The Swordbearer by Glen Cook Read Free Book Online Page A

awakened. His few waste words were complaints about his own lot. "The curse," as he sometimes muttered.
    With every minute and hour that passed Gathrid felt more empathy for Tureck Aarant. Aarant had had to endure the dwarf for more than a year.
    Time lost meaning. Gathrid kept track by sleeps. Those were not pleasant. Though he collapsed in exhaustion when the dwarf permitted a break, he never slept the sleep of the innocent. His dreams were nightmares in which some formless, shadowy evil stole after him, always seeking a chance to devour his soul. He could not identify the stalker.
    Sometimes he thought the dreams symbolic of his association with the Sword, or with the puppet master Theis Rogala, or with the mysterious Suchara. As often, he suspected his subconscious was reacting to being hunted by Nevenka Nieroda.
    Whatever, it cost him invaluable rest. He became nervous and irritable. He engaged in growling matches with Rogala. The dwarf began watching him closely, obviously puzzled.
    Shortly after the eighth sleep, Rogala announced, "We go topside in an hour."
    "Finally. I hope it's daytime." His spirits rose. His strength and will returned. "I've had enough of these caves to do me the rest of my life."
    "Don't get your hopes up, boy. We might have to come back down." Rogala always looked on the dark side. "Daubendiek. ..."
    "Has its limitations. It's not ready for another of those ... those ... whatever possessed that man. We have to stay out of their way till it is."
    Gathrid thought of Anyeck, of Kacalief, and grew angry. Yet the pain and loss had begun to pale.
    Others of his feelings seemed oddly weak too. The effect puzzled him.
    "Theis," he asked, "does the Sword? ... Will it kill my emotions?"
    "Eh? The contrary, I'm told. Makes them more intense."
    "Then why don't I feel? ..."
    "Ah. How much can a man bear? How much of the agony of another life can he assimilate? You'll feel it later, boy. When there's time. The mind is remarkable that way. Knows when it can indulge and when it can't. It can't now. It's got to worry about staying alive. That what's been bothering you?"
    "No." He did not elaborate. His nightmares seemed foolish by day.
    Day was hurrying into bloody sunset when they resurfaced. A thick layer of smoke deepened the red.
    Around the horizon, like the pillars of the sky, smoke rose from countless fires.
    "They're burning Gudermuth to the ground!" Gathrid cried.
    "Quiet!"
    Then Gathrid, too, heard the faint sound of approaching hooves. A Ventimiglian patrol passed nearby and continued on toward a small encampment near the smouldering ruins of a village. A
    picket of crucifixes surrounded camp and town. The easterners had shown no mercy.
    After a long look, Rogala asked, "It's always like this?"
    "I guess. The stories out of Grevening were grisly."
    The dwarf had seen grim doings during the Brothers' War, yet the savagery of the Ventimiglians seemed to shake him. "But why? Why slaughter a beaten people? Especially harmless peasants?"
    "The Mindak swore he would destroy or enslave everyone. The only buy-off was to surrender the Sword. We didn't believe it existed."
    Rogala's face twisted into the cruelest expression Gathrid had ever seen. It smoothed out in an instant. "He'll get it. Between the ribs. But that'll wait. Where are we?"
    "I don't know."
    "It's your country, isn't it?"
    "I never traveled much."
    "What's forty miles southwest of the place where we met?"
    "The grain-growing counties. Small towns, small castles. We didn't do anything big, though. Katich is the only real city in Gudermuth."
    "Don't apologize. There's a lot to be said for the rural life. The city. What direction is it?"
    "West. Thirty or forty miles more, I guess. I don't know for sure. I'm sorry."
    "Another apology. The Swordbearer doesn't apologize. Men apologize to him. Remember that. Be arrogant. It's expected. So. Make it forty miles just to be sure. I've had enough walking. We'll steal horses. Can you ride?"
    Gathrid