Free The Damned 02 - The Swords Of Night and Day by David Gemmell

cold, grey soulless place filled his mind. Then he smiled grimly. Soulless? It was exactly the opposite. It was full of souls - souls like his own. Skilgannon the Damned, in a world of the damned.
    The sun was shining brightly in a clear blue sky. Skilgannon moved to the balcony wall and drew in a deep breath. He could almost taste the sweetness of life upon the breeze, as his lungs filled with cold, crisp air.
    Why am I here, he thought? If the Void had been a punishment was this some kind of reward? If so, for what? It made no sense.
    He heard a knocking at his door, and went back into the apartment. It was Landis Kan. He smiled as he entered, but Skilgannon sensed nervousness in him. ‘How are you feeling, my friend?’
    ‘I am well, Landis. And do not use the word friend so lightly. Friendship is either bestowed or earned.’
    ‘Yes, of course. My apologies.’
    ‘There is nothing to apologize for. Gamal says there is someone I should meet. Something about a mystery.’
    ‘Indeed so. Horses are being prepared.’
    ‘Is it far?’
    ‘About an hour’s ride.’
    ‘Would you prefer to walk?’
    Landis grinned. It made him look younger. ‘You noticed my lack of skill? Yes, I would prefer to walk, but I have many duties today. So I must bounce upon the saddle and endure more bruises.’
    Half an hour later they were riding over the hills towards the upper timber land. ‘Who is this mysterious person?’ asked Skilgannon, as they reached a long level stretch, and the horses slowed.
    ‘Forgive me, Skilgannon, but I would prefer it if you waited until we get there. Then I will answer all questions. Might I ask a favour of you?’
    ‘There is no harm in asking, Landis.’
    ‘We have visitors coming in tomorrow from Outside. I would like you to be with me when I meet them. It will be vital, however, for your name not to be mentioned. I will, by your leave, introduce you as my nephew, Callan.’
    ‘Who are they, these people?’

    Landis sighed. ‘They serve the Eternal. May we walk for a while?’ he asked suddenly. ‘I feel as if my spine is a foot shorter than when we began.’ Drawing rein, he climbed clumsily from the saddle.
    Skilgannon joined him, and they walked on, leading their mounts.
    ‘This world is suffering, Skilgannon, in a way that is unnatural and perverse. We had the chance, I think, to make it a garden, a place of infinite beauty, without threat of famine or disease. Even death could be held back. Instead we have the grotesque violence of a terrible war, fought by unnatural beast against unnatural beast, and by men against men. The suffering Outside is prodigious. Disease, pestilence and starvation, murder and horror abound. How one man was supposed to put an end to this I do not know. As I said, I was swept up in the prophecy. I truly believed . . . believe . . .’ he added, hastily, ‘that the Blessed Priestess did know the role you would play.’
    ‘And this prophecy promised I would overthrow the Eternal?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘What exactly did it say?’
    ‘It was written in an archaic tongue, and in a form of verse. There have been several translations, all subtly different, in that they sought to create rhyme in the modern tongue. The one I prefer begins: Hero Reborn, torn from the grey, reunited with blades, of Night and of Day. The rest of it is deliberately obscure and allegorical. Almost whimsical. The Hero Reborn will steal or destroy the magical egg of a vain silver eagle, battle a mountain giant bearing the golden shield of the gods, and bring about the death of an immortal, restoring the world to balance and harmony.’
    ‘A vain eagle?’ asked Skilgannon.
    ‘In love with its own reflection,’ said Landis. ‘As I said, some of the ancient texts were expanded, or exaggerated. In full, however, the story indicates that Ustarte knew the nature of the evil we now confront. By her reckoning the world of men would face ruin. She talks of an undead Queen, and armies of Joinings. The