Quest for Lost Heroes

by David Gemmell

  “Who commands this castle?” he called.

  “I, Salida.”

  “I am Jungir Khan. Come down. I wish to speak with you. It is not fitting that two commanders should negotiate in this manner.”

  On the wall Harokas turned to Salida. “Don’t listen to him; it is a trick. Once the gate is open, they will storm through.”

  “These broken walls would not stop them,” answered Salida. He strode down the rampart steps and ordered the gate to be opened. Chareos walked with him and waited in the gateway.

  As Salida walked onto the open ground, Jungir touched his heels to the gray, which suddenly reared up, almost toppling him from the saddle. He clung on grimly as the stallion ducked its head and bucked. Jungir wrenched the beast’s head, and the horse fell, the khan leaping from the saddle and falling to the dust. The stallion—ears flat to its skull, eyes rolling—lashed out at the Nadir leader, who fell back. The horse reared above him, hooves ready to smash his skull, as Chareos ran forward. “Be calm, gray one,” he called. “To me!” The stallion swung to the sound of his voice and trotted away from the fallen khan. Chareos stroked the beast’s long neck.

  Jungir rose and brushed the dust from his breeches. He was acutely aware that his men would be avidly watching what followed. The khan had lost face. Worse, he had been rescued by the enemy.

  “Are you all right, my lord?” Salida asked.

  “I am well. You!” called the khan to Chareos. “You may keep the horse. It is a gift.” He swung back to Salida. “Now, Captain, you say the dead man was a traitor. I have dealt with him. Now I ask you to return to me my property. To refuse will be taken as an act of war against the Nadir people. Is this what you wish, Captain?”

  “No, Highness, it is not,” answered Salida. “But you are standing on Gothir lands, and Bel-azar is a Gothir fortress. Will you be so kind as to wait for me to seek orders from my superiors in Gulgothir? I will send a rider, and an answer will be forthcoming within the day.”

  “I could take this ruin within an hour,” said Jungir.

  “The Nadir are indeed a ferocious enemy,” Salida agreed. “But allow me the day.”

  For a moment Jungir was silent. He walked away, as if considering the request, and glanced at his warriors. The incident with the stallion had worried them. The tribesmen put great weight on omens; the horse had unseated the khan and now stood in the gateway, allowing itself to be petted by the tall, dark-eyed warrior there. A good shaman would find a positive omen even in this bizarre circumstance, but Shotza was dead and Asta Khan was standing on the ramparts in full view of the Nadir. If Jungir gave the order, his men would attack, but they would do so less willingly, fearing bad omens. And if they should fail to take the walls swiftly, there was a chance that, believing the gods were against them, they would turn on their leader. Jungir thought it through. The risk of failure was remote, but on a day like this? He swung back to Salida. “Men should have time to consider their actions,” he said. “I give you your day. But hear this: not one person is to leave the fortress, save for your messenger. And all who are not soldiers will be handed over to me. Otherwise I will destroy you all. Let that message be carried to the lord regent.”

  The khan strode back through his lines, the Nadir flowing after him. They stopped and made camp a half mile from the wall.

  “You are a man with nerve,” Harokas told Salida.

  “And you will need to be,” said Salida, “if the lord regent sends the message I expect him to.”

  * * *

  The day wore on, dusky shadows stretching across the valley. The Nadir lit campfires, and Salida ordered most of the men back from the ramparts. The soldiers started their own cook fires, and Salida brought a bowl of thick soup to where Chareos sat on the wall.

  The blademaster accepted it and put it aside to cool. “I am sorry, Salida. Once more I seem to have caused trouble for you.”

  Salida shrugged. “I am a soldier, Chareos. Trouble is what I am paid for. But—and I hope you will not take this amiss—when this is over, I do not want to see you again.”

  “In the circumstances that is understandable,” Chareos agreed with a wry smile. He looked down on the body of the earl. “Strange. He was a man of many talents, and yet he always told me he envied my role at Bel-azar. He often said he would like to have had the chance to fight here. And he did … on the wrong side.”

  “That is a question of perspective, Chareos. The wrong side is the losing side. We have yet to see which side we are on.”

  “What do you think the lord regent will decide?”

  “Let us wait and see,” said Salida, looking away.

  “My thoughts exactly,” agreed Chareos. “He will sell us out. Better that, I suppose, than a costly war he cannot win.”

  An ululating chant began in the guardhouse, and Salida shivered. “I do not like that man,” he said. “Like all Nadir shamans, he reeks of death.”

  Tanaki joined them on the battlements, Kiall beside her. “That is a birth chant,” she said. “I’ll go down and help.”

  Chareos yawned and stretched out on the battlements. He was weary, and his bones ached. Rolling his blanket to make a pillow, he lay down in the shadows and tried to sleep.

  “Defend the babe, Blademaster,” came the voice of Okas.

  Chareos awoke with a start. Salida had returned to his men, and only six sentries walked the walls. Chareos sat up. Asta Khan had promised him that the mother and the babe would be safe. What, then, was the danger? He recalled again the words of Okas back in Tavern Town.

  “Why do the bones of Tenaka Khan lie buried at Bel-azar?”

  Tenaka Khan, the King beyond the Gate, the Prince of Shadows. A man Asta believed should never have died. Now the shaman sat in the birth room, holding the skull of the great khan. Chareos’ mouth was dry, and the thoughts tumbled together. What had Asta said? “No harm will come to the mother of his flesh.”

  What of his spirit, his soul?

  He glanced down at the guardhouse. In there, at this very moment, Asta Khan was waiting to slay the child’s soul. Chareos rose and ran down the rampart steps.

  He had reached the guardhouse door and was about to enter when he heard a sound from behind and swiveled, but he was too late. Asta’s dagger slashed out to nick the skin of his face. As the little shaman jumped back, Chareos tried to draw his saber, but his limbs were sluggish and heavy.

  “I knew,” whispered Asta Khan, “that you would divine my purpose. But it is too late for you, Chareos. Die in peace.”

  The poison flooded his veins. His legs gave way, and he did not feel himself hit the ground.

  Asta pulled the body to the side of the building, then returned to his place at the bedside. He sat on the cold floor and closed his eyes, his spirit soaring free.

  Ravenna was moaning with the pain of the contractions, Tanaki beside her. Kiall was asleep by the far wall, but he awoke and sat up. “What is happening?” he asked.

  “Her water’s broken. The babe will be born any time now,” answered Tanaki.

  “What can I do?”

  “What all men do at this time—nothing,” she answered, a smile robbing the words of venom. Kiall rose and walked from the room. Outside the night was fresh and clear. Most of the soldiers were asleep, except for the guards on the walls. He looked around for Chareos, but there was no sign of the blademaster. Seeing Chien-tsu rise from his blankets, Kiall strolled over to him.

  The little warrior stretched and lifted his sword belt into place, the long blade hanging between his shoulder blades. His servant slept on, snoring softly.

  “Where is Chareos?” asked Chien.

  “On the wall, I think.”

  “Let us hope so,” said Chien, trotting toward the rampart steps. They searched the wall and the gate tower. Chien seemed anxious now. He turned to stare back into the fortress, his eyes alighting on the still figure by the guardhouse wall. Both men ran to the body, and Chien turned it over, feeling for a pulse.

&nb
sp; “What happened to him?” asked Kiall.

  “I do not know. I heard his soul cry out. It woke me.”

  “Look, there is a cut to his face.”

  “It could have happened when he fell,” said Chien. “We must get him to a fire. His body is cold, but the heart still beats.”

  Chareos awoke to a bleak landscape, the sky a pitiless gray, the land devoid of life. A dead tree stood like a skeleton on the brow of a distant hill, and a light shone there. Chareos shook his head. He had no recollection of traveling to this barren land. As he walked toward the light, wolves howled in the distance, the sound eerie and hollow. Chareos climbed the hill and sat by the light, which was emanating from a point just above the ground. He reached out to touch it, but a voice stopped him.

  “It is fragile, Chareos, and pure,” said Okas, and Chareos turned. The Tattooed Man smiled and held out his hand. Chareos took it.

  “What is the light?” asked the blademaster.

  “There are two lights,” said Okas. “They are the souls of the twins Ravenna carries.”

  “They are beautiful,” Chareos whispered.

  “All children have bright souls, but these two are special. They will change the world, Chareos. For good or ill.”

  “How did you come here? For that matter, how did I come here?”

  “Asta Khan poisoned your body. Even now you are dying in the world beyond. He plans to kill what he sees as the soul of the child.”

  “I remember,” said Chareos. “He wants to bring Tenaka Khan back to life. Can he do it?”

  “Yes, if his timing is right. That is why the bones were at Bel-azar. That is also why Jungir placed a thousand spells on the tomb of Ulric—not to stop robbers from getting in but to stop Tenaka Khan from getting out. But Asta fooled him; he stole the khan’s bones and carried them to Bel-azar to await the ghosts-yet-to-be.”

  “So we fulfilled his dreams?”

  “We kept him alive when he was weak. But now he is strong again.”

  “What can we do?”

  Okas shrugged. “We can defend the child.”

  “Can we succeed?”

  “No, Chareos. But when has that ever been important?”

  A cold wind blew across the hilltop, and a dark mist formed. The mist hardened to become a horde of demons with dull red eyes and long talons. In their midst stood Asta and, beside him, Tenaka Khan, the King beyond the Gate.

  Chareos stood and drew his saber. It shone with a silver light.

  “Still you oppose me?” sneered Asta Khan. “It will avail you nothing. Look now upon my army!” As far as the eye could see there were creatures of darkness, and Chareos could sense their lust for blood like a physical force pushing him back.

  “Step aside, Chareos,” said Tenaka Khan. “You have done all that you were intended to do. The ghosts-yet-to-be have fulfilled their quest. They have given me a second chance at life.”

  “No, Great Khan,” replied Chareos. “You had your life, and it ended. This child deserves to see the sky and live his own life. And I do not believe that my friends and I died for your glory. If anything, it was for the babe.”

  “Enough of this!” shouted Asta. “You think to stop us alone?”

  “But he is not alone,” said Beltzer, walking to stand beside Chareos. When the blademaster looked at his friend, Beltzer was no longer old and fat, no longer bald. Red hair framed his face in a lion’s mane, and his silver ax blazed with light.

  Maggrig and Finn appeared on his left, white bows in their hands.

  Chareos felt a swelling in his throat, and tears formed in his eyes. He brushed them away with the sleeve of his shirt.

  “Now you know, Tenaka,” he said, “the meaning of the ghosts-yet-to-be. Bring on your demons. We defy you all!” Beltzer hefted his ax, and Maggrig and Finn drew back on their bows. Asta raised his arm, but Tenaka held on to it. The khan walked forward, his violet eyes sad and thoughtful.

  “I thought you were created for me,” he said. “I knew you had some purpose—it is why I let you live, why I scarred my life of victories with that one defeat.” He gazed down at the light and sighed. “But you are right, Chareos. My day has passed. Let the child see the sky.”

  He turned away and walked back to the demon horde. A path opened before him, and he vanished from sight.

  Asta walked toward Chareos, but the blademaster blocked his way to the light.

  The shaman looked old now, wretched and desolate as he looked up at Chareos, blinking and confused.

  “You must let me have the babe,” he said.

  “No.”

  “I do not mean to kill it. I cannot now, not without Tenaka’s blessing. But the Nadir must have a khan. You see that, do you not? He is of the blood of kings. Let me have him.”

  “What do you offer, Asta Khan?”

  “I have an antidote to the poison. You will live.”

  “You misunderstand me. What do you offer the child?”

  “My life. I will defend him all the days of my life. I will teach him to be the khan.”

  “Then you may have him.”

  Asta’s surprise was genuine. “Let me see his spirit.”

  “No. Return to Bel-azar and give me your antidote. You will see the babe when he is born.”

  “Can I trust you, Chareos?”

  “I am afraid that you can,” said the blademaster.

  Asta turned and vanished, and the mist formed about the demons once more. The wind howled, the mist swirling away into the gray sky.

  And the heroes of Bel-azar were alone on the hilltop. The light from the twin spirits grew, touching the dead tree. Leaves sprang from the branches, blossoms of pink and white flowered into life, and fragile petals fell like snow-flakes around the souls.

  15

  FOR SIXTEEN HOURS Chareos lay close to death, scarcely breathing. Asta Khan stayed by his side, pouring a foul-smelling potion between his lips and rubbing his limbs, forcing the blood to circulate. Chien-tsu offered his help, but Asta waved him away.

  “Is he doing any good?” Kiall asked the Kiatze warrior.

  “I have never seen anyone work harder. I could almost believe he actually cares whether Chareos lives or dies. Almost.”

  Kiall returned to the guardhouse, where Ravenna had given birth to twin boys, healthy and strong. Tanaki was still at the bedside, but both women were asleep. Kiall was about to leave her when Tanaki opened her eyes; she smiled wearily and stood, moving into his embrace.

  “What now?” she asked, looking up at him.

  “Now we wait for the lord regent’s answer.”

  One of the babes began to cry, and Tanaki went to where he lay with his brother in a makeshift crib, lifting him clear. She carried him to Ravenna, pulled back the blanket, and held him to Ravenna’s breast. The mother did not stir from her sleep.

  Tanaki rubbed the babe’s back and returned him to the crib. The other babe awoke but did not cry. Tanaki lifted him also and carried him to Ravenna. He, too, drank lustily.

  “It is a pity Ravenna was not the woman of Chareos,” said Tanaki.

  “Why?”

  “He could have challenged Jungir Khan to single combat for her. It is the Nadir custom, and the khan could not have refused. That way we could have avoided a war.”

  “I could challenge him,” said Kiall.

  Fear flashed into Tanaki’s eyes. “You will do no such thing! I have seen you in action, and you are not one-half as skillful as Jungir. He would cut you into pieces.”

  “I could strike a lucky blow,” he argued.

  “Luck does not enter into a contest of that nature. Put the idea from your mind.”

  He paused in the doorway. “I do love you,” he said. “You know that?”

  “Yes. I know.”

  He left her then and walked to the ramparts, where Salida was standing with Harokas and Chien-tsu. Glancing back at the unconscious Chareos, he saw that the shaman was still beside him.

  “I think his heart gave out,” said H
arokas.

  “He is not a young man,” Salida said, “but I hope he pulls through.”

  The Nadir began to stir, rising from their campfires and saddling their horses. Salida glanced at the sky. It was almost time.

  A rider came galloping through the western gate, leaping from the saddle of his lathered mount. He ran to Salida, handing him a scroll of parchment sealed with green wax and stamped with the lord regent’s seal. Salida walked away from the others, removed his battle gauntlets, and opened the scroll. He sniffed loudly and read the document slowly; then he rolled it once more and tucked it into his belt.

  Pulling on his gauntlets, he returned to the others.

  The Nadir began to ride forward with Jungir Khan at their head. They halted below the battlements, and Jungir looked up.

  “You have your answer, Captain Salida?”

  “I do, Highness. I am instructed to hold this fortress in the name of the Gothir people and to deny access to any foreign power.”

  “Then it is war,” said Jungir, drawing his sword.

  “Wait!” shouted Kiall. “May I speak, Highness?”

  “Who are you, boy?” called Jungir.

  “I am Kiall. Ravenna was my woman, stolen from my village. We were betrothed. Now I demand the right of combat to decide what happens to her.”

  Jungir leaned back in the saddle, his dark eyes fixed on Kiall. “You wish to challenge me directly?”

  “It is my right and the Nadir custom to do so.”

  Jungir glanced to his left, watching the men around him. Each of them knew the custom, and he felt with certainty that the boy’s daring appealed to them.

  “And when you lose?” called Jungir Khan. “What then? I get my woman back—and what else?”

  “I can speak only for Ravenna, sire.”

  “Very well. Come down and we will fight man to man. And I promise not to kill you slowly, for you have followed your woman as a man should.” A grunt of approval came from the Nadir warriors around him.

  Inside the fortress Asta Khan heard the exchange. As Kiall descended the rampart steps, Asta ran to him, grabbing his arm.