Drenai Saga 02 - The King Beyond the Gate

by David Gemmell

  “No,” whispered Tenaka.

  In a blur of motion she sprang from the fallen trunk. His arms came up as she hit him, and he fell to the snow, air exploding from his lungs. Within seconds she had pinned him to the ground. He struggled but could not move. Holding his arms flat to the snow, she twisted her body until she was lying on top of him, her face inches from his own.

  “He blended me with a panther,” she said.

  “I would still have believed it if you had merely said it,” he told her. “The demonstration was unnecessary.”

  “Not for me,” said Renya. “For now I have you at my mercy.”

  He grinned … arched his back and twisted. With a scream of surprise Renya was hurled to the left. Tenaka swiveled and dived on her, pinning her arms beneath her.

  “I am seldom at anyone’s mercy, young lady,” he said.

  “Well?” she asked him, raising an eyebrow. “Now what will you do?”

  His face reddened, and he did not answer. Nor did he move. He could feel the warmth of her body, smell the perfume of her skin.

  “I love you,” she said. “Truly!”

  “I have no time; I cannot. I have no future.”

  “Neither do I. What is there for a Joining? Kiss me.”

  “No.”

  “Please?”

  He did not answer. He could not. For their lips touched.

  4

  Scaler stood in the crowd and watched the girl as they tied her to the stake. She did not struggle or cry out, and only contempt showed in her eyes. She was tall and fair-haired, not beautiful but striking. As the guards piled brushwood against her legs, they did not look at her, and Scaler sensed their shame.

  It matched his own.

  The officer climbed to the wooden platform beside the girl and surveyed the crowd. He felt their sullen anger wash over him and rejoiced in it. They were powerless.

  Malif adjusted his crimson cloak and removed his helm, tucking it neatly into the crook of his arm. The sunshine felt good, and the day promised to be fine. Very fine.

  He cleared his throat.

  “This woman has been accused of sedition, witchcraft, dealing in poisons, and theft. On all counts she has been righteously condemned. But if there be any to speak for her, let them do so now!”

  His eyes flickered to the left, where a movement began among the watchers. An old man was being restrained by a younger one. No sport there!

  Malif swept his arms to the right, pointing at a Joining in the red and bronze livery of Silius the Magister.

  “This servant of the law has been appointed to defend the decision of the court. If any should wish to champion the girl, Valtaya, let him first gaze upon his opponent.”

  Scaler gripped Belder’s arm. “Don’t be a fool!” he hissed. “You will be killed; I will not allow it.”

  “Better to die than see this,” said the old soldier. But he ceased to struggle and with a weary sigh turned away and pushed his way back through the crowd.

  Scaler glanced up at the girl. Her gray eyes were looking into his, and she was smiling. There was no hint of mockery in the smile.

  “I am sorry,” he mouthed, but she had looked away.

  “May I speak?” she asked, her voice clear and strong.

  Malif turned to her. “The law says that you may, but let there be nothing seditious in your words or I shall have you gagged.”

  “My friends,” she began, “I am sorry to see you here today. Death means nothing, but the absence of joy is worse than death. Most of you I know. And I love you all. Please go from here and remember me as you knew me. Think of the laughter and put this evil moment from your minds.”

  “No need for that, lady!” someone shouted. The crowd parted, and a tall man dressed in black moved to the open space before the pyre.

  Valtaya looked down into the man’s bright blue eyes. His face was covered by a mask of shining black leather, and she wondered if a man with such beautiful eyes could possibly be the executioner.

  “Who are you?” demanded Malif. The man removed his leather cloak, carelessly tossing it into the crowd.

  “You requested a champion, did you not?”

  Malif smiled. The man was massively built, but even he was dwarfed by the Joining.

  What a fine day, to be sure!

  “Remove your mask so that we may see you,” he ordered.

  “That is not necessary, nor is it part of the law,” replied the man.

  “Indeed it is not. Very well. The contest will be decided in hand-to-hand combat, without weapons.”

  “No!” shouted Valtaya. “Please sir, reconsider. It is madness! If I must die, then let it be alone. I am reconciled to it, but you only make it more difficult.”

  The man ignored her as from his broad black belt he tugged a pair of leather gauntlets.

  “Is it permitted for me to wear these?” he asked.

  Malif nodded, and the Joining ambled forward. It was almost seven feet tall, with a huge vulpine head. Its hands ended in wickedly curved talons. A low growl issued from its maw, and its lips curled back to show gleaming fangs.

  “Are there any rules to this combat?” asked the man.

  “None,” replied Malif.

  “Fine,” said the man, hammering a fist into the beast’s mouth. One fang snapped under the impact, and blood sprayed into the air. Then he leapt forward, blows thundering to the beast’s head.

  But the Joining was strong, and after the initial shock it roared its defiance and sprang to the offensive. A fist snapped its head back, then its taloned claw flashed out. The man jumped back, his tunic slashed, blood seeping from shallow cuts in his chest. The two circled each other.

  Now the Joining leapt, and the man threw himself into the air feetfirst, his boots thundering into the beast’s face. The Joining was hurled to the ground, and the man rolled to his feet, running forward to aim a kick, but the Joining swept up an arm and knocked him to the ground. The beast reared up to its full height, then staggered, with eyes rolling and tongue lolling. The man jumped forward, hurling blow after blow to the creature’s head, and the Joining toppled face first into the dust of the market square. The man stood above it, chest heaving; then he turned to the stunned Malif.

  “Cut the girl loose!” he said. “It is over.”

  “Sorcery!” shouted Malif. “You are a warlock. You will burn with the girl. Take him!”

  An angry roar rose from the crowd, and they surged forward.

  Ananais grinned and leapt to the platform as Malif stumbled back, scrabbling for his sword. Ananais hit him, and he flew from the platform. The guards turned and ran, and Scaler climbed to the stake, slicing his dagger through the ropes.

  “Come on!” he yelled, taking Valtaya by the arm. “We must get out of here. They will be back.”

  “Who has my cloak?” bellowed Ananais.

  “I have it, General,” shouted a bearded veteran. Ananais swirled the cloak around his shoulder, fixing the clasp, then lifted his hands for silence.

  “When they ask who freed the girl, tell them it was the army of Tenaka Khan. Tell them the Dragon is back.”

  “This way, quickly!” shouted Scaler, leading Valtaya to a narrow alley. Ananais leapt lightly from the platform and followed them, pausing to glance down at the lifeless Malif, his neck grotesquely twisted. He must have fallen badly, thought Ananais. But then, if the fall had not killed him, the poison would have done so. Carefully he removed his gauntlets, pressing the hidden stud and sliding the needle covers in place over the knuckles. Tucking them into his belt, he raced after the man and the girl.

  They ducked through a side door off a cobbled street, and Ananais found himself in a darkened inn, the shutters closed and the chairs stacked on tables. The man and the girl were standing by the long bar.

  The landlord—a short, balding fat man—was pouring wine into clay jugs. He glanced up as Ananais walked forward out of the shadows, and the carafe fell from his trembling fingers.

  Scaler
spun around, his eyes fearful.

  “Oh, it’s you!” he said. “You certainly move quietly for a big man. It’s all right, Lareas; this is the man who rescued Valtaya.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” said the landlord. “Drink?”

  “Thanks.”

  “The world’s gone mad,” said Lareas. “You know, during the first five years that I ran this inn there was not one murder. Everyone had at least a little money. It was a joy in those days. The world’s gone mad!”

  He poured wine for Ananais, refilling his own glass, which he drained at a single swallow. “Mad! I hate violence. I came here for the quiet life. A corn city just off the Sentran Plain—no trouble. And look at us now. Animals that walk like men. Laws no one can understand, let alone obey. Informers, thieves, murderers. Break wind during the anthem and you are dubbed a traitor.”

  Ananais pulled a chair from a table and sat down with his back to the trio. Gently he lifted his mask and sipped the wine. Valtaya joined him, and he turned his head away, then finished the wine and replaced his mask. Her hand reached out and covered his own.

  “Thank you for the gift of life,” she said.

  “It was my pleasure, lady.”

  “Your scars are bad?”

  “I have not seen worse.”

  “Have they healed?”

  “Mostly. The one under my right eye opens now and then. I can live with it.”

  “I will heal it for you.”

  “It is not necessary.”

  “It is a small thing. I would like to do it for you. Have no fear. I have seen scars before.”

  “Not like these, lady. I have no face beneath this mask. But I was handsome once.”

  “You are handsome still,” she said.

  His blue eyes blazed, and he leaned forward, fist clenched. “Do not make a fool of me, woman!”

  “I merely meant …”

  “I know what you meant—you meant to be kind. Well, I do not need kindness. Or understanding. I was handsome, and I enjoyed it. Now I am a monster, and I have learned to live with it.”

  “Now you listen,” Valtaya ordered, leaning forward on her elbows. “What I was going to say was that looks mean nothing to me. Deeds paint better pictures of a man than skin hanging from tendons and bones. What you did today was handsome.”

  Ananais leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his broad chest.

  “I am sorry,” he said. “Forgive me.”

  She chuckled and reached forward, gripping his hand.

  “There is nothing to forgive. We just know each other a little better.”

  “Why did they seek to burn you?” he asked, laying his hand on hers and enjoying the warmth of her skin.

  She shrugged. “I deal in herbs and medicines. And I always speak the truth.”

  “That accounts for witchcraft and sedition. What about theft?”

  “I borrowed a horse. Tell me about you.”

  “Little to tell. I am a warrior in search of a war.”

  “Is that why you came back to Drenai?”

  “Who knows?”

  “Do you really have an army?”

  “A force of two. But it’s a beginning.”

  “It’s optimistic, anyway. Does your friend fight as well as you?”

  “Better. He’s Tenaka Khan.”

  “The Nadir prince. The Khan of Shadows.”

  “You know your history.”

  “I was raised at Dros Delnoch,” she said, sipping her wine. “I thought he would be dead with the rest of the Dragon.”

  “Men like Tenaka do not die easily.”

  “Then you must be Ananais. The Golden One?”

  “I once had that honor.”

  “There are legends surrounding you both. The two of you routed twenty Vagrian raiders a hundred miles west of Sousa. And later you surrounded and destroyed a large group of slavers near Purdol in the east.”

  “There were not twenty raiders, only seven, and one was sick with fever. And we outnumbered the slavers two to one.”

  “And did you not rescue a Lentrian princess from Nadir tribesmen, traveling hundreds of leagues to the north?”

  “No, but I often wondered how that story came about. All this happened before you were born. How do you know so much about it?”

  “I listen to Scaler; he tells wonderful stories. Why did you save me today?”

  “What kind of question is that? Am I not the man who traveled hundreds of leagues to rescue a Lentrian princess?”

  “I am not a princess.”

  “And I am no hero.”

  “You took on a Joining.”

  “Yes. But then, from my first blow he was dying. I have poison spikes in my gauntlets.”

  “Even so, not many men would have faced it.”

  “Tenaka would have killed it without the gauntlets. He’s the second fastest man I’ve ever known.”

  “The second?”

  “You mean you have never heard of Decado?”

  Tenaka built up the fire and then knelt beside the sleeping Renya. She was breathing evenly. He touched her face gently with one finger, stroking the skin of her cheek. Then he left her and walked to the top of a nearby rise to stare out over the rolling hills and plains to the south as the dawn sun crested the Skeln mountains.

  Forests, rivers, and long meadows swept on into a distant blue haze, as if the sky had melted and linked with the land. To the southwest the defiant Skoda mountains pierced the clouds like dagger points, red as blood and shining proudly.

  Tenaka shivered and pulled his cloak about him. Void of human life, the land was beautiful.

  His thoughts drifted aimlessly, but always Renya’s face returned to his mind’s eye.

  Did he love her? Could love be born with such speed, or was it just the passion of a lonely man for a child of sorrow?

  She needed him.

  But did he need her?

  Especially now, with all that lay before him?

  You fool, he told himself as he pictured life with Renya in his Ventrian palace. It is too late for that. You are the man who stepped off the mountain.

  He sat down on a flat rock and rubbed his eyes.

  What is the sense to this hopeless mission? he asked himself, an edge of bitterness washing over him. He could kill Ceska—of that there was no doubt. But what would be the point? Would the world change with the death of one despot?

  Possibly not. But the course was set.

  “What are you thinking about?” asked Renya, moving up to sit beside him and curling her arm around his waist. He opened his cloak, lifting it around her shoulders.

  “I was just dawn dreaming,” he said. “And admiring the view.”

  “It is beautiful here.”

  “Yes. And now it is perfect.”

  “When will your friend be back?”

  “Soon.”

  “Are you worried about him?”

  “How did you know?”

  “The way you told him to stay out of trouble.”

  “I always worry about Ananais. He has an instinct for the dramatic and a sublime belief in his physical talents. He would tackle an army, convinced he could win. He probably could, too—a small army, anyway.”

  “You like him a great deal, don’t you?”

  “I love him.”

  “Not many men can say that,” said Renya. “They feel the need to add ‘like a brother.’ It’s nice. Have you known him long?”

  “Since I was seventeen. I joined the Dragon as a cadet, and we became friends soon after.”

  “Why did he want to fight you?”

  “He didn’t really. But life has dealt harshly with him, and he blamed me for it—at least in part. A long time ago he wanted to depose Ceska. He could have done it. Instead I helped stop him.”

  “Not an easy thing to forgive,” she said.

  “With hindsight, I agree.”

  “Do you still mean to kill Ceska?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even if it mean
s your own death?”

  “Even then!”

  “Then where do we go from here? To Drenan?”

  He turned to her, lifting her chin with his hand.

  “You still wish to travel with me?”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s selfish, but I am glad,” he told her.

  A man’s scream broke the dawn silence, and flocks of birds rose from the trees, screeching in panic. Tenaka leapt to his feet.

  “It came from over there,” shouted Renya, pointing to the northeast. Tenaka’s sword flashed into the sunlight, and he began to run, Renya only yards behind him.

  A bestial howling mingled now with the screams, and Tenaka slowed his run.

  “It’s a Joining,” he said as Renya caught up.

  “What shall we do?”

  “Damn!” he said. “Wait here.”

  He ran forward over a small rise and into a narrow clearing ringed by snow-covered oak. At the center a man was crouching at the base of a tree, his tunic covered with blood and his leg hideously slashed. Before him stood a huge Joining.

  Tenaka shouted as the creature lunged for the man, and the beast twisted, its blood-red eyes turning on the warrior. He knew he was looking into the eyes of death, for no man could stand against that beast and live. Renya ran to his side, her dagger held before her.

  “Get back!” Tenaka ordered.

  She ignored him. “What now?” she asked coolly.

  The beast reared up to a full nine feet tall and spread its taloned paws wide. It was obviously part bear.

  “Run!” shouted the wounded man. “Please leave me!”

  “Good advice,” said Renya.

  Tenaka said nothing, and the beast charged, sending a blood-chilling roar echoing through the trees. He crouched, his violet eyes fixed on the awesome creature bearing down on him.

  As its shadow fell across him, he leapt forward, screaming a Nadir war cry.