The Nomad - By Simon Hawke Page 0,111

come outside and play. It was a shame to disappoint them, but I had already killed some of them two or three times, and there’s a limit to my patience. So, you have found what you were searching for. And to think, I could have fulfilled the object of my quest, as well… if only I had possessed the strength to climb those damned stairs.” He started chuckling once again.

“Let her go, Valsavis,” Sorak said. “There is nothing to be gained from this.”

“There is always something to be gained,” Valsavis replied. “It all depends on what you want, and what you will settle for. I was half dead when I came in here. But never have I fought so fiercely. You should have seen me, elfling. I was a bloody marvel. I waited here all night, and then throughout the day. I did not know what posed the greater danger, those corpses coming in here or you coming back down and finding me asleep. Still, I napped a little here and there, when I passed out from the pain.” He chuckled again. “You know, it truly is amusing. Nibenay would give anything to see this, but right now, some walking corpse is chewing on his yellow eyeball, along with my left hand. Of course, the Shadow King has doubtless withdrawn the enchantment from the ring and cannot feel it. Pity. I would so like to share some of my discomfort with him.”

“Valsavis…” said Sorak. “It is finished. Let her go.”

Valsavis snorted. “You realize that I came here to kill you,” he said.

“Well, your success seems somewhat doubtful at the moment,” Sorak said. “You can scarcely stand. Give it up, Valsavis. The Shadow King cares nothing for you. He has only used you, and look what it has brought you.”

“It could have brought me everything,” Valsavis said. “It still can. Nibenay would give much to know where he can find your master. He did not tell me who it was. He pretended not to know, but I am not a fool. There can only be one preserver wizard whom a sorcerer-king would fear. You see, elfling, even if Nibenay did not discover the location of the Sage through me, I still succeeded. I am here. And neither you, the priestess, nor the pyreen, nor even an army of undead could stop me.”

“Indeed,” said Kara. “Your tenacity is without peer. I must congratulate you.”

“I failed only in one thing,” Valsavis said, glancing at Ryana. And then he grinned with bloody teeth. “If I’d only had more time, priestess. Too bad. We would have made quite a pair, you and I. It really is… too bad.”

“If you harm her, Valsavis,” Sorak said through gritted teeth, “then I swear you shall not leave this place alive.”

“Do you, indeed?” Valsavis said. “And what about you, shapechanger? I will have you swear, as well. Swear by your vows as a preserver that if I release the priestess, you shall do nothing to interfere. Swear, or I will drive this point right through her lovely throat!”

“I swear by my vows as a preserver that I shall not interfere in any way, if you release Ryana unharmed,” said Kara.

“You have my word,” Valsavis said. “But first, the elfling must give up his magic sword.”

“It would not do you any good, Valsavis,” Sorak said. “You serve a defiler. Galdra’s enchantment would not work for you.”

“Give it to the pyreen, then,” Valsavis said. “We will fight like men, with daggers and without enchantment, so we can see each other’s eyes.”

Without hesitating, Sorak removed his sword belt and scabbard, then handed them to Kara. Valsavis released Ryana, and she collapsed to the floor. He put his knife between his teeth, drew his own sword and tossed it aside, then grasped his dagger once again with his one remaining hand.

As Sorak drew his own knife, he realized that, for the first time, he would not have the tribe behind him. The Shade would not be there to storm forth like a juggernaut from his subconscious. The Guardian’s gifts were no longer his to call on. The Ranger, Eyron, Kether… all were gone. He was deprived of Galdra, and Kara had sworn not to interfere.

He faced Valsavis alone.

But at the same time, the mercenary was seriously injured. He had even lacked the strength to climb the stairs. True, he had rested some, but he had also lost a lot of blood. How could he hope to prevail in such a weakened condition?

“I have