of the great dance resonated on the surface of his skin. There was light in many spectrums. There were the stars below and the distant glitter of the moongates through which the guests were arriving.
He replayed the memory over and over. He gave himself eyes so he could weep. He howled with longing and loss. He looked upon his people in their days of glory and he knew that those days were gone although he did not yet know why or how.
How could this be? How could he remember a single scene so perfectly and yet not recall anything else? Again knowledge came to him. The memories were stored in his physical form, part of the organisation of his cells. They had been damaged, scrambled. Not by the mortal’s weapon either. The damage went deeper and had happened a long time ago. Who had done it? Who would dare do it? Who had the power?
He did not know yet but he was going to find answers. He would start with what was close, with the memories of mortals. He began to move, his form flowing into a shape part wolf, part human.
***
Kormak lay on the bed beside Rhiana, staring at the ceiling. Sleep would not come. She rolled onto one elbow and looked down at him.
“You don’t look too happy.”
“I don’t feel too happy.”
“Gerd?”
Kormak nodded. “He died because I was too slow.”
She stared at him with calm green eyes. “You can’t be certain of that.”
He shrugged. “Maybe not. And I can tell myself that about all the other people I failed to save, but there comes a point when I stop believing it.”
“You’re tired.”
“Yes. I am. And not just from lack of sleep. I am tired of this whole business. Maybe it is time I gave up the blade, passed it on to somebody better able to wield it.”
She put her hand on top of his. “I’ve never seen anyone who could use a sword like you, and, believe me, I have known some masters.”
“I met Gerd when I first arrived at Mount Aethelas. He was a year older than me. Youngest son of an old Taurean noble family. Made no difference to him that I was from an Aquilean hill-tribe. He treated me the same as he treated everybody else.”
“He made fun of you.”
Kormak smiled. “Yes. He did.”
“He was a funny man. Why did you end up on the Mountain anyway?”
“I came to Aethelas, after an Old One killed my family. My entire village if truth be told. Malan found me, brought me back. The Order took me in and trained me. Since I took up this sword I’ve done my best to see that the Old Ones never killed anybody else’s people.”
“That’s what you’re doing here.”
“Trying to do. It’s what Gerd was trying to do too. Even though he gave up the sword.”
As he spoke, he realised he was getting to the core of what troubled him. “He didn’t need to go with us but he went anyway.”
“He was a brave man.”
Anger sparked within Kormak. “Yes. He was. And he felt he needed to prove that. To me. To himself. And there was something else there to.”
“What?”
“I think he missed the chase. I think he needed to be there even if it killed him.”
“Are we talking about him now?”
He looked into those green eyes. “Yes.”
He snapped his eyes shut. “I need to sleep,” he said.
“I can see that. I’ll let you get some rest.”
The door closed softly behind her.
***
Kormak opened his eyes and reached for his sword. It lay on the table, within easy reach. A ray of early evening sunlight filtered through the heavy drapes. He stretched out, alone in the large bed. His eyes felt gritty and it took him a long moment to realise where he was. The memory of his failure in the catacombs came back to him. He had let Gerd die. He had allowed the Old One to escape.
He pulled himself from the bed. The claw wounds ached. The potion had worn off and he could feel the pain now. His whole body was sensitive to it. There was an easy solution to that.
He stopped his hand as it reached for the medication flask. He had known many men dependent on such alchemical devices to dull their pain. He pulled his hand away. Better just to feel the wounds. They were minor compared to some he had taken and they reminded him that he was still alive.
He looked at the bottle containing