Read The Damned 02 - The Swords Of Night and Day for Free Online

of the customs here. Why would it be dangerous?’
    ‘Skins brittle. Break easy.’ The Jiamad stared hard at Skilgannon, and the warrior sensed its hatred.

    ‘You go now.’
    The other beasts gathered even closer. One, its face flatter than the rest, the mouth more widely flared, like a cat began to sniff the air. ‘No other Skins,’ it said. ‘It is alone.’
    ‘Leave him,’ said the first.
    ‘Kill it,’ said another.
    The first beast snarled suddenly, the sound harsh and chilling. Then it spoke. ‘No!’ The golden eyes stared at Skilgannon. ‘Go now, Skin.’
    Skilgannon turned. The cat creature’s quarterstaff suddenly jabbed out towards his legs. Instantly, and without conscious thought, Skilgannon spun on his heel and leapt high, his foot hammering into the other’s face, hurling it from its feet. Skilgannon landed lightly and stepped in, hefting the quarterstaff the beast had dropped. With an angry growl the Jiamad sprang to its feet and lunged at the man. Skilgannon twirled the staff, cracking it hard against its temple. The creature slumped to the ground, dazed. Stepping back, Skilgannon raised the weapon against any new attack. For a moment there was no movement, then the leader stepped forward.
    ‘Not good,’ it said. ‘Go!’
    Skilgannon smiled coldly, then tossed the staff to the ground. ‘I am sorry to have disturbed your training,’ he said. ‘What is your
    name?’
    ‘Longbear.’
    ‘I shall remember it.’ With that, Skilgannon walked away.
    As he topped the rise he heard a terrible cry, full of pain and despair. It was a death cry. He did not look back.
*
    As Skilgannon made the long descent back towards the town he saw a horseman riding across the bridge: Landis Kan. Skilgannon waited. Landis was not a natural rider. His body out of balance, he jerked around in the saddle, unable to harmonize himself with the rhythm of the sturdy chestnut he rode.
    A memory came to Skilgannon, of a chubby priest with a frightened face. It was as if a window had opened in his soul, and he saw himself back at the monastery of Cobalsin, working the land, studying in the library, beneath the benevolent gaze of the Abbot Cethelin.
    Skilgannon took a deep breath. The air was fresh and cold, and he felt suddenly at peace. More memories flowed then. The chubby priest had been called Braygan. Skilgannon had left him in the war-torn city of Mellicane, before he and Druss the Legend and a group of fighters had set off to rescue the child, Elanin, held in a citadel by Nadir warriors.
    A savage exultation coursed through Skilgannon, drowning the frustration of these last few days. He could not remember everything, but he knew he had fought no dragons. There was no winged horse.
    Nine-tenths of the stories of his life were legends, and the rest were stretched and twisted beyond recognition.
    Landis Kan came alongside him, and gratefully stepped down from the saddle. ‘You had us worried,’
    he said.

    ‘I met some of your Joinings. They are less fearsome than those I recall.’
    Landis looked at him closely. ‘You are recovering your memories?’
    ‘Not all. There are large gaps. But I know a great deal more now.’
    ‘That is good, my friend. Then you should meet GamaL’
    ‘Who is he?’
    ‘An old man - the wisest of us. I invited him to live in my home when he finally lost his sight last spring.
    It was he who found your soul in the Void, and brought you back to us.’
    Skilgannon shivered suddenly. A sharp image came to him, of a slate grey sky and a landscape devoid of trees or plants. Then it was gone.
    They walked together, Landis leading the chestnut. A line of women came into sight, moving up the hillside towards the timber line. All conversation ceased as they came close to Landis Kan and his
    ‘guest’. The women passed by with eyes downcast. Skilgannon saw they were carrying baskets of food.
    Landis Kan noticed his interest. ‘They are bringing food to the loggers working beyond the timber