It was the voice of a great predator. If a lion could speak, thought Kormak, it would have a voice like that.

“You have broken the Law,” said Kormak.

“It has been a long time since one of your kind has remembered the Law. Who are you to speak of it?”

“You know who I am. You know why I have come here.”

"Where is your mail of true silver? Where is your white horse? Where is your lance with its dragon pennon fluttering in the breeze?"

"I left them behind. I thought I would give you a sporting chance."

“You stand there wounded with that accursed sword on your back, daychild, and you do not draw it, although I stand close enough to reach down and tear out your heart. Are you really that good?” There was amusement and contempt in the voice.

“If I draw this blade, I must kill you. I thought it better to give you warning first.” A roaring sound emerged from the blackness, the thunder of a pride of lions who have heard prey. It took Kormak a moment to realize it was laughter. Sniggers and shrieks echoed it all the way back through the forest. The laughter was horrible, the mirth of things old and cold and deadly. Were there really so many there, Kormak wondered?

“I ask you again, are you really that good with the blade?”

“There is only way you will find out. Do you wish to test me?”

“I know that sword, daychild. I know what it is. Do you?”

“Yes.”

“So if I kill you there will be one less Guardian of the Dawn.”

“If you kill me, two more like me will come. If you kill them, four. If you kill them, twice as many again. And on and on until you are dead. The Order is a great machine. Behind it stand all the Armies of the Morning. But first you will have to kill me and I am not a little girl.”

“Let us talk while I make up my mind about killing you.” Kormak stood ready. He recalled Master Ibrahim’s words. Show no fear, no weakness. The Children of the Moon will respect that.

 

“By all means.We have all night.”

“I remember that blade,” said the leonine voice. “Areon the Bold carried it at Brightmere.”

A faint shock passed through Kormak’s mind. Areon had been in his grave for a thousand years.

“He killed my brother Masarion with it.” A clue there, Kormak thought, although the conclusion it led him to was not a bright one. The thing out there was something infinitely worse than a Troll.

“I give you greetings then, Telurion,” he said.

“You know your history,” said the moonchild. “Perhaps you are what you say. Since you know my name, it is only polite for you to give me yours.”

“I am Kormak mak Kaine.”

“I have heard that name. They say you are the best to bear that blade since Areon. Myself, I do not see it.”

“They say you are not what your brother was so perhaps we will prove well matched.” Again that thunderous laughter rang out. It went on for a long time.