“What do you want?” asked Kiall, trying to pull away.
“Listen to me, fool. There is no need to die! I will help you in this battle if you trust me.”
“I want no trickery or magic,” said Kiall.
“No tricks,” Asta assured him. “Just say these words after me. Will you do that?”
Kiall shrugged. “What are they?”
“Merely a good luck charm which will open you to a friend. Trust me, Kiall. Can you not see I am with you? I am fighting to save the life of Chareos. Does that mean nothing? I am your friend.”
“Speak the words,” said the former villager.
Asta Khan closed his eyes, and began to chant:
Nadir we
Youth born,
Bloodletters,
Ax wielders
Victors still.
Kiall spoke the words. “What do they mean?”
“Life,” whispered a cool voice inside his mind, and Kiall reeled back. “Do not be afraid,” said the voice of Tenaka Khan. “I am the warrior who aided you against the demons, and I will aid you now. I want you to relax, to allow me to live for but a brief moment. It is all I ask in return for the aid I gave you.”
Kiall could feel the rising tension in him like a pressure building. “Give way, Kiall. And let me save your friends.”
“It is my fight,” he argued weakly.
“Jungir Khan poisoned me,” said Tenaka. “He poisoned his own father. You must allow me my hour of revenge.”
“I … I don’t know.”
“Trust me. Relax,” said Tenaka, and Kiall felt himself give, felt the power of Tenaka Khan flow through his veins. Their memories merged, and Kiall felt the thrill of countless battles, saw the fall of the mighty Dros Delnoch, experienced the great love the khan had known for Renya, the Joining child. But more than this he felt the confidence of the warrior born. He tried to will himself forward but found to his terror that he could no longer control his limbs. His arms stretched out, and his lungs filled with air.
“Oh,” came his voice, “oh, it is good to breathe again!”
Tenaka Khan moved to the postern gate. At that moment Tanaki ran from the guardhouse. “Kiall!” she screamed. “Oh, please don’t do this.”
She flung herself into his arms, and Tenaka kissed the top of her head.
“I will come back,” he said softly. “He cannot beat me.”
“But he can. He is the greatest swordsman since my father. There is not a man alive, save perhaps Chareos, who could best him.”
“Did you love your father?” he asked.
“You know that I did. More than anything.”
“And do you love me?” he asked. Trapped behind his own eyes, Kiall despaired of the answer.
“Yes,” she said simply. “I am for you, Kiall. Now and always.”
“Your father loved you,” he said. “You were the joy Renya left … him. Watch from the battlements and fear nothing. Kiall will come back to you. I promise, Naki.”
He turned to the gate, opened the bolts, and walked toward the waiting horde. For a moment Tanaki was stunned. He had seemed so different, and he had used her pet name, the name she had carried as a child. She swung to Asta Khan.
“What have you done?” she shouted. The old man said nothing but returned to the still form of Chareos. The blademaster opened his eyes.
“I kept my bargain,” whispered Asta. “Will you keep yours?”
“I will,” answered Chareos. “What is happening?”
“Kiall has gone outside to battle Jungir Khan.”
“By the Source, no,” groaned Chareos. “Help me to the battlements.” The wiry shaman pulled Chareos to his feet and half carried him to the steps. Painfully Chareos eased his way up to the ramparts.
Out on the valley floor Tenaka Khan strode out confidently to meet his son. Jungir carried the jeweled blade given to him by Chien-tsu. Tenaka drew the cavalry saber, tested it for weight, and then hurled it aside. He walked past the surprised Jungir, halting before an old man on a gray pony.
“They told me on the battlements that you were Subodai, the oldest friend of Tenaka Khan,” he said.
The grim-eyed old man nodded his head.
“Would you lend me one of the short swords Tenaka gave you on your last meeting?”
The old man looked closely at the figure of Kiall, at the stance and the tilt of the head, at the gray eyes that fixed to his own. He shivered and drew his sword, reversing it and handing it to the young man without a word.
Tenaka turned and swung the blade twice. He returned to Jungir Khan.
“When you are ready, Highness,” he said.
Jungir launched a lightning thrust. Tenaka parried it and stepped in close. “Did you think the poison would keep me from you, my son?” he whispered.
Jungir blanched. His face darkened, and he attacked again and again. But each time the dazzling blade of Tenaka Khan blocked his approach. As the battle moved farther from the watching warriors, Jungir aimed a wild cut. Tenaka blocked it and stepped inside once more.
“Asta smuggled my bones here years ago. Yet I can still taste the poison from your cup.”
“Stop it!” screamed Jungir. His sword lowered a fraction and Tenaka Khan leapt forward, twisting the blade from his grasp. It fell in the dirt ten paces away.
“Pick it up,” ordered Tenaka. Jungir scrambled for the blade and ran at Tenaka, offering no defense. Before he could stop himself, Tenaka instinctively rammed his sword home into his son’s chest. Jungir sagged against him.
“I loved you, Father,” he said, “and you never cared for me. Not once.”
Tenaka seized his son and sank with him to the earth, tears filling his eyes. “Oh, my son! I was so proud of you. But I wanted you to be a strong man, a Nadir man. And I never showed my feelings, save for Tanaki. Yet I loved you—and your brothers. Jungir … Jungir!”
But the khan was dead.
Tenaka stood with head bowed by the body. He wrenched the sword clear and flung it from him, then knelt by his dead son.
The old general rode forward and dismounted. He walked now with a limp, but he was the same man Tenaka Khan had rescued all those years before.
“Who are you?” hissed the general. “Who?”
“I am merely a man,” said Tenaka, turning to stare at the battlements and his only daughter. The foolish boy had given him life, and he had used it to kill the last of his sons. And he knew in that moment that he could not rob his daughter of her love. No, better finally to accept death and fly in search of Jungir. “Kiall, come forth,” he said softly.
Kiall found the tension lifting from him. He stretched and turned back to the general. “I thank you for the use of your sword, sir. The spirit of Tenaka Khan bade me ask for it.”
“Just for a moment …” said the general. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Return to your fortress; you will die soon enough.”
Asta Khan leapt to the battlements. “Subodai!” he called.
“What is it, warlock?”
“The son of the khan is born!”
“Is this true?” Subodai hissed at Kiall.
“Yes. In the night.”
“I will bring him to you,” shouted Asta. “Do not attack.”
Kiall walked back to the fortress, where two soldiers opened the postern gate. Asta was moving toward the gatehouse when Chareos stopped him.
“Wait,” he said. “I will bring out the child.”
Chareos walked into the guardhouse, where Ravenna was awake with one child at her breast; the other was sleeping.
He sat beside her. “I do not know how to say this, my lady. But, to avert the war I promised one of your sons would be khan. And now I am trapped by that promise.”
She looked at the anguish in his eyes and reached out a hand to him.
“One of them is born to be khan. The other would be slain; it is the Nadir way,” she said. “Let Asta have what he wants. I will raise the other.” She lifted the babe from h
er breast and kissed him tenderly. “Take him before I change my mind.”
“I will help you raise him; I swear it.” He took the babe. “Now let there be no sound. Asta must not know there are twins.”
He walked to the door and out into the sunlight. Asta ran forward, holding out his thin arms for the child.
“A new great khan,” he said gleefully. Chareos passed the babe to him, and it began to howl, but Asta leaned down and whispered in his ear. The babe became quiet and fell asleep.
“I did what I had to do,” said Asta. “But I am grateful to you, Blademaster.” Chareos nodded and watched the shaman walk out to the waiting army.
Within minutes they had departed from the valley. As Chareos sat down in the sunshine and sagged back against the wall, Salida joined him.
“I would not have believed the lord regent could be so heroic,” said Chareos.
“No,” said Salida, lifting the parchment from his belt and tossing it to Chareos’ lap.
The blademaster opened it. The message was simple:
“Give Jungir Khan all he asks for.”
“I think we did that, don’t you?” observed Salida.
Epilogue
KIALL AND TANAKI did not wait to be wed in the Gothir fashion. They cut their palms in the Nadir way and pledged their troth before witnesses at Bel-azar. Then they rode from the fortress back to the steppes and out of the pages of Nadir history.
Chien-tsu and Oshi journeyed back to the empire of the Kiatze, where the ambassador was covered with garlands and given lands of great wealth and greater beauty.
Harokas journeyed with Salida to New Gulgothir, where the lord regent grudgingly gave the captain a fine award and a promotion.
Seven years later three riders halted before the first great gates of Castle Tenaka.
“Once, my son,” said Chareos, “this was Dros Delnoch, the mightiest of the Drenai fortresses. In those days it was ruled by the Earl of Bronze. One day that title will be yours.”
The boy turned his violet eyes on the six massive walls rearing back along the pass. “I will take it from the other side,” he said softly.
Chareos smiled and turned to his wife, Ravenna. “Do you have regrets?” he asked.
“None,” she said, taking his hand. The boy twisted in his saddle and stared back over the northern steppes.
A thousand miles away another violet-eyed child stood, staring south.
“What are you looking at?” asked Asta Khan.
“The enemy,” whispered the boy.
“I love David Gemmell’s work. He’s one of the best out there today, and one of the reasons that fantasy is alive and well.”
—New York Times bestselling author
R. A. SALVATORE
WHITE WOLF
A Novel of Druss the Legend
by David Gemmell
With each new novel, and in prose as sharp and skillfully wielded as the swords of his great heros, David Gemmell carries to stunning new heights the swashbuckling tradition of Robert E. Howard and Robert Jordan. His action-packed stories feature unforgettable characters journeying through sorcerous worlds where love can exalt a heart or debase it, power can ennoble or corrupt, and honor is the most powerful weapon of all. Now Gemmell has written a long-awaited novel featuring his newest hero—Skilgannon—and his most popular character of all time: Druss the Legend.
Published by Del Rey
Available in paperback wherever books are sold
“Gemmell not only knows how to tell a story, he knows how to tell a story you want to hear. He does high adventure as it ought to be done.”
—Greg Keyes,
Author of The Briar King
THE SWORDS OF NIGHT AND DAY
A Novel of Skilgannon the Damned
by David Gemmell
With mythic sweep and epic scope, David Gemmell’s bestselling novels of magic and adventure feature brooding heroes who fight to preserve all that is good and honorable in themselves and in the worlds through which they stride like lonely giants. In times of terror and despair, theirs are the swords that carve a shining path, inspiring others to follow. Even after their deaths, their names live on.…
Published by Del Rey
Available in hardcover wherever books are sold
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Quest for Lost Heroes Page 31
