‘That is true,’ said a voice. ‘Like watching a child swatting bees with a stick.’
Jianna spun to see Skilgannon standing in the far doorway, the Swords of Night and Day in his hands.
‘Oh, now my joy is complete,’ said Decado happily. ‘I get to kill the great hero.’
Despite his lightness of tone Decado was troubled. It was not fear that concerned him. Decado feared no living man, and was utterly sure he could kill Skilgannon. It was more the coalescing of doubts that had been growing in his mind ever since Memnon’s spirit contacted him, after the fight with the Shadows.
He had ridden away from Skilgannon and the others, heading up into the hills, to think and to plan.
Later that night, in a shallow cave, Memnon had appeared to him. Decado had seen this magical trick before, and, after the initial shock as the swirling image materialized, he merely added another stick to his fire. ‘Send as many Shadows as you have,’ he said. ‘I will kill them all.’
‘Oh, be calm, my boy,’ chided Memnon. ‘You know how anger brings on your headaches. I sought you because I was concerned for you.’
‘You showed your concern so well last night. They almost had me.’
‘I sent the oldest and slowest. It was all that I could do. The Eternal ordered your death. I have always been your friend, Decado. You know this to be true.’
‘Aye,’ he admitted, ‘you have always been most kind to me, Memnon. When I come for the bitch I will not kill you.’
‘She has become an evil creature,’ agreed Memnon. ‘Her turning on you has stretched my loyalty to breaking point. Together we could bring her down. You and I need to meet. Will you trust me and stay where you are until I reach you?’
‘Trust the man who tried to kill me? I think not, Memnon.’
‘Think on this: I have located you. Had I wished I could merely have sent more Shadows to kill you while you slept. Not so?’
‘That is true. Very well. I will wait.’
It was almost a full day before Memnon rode up the hillside to the cave. ‘How is your head?’
Memnon had asked, even as he dismounted.
‘It has been good.’
‘Excellent. I have brought some narcotic to aid you, should it return.’
Once inside the cave Memnon had given him the jewelled necklet, and instructed him to pass it to the mountain girl Askari.
‘What will it do?’
‘When the time is right I shall — through the magic in the jewel — assist the Eternal to possess Askari’s body. This will place Jianna at the heart of our enemies. It will also separate her from her Guards. You will join with Skilgannon, and assist him in every way.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he just may find a way to bring back the temple. There is so much there that we could use, Decado. Greater artefacts, with incredible power. I will continue to commune with you, and we will make our plans, depending on how the situation changes. And now I must return.’ Memnon rose.
Decado stared up at him.
‘Before you go, Memnon, tell me honestly: was it just her treatment of me that led you to this course?’
Memnon dropped to one knee and laid his hand on Decado’s shoulder. ‘Yes, my boy. It hurt me greatly when you were sentenced. I look upon you as a son.’
The sincerity in his voice had touched Decado.
He had suffered no problem of morality when he joined Skilgannon. There was no sense of disloyalty.
While travelling with the man he had grown to like him, and he felt a kinship with the riders of the Drenai.
Even the merchant, Stavut. They were men on a mission, and it had nothing to do with material wealth, or revenge, or glory. They merely wanted to protect their world from a powerful evil, and were willing to die for it. Decado had found a sense of camaraderie among them, and an emotional warmth he had never before experienced.
Fighting alongside Skilgannon, in a just cause, had been the greatest moment of his life, and he had felt torn when Memnon’s voice whispered in his mind after the battle.
‘ Leave them now, my boy. I have traversed a pass beyond the battle road, and am waiting close to the temple site. Skilgannon will come soon. Jianna will be with him. Victory is within our grasp.’
They had hidden among the rocks close to the crater, and Decado had felt a sinking of the heart when Skilgannon and Jianna rode to the rim. He truly did not want to kill this man, and in that moment wished he had ignored Memnon, and waited with the Drenai for the last battle. None of this had felt like treachery until then. The Queen had betrayed him and sought his death. His hunting down of her was merely revenge. But now Skilgannon was walking into danger, not knowing that the woman beside him was intent on his death, and that two more enemies were close behind.
He had remembered then his last conversation with his kinsman.
‘ Well, good luck to you, Decado.’
‘ No pleas for me to stay? No appeal to my loyalty?’
‘ No. I thank you for your help today. You are a fine warrior. Perhaps we will meet again, in happier times.’
Happier times?
He and Memnon had watched Skilgannon and Jianna make their way across the rim — and then disappear. Decado had run down to the crater, drawn his own swords, and seen the hidden pathway.
Using the same method as Skilgannon he had — with Memnon behind him — made it to the open doorway and entered the temple. Once inside Memnon had crouched down, closed his eyes, and gone into a trance. It had lasted some time. While Decado waited, swords in hand, he had heard the screams of beasts, and a wailing death cry. Memnon had stood.
‘Lead the way,’ he said. ‘I will direct you. We need to get to the uppermost levels. Walk warily.
There are beasts everywhere.’
They had been attacked three times. The first assailant was a huge, deformed hound. Decado had slain it with ease. The second had proved more durable. It was a hideous creature with two heads and four arms. One of the heads was grey and decomposing, the other constantly shrieked. The beast had charged at Decado, arms flailing. In one of its hands it held a jagged length of twisted metal. The flailing arms, and the club, made it difficult for the swordsman to deliver a death blow. The space in the corridor was narrow. He had fought it off with slashing cuts that tore through its flesh, and had then used a trick he had practised many times back in Diranan. Stepping back he held out his sword, the blade pointing upwards — and released it. As the sword dropped his lifted his foot, catching the hilt on the toe of his boot.
Then his leg lashed out. The sword flew like a spear into the creature’s pale chest. As it staggered back, its limbs no longer flailing, Decado ran in and cut the living head from its shoulders.
The third attack had been — potentially — the most deadly. Scores of the beasts had gathered. Decado and Memnon had run to a narrow winding metal stair, and climbed swiftly. The beasts had gathered round the base. Not following them at first. Decado had glanced back. Several hound creatures began bounding up after them.
At the top was a doorway. Memnon opened it and stepped through. He and Decado pushed it shut.
There was a wooden lock bar set against the wall. Together they heaved it into the brackets. Even as they did so the door juddered, dust spraying out from the frame.
‘I don’t know how long that will hold,’ said Decado.
‘Then we should press on,’ said Memnon.
They had climbed two further flights of stairs, emerging at last into this chamber, with its golden column and flashing lights.