In the Realm of the Wolf Read Online Free PDF

thong of his black leather cloak and draped it over the chair. Taking up the third silver cup, he tossed back the contents.
    “Fifteen thousand in gold,” said Ralis. “Five for the Guild, ten for the man who brings your crossbow to the citadel. There are said to be more than fifty men scouring the country for news of you. Morak the Ventrian is among them, as are Belash, Courail, and Senta.”
    “I’ve heard of Morak and Courail,” said Dakeyras.
    “Belash is Nadir and a knife fighter. Senta is a swordsman paid to fight duels. He’s very good—old noble family.”
    “I expect there is also a large reward for information regarding my whereabouts,” said Dakeyras softly.
    “I wouldn’t doubt it,” said Ralis, “but then, it would be a brave man who betrayed Waylander the Slayer.”
    “Are you a brave man?” The words were spoken gently, but the undercurrent was tense and the old man found his stomach knotting.
    “More guts than sense,” admitted Ralis, holding the man’s dark gaze.
    Waylander smiled. “That’s as it should be,” he said, and the moment passed.
    “What will we do?” asked Miriel.
    “Prepare for a long winter,” said Waylander.
    Ralis was a light sleeper, and he heard the creaking of leather hinges as the main door opened. The old man yawned and swung his legs from the bed. Although it was almost dawn, thin shafts of moonlight were still seeping through the cracks in the shutters of the window. He rose and stretched. The air was cool and fresh with the threat of approaching winter. Ralis shivered and pulled on his warm woolen leggings and tunic.
    Opening his bedroom door, he stepped into the main room and saw that someone had fanned the embers of the previous night’s fire and laid fresh kindling on the hungry flames. Waylander was a courteous host, for there would not normally have been a fire this early on an autumn day. Moving to the shuttered window, he lifted the latch and pushed at the wooden frame. Outside the moon was fading in a graying sky, the stars retreating, the pale pink of the dawn showing above the eastern peaks.
    Movement caught his eye, and Ralis squinted, trying to focus. On the mountainside, at least a quarter of a mile distant, he thought he saw a man running. Ralis yawned and returned to the fire, easing himself down into the deep leather chair. The kindling was burning well, and he added two seasoned logs from a stack beside the hearth.
    So, he thought, the mystery is solved at last. What was surprising was that he felt in such low spirits now. For years he had known Dakeyras and his family: the beautiful wife and the twin girls. And always he had sensed there was more to the mountain man. And the mystery had occupied his mind, perhaps even helping keep him active at an age when most—if not all—of his youthful contemporaries were dead.
    A fugitive, a nobleman having turned his back on wealth and privilege, a refugee from Gothir tyranny … all these he had considered as backgrounds for Dakeyras. And more. But the speculation was now over. Dakeyras was the legendary Waylander, the man who had killed King Orien’s son, Niallad. But he was also the hero who had found the hidden Armor of Bronze, returning it to the Drenai people and freeing them from the murderous excesses of the invading Vagrians.
    The old man sighed. What fresh mysteries could he find now to exercise his mind and blot out the passing of time and the inevitable approach of death?
    He heard Miriel rise from her bed in the far room. She wandered in, tall and slim and naked. “Good morning,” she said brightly. “Did you sleep well?”
    “Well enough, girl. You should put some clothes on.” His voice was gruff, the words said in a sharper tone than he had intended. It was not that her nakedness aroused him; it was the opposite, he realized. Her youth and beauty only made him feel the weight of his years looming behind him like a mountain. She returned to her room, and he leaned back in his