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

does not talk much.
    Gamal feels a little time away from . . .’ he chuckled, ‘away from civilization will help you to readjust to this new life.’
    ‘Why this Harad?’
    Landis Kan looked away. ‘He knows the high country as well as anyone.’
    Skilgannon knew the answer was - at least in part - a lie, but he let it pass. ‘Ah, here he comes,’
    Landis said. Skilgannon swung to meet the newcomer - and his breath caught in his throat. He felt his heart beating hard and struggled for calm. He glanced at Landis Kan, anger in his gaze. ‘Say nothing at the moment!’ Landis insisted.

    The black-bearded logger strode down to where the two men waited. ‘It is good to see you, my friend,’ said Landis. ‘This is my nephew, Callan.’ The logger merely nodded and turned his pale eyes on Skilgannon. Landis Kan spoke again. ‘I would like you to act as his guide, up into the mountains.’
    ‘I am working here,’ said Harad.
    ‘You will receive the same wages, my boy. I would take it as a personal favour if you would agree.’
    Harad stared hard at Skilgannon. ‘No horses,’ he said. ‘It will be a long walk.’
    ‘I can walk,’ said Skilgannon. ‘However, if you would prefer not to guide me, I will understand.’
    Harad swung to Landis Kan. ‘How long do you want me to guide him?’
    ‘Three . . . four days.’
    ‘When?’
    ‘The day after tomorrow.’
    ‘Meet me here at sunup,’ said Harad to Skilgannon. He nodded to Landis Kan and strode back towards the logging camp.
    After he had gone Landis stood silently alongside Skilgannon, who sensed the man’s unease. ‘Are you angry?’ Landis asked, at last.
    ‘Oh yes, Landis. I am angry.’ Landis took an involuntary backward step, his face showing his fear.
    Skilgannon gave a cold smile. ‘But I will not harm you.’
    ‘That is a relief,’ said Landis. ‘What can you tell me of Harad’s . . . ancestor?’
    Skilgannon shook his head. ‘I see why you wanted me to meet him, but I will tell you nothing. I need to think on this. Alone.’ With that he stepped smoothly into the saddle and rode away.
*
    Harad was uneasy as he returned to work - not that anyone would have noticed. He still swung his axe with unfailing power, his strength seemingly limitless. He worked throughout the morning, silently as always, his face grim, his expression set. At one point he saw Balish staring at him, but ignored him.
    Lathar and his brothers were close by, and twice he found himself working alongside them. They did not speak, but during one short break Lathar offered Harad a drink from a water canteen. Harad accepted it. Lathar sighed. ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ he said. ‘So, where did the first oak tree come from?’
    Harad relaxed and suddenly chuckled. ‘I don’t know. A woman said it to me. Now I can’t get it out of my head.’
    ‘Me too,’ said Lathar. ‘Women, eh?’
    Harad nodded. No more was said, but the enmity between them melted away.
    The day was warm, the work exhausting. By the midday break Harad had been toiling for six hours.
    He found himself looking forward to seeing Charis, to sitting quietly on a log, with her beside him. When the women came he walked away to sit alone, and waited for her. She was wearing a cream-coloured smock, and a green skirt, and her feet were bare. Her long, golden hair was tied back with a green ribbon. Harad felt his heartbeat quicken. Charis was carrying a basket of food. She moved among the men, offering them bread. Harad waited, his impatience growing. Finally she turned towards him, and smiled. He reddened.
    ‘Good day to you, Harad,’ she said.
    ‘And you,’ he replied, struggling for something intelligent to say. Charis handed him a small loaf and a block of firm cheese. Then she swung away. Harad was astonished. Always she stopped and spoke to him. It was bizarre. On all the occasions when he wished to be alone she would hover close by. Now that he actually wanted to talk to her she was moving