In the Realm of the Wolf by David Gemmell Read Free Book Online

inquired.
    “Yes. You know him?”
    “He’s been plying his trade between Drenan and Delnoch for years—decades. He used to make knives the like of which I’ve never seen since. Your father has several.”
    “I’m sorry I struck you,” she said suddenly. “I don’t know why I did it.”
    “I’ve been struck before,” he answered with a shrug. “And you were angry.”
    “I am not usually so … short-tempered. But I think I am a little afraid.”
    “That is a good way to be. I’ve always been careful around fearless men—or women. They have a tendency to get you killed. But take some advice, young Miriel. When the hunters come, don’t challenge them with the blade. Shoot them from a distance.”
    “I thought I was good with a sword. My father always tells me I am better than he is.”
    “In practice, maybe, but in combat I would doubt it. You think out your moves, and that robs you of speed. Swordplay requires subtle skills and a direct link between hand and mind. I’ll show you.” Leaning to his right, he lifted a long twig from the tinderbox and stood. “Stand opposite me,” he ordered her. Then, holding the stick between his index fingers, he said: “Put your hand over the stick and, when I release it, catch it. Can you do that?”
    “Of course, it is—” As she was answering him, he opened his fingers. The twig dropped sharply. Miriel’s hand flashed down, her fingers closing on air, and the twig landed at her feet. “I wasn’t ready,” she argued.
    “Then try again.”
    Twice more she missed the falling twig. “What does it prove?” she snapped.
    “Reaction time, Miriel. The hand should move as soon as the eye sees the twig fall, but yours doesn’t. You see the twig. You send a message to your hand. Then you move. By this time the twig is falling away from you.”
    “How else can anyone catch it?” she asked him. “You have to tell your hand to move.”
    He shook his head. “You will see.”
    “Show me,” she demanded.
    “Show her what?” asked Waylander from the doorway.
    “She wants to learn to catch twigs,” said Angel, turning slowly.
    “It’s been a long time, Caridris. How are you?” asked the mountain man, the small crossbow pointing at Angel’s heart.
    “Not here looking for a kill, my friend. I don’t work for the Guild. I came to warn you.”
    Waylander nodded. “I heard you retired from the arena. What do you do now?”
    “I sold hunting weapons. I had a place in the market square, but it was sequestered against my debts.”
    “Ten thousand gold pieces would buy it back for you,” said Waylander coldly.
    “Indeed it would, five times over. But as I have already told you, I do not work for the Guild. And do not even think of calling me a liar!”
    Waylander pulled the bolts clear of the weapon, then released the strings. Dropping the bow to the table, he turned back to the scarred fighter. “You are no liar,” he said. “But why would you warn me? We were never close.”
    Angel shrugged. “I was thinking of Danyal. I didn’t want to see her widowed. Where is she?”
    Waylander did not reply, but Angel saw the color fade from his face and a look of anguish that was swiftly masked. “You may stay the night,” said Waylander. “And I thank you for your warning.” With that he took up his crossbow and left the cabin.
    “My mother died,” whispered Miriel. “Five years ago.” Angel sighed and sank back in his chair. “You knew her well?” she asked.
    “Well enough to be a little in love with her. How did she die?”
    “She was riding. The horse fell and rolled on her.”
    “After all she’d been through … battles and wars …” He shook his head. “There’s no sense to such things, none at all. Unless it be that the gods have a grim sense of humor. Five years, you say. Gods! He must have adored her to stay alone this long.”
    “He did. He still does, spending too much time by her grave, talking to her as if she could still hear