The Swordbearer - By Glen Cook Page 0,66

Gathrid's haunt kept laughing . . . .

Daubendiek pinked Nieroda-flesh at last. It was the lightest of touches. The end came minutes later.

Nieroda's umbra faded. Daubendiek lightninged through her guard. And there was nothing.

Nothing but symphonies of evil laughter. Once again she abandoned the flesh an instant too quickly.

Gathrid looked down at the thing that had been animated by the spirit of Nevenka Nieroda. It had been a woman once . . . . A voice within him screamed. It knew that flesh.

His voice. "Anyeck!" He had slain her again . . . .

She mortified before his eyes. His gorge rose.

Anyeck. How? He had buried her himself, way west of here . . . . What did Nieroda hope to gain by reminding him of past guilt? How many times could he slay his sister and still be morally stricken?

A hundred. Or a thousand. He felt her moving deep inside him, half-insane, hurting . . . . Never before had she been accessible.

He knelt, lifted a putrefying hand. It was cold with a cold deeper than death's chill. But the body was free. He sensed no sorceries upon it.

So, he thought. He would bury her at home after all.

"Beware," Aarant warned. "The others don't know Nieroda survived."

The spells on the Dark Lady's followers had evaporated with her departure. The battleground had fallen into total confusion. Some rebels were trying to escape. Some were trying to surrender. Some fought on. The latter rallied round the Toal.

Ahlert became magnanimous immediately. He spared anyone willing to rejoin his army.

Gathrid frowned. That man was running against the wind, but he pursued his dream nevertheless.

Loida finally shook her fogginess. She saw Gathrid kneeling over Nieroda. She urged her mount toward him.

"Don't do it, girl," Gacioch croaked. His warning came too late. Gathrid heard the hooves.

Ahlert! he thought. This would be the moment for the Mindak to strike. And this was the moment to end the threat from the east. Nieroda could be hunted down later. She had become the lesser danger.

He let the hooves approach.

Aarant did warn him that Suchara was a jealous mistress.

It was all as inevitable as death itself.

Gathrid whirled. Daubendiek flicked like a serpent's tongue. The youth screamed. Screamed for Loida Huthsing, who could not scream for herself. The poor girl did not realize what was happening till it was over . . . .

Gathrid swore he heard Nieroda laughing in the distance.

Chapter Fourteen

Torun

Gathrid sat between the corpses of the women. The two long black swords flanked him. Hints of fire rippled along their blades. He rocked slowly and incessantly. His thoughts were so turned in upon themselves that even Tureck Aarant could not penetrate them.

How many more? he wondered. Anyone who would ever mean anything? Was there no way to stop this?

He went hunting the shadows, searching for Loida. He wanted to explain, to apologize, but he could not find her. Like Anyeck, she had burrowed deep and curled around herself like a grub in the earth. There was no sign of her.

He tried to find Anyeck. Surprisingly, he caught a trace here and there. Something had wakened her. When he did make a ghostly contact, she fled with a whimper. For an instant he had an image of her as she had been at Katich, only running away, a gown of moonstuff flying around her calves.

She was Anyeck still, still living in dreams.

"She was a beauty," Aarant murmured.

"Yes." Gathrid was becoming accustomed to these internal dialogs. He was becoming accustomed to Aarant, beginning to like the man. "But she wasn't a good person. Except to me."

"I'm sorry for you. I know how you feel. They made me kill my mother."

"I know. In a way, though . . . Anyeck earned what she got. She was looking for it."

"That doesn't make it right. There has to be an end to this cruelty."

Aarant had tried to broach the topic before. Gathrid had slipped away every time, though he did not know why. He agreed now. He had been thinking the same thing since Anyeck's death. "Look there." The sky had darkened in the east. "See the comet?"

"Yes. The same one foretold the fall of Anderle. It's almost gone. If it goes like before, this mess will turn real bloody once it disappears."

"It's not bloody now?"

"Bloody enough."

A hand touched the youth's shoulder gently. He glanced up into Rogala's eyes, surprised a tender moistness there. The dwarf did not look at all well. His face was not suited to a display of compassion.

"We've got