The Swords of Night and Day Read Free

have you wed to a princess named Dunaya. It is said she was slain by a demon and carried away into the underworld. You went after her. For years you were lost to the world of men, as you journeyed through the deepest places of the earth seeking to bring her back.” Landis Khan chuckled. “A fine tale, and there is probably a grain of truth in there somewhere. Now come with me, my friend. I have much to show you.”
             
    L andis struggled to contain his excitement. Through what seemed endless years of fruitless toil he had held to the vision that one day he would find a way to redeem himself. For the last twenty-three years he had waited so patiently, hoping against all reason that this latest experiment would prove to be decisive.
    The first three failures had been galling, and had dented his confidence. Now, however, in one glorious moment, it was restored.
    Two names had rekindled the fires of his hope.
The Zharn
and
Dayan.
    He glanced at the tall man with the brilliant sapphire eyes and forced a smile.
    “Where are we going?” asked the man.
    “To my library and workplace. There is something I am anxious for you to see.”
    Landis led the man along a narrow corridor and down a set of stairs. The lower levels were cold, despite the lanterns hanging on cast-iron brackets. Landis shivered, but the man beside him seemed untroubled.
    At last they came to a set of double doors. Beyond them was a long room, with five soft chairs and three couches, festooned with embroidered cushions. A tall arched window showed a view of the distant mountains. The curtains billowed with the afternoon breeze. To the left was a second arch, leading through to a library, the scores of shelves bent under the weight of the books upon them.
    Landis walked on to another door at the rear of the room. This he opened with a key taken from his pouch.
    Inside, it was windowless and dark. Landis lit a lantern, hanging it from a bracket. Golden light flickered in the room, shadows dancing upon the plain walls. “What has been removed?” asked the man.
    Landis smiled, noticing the rectangular dust patterns that showed where objects had been taken down from the walls. “Just some paintings,” he answered, swiftly. “You are very observant.” Moving to a desk, Landis reached down and lifted what at first appeared to be a short, curved ornamental staff. At each end were sections of beautifully carved white ivory, though the center was smooth, polished ebony. Turning, he offered the object to his guest.
    The man’s face darkened, and he stepped back. “I do not want to touch them,” he said.
    “Them?”
    “There is evil in them.”
    “But they are yours. They were buried with you in the tomb. They were laid upon your chest, your hands clasped over them.”
    “Even so, I do not want them.”
    Landis took a deep breath. “But you know what they are?”
    “Yes, I know,” answered the man, a wealth of sadness in his voice. “They are the Swords of Night and Day. And I am Skilgannon the Damned.”
    Landis curled his hand around one of the hilts. “Do not draw that blade,” said Skilgannon. “I have no wish to see it.” With that he swung on his heel and walked back through the library. Landis placed the Swords of Night and Day on the desktop and ran after the warrior.
    “Wait!” he called. “Please wait.”
    Skilgannon paused, sighed, then turned. “Why did you bring me back, Landis?”
    “You will understand why when you see the world outside my domain. There is great evil here, Skilgannon. We need you.”
    Skilgannon shook his head. “I do not remember much as yet, Landis, but I know I never was a god. In every generation there are war leaders, heroes, men of valor. I may—just may—have been special in my day. But you must have men of equal skill in this time.”
    “Would that we had enough of them,” said Landis Khan, with feeling. “There is a great war being fought but not—in the main—by men. We have a few