Damned - White Wolf Part 49

'If it will free you, then do it,' he said, facing her.

'Is the child well again?'

'Yes. As well as anyone can be who has suffered so much. Her mother was killed, her father is dead. She will have to live with those memories all her life. As you have, Garianne. What happened at Perapolis was evil. It was monstrous. For my actions there I am known - will always be known - as the d.a.m.ned. My guilt is certain. Do what you must.'

'We ... I ... cannot live like this any more.'

'Then don't,' he said. 'Aim your bow. Find your freedom.'

The crossbow came up. Skilgannon took a deep breath and prepared for the bolt to strike.

Yet she did not release the shaft. 'I don't know what to do. There is a voice I have not heard before.' Turning away from him she looked down at the stone courtyard far below.

Skilgannon guessed her intention.

'Don't!' he called, his voice commanding. 'Look at me, Garianne. Look at me!' Her head came up, but she was still perched on the very edge of the battlements. 'Your death would only make the horror of Perapolis complete. You survived. Your parents would have joyed in the thought of you living on. Their lives, their blood, are in you. You are their gift to the future. You leap from here, and their line has ended. Your father did not hide you so that you could end in this way. He loved you, and he wanted you to have a life. To find love as he perhaps found love. To have children of your own. In that way he lives on. I would sooner you sent a bolt into my heart than watch you do this to yourself.'

'He is right, child,' said the Old Woman. 'Kill him and be free. Call it punishment, call it justice, call it what you will. But do what you are here for.'

'I can't,' she said.

'You stupid coward!' shouted the Old Woman. 'Must I do everything myself?' She extended a bony hand towards Garianne. The girl screamed in pain and jerked upright. Her arm spasmed, and the crossbow once more rose.

Skilgannon swung towards the Old Woman. She was chanting now, the words in a tongue he had never heard.

Suddenly a figure appeared in the doorway behind her. A silver blade burst from the Old Woman's chest, then slid back. The crone staggered forward, and fell, her staff clattering across the stone. She struggled to her knees, a large blood stain spreading across her breast. Slowly she turned, and saw Jianna standing in the doorway, the Sword of Fire in her hand. The Old Woman's head dipped and she tugged the black veil from her face.

Skilgannon saw blood upon her lips. Then she spoke. 'Love . . . blinds us ... to peril,' she said. And slumped dead to the battlement floor.

On the ramparts Garianne cried out and began to fall. Skilgannon spun, took two running steps and hurled himself at her. His left hand grabbed at her tunic, his right hit a stone crenellation. His fingers slipped clear and he began to fall. Desperately he scrabbled at the stone, ripping the skin from his fingers. His hand hooked onto an inch-wide ledge some three feet below the battlements. Garianne was a dead weight, and the muscles of his arms were stretched to the point of tearing.

Jianna appeared above him. 'Let the girl go. I'll haul you up.'

'I cannot.'

'd.a.m.n you, Olek! You'll both die!'

'She is ... the last survivor ... of Perapolis.' His blood-covered hand was giving way. He grunted and tried to cling on.

Jianna climbed over the ramparts, lowering herself to the thin ledge. Holding to a crenellation she reached down, clamping her hand over his wrist. 'Now we all go, idiot!'

she said. Her added strength allowed him to hang on, but he could feel his endurance seeping away. All Jianna had bought him were a few moments.

Suddenly he felt Garianne's weight lessen. Looking down he saw that Druss had climbed out of the window of the roof hall, and was standing on the ledge, supporting the unconscious girl. 'Let her go, laddie! I have her.' Gratefully he released his grip. Garianne slid down into Druss's arms. Freed of the weight Skilgannon swung his left arm over the lip of stone and, as Jianna made way for him, climbed back to the battlements.

Jianna took his hand and wiped away the blood. His fingers were deeply gashed, and more blood pumped from the wounds. 'We almost died. Was she worth it?' she asked softly.

'Worth more than the Witch Queen and the d.a.m.ned? I would say so.'

'Then you are still the fool, Olek,' she snapped. 'I have no time for fools.' Yet she did not move away.

'We need to say goodbye,' he said.

'I don't want to say it,' she told him. Leaning in he kissed her lips. Malanek and several soldiers arrived on the battlements. They stood back respectfully as Jianna put her arms round Skilgannon's neck.

'We are both fools,' she whispered.

With that she swung away from him and, followed by her men, returned to the roof hall.

Skilgannon remained on the battlements. After a while he saw the Naashanites mount their horses and ride from the Citadel.

Druss joined him, Elanin beside him, holding his hand. 'Well, laddie, we did what we set out to do.'

'How is Diagoras?'

'Puncture wound over the hip, and a cut to his shoulder. He'll make it back to the temple.'

'And Garianne?'

'She's sleeping. Diagoras is with her. The twins didn't make it. Died together in the courtyard. It's a d.a.m.ned shame, but I think that's what Jared wanted. They were good lads.' The axeman sighed. 'Will you come with us?'

'No. I'll head north.'

Druss put out his hand, then noticed the gashes on Skilgannon's fingers. Clamping his hand instead to Skilgannon's shoulder he said: 'I hope you find what you are looking for.'

'And you, my friend.'

'Me?' Druss shook his head. 'I'm going home to my cabin. I'll sit on my porch and watch sunsets. I am way too old for this sort of life.'

Skilgannon laughed. Druss scowled at him. 'I am serious, laddie. I'll hang Snaga on the wall and put my helm and jerkin and gauntlets into a chest. By Heaven, I'll even padlock it and throw away the key.'

'So,' said Skilgannon, 'I have witnessed the last battle of Druss the Legend?'

'Druss the Legend? You know I have always hated to be called that.'

'I'm hungry, Uncle Druss,' said Elanin, tugging on his arm.

'Now that is a t.i.tle I do like,' said the old warrior, lifting the child into his arms. 'That is who I will be. Druss the Uncle. Druss the Farmer. And a pox on prophecies!'

'What prophecy?'

Druss grinned. 'A long time ago a seer told me I would die in battle at Dros Delnoch. It was always a nonsense. Delnoch is the greatest fortress ever built, six ma.s.sive walls and a keep.

There's not an army in the world could take it - and not a leader insane enough to try.'

EPILOGUE USTARTE STOOD ON HER BALCONY, STARING DOWN AT THE INNER gardens. Little Elanin was braiding small white flowers into a crown for the powerful bearded man sitting alongside her at the pool's edge. Diagoras was silting quietly on a marble bench, watching them.

The servant, Weldi, came up to her. 'Garianne has returned the Grey Man's crossbow to the museum, priestess,' he said. She nodded, and continued to gaze upon the child and the warrior. Elanin reached up and Druss dipped his head, accepting the crown of blooms.

'Why did the voices leave her?' asked Weldi.

Ustarte turned away from the balcony. 'Not all mysteries can be solved, Weldi. That is what makes life so fascinating. Perhaps Skilgannon's offer of sacrifice was enough for them. Perhaps Garianne had fallen in love with him, and that love gave her peace. Perhaps the soul of the child she is now carrying softened her need for revenge. It does not matter.

She is no longer haunted.'

'And Skilgannon does not know he is to be a father.'

'No. One day, perhaps . . . Look at the child, Weldi. Is she not beautiful?'

'She is, priestess. A rare delight. Will she be someone important to the world?'

'She already is.'

'You know what I mean. The two greatest warriors in the world came together on a quest to save her. They risked their lives. They battled a sorceress and a villain with magic swords. The result ought to be world-changing.'

'Ah, yes,' she agreed. 'I like those romances too. The return of a golden age, the banishment of evil, the little princess who will one day be great.'

'Exactly. Do any of the many futures show this?'

'They show that Elanin will be happy, and will have happy children. Is that not enough?'

'I don't know,' admitted Weldi.

'In a few years' time Druss the Legend will stand on the walls of Dros Delnoch and defy the greatest army the world has ever seen. He will do this to save the Drenai people from slaughter, and keep alive the dreams of civilization. Is this more to your liking?'

'Ah, indeed it is, priestess.'

She smiled fondly at him. 'And do you think Druss would find that more important than rescuing this child from a place of darkness and horror?'

Weldi gazed down at the warrior below, the absurd crown of flowers on his greying hair. 'I suppose he wouldn't,' he admitted. 'Why is that?'

'Let me ask you this,' said Ustarte, 'if a hero sees a child in danger of drowning, does he need to know the fate of worlds hangs in the balance before leaping in and trying to rescue it?'

'No,' said Weldi. 'But if we are playing this game, what if someone told the hero that the child was destined to be evil?'

'A good question. What then would Druss do?'

Weldi laughed suddenly. 'He would leap in and save the child.'

'And why?'

'Because that is what heroes do.'

'Excellent, my friend.'

'So what will happen at Dros Delnoch?'

Ustarte laughed. 'Your curiosity is insatiable. Why not ask me what you really want?'

He grinned at her. 'I would like to see one of the many futures. A good one, though.

Nothing sad or depressing. I know you have delved them, priestess, because your curiosity is no less p.r.o.nounced than mine.'

'Take my arm,' she said, and together they walked through the inner corridors of the temple, coming at last to a small room. Soft, golden light blossomed around them as Ustarte entered. The room was cool and quiet, and the scent of cedarwood hung in the air.

There were no windows, and no furniture of any kind. Three of the four walls were of rugged red rock, the fourth was of smooth gla.s.s. Ustarte stood for a moment, staring at their reflections. 'I will show you one possible future,' she said. 'No more than that. It is one that pleases me. Though it will only make you the more curious. Are you ready?'

'I am, priestess,' said Weldi happily.

Ustarte lifted her arm and the gla.s.s s.h.i.+mmered and went dark. Bright stars appeared in a distant sky, and they found themselves staring down at a colossal fortress bathed in moonlight. A vast army was camped before the fortress. Weldi peered at the campsite.

'What are they doing?' he asked.

'Preparing a funeral pyre.'

'Who is dead?'

'Druss the Legend.'

'No!' wailed Weldi. 'I don't want to see an unhappy future.'

'Wait!' The gla.s.s s.h.i.+mmered once more, and now it was as if Weldi and the priestess were standing inside a large tent. A powerful figure stood there, surrounded by Nadir warriors.

The figure turned and Weldi saw that he had violet eyes of striking power. Another man entered the tent.

'It is Skilgannon,' said Weldi. 'He is older.'

'Ten years older,' said Ustarte. 'Now listen!'

'Why are you here, my friend?' asked the violet-eyed man. 'I know it is not to fight in my cause.'

'I came for the reward you promised me, Great Khan.'

'This is a battlefield, Skilgannon. My riches are not here.'

'I do not require riches.'

'I owe you my life. You may ask of me anything I have and I will grant it.'

'Druss was dear to me, Ulric. We were friends. I require only a keepsake: a lock of his hair, and a small sliver of bone. I would ask also for his axe.'

The Great Khan stood silently for a moment. 'He was dear to me also. What will you do with the hair and bone?'

'I will place them in a locket, my lord, and carry it round my neck.'

'Then it shall be done,' said Ulric.

Once more the gla.s.s s.h.i.+mmered. Weldi saw Skilgannon riding from the Nadir camp, the great axe, Snaga, strapped to his shoulders. Then the image faded. Weldi stood for a moment, staring at his reflection.