Drenai Series 05 - Waylander II: In the Realm of the Wolf Read Online Free PDF Page B

dangerous men - and there will be those among them I do not know. But I know Morak the Ventrian. He's deadly, truly deadly. 
    I believe he is insane.' 
    'What weapons does he favour?' she asked. 
    'Sabre and knife, but he is a very skilled bowman. And he has great speed - like a striking snake. He'll kill anyone -man, woman, child, babe in arms. He has a gift for death.' 
    'What does he look like?' 
    'Medium height, slim. He tends to wear green, and he has a ring of heavy gold, set with a green stone. It matches his eyes, cold and hard.' 
    'I will watch out for him.' 
    'If you see him - kill him,' snapped Ralis. 'But you won't see him.' 
    'You don't think he'll come here?' 
    'That's not what I said. You would both be best advised to leave here. Even Waylander cannot defeat all who are coming against him.' 
    'Don't underestimate him, tinker,' she warned. 
    'I don't,' he replied. 'But I am an old man, and I know how time makes dotards of us all. Once I was young, fast and strong. But slowly, like water eating at stone, time removes our speed and our strength. Waylander is not a young man. Those hunting him are in their prime.' 
    She nodded and looked away. 'So you advise us to run?' 
    'Another place, under another name. Yes.' 
    'Tell me of the others,' she said. 
    And he did, relating all he had heard of Belash, Courail, Senta and many more. She listened, mostly in silence, but occasionally interrupting him with pertinent questions. At last satisfied she had drained his knowledge, she stood. 
    'I will prepare you some breakfast,' she said. 'I think you have earned it.' 
    'What did you gain from my stories?' he asked her. 
    'It is important to know your enemy,' she answered him. 'Only with knowledge can you ensure victory.' 
    Ralis said nothing. 
*
    Waylander sat quietly on the rough-hewn platform, high in the oak, staring out to the west, over the rolling plains towards the distant towers of Kasyra. Some four miles to his left he could see the Corn Road, a ribbon of a trail leading from the Sentran Plain south towards Drenan. There were few wagons now, the corn having been gathered and stored, or shipped to markets in Mashrapur or Ventria. He saw several horsemen on the road, all riding towards Kasyra and the surrounding villages. 
    A cool breeze rustled the leaves around him and he settled back, his mind drifting through the libraries of memory, sifting, seeking. His early training as a soldier in the Sathuli Wars told him that a static enemy was one facing defeat. The forest and mountains of Skein boasted many caves and hiding places, but a persistent enemy would find him, for a man had to hunt to eat, and in hunting he left tracks. No, the soldier he had been knew only one way to win - attack! 
    But how? And where? And against whom?  
    The hunt-geld had been placed in the Guild. Even if he were to find the man who had ordered the kill, and slay him, the hunt would go on. The wind picked up, and Waylander pulled his fur-lined cloak more tightly around his frame. The run had been hard, his ageing muscles complaining at the severity of the exercise, his lungs on fire, his heartbeat a pounding drum. Stretching out his right leg he rubbed at the still-burning muscles of his calf, and thought of all he knew of the Guild. 
    Fifteen years ago the Guild had approached Waylander, offering to broker his contracts. He had refused them, preferring to work alone. In those days the Guild had been a mysterious, shadowy organisation, operating in secret. Its rules were simple. Firstly, all killings were to be accomplished with blade, shaft or knotted rope. Murder by poison or fire was not allowed - the Guild wished for no innocent victims to be slain. Secondly, all monies were paid direct to the Guild and a signed document was placed with the Patriarch, giving reasons for the contract. Such reasons could not include matters of the heart, or religious quarrels. 
    In theory a