Drenai Series 05 - Waylander II: In the Realm of the Wolf by David Gemmell Page A

Source created the lion?' 
    'Of course.' 
    'And the deer?' 
    'Yes - and the lion slays the deer. I know this. I do not understand it, but I accept it.' 
    'I feel the need of flight,' said Dardalion. 'Join me.' 
    The Abbot closed his eyes. Ekodas settled himself more comfortably in the chair, resting his arms upon the padded wings then took a deep breath. The release of spirit seemed effortless to Dardalion, but Ekodas mostly found it extraordinarily difficult, as if his soul had many hooks into the flesh. He followed the lessons he had learned for the last ten years, repeating the mantras, cleansing the mind. 

    The dove in the temple, the opening door, the circle of gold upon the field of blue, the spreading of wings in a gilded cage, the loosing of chains on the temple floor.  

    He felt the first loosening of his hold upon his body, as if he was floating in the warm waters of the womb. He was safe here, content. 

    Feeling drifted back to him, his spine against the hard wood of the chair, his sandalled feet on the cold floor. No, no, he chided himself. You are losing it! His concentration deepened once more. But he could not soar. 
    Dardalion's voice whispered into his mind, 'Take my hand, Ekodas.' 
    A light shone golden and warming and Ekodas accepted the merging. 
    The release was instant and his spirit broke clear of the temple of his body, soaring up through the second temple of stone to float high in the night sky above the land of Drenai. 
    'Why is it so difficult for me?' he asked the Abbot. 
    Dardalion, young again, his face unlined, reached out and touched his pupil's shoulder. 'Doubts are fears, my boy. And dreams of the flesh. Small guilts, meaningless but worrisome.' 
    'Where are we going, Father?' 
    'Follow and observe.' East they flew, across the glittering, star-dappled Ventrian Sea. A storm raged here, and far below a tiny trireme battled the elements, great waves washing over her flat decks. Ekodas saw a sailor swept overboard, watched him fall below the waves, saw the gleaming spark of his soul float up and vanish. 
    The land appeared dark below them, the mountains and plains of Ventria stretching to the east, while here on the coast, brightly-lit towns and ports shone like jewels on a cloak of black. Dardalion flew down, down . . . The two priests hovered some hundred feet in the air and Ekodas saw the scores of ships harboured here, heard the pounding of the armourers' hammers in the town. 
    "The Ventrian battle fleet,' said Dardalion. 'It will sail within the week. They will attack Purdol, Erekban and Lentrum, landing armies to invade Drenai. War and devastation.' 
    He flew on, crossing the high mountains and swooping down over a city of marble, its houses laid out in a grid pattern of wide avenues and cluttered streets. There was a palace upon the highest hill, surrounded by high walls manned by many sentries in gold-embossed armour of white and silver. Dardalion flew into the palace, through the walls and drapes of silk and velvet, coming at last to a bedchamber where a dark-bearded man lay sleeping. Above the man hovered his spirit, formless and vague, unaware and unknowing. 
    'We could stop the war now,' lid Dardalion, a silver sword appearing in his hand. 'I could slay this man's soul. Then thousands of Drenai farmers and soldiers, women and children, would be safe.' 
    'No!' exclaimed Ekodas, swiftly moving between the Abbot and the formless spirit of the Ventrian king. 
    'Did you think I would?' asked Dardalion, sadly. 
    'I ... I am sorry, Father. I saw the sword and . . .'his voice tailed away. 
    'I am no murderer, Ekodas. And I do not know the complete Will of the Source. No man does. No man ever will, though there are many who claim such knowledge. Take my hand, my son.' The walls of the palace vanished and with bewildering speed the two spirits crossed the sea once more, this time heading north-east. Colours flashed