{"product_id":"in-the-realm-of-the-wolf-isbn-9780345407986","title":"In the Realm of the Wolf","description":"Enter the extraordinary, action-filled world that became Legend--\u003cbr\u003eas the exciting Drenai adventure continues to unfold . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA mighty warrior and a feared assassin among the Drenai, Waylander the Slayer is now a man hunted by his own people--with a fortune in gold offered as grim reward for his murder. But this is only one of many evils closing in on Waylander and his daughter, Miriel, the beautiful and deadly Battle Queen of Kar-Barzac.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor, once separated, father and daughter face certain death as the sorcerers and demons, soldiers and shamans of three empires summon their blackest, most destructive powers in an effort to annihilate these two most gifted Drenai warriors.David Gemmell was born in London, England, in the summer of 1948. Expelled from school at sixteen for organizing a gambling syndicate, he became a laborer by day, and at night his six-foot-four-inch, 230-pound frame allowed him to earn extra money as a bouncer working nightclubs in Soho.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBorn with a silver tongue, Gemmell rarely needed to bounce customers, relying on his gift of gab to talk his way out of trouble. At eighteen this talent led to a job as a trainee journalist, and he eventually worked as a freelancer for the London Daily Mail, Daily Mirror, and Daily Express. His first novel, Legend, was published in 1984 and has remained in print ever since. He became a full-time writer in 1986. David lives with his wife, Valerie, and his two children, Kate and Luke, in Hastings, England.Miriel had been running for slightly more than an hour. In that time she \u003cbr\u003ehad covered around nine miles from the cabin in the high pasture, down to \u003cbr\u003ethe stream path, through the valley and the pine woods, up across the \u003cbr\u003ecrest of Ax Ridge, and back along the old deer trail.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe was tiring, heartbeat rising, lungs battling to supply oxygen to her \u003cbr\u003eweary muscles. But still she pushed on, determined to reach the cabin \u003cbr\u003ebefore the sun climbed to its noon high.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe slope was slippery from the previous night's rain, and she stumbled \u003cbr\u003etwice, the leather knife scabbard at her waist digging into her bare \u003cbr\u003ethigh. A touch of anger spurred her on. Without the long hunting knife and \u003cbr\u003ethe throwing blade strapped to her left wrist she could have made better \u003cbr\u003etime. But Father's word was law, and Miriel had not left the cabin until \u003cbr\u003eher weapons had been in place.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"There is no one here but us,\" she had argued, not for the first time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Expect the best, prepare for the worst,\" was all he had said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd so she ran with the heavy scabbard slapping against her thigh and the \u003cbr\u003ehilt of the throwing blade chafing the skin of her forearm.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eComing to a bend in the trail, she leapt over the fallen log, landing \u003cbr\u003elightly and cutting left toward the last rise, her long legs increasing \u003cbr\u003etheir pace, her bare feet digging into the soft earth. Her slim calves \u003cbr\u003ewere burning, her lungs hot. But she was exultant, for the sun was at \u003cbr\u003eleast twenty minutes from its noon high and she was but three minutes from \u003cbr\u003ethe cabin.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA shadow moved to her left, talons and teeth flashing toward her. \u003cbr\u003eInstantly Miriel threw herself forward, hitting the ground on her right \u003cbr\u003eside and rolling to her feet. The lioness, confused at having missing her \u003cbr\u003evictim with the first leap, crouched down, ears flat to her skull, tawny \u003cbr\u003eeyes focusing on the tall young woman.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMiriel's mind was racing. \u003ci\u003eAction and reaction. Take control!\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer hunting knife slid into her hand, and she shouted at the top of her \u003cbr\u003evoice. The lioness, shocked by the sound, backed away. Miriel's throat was \u003cbr\u003edry, her heart hammering, but her hand was steady on the blade. She \u003cbr\u003eshouted once more and jumped toward the beast. Unnerved by the suddenness \u003cbr\u003eof the move, the creature slunk back several more paces. Miriel licked her \u003cbr\u003elips. It should have run by now. Fear rose, but she swallowed it down.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eFear is like fire in your belly. Controlled, it warms you and keeps you \u003cbr\u003ealive. \u003cbr\u003eUnleashed, it burns and destroys you.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer hazel eyes remained locked to the tawny gaze of the lioness, and she \u003cbr\u003enoted the beast's ragged condition and the deep angry scar on its right \u003cbr\u003eforeleg. No longer fast, it could not catch the swift deer, and it was \u003cbr\u003estarving. It would not--could not--back away from the fight.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMiriel thought of everything Father had told her about lions: \u003ci\u003eIgnore \u003cbr\u003ethe head--the bone is too thick for an arrow to penetrate. Send your shaft \u003cbr\u003ein behind the front leg, up and into the lung.\u003c\/i\u003e But he had said \u003cbr\u003enothing about fighting such a beast when armed with only a knife.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe sun slid from behind an autumn cloud, and light shone from the knife \u003cbr\u003eblade. Instantly Miriel angled the blade, directing the gleam into the \u003cbr\u003eeyes of the lioness. The great head twisted, the eyes blinking against the \u003cbr\u003eharsh glare. Miriel shouted again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut instead of fleeing, the lioness suddenly charged, leaping high toward \u003cbr\u003ethe girl.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor an instant only Miriel froze. Then the knife swept up. A black \u003cbr\u003ecrossbow bolt punched into the creature's neck just behind the ear, with a \u003cbr\u003esecond slicing into its side. The weight of the lioness struck Miriel, \u003cbr\u003ehurling her back, but the hunting knife plunged into the beast's belly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMiriel lay very still, the lioness on top of her, its breath foul on her \u003cbr\u003eface. But the talons did not rake her, or the fangs close on her. With a \u003cbr\u003ecoughing grunt the lioness died. Miriel closed her eyes, took a deep \u003cbr\u003ebreath, and eased herself from beneath the body. Her legs felt weak, and \u003cbr\u003eshe sat on the trail, her hands trembling.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA tall man, carrying a small double crossbow of black metal, emerged from \u003cbr\u003ethe undergrowth and crouched down beside her. \"You did well,\" he said, his \u003cbr\u003evoice deep.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe looked up into his dark eyes and forced a smile. \"It would have killed \u003cbr\u003eme.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Perhaps,\" he agreed. \"But your blade reached its heart.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eExhaustion flowed over her like a warm blanket, and she lay back, \u003cbr\u003ebreathing slowly and deeply. Once she would have sensed the lioness long \u003cbr\u003ebefore any danger threatened, but that talent was lost to her now, as her \u003cbr\u003emother and her sister were lost to her: Danyal killed in an accident five \u003cbr\u003eyears earlier and Krylla wed and moved away the previous summer. Pushing \u003cbr\u003esuch thoughts from her mind, she sat up. \"You know,\" she whispered, \"I was \u003cbr\u003ereally tired when I came to the last rise. I was breathing hard, and my \u003cbr\u003elimbs felt as if they were made of lead. But when the lioness leapt, all \u003cbr\u003emy weariness vanished.\" She gazed up at her father.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe smiled and nodded. \"I have experienced that many times. Strength can \u003cbr\u003ealways be found in the heart of a fighter, and such a heart will rarely \u003cbr\u003elet you down.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe glanced at the dead lioness. \"Never shoot for the head--that's what \u003cbr\u003eyou told me,\" she said, tapping the first bolt jutting from the creature's \u003cbr\u003eneck.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe shrugged and grinned. \"I missed.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"That's not very comforting. I thought you were perfect.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I'm getting old. Are you cut?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I don't think so ...\" Swiftly she checked her arms and legs, as wounds \u003cbr\u003efrom a lion's claws or fangs often became poisonous. \"No. I was very \u003cbr\u003elucky.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yes, you were,\" he agreed. \"But you made your luck by doing everything \u003cbr\u003eright. I'm proud of you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Why were you here?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You needed me,\" he answered. Rising smoothly to his feet, he reached out, \u003cbr\u003edrawing her upright. \"Now skin the beast and quarter it. There's nothing \u003cbr\u003equite like lion meat.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I don't think I want to eat it,\" she said. \"I think I'd like to forget \u003cbr\u003eabout it.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Never forget,\" he admonished her. \"This was a victory, and you are \u003cbr\u003estronger for it. I'll see you later.\" Retrieving his bolts, the tall man \u003cbr\u003ecleaned them of blood, returned them to the leather quiver at his side.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You're going to the waterfall?\" she asked him softly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"For a little while,\" he answered, his voice distant. He turned back to \u003cbr\u003eher. \"You think I spend too much time there?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"No,\" she told him sadly. \"It's not the time you sit there nor the effort \u003cbr\u003eyou put into tending the grave. It's you. She's been ... gone ... now for \u003cbr\u003efive years. You should start living again. You need ... more than this.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe nodded, but she knew she had not reached him. He smiled and laid his \u003cbr\u003ehand on her shoulder. \"One day you'll find a love, and then we can talk on \u003cbr\u003eequal terms. I do not mean that to sound patronizing. You are bright and \u003cbr\u003eintelligent. You have courage and wit. But sometimes it is like trying to \u003cbr\u003edescribe colors to a blind man. Love, as I hope you will find, has great \u003cbr\u003epower. Even death cannot destroy it. And I still love her.\" Leaning \u003cbr\u003eforward, he drew her toward him, kissing her brow. \"Now skin that beast. \u003cbr\u003eAnd I'll see you at dusk.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe watched him walk away, a tall man moving with grace and care, his \u003cbr\u003eblack and silver hair drawn back into a tightly tied ponytail, his \u003cbr\u003ecrossbow hanging from his belt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd then he was gone, vanished into the shadows.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe waterfall was narrow, no more than six feet wide, flowing over white \u003cbr\u003eboulders in a glittering cascade to a leaf-shaped bowl thirty feet across \u003cbr\u003eand forty-five feet long. At its most southern point a second fall \u003cbr\u003eoccurred, the stream surging on to join the river two miles to the south. \u003cbr\u003eGolden leaves swirled on the surface of the water, and with each breath of \u003cbr\u003ebreeze more spiraled down from the trees.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAround the pool grew many flowers, most of them planted by the man who now \u003cbr\u003eknelt by the graveside. He glanced up at the sky. The sun was losing its \u003cbr\u003epower, the cold winds of autumn flowing over the mountains. Waylander \u003cbr\u003esighed. A time of dying. He gazed at the golden leaves floating on the \u003cbr\u003ewater and remembered sitting there with Danyal and the children on another \u003cbr\u003eautumn day ten lifetimes earlier.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKrylla had been sitting with her tiny feet in the water, with Miriel \u003cbr\u003eswimming among the leaves. \"They are like souls of the departed,\" Danyal \u003cbr\u003ehad told Krylla. \"Floating on the sea of life toward a place of rest.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe sighed again and returned his attention to the flower-garlanded mound \u003cbr\u003ebeneath which lay all he had lived for.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Miriel fought a lion today,\" he said. \"She stood and did not panic. You \u003cbr\u003ewould have been proud of her.\" Laying his ebony-handled crossbow to one \u003cbr\u003eside, he idly dead-headed the geraniums growing by the headstone, removing \u003cbr\u003ethe faded, dry red blooms. The season was late, and it was unlikely they \u003cbr\u003ewould flower again. Soon he would need to pull them, shaking dry the roots \u003cbr\u003eand hanging them in the cabin, ready for planting in the spring.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"But she is still too slow,\" he added. \"She does not act with instinct but \u003cbr\u003ewith remembered learning. Not like Krylla.\" He chuckled. \"You remember how \u003cbr\u003ethe village boys used to gather around her? She knew how to handle them, \u003cbr\u003ethe tilt of the head, the sultry smile. She took that from you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eReaching out, he touched the cold rectangular marble headstone, his index \u003cbr\u003efinger tracing the carved lines.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDanyal, wife of Dakeyras,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ethe pebble in the moonlight\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe grave was shaded by elms and beech, and there were roses growing close \u003cbr\u003eby, huge yellow blooms filling the air with sweet fragrance. He had bought \u003cbr\u003ethem in Kasyra, seven bushes. Three had died on the journey back, but the \u003cbr\u003eremainder had flourished in the rich clay soil.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I'm going to have to take her to the city soon,\" he said. \"She's eighteen \u003cbr\u003enow, and she needs to learn. I'll find a husband for her.\" He sighed. \"It \u003cbr\u003emeans leaving you for a while. I'm not looking forward to that.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe silence grew, with even the wind in the leaves dying down. His dark \u003cbr\u003eeyes were distant, his memories solemn. Smoothly he rose and, taking up \u003cbr\u003ethe clay bowl beside the headstone, moved to the pool, filled the bowl, \u003cbr\u003eand began to water the roses. The previous day's rain had been little more \u003cbr\u003ethan a shower, and the roses liked to drink deep.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKreeg crouched low in the bushes, his crossbow loaded. How easy, he \u003cbr\u003ethought, unable to suppress a smile.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eFind Waylander and kill him.\u003c\/i\u003e He had to admit that the prospect \u003cbr\u003eof such a hunt had frightened him. After all, Waylander the Slayer was no \u003cbr\u003emean opponent. When his family had been slain by raiders, he had roamed \u003cbr\u003ethe land until he had hunted down every one of the killers. Waylander was \u003cbr\u003ea legend in the Guild, a capable swordsman but a brilliant knife fighter \u003cbr\u003eand a crossbowman without peer. More than that, he was said to possess \u003cbr\u003emystical abilities, always sensing when danger was near.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKreeg sighted the crossbow at the tall man's back. Mystical abilities? \u003cbr\u003ePah. In one heartbeat he would be dead.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe man at the graveside picked up a clay bowl and moved toward the pool. \u003cbr\u003eKreeg shifted his aim, but his intended victim crouched down, filling the \u003cbr\u003ebowl. Kreeg lowered his bow a fraction, slowly letting out his held \u003cbr\u003ebreath. Waylander was side-on now, and a sure killing shot would have to \u003cbr\u003ebe to the head. What was he doing with the water? Kreeg watched the tall \u003cbr\u003eman kneel by the roses, tipping the bowl and splashing the contents around \u003cbr\u003ethe roots. He'll go back to the grave, thought Kreeg. And once there, I'll \u003cbr\u003etake him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo much in life depended on luck. When the kill order had come to the \u003cbr\u003eGuild, Kreeg had been out of money and living off a whore in Kasyra, the \u003cbr\u003egold he had earned from killing the Ventrian merchant long since vanished \u003cbr\u003ein the gambling dens of the city's south side. Now Kreeg blessed the bad \u003cbr\u003eluck that had dogged him in Kasyra. For all life, he knew, was a circle. \u003cbr\u003eAnd it was in Kasyra that he had heard of the hermit in the mountains, the \u003cbr\u003etall widower with the shy daughter. He thought of the message from the \u003cbr\u003eGuild:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSeek out a man named Dakeyras. He has a wife, Danyal, and a daughter, \u003cbr\u003eMiriel. The man has black and silver hair and dark eyes and is tall, close \u003cbr\u003eto fifty years of age. He will be carrying a small double crossbow of \u003cbr\u003eebony and bronze. Kill him and bring the crossbow to Drenan as proof of \u003cbr\u003esuccess. Move with care. The man is Waylander. Ten thousand in gold is \u003cbr\u003ewaiting.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn Kasyra Kreeg had despaired of earning such a fabulous sum. \u003cbr\u003eThen--blessed be the gods--he had told the whore about the hunt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"There's a man with a daughter called Miriel who lives in the mountains to \u003cbr\u003ethe north,\" she had said. \"I've not seen him, but I met his daughters \u003cbr\u003eyears ago at the Priests' School. We learned our letters there.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Do you remember the mother's name?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I think it was something like Daneel ... Donalia ...\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Danyal?\" he had whispered, sitting up in bed, the sheet falling from his \u003cbr\u003elean, scarred body.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"That's it,\" she had said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKreeg's mouth had gone dry, his heart palpitating. Ten thousand! But \u003cbr\u003eWaylander? What chance would Kreeg have against such an enemy?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor almost a week he toured Kasyra, asking about the mountain man. Fat \u003cbr\u003eSheras the miller saw him about twice a year and remembered the small \u003cbr\u003ecrossbow.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"He's very quiet,\" said Sheras, \"but I wouldn't like to see his bad side, \u003cbr\u003eif you take my meaning. Hard man. Cold eyes. He used to be almost \u003cbr\u003efriendly, but then his wife died--five ... six years ago. Horse fell, \u003cbr\u003erolled on her. There were two daughters, twins. Good-looking girls. One \u003cbr\u003emarried a boy from the south and moved away. The other is still with him. \u003cbr\u003eShy child. Too thin for my taste.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGoldin the tavern keeper, a thin-faced refugee from the Gothir lands, also \u003cbr\u003eremembered him. \"When the wife was killed, he came here for a while and \u003cbr\u003edrank his sorrows away. He didn't say much. One night he just collapsed, \u003cbr\u003eand I left him lying outside the door. His daughters came and helped him \u003cbr\u003ehome. They were around twelve then. The city elders were talking of \u003cbr\u003eremoving them from his care. In the end he paid for places at the Priests' \u003cbr\u003eSchool, and they lived there for almost three years.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKreeg was uplifted by Goldin's tale. If the great Way-lander had taken to \u003cbr\u003edrinking heavily, then he was no longer to be feared. But his hopes \u003cbr\u003eevaporated as the tavern keeper continued.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"He's never been popular. Keeps to himself too much,\" said Goldin. \"But he \u003cbr\u003ekilled a rogue bear last year, and that pleased people. The bear \u003cbr\u003eslaughtered a young farmer and his family. Dakeyras hunted it down. \u003cbr\u003eAmazing! He used a small crossbow. Taric saw it. The bear charged him, and \u003cbr\u003ehe just stood there, then, right at the last moment, as the bear reared up \u003cbr\u003ebefore him, he put two bolts up through its open mouth and into the brain. \u003cbr\u003eTaric says he's never seen the like. Cold as ice.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKreeg found Taric, a slim blond hostler, working at the earl's stables.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"We tracked the beast for three days,\" he said, sitting back on a bale of \u003cbr\u003ehay and drinking deeply from the leather-bound flask of brandy Kreeg \u003cbr\u003eoffered him. \"Never saw him break a sweat--and he's not a young man. And \u003cbr\u003ewhen the bear reared up, he just leveled the bow and loosed. Incredible! \u003cbr\u003eThere's no fear in the man.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Why were you with him?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTaric smiled. \"I was trying to pay court to Miriel, but I got nowhere. \u003cbr\u003eShy, you know. I gave up in the end. And he's a strange one. Not sure I'd \u003cbr\u003ewant him for a father-in-law. Spends most of his time by his wife's grave.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKreeg's spirits soared anew. That was what he had been hoping for. Hunting \u003cbr\u003ea man through a forest was chancy at best. Knowing his victim's habits \u003cbr\u003emade the task slightly less hazardous, but to find out that there was one \u003cbr\u003eplace the victim always visited ... that was a gift from the gods. And a \u003cbr\u003egraveside, at that. Waylander's mind would be occupied, full of sorrow, \u003cbr\u003eperhaps, and fond memories.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo it had proved. Kreeg, following Taric's directions, had located the \u003cbr\u003ewaterfall soon after dawn that morning and had found a hiding place that \u003cbr\u003eoverlooked the headstone. Now all that was left was the killing shot. \u003cbr\u003eKreeg's gaze flickered to the ebony crossbow still lying on the grass \u003cbr\u003ebeside the grave.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTen thousand in gold! He licked his thin lips and carefully wiped his \u003cbr\u003esweating palm on the leaf-green tunic he wore.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe tall man walked back to the pool, collecting more water, then crossed \u003cbr\u003eto the farthest rosebushes, crouching once more by the roots. Kreeg \u003cbr\u003eswitched his gaze to the headstone. Forty feet away. At that distance the \u003cbr\u003ebarbed bolt would punch through Waylander's back, ripping through the \u003cbr\u003elungs and exiting through the chest. Even if he missed the heart, his \u003cbr\u003evictim would die within minutes, choking on his own blood.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKreeg was anxious for the kill to be over, and his eyes sought out the \u003cbr\u003etall man.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe was not in sight.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKreeg blinked. The clearing was empty.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You missed your chance,\" came a cold voice.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKreeg swung, trying to bring the crossbow to bear. He had one glimpse of \u003cbr\u003ehis victim, arm raised, something shining in his hand. The arm swept down. \u003cbr\u003eIt was as if a bolt of pure sunlight had exploded within Kreeg's skull. \u003cbr\u003eThere was no pain, no other sensation. He felt the crossbow slipping from \u003cbr\u003ehis hands and the world spinning.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis last thought was about luck.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt had not changed at all.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWaylander knelt by the body and lifted the ornate crossbow the man had \u003cbr\u003eheld. The shoulder stock of ebony had been expertly crafted and embossed \u003cbr\u003ewith swirling gold. The bow itself was of steel, most likely Ventrian, for \u003cbr\u003eits finish was silky smooth and there was not a blemish to be seen. \u003cbr\u003ePutting aside the weapon, he returned his scrutiny to the corpse. The man \u003cbr\u003ewas lean and tough, his face hard, the chin square, the mouth thin. \u003cbr\u003eWaylander was sure he had never seen him before. Leaning forward, he \u003cbr\u003edragged his knife clear of the man's eye socket, wiping the blade across \u003cbr\u003ethe grass. Drying the knife against the dead man's tunic, he slipped it \u003cbr\u003eonce more into the black leather sheath strapped to his left forearm.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA swift search of the man's clothing revealed nothing save four copper \u003cbr\u003ecoins and a hidden knife hanging from a thong at his throat. Taking hold \u003cbr\u003eof the leaf-green tunic, Waylander hauled the corpse upright, hoisting the \u003cbr\u003ebody over his right shoulder. Foxes and wolves would fight over the \u003cbr\u003eremains, and he wanted no such squabbles near Danyal's grave.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSlowly he made his way to the second waterfall, hurling the body out over \u003cbr\u003ethe rim and watching it plummet to the rushing stream below. At first the \u003cbr\u003eimpact wedged the corpse against two boulders, but slowly the pull of the \u003cbr\u003ewater exerted itself and Kreeg's lifeless form floated away facedown \u003cbr\u003etoward the distant river. Retrieving his own crossbow and taking up the \u003cbr\u003eassassin's weapon, Waylander made his way back to the cabin.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSmoke was lazily drifting up from the stone chimney, and he paused at the \u003cbr\u003eedge of the trees, staring without pleasure at the home he had crafted for \u003cbr\u003eDanyal and himself. Built against the base of a rearing cliff, protected \u003cbr\u003efrom above by an overhang of rock, the log cabin was sixty feet long, with \u003cbr\u003ethree large shuttered windows and one door. The ground before it had been \u003cbr\u003ecleared of all trees, bushes, and boulders, and no one could approach \u003cbr\u003ewithin a hundred feet without being seen.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe cabin was a fortress, yet there was beauty also. Danyal had covered \u003cbr\u003ethe corner joints with mottled stones of red and blue and had planted \u003cbr\u003eflowers beneath the windows, roses that climbed and clung to the wooden \u003cbr\u003ewalls, pink and gold against the harsh ridged bark.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWaylander scanned the open ground, searching the tree line for any second \u003cbr\u003eassassin who might be hidden, but he could see no one. Carefully keeping \u003cbr\u003eto cover, he circled the cabin, checking for tracks and finding none save \u003cbr\u003ethose made by his own moccasins and Miriel's bare feet. Satisfied at last, \u003cbr\u003ehe crossed to the cabin and stepped inside. Miriel had prepared a meal of \u003cbr\u003ehot oats and wild strawberries, the last of the season. She smiled as he \u003cbr\u003eentered, but the smile faded as she saw the crossbow he carried.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Where did you find that?\" she asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"There was a man hidden near the graveside.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A robber?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I don't believe so. This bow would cost perhaps a hundred gold pieces. It \u003cbr\u003eis a beautifully crafted weapon. I think he was an assassin.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Why would he be hunting you?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWaylander shrugged. \"There was a time when I had a price on my head. \u003cbr\u003ePerhaps I still have. Or maybe I killed his brother or his father. Who \u003cbr\u003eknows? One thing is certain; he can't tell me.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe sat down at the long oak table, watching him. \"You are angry,\" he said \u003cbr\u003eat last.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yes. He shouldn't have gotten that close. I should have been dead.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"What happened?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"He was hidden in the undergrowth some forty paces from the graveside, \u003cbr\u003ewaiting for the killing shot. When I moved to get water for the roses, I \u003cbr\u003esaw a bird fly down to land in the tree above him, but it veered off at \u003cbr\u003ethe last moment.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"It could have been a fox or any sudden movement,\" she pointed out. \"Birds \u003cbr\u003eare skittish.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yes, it could have been,\" he agreed. \"But it wasn't. And if he'd had \u003cbr\u003eenough confidence to try for a head shot, I would now by lying beside \u003cbr\u003eDanyal.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Then we've both been lucky today,\" she said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe nodded but did not answer, his mind still puzzling over the incident. \u003cbr\u003eFor ten years they had lived without his past returning to haunt him. In \u003cbr\u003ethese mountains he was merely the widower Dakeyras. Who, after all this \u003cbr\u003etime, would send an assassin after him?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd how many more would come?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe sun was hanging over the western peaks, a blazing cooper disk of fire \u003cbr\u003ecasting a last defiant glare over the mountainside. Miriel squinted \u003cbr\u003eagainst the light.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"It's too bright,\" she complained.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut his hand swept up, the wooden chopping board sailing into the sky. \u003cbr\u003eSmoothly she brought the crossbow to her shoulder, her fingers pressing \u003cbr\u003ethe bronze trigger. The bolt leapt from the weapon, missing the arcing \u003cbr\u003ewood by little more than a foot.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I said it was too bright,\" she repeated.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Picture failure and it will happen,\" he told her sternly, recovering the \u003cbr\u003ewooden board.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Let me throw it for you, then.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I do not need the practice--you do!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You couldn't hit it, could you? Admit it?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe gazed into her sparkling eyes and noted the sunlight glinting red on \u003cbr\u003eher hair and the bronzed skin of her shoulders. \"You ought to be married,\" \u003cbr\u003ehe said suddenly. \"You are far too beautiful to be stuck on a mountainside \u003cbr\u003ewith an old man.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Don't try to evade the issue,\" she scolded, snatching the board from him \u003cbr\u003eand walking back ten paces. He chuckled and shook his head, accepting \u003cbr\u003edefeat. Carefully he eased back the steel string of the lower bow arm. The \u003cbr\u003espring-loaded hook clicked, and he inserted a short black bolt, gently \u003cbr\u003epressing the notch against the string. Repeating the maneuver with the \u003cbr\u003eupper bow arm, he adjusted the tension in the curved bronze triggers. The \u003cbr\u003eweapon had cost him a small fortune in opals many years before, but it had \u003cbr\u003ebeen crafted by a master and Waylander had never regretted the purchase.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe looked up and was about to ask Miriel to throw when she suddenly hurled \u003cbr\u003ethe board high. The sunlight seared his eyes, but he waited until the \u003cbr\u003espinning board reached its highest point. Extending his arm, he pressed \u003cbr\u003ethe first bronze trigger. The bolt flashed through the air, hammering into \u003cbr\u003ethe board, half splitting it. As it fell, he released the second bolt. The \u003cbr\u003eboard exploded into shards.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Horrible man!\" she said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe made a low bow. \"You should feel privileged,\" he told her, holding back \u003cbr\u003ehis smile. \"I don't usually perform without payment.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Throw again,\" she ordered him, restringing the crossbow.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The wood is broken,\" he pointed out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Throw the largest piece.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRetrieving his bolts, he hefted the largest chunk of wood. It was no more \u003cbr\u003ethan four inches across and less than a foot long. \"Are you ready?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Just throw!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith a flick of his wrist he spun the chunk high into the air. The \u003cbr\u003ecrossbow came up, and the bolt sang, plunging into the wood. Waylander \u003cbr\u003eapplauded the shot. Miriel gave an elaborate bow.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Women are supposed to curtsey,\" he said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"And they are supposed to wear dresses and learn embroidery,\" she retorted.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"True,\" he conceded. \"How do you like the assassin's bow?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"It has good balance, and it is very light.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Ventrian ebony, and the stock is hollowed. Are you ready for some \u003cbr\u003eswordplay?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe laughed. \"Is your pride ready for another pounding?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"No,\" he admitted. \"I think we'll have an early night.\" She looked \u003cbr\u003edisappointed as they gathered their weapons and set off back to the cabin. \u003cbr\u003e\"I think you need a better swordmaster than I,\" he told her as they \u003cbr\u003ewalked. \"It is your best weapon, and you are truly skilled. I'll think on \u003cbr\u003eit.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I thought you were the best,\" she chided.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Fathers always seem that way,\" he said dryly. \"But no. With bow or knife \u003cbr\u003eI am superb. With the sword? Only excellent.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"And so modest. Is there anything at which you do not excel?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yes,\" he answered, his smile fading.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIncreasing his pace, he walked on, his mind lost in painful memories. His \u003cbr\u003efirst family had been butchered by raiders, his wife, his baby girls, and \u003cbr\u003ehis son. The picture was bright in his mind. He had found the boy lying \u003cbr\u003edead in the flower garden, his little face surrounded by blooms.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd five years before, having found love a second time, he had watched \u003cbr\u003ehelplessly as Danyal's horse had struck a hidden tree root. The stallion \u003cbr\u003ehad hit the ground hard, rolling, trapping Danyal beneath it and crushing \u003cbr\u003eher chest. She had died within minutes, her body racked with pain.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\"Is there anything at which you do not excel?\"\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOnly one.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI cannot keep alive those I love.","brand":"Del Rey","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300384198885,"sku":"NP9780345407986","price":8.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780345407986.jpg?v=1767729981","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/in-the-realm-of-the-wolf-isbn-9780345407986","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}