz-nor
did not give ground, and the weary attackers could not force them back.

The battle was being fought now as if in a dream, the movements of the warriors slow and sluggish. Finally both sides fell back and stared malevolently at each other. There were only eight of the attackers still standing and fourteen
Kriaz-nor
.

In the lull Kysumu looked around for Yu Yu. He knew what he would see.

His body lay close to the gateway. His sword arm had been
severed. The
Rajnee
blade lay beside it. Kysumu felt sick with grief. Then he saw the body twitch. The
Kriaz-nor
guarding the gateway had moved forward to stand with their comrades. None of them could see Yu Yu.

Kysumu watched as Yu Yu rolled to his side. There was a ghastly wound in his belly, and his entrails had spilled out. Even so he began to crawl, leaving a bloody smear on the rocks. Reaching out with his left hand, Yu Yu gathered up the fallen sword. He groaned as he did so. One of the
Kriaz-nor
swung around. Yu Yu flung the blade into the gateway.

There was a searing burst of brightness accompanied by a high-pitched hum that made the ground vibrate. The blue lightning ceased to crackle. Instead a silver sheen covered the gateway.

The
Kriaz-nor
suddenly turned and raced toward the arch. Thirteen made it through, but as the last warrior crossed it, the silver suddenly became gray rock. At first it seemed that the warrior had merely stopped in the gateway. But then his body slid down the stone and flopped to its back. He had been cut in half.

Kysumu ran to where Yu Yu lay. Gently he turned him. Yu Yu’s eyes were open.

“Oh, my friend,” said Kysumu, tears flowing. “You closed the gateway.”

Yu Yu could not hear him, and Kysumu gazed down into the dead face. He hugged Yu Yu to him and sat rocking back and forth. Song Xiu moved to his side and sat down. For a while he sat there silently as Kysumu wept. Then he spoke.

“He was a good man,” he said.

Kysumu kissed Yu Yu’s brow, then laid him back on the ground. “It makes no sense to me,” said Kysumu, brushing away his tears. “He could have lived. He didn’t want to be the
pria-shath
. He didn’t want to fight demons and die. So why? Why did he throw away his life?”

“He did not
throw
it away, human. He
gave
it. For you, for
me, for this land. Why do you think he was chosen? If the Source had wanted the best swordsman, he might have picked you. But he didn’t. He wanted a man. An ordinary man.” Song Xiu chuckled. “A ditchdigger with a stolen sword. And look what that ditchdigger achieved.”

“It just makes me sad,” said Kysumu, reaching down and stroking Yu Yu’s face.

“It makes me proud,” said Song Xiu. “I shall find his soul in the Void, and we will walk together.”

Kysumu looked into the warrior’s face. Song Xiu’s hair was gray, his face aging. “What is happening to you?”

“I am dying,” said Song Xiu. “We are out of time.”

Kysumu swung around and saw that the other
Riaj-nor
were all stretched out on the ground, unmoving. “Why?” asked Kysumu.

“We should have died thousands of years ago,” Song Xiu told him, his voice no more than a whisper. “We knew when we returned that there would be only days left to us. Yu Yu Liang made it worth the price we paid.”

Song Xiu lay down. His hair was white now, the skin of his face as dry as parchment.

Kysumu moved to him. “I am so sorry,” he said. “I … misjudged you. All of you. I have been a fool. Forgive me!”

The
Riaj-nor
did not answer. A breeze blew across the ruins. Song Xiu’s body shivered and turned to dust.

Kysumu sat for a while, lost in thoughts and bittersweet memories. Then he took his sword and dug out a grave for Yu Yu Liang. He covered it with stones, then sheathed his sword and walked away from the ruins of Kuan Hador.

Waylander gathered up his crossbow and his knives and moved down the stairs to the lower library. Keeva was sitting there, but there was no sign of the two warriors.

“They left,” said Keeva, rising and putting her arms around the Gray Man. “How are you feeling?”

“Like death,” he told her with a wry grin.

“I heard the … demon,” she said. “I have never been more terrified. Not even when Camran took me from the village.”

“That seems a long time ago now,” he replied. Taking her hand, Waylander made his way down to the terrace steps, where he found Ustarte waiting.

“The gateway is closed,” she told him. “Yu Yu Liang died to seal it. Kysumu survived.”

Waylander glanced around him, seeking the body of Eldicar Manushan.

“He is dead,” said Ustarte.

“Truly dead?” queried Waylander. “I would have thought the fall would have killed him.”

“He had some regenerative powers. They could not withstand being struck by a bolt of lightning.”

“So it is over,” Waylander said wearily. “That is good. Where is Matze?”

“He is still tied in the cellar. Keeva can release him. You and I have to go to the stables.”

“Why there?”

“I have one last gift for you, my friend.”

Waylander smiled. “I can feel death approaching, Ustarte. My blood is flowing sluggishly, and your spell is wearing off. I do not think this is a time for gifts.”

“Trust me, Gray Man.”

Taking his arm, she led him back into the palace.

Keeva stood for a moment, then ran down to the cellar to free Matze Chai. The old man was naked and tied to a chair. He looked up as she entered and stared at her quizzically.

“I am here to free you,” she told him. “The Gray Man has killed the sorcerer.”

“Of course he has,” said Matze, “and what, pray, possessed you to come to me without bearing any clothing for me to wear? Does a little peril make people lose all sense of good
manners? Untie me and then go to my rooms and fetch a suitable robe and some soft shoes.”

Keeva shook her head and smiled. “My apologies, lord,” she said with a bow. “Is there anything else you require?”

Matze nodded. “If any of my servants have survived, you can tell them to prepare a sweet tisane.”

The dawn was breaking as Keeva finally made her way to the stables. She found Ustarte sitting on a stone bench under a willow tree. The two
Kriaz-nor
warriors were beside her. There was no sign of the Gray Man.

“Where is he?” she asked.

“He is gone, Keeva. I opened a portal for him.”

“Where did you send him?”

“Where he always wanted to be.”

Keeva sat down. A great sadness settled on her. “It is hard to believe,” she said, “that there is no Gray Man. He seemed somehow … immortal, unbeatable.”

“And he is, my dear,” Ustarte told her. “He is only gone from this world. Waylander will never truly die. Men like him are eternal. Somewhere, even as we speak, there is another Gray Man preparing to face his destiny.”

Keeva glanced at the two warriors, then back at the priestess. “And what of you? Where will you go?”

“We do not belong here, Keeva. Now that I am no longer using most of my power to thwart Deresh Karany, I have enough energy to take us home.”

“You will go back to the land of Deresh Karany?”

“The fight is over for you—but not for me. I cannot rest while the evil that spawned Deresh Karany still thrives.”

Keeva turned to the warriors. “And you will help her?”

“I think that we will,” said Three-swords.

U
SING A STIFF
broom, Tanya swept the dust from the hard-packed clay floor. As much rose around her as was pushed out through the door. Dakeyras had carved designs in the clay, and around the hearth he had created a mosaic with colored stones from the streambed. Last year’s crop had barely supplied them with enough coin to last the year, but Dakeyras had promised that with the first profits from the farm a real floor would be laid.

Tanya was looking forward to such a time, though, as she gazed upon the mosaic, she felt a stab of anticipated regret. She had been pregnant with the twins when Dakeyras had returned from the stream with the sack of stones. Six-year-old Gellan had been with him, full of excitement.

“I found all the red stones, Mama. I picked them all,” he said. “Isn’t that right, Father?”

“You did well, Gil,” said Dakeyras.

“You also soaked your new leggings,” Tanya told the boy.

“You can’t take stones from a streambed without getting wet,” said Dakeyras.

“That’s right, Mama. And it was fun getting wet. I almost caught a fish with my hands.”

Tanya gazed into the boy’s bright blue eyes. He grinned at her, and her heart melted. “All right,” she said, “you are forgiven. But why do we need a sack of stones?”

For the next two days Dakeyras and Gellan had worked on
the rectangular mosaic. Tanya remembered it fondly: the laughter and the joy, Gellan squealing with delight, Dakeyras, his face smeared with clay, tickling the boy. And when they had finished, she recalled them stripping off their clothing and having a race to the stream, which Dakeyras let the boy win. Those had been good days.

Tanya put down her broom and stood in the doorway. Gellan was out in the meadow with his wooden sword, the twins were asleep in their crib, and Dakeyras had gone out hunting for venison. The day was quiet, the sun bright in a sky dotted with puffballs of white cloud. They looked like sheep grazing on a field of blue, she thought.

It would be good to have venison. Supplies were low, and though the town storekeeper extended them credit, Tanya was loath to fall further into debt.

People had been kind. But then, Dakeyras was a popular man. Everyone remembered him as the officer whose prompt action had saved the community from the Sathuli raid. He had fought with distinction, and he and his friend Gellan, after whom they had named their son, had both been awarded medals. Gellan had remained with the army. Tanya often wondered whether Dakeyras regretted becoming a farmer.

His commanding officer had come to see Tanya the day after Dakeyras had said he wanted to resign his commission, telling her that he felt her husband was making a grave mistake. “He is that rarest of animals, a natural fighting man, but also a thinker. The men revere him. He could go far, Tanya.”

“I did not ask him to leave the service, sir,” she said. “It was his own decision.”

“That is a shame,” he told her. “I had hoped that it was your idea and that I could persuade you to change your mind.”

“I would be happy with him whether he was a soldier, a farmer, a baker … But he told me that he had to leave the service.”

“Did he say why? Was he unhappy?”

“No, sir. He was too happy.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can say no more. It would not be right.”

He had still been confused when he left. How could Tanya have told him what Dakeyras had confided to her? The fighting and the killing, which dismayed most men, had begun to fill Dakeyras with a savage delight. “If I stay,” he had said, “I will become someone I do not want to be.” In the end his commanding officer had convinced Dakeyras to take a year’s sabbatical while still holding his commission. That year was almost up.

Tanya walked out into the sunshine and untied the ribbon that held her long blond hair in place. Shaking the dust from her hair, she moved to the well, slowly drawing up a bucket. Reaching out, she dragged it over until it rested on the stone wall. She drank deeply, then splashed water to her face.

“Riders, Mama!” shouted Gil.

Tanya turned toward the north and saw a line of horsemen making their way down the slope. She wondered if they might be soldiers but soon saw that although they were heavily armed, they were not from the Drenai garrison.

She walked back toward the house and waited for them by the porch.

The first of the men, riding a tall bay, drew rein. He had a long face and deep-set eyes. Tanya, who liked most people, found herself vaguely repelled by the man. She glanced at the other riders. They were unshaven, their clothes dirty. Alongside the lead rider was a man with Nadir features: high cheekbones and slanted eyes. No one spoke.

“If you would like to water your horses,” said Tanya, “you may use the stream. It is a little farther back into the trees.”

“We didn’t come for water,” said the long-faced man. He stared at her, his eyes glittering. Tanya felt both anger and fear as his gaze flowed over her. “You are a pretty thing, farm
girl. I like a woman with good breasts. I think you can supply what we need.”

“You had better leave,” she said. “My husband … and his friends … will be back soon. You are not welcome here.”

“We are not welcome anywhere,” said the rider. “Now you can do this easy or hard. Best to know that I gutted the last woman who chose hard.”

Tanya stood very still. One of the twins began to cry for food, the sound high and keening. Little Gellan had moved closer.