‘Is that all?’ asked the warrior. ‘No more questions?’
‘Are you disappointed?’
‘I suppose that I am,’ admitted Waylander. ‘I wonder why?’
‘Shall I tell you?’
‘No, I like mysteries. What will you do now?’
‘I shall find others of my order and return to my duties.’
‘In other words you will die.’
‘It makes no sense to me,’ said Waylander, ‘but then life itself makes no sense. So it becomes reasonable.’
‘Did life ever make sense to you, Waylander?’
‘Yes. A long time ago before I learned about eagles.’
‘I do not understand you.’
‘That pleases me,’ said the warrior, pillowing his head on his saddle and closing his eyes.
‘Please explain,’ urged Dardalion. Waylander rolled to his back and opened his eyes, staring out beyond the stars. ‘Once I loved life and the sun was a golden joy. But joy is sometimes short-lived, priest. And when it dies a man will seek inside himself and ask: Why? Why is hate so much stronger than love? Why do the wicked reap such rich rewards? Why does strength and speed count for more than morality and kindness? And then the man realises … there are no answers. None. And for the sake of his sanity the man must change perceptions. Once I was a lamb, playing in a green field. Then the wolves came. Now I am an eagle and I fly in a different universe.’
‘And now you kill the lambs,’ whispered Dardalion.
Waylander chuckled and turned over.
‘No, priest. No one pays for lambs.’
— David Gemmell, Waylander