Last Sword Of Power (8 page)

'The water will go over my head.'

'I will support you. Trust me.'

She fell back into his arms, kicking out her legs and floating on the surface of the lake. 'Oh, it is beautiful,' she said. 'What must I do?'

Remembering the teachings of Grysstha in the river of the South Saxon, he said, 'Your lungs will keep you afloat, as long as their is air in them. Breathe in deeply, spread your arms and kick out with your feet.' His arms slid under her body, and he found himself gazing down at her breasts, her white belly and the triangle of dark hair pointing like an arrow to her thighs. Swinging his head, he fixed his gaze on her face. 'Take a deep breath and hold it,' he said. Gently he lowered his hands. For several seconds she floated and then, as if realising she was unsupported, she dropped her hips and her head dipped below the sparkling water. Swiftly he raised her as she flung her arms around his neck, coughing and spluttering.

'Are you all right?'

'You let me go,' she accused him.

'I was here. You were safe.' Leaning down he kissed her brow, pushing back the dark, wet hair from her face. She laughed and returned the kiss, biting his lip.

'Why?' she asked him, her voice husky.

'Why what?'

'Why would you die for me?'

'Because you are in my care. Because . . . you are my friend.'

'Your friend?'

He was silent for a moment, savouring the touch of her body against his. 'Because I love you,' he said at last.

'Do you love me enough to give me your eyes?'

'My eyes?'

'Do you?'

'I do not understand you.'

'If you say yes, you will be blind but I will be able to see. Do you love me that much?'

'Yes, I love you more than life.' Her hands swept up touching both sides of his face, her thumbs resting on his eyelids. Darkness enveloped him, a terrible, sickening emptiness. He cried out and she led him to the shoreline, where he stubbed his toe on a rock. She helped him to sit and fear swept over him. What had he done?

'Oh, Cormac, so that is the sky. How wonderful! And the trees, just as you described them. And you, Cormac, so handsome, so strong. Do you regret your gift?'

'No,' he lied, his pride overcoming his terror.

Her hands touched his face once more and his sight returned. He took her in his arms, pulling her to him as he saw the tears in her eyes.

'Why did you return my gift?' he asked.

'Because I love you also. And because you looked so lost and afraid. No one has ever done for me what you offered to do, Cormac. I will never forget it.'

"Then why are you crying?'

She did not reply. How could she tell him that until now she had never understood the loneliness of darkness?

'His anger towards you is very great,' said Anduine as she and Culain sat in the sunshine. Two months had passed and now the cooler breezes of Autumn whispered in the golden leaves. Every day Cormac and Culain would work together for many hours -boxing, wrestling, duelling with sword or quarter-staff. But when the sessions were over the youth would turn away, his feelings masked, his grey eyes showing no emotion.

'I know,' answered the warrior, shielding his eyes and watching the boy gamely running on towards the stand of pine, high up on the mountain's flank. 'He has reason to. But he likes you, he trusts you.'

'I think so, my lord. But I cannot heal the anger. As I touch it, it recoils like mist before me. Will he not speak of it?'

'I have not tried to speak to him, Anduine. There would be little to gain for either of us. I first met his father on this mountain and it was here that Uther learnt to love Laitha, my Gian Avur. Now the son follows. And still the world is at war, evil flourishes and good men die. I am sorry about your father. Had I come sooner . . .'

'He was an old warrior,' she said, smiling. 'He died as he would have wished with his sword in his hand, his enemies falling to him.'

'He was brave to refuse Wotan.'

'It was not bravery, my lord. He wanted a higher price for me. Wotan merely mistook greed for nobility.'

'You miss very little, Anduine, for one who cannot see.'

'You are leaving today?'

'Yes. You will be safe, I think, until I return. I am sorry that the cabin is so bare of luxury. It will be hard for you.'

'I may just survive,' she said, smiling. 'Do not concern yourself.'

'You are a fine woman.'

Her smile faded. 'And you are a good man, my lord. So why do you plan to die?'

'You see too much.'

'You did not answer me.'

To ask the question means you know the answer, for the two are one.'

'I want to hear you say it.'

'Why, lady?'

'I want you to hear yourself. I want you to understand the futility.'

'Another time, Anduine.' He took her hand and kissed it softly.

'No, there will be no other time. You will not come back and I will never meet you again.'

For a while Culain was silent and she felt the tension in him ease away.

'All my life,' he said at last, 'all my long, long life I have been able to look at Culain and be proud. For Culain never acted basely. Culain was the true prince. My arrogance could have swamped mountains. I was immortal: the Mist Warrior, the Lance Lord from the Feragh. I was Apollo for the Greeks, Donner to the Norse, Agripash to the Hittites. But in all the interminable centuries I never betrayed a friend, nor broke a trust. Now I am no longer that Culain and I wonder if ever I was.'

'You speak of the Queen?'

'Uther's bride. I raised her - here where we sit. She ran in these mountains, hunted and laughed, sang and knew joy. I was a father to her. I did not know then that she loved me, for she was a child of the earth and my love was a goddess of eternal beauty. But then you know the tale of the Witch Queen and her deeds.' Culain shrugged. 'When the battle was over, I should never have gone back. Uther and Laitha thought me dead; they were married then and, I believed, happy. But I found the last to be untrue. He ignored her, treating her with shameful disdain. He took other women and flaunted them at his palaces, leaving my Gian desolate and a laughing-stock. I would have killed him, but she forbade it. I tried to comfort her. I pitied her. I loved her. I brought her happiness for a little while. Then they became reconciled and our love was put away. She conceived a child by him - and all the past torments seemed forgotten.

'But it did not last for his bitterness was too strong. He sent her to Dubris, telling her the sea air would help her in her pregnancy. Then he moved a young Iceni woman into his palace. I went to Gian.' He chuckled, then sighed. 'Foolish Culain; it was a trap. He had men watching the house. I was seen and they tried to take me. I killed three of them - and one was an old friend.

'I took Gian to Anderita and then further along the coast, having got a message to friends in Sicam-bria. A ship was due to meet us and we sheltered in an old cave, safe from all - even the magic of Mae-dhlyn, Uther's Lord Enchanter.'

'How did they find you?' she asked.

'Gian had a pet hound called Cabal. Uther's horse-master, a crippled Brigante called Prasamaccus, released the beast outside Dubris and it trailed us all the way to the cave. Gian was so pleased when it arrived, and I did not think - so great was her pleasure that it masked my intellect. The hound gave birth to a litter of five pups some time before Gian bore Cormac. A black and bitter day that was! The babe was dead, of that there is no doubt. But Gian left it with her Sipstrassi necklace and somehow the magic brought him back.

'But by then the hunters had found me. I killed them all and carried Gian to the cliff-top. Uther was already there, sitting on his war-horse. He was alone and I thought of killing him. Gian stopped me once more - and I looked to the sea. There in the bay was the Sicambrian ship. I had no choice; I took Gian in my arms and leapt. I almost lost her in the waves, but at last we were safe. But she never recovered her spirit. The Betrayal of Uther and the death of her son became linked in her mind as a punishment from God and she sent me away.'

'What became of her?' whispered Anduine.

'Nothing became of her. She was dead and yet living. She joined a community of God-seekers in Belgica and stayed there for thirteen years, scrubbing floors, growing vegetables, cooking meals, studying ancient writings and seeking forgiveness.'

'Did she find it?'

'How could she? There is no God in the Universe* who would hate her. But she despised herself. She would never see me. Every year I journeyed to Belgica - and every year the gatekeeper would go to her, return and send me away. Two years ago he told me she had died.'

'And you, my lord? Where did you go?'

'I went to Africa. I became Revelation.'

'And do you seek forgiveness?'

'No. I seek oblivion.'

Culain sat opposite the young warrior in the watery sunshine, pleased with the progress Cormac had made in the last eight weeks. The youth was stronger now, his long legs capable of running for mile upon mile over any terrain, his arms and shoulders showing corded muscle, taut and powerful. He had outgrown the faded red tunic and now wore a buckskin shirt and woollen trews Culain had purchased from a travelling merchant passing through the Caledones towards Pinnata Castra in the east.

'We must talk, Cormac,' said the Lance Lord.

'Why? We have not yet practised with the sword.'

'There will be no sword-play today. After we have spoken, I shall be leaving.'

'I do not wish to talk,' said Cormac, rising.

'Know your enemy,' said Culain softly.

'What does that mean?'

'It means that from today you are on your own -and Anduine's life is in your care. It means that when Wotan finds you - as he will - only you and your skill will be between Anduine and the Blade of Sacrifice.'

'You are leaving us?'

'Yes.'

'Why?' asked the youth, returning to his seat on the fallen log.

'I do not answer to you for my life. But before we part, Cormac, I want you to understand the nature of the enemy, for in that you may find his weakness.'

'How can I fight a god?'

'By understanding what a god is. We are not talking about the Source of All Creation, we are talking about an immortal: a man who has discovered a means to live for ever. But he is a man nonetheless. Look at me, Cormac. I also was an immortal. I was born when the sun shone over Atlantis, when the world was ours, when Pendarric the King opened the Gates of the Universe. But the oceans drank Atlantis and the world was changed for ever. Here, on this Island of Mist, you see the last remnants of Pendarric's power, for this was the northern outpost of the empire. The standing stones were gateways to journeys within and beyond the realm. We gave birth to all the gods and demons of the world. Werebeasts, dragons, blood-drinkers - all were set free by Pendarric.'

Culain sighed and rubbed at his eyes. 'I know there is too much to burden you with here. But you need to understand at least a part of a history that men no longer recall, save as legend. Pendarric discovered other worlds, and in opening the gates to those worlds he loosed beings very different from men. Atlantis was destroyed, but many of the people survived. Pendarric led thousands of us to a new realm - the Feragh. And we had Sipstrassi, the Stone from Heaven. You have seen its magic, felt its power. It saved us from ageing, but could not give us wisdom nor prevent the onset of a terrible boredom. Man is a hunting, competitive animal. Unless there is ambition, there is apathy and chaos. We found ambitions. Many of us returned to the world and with our powers we became gods. We built civilisations and we warred one upon another. We made our dreams reality. And some of us saw the dangers . . . others did not. The seeds of madness are nurtured by unlimited power. The wars became more intense, more terrifying. The numbers of the slain could not be counted.

'One among us became Molech, the God of the Canaanites and the Amorites. He demanded the blood sacrifices from every family. Each first-born son or daughter was consigned to the flames. Torture, mutilation and death were his hallmarks. The agonised screams of his victims were as sweet to him as the music of the lyre. Pendarric called a council of the Feragh and we joined together to oppose Molech. The war was long and bloody, but at last we destroyed his empire.'

'But he survived,' said Cormac.

'No. I found him on the battlements of Babel, with his guard of demons. I cut my way through to him and we faced each other, high above the field of the fallen. Only once have I met a man of such skill, but I was at the magical peak of my strength and I slew Molech, cut his head from his shoulders and hurled the body to the rocks below.' 'Then how has he returned?' 'I do not know. But I will discover the truth, and I shall face him again.' 'Alone?'

Culain smiled. 'Yes, alone.' 'You are no longer at the peak of your strength.' 'Very true. I was almost slain twenty-five - no, twenty-six years ago. The Sipstrassi restored me but since then I have not used its power for myself. I want to be a man again. To live out a life and die like a mortal.'

“Then you will not beat him.' 'Victory is not important, Cormac. True strength is born of striving. When you first ran to the pine, you could not return before the shadow passed the stick. Did you say, ”Ah well, there is no point in running again?" No. You ran and grew stronger, fitter, faster. It is the same when facing evil. You do not grow stronger by running away. It is balance.

Harmony.'

'And how do you win if he kills you?' said Cormac.

'By sowing the seed of doubt in his mind. I may not win, Cormac, but I will come close. I will show him his weakness and then a better man can destroy

him.'

'It sounds as if you are merely going away to die.' 'Perhaps that is true. How will you fare, here alone?' 'I do not know, but I will protect Anduine with my life.'

'This I know.' Culain dipped his hand into the leather pouch at his side and produced the Sipstrassi necklace Cormac had dropped within the Circle of stones. The youth tensed, his eyes glinting with anger.

'I do not want it,' he said.