Drenai Saga 02 - The King Beyond the Gate

by David Gemmell

  All over the plain the beasts were dying, all but the small group ripping at the silver-garbed warriors who had brought this chaos upon them.

  Ceska sat within his tent. Darik entered and bowed.

  “The beasts are dead, sire.”

  “I can make more,” said Ceska. “Take the wall!”

  Scaler gazed down at the dead Templar. Two Sathuli warriors ran ahead to catch the dead man’s horse, while Magir ripped the arrow from the man’s throat and stuffed a cloth into the wound, staunching the blood.

  Hastily they unbuckled the man’s black breastplate, pulling it clear. Scaler wiped spots of blood from the straps. Two warriors carried on stripping the Templar as Scaler opened the leather pouch hidden inside the breastplate. Within it was a scroll, sealed with the sign of the Wolf. Scaler pushed it back into the pouch.

  “Hide the body,” he said, and ran back into the haven of the trees.

  For three days they had waited for a messenger on the lonely road through Skultik. Magir had downed him with a single arrow; it was fine marksmanship.

  Back at the camp Scaler examined the seal. The wax was green and marbled; there was nothing like it among the Sathuli. He toyed with the idea of opening it, then thrust it back in the pouch.

  Sathuli outriders had brought news of Tenaka Khan. He was less than a day from the fortress, and Scaler’s plan had to be put into effect immediately.

  Moving to the armor, Scaler tried on the breastplate. It was a little large. Removing it, he pierced the leather strap with his dagger point, tightening the buckle. Better.

  The helm was a good fit, but Scaler would have been happier had the man not been a Templar. It was said they could communicate mind to mind. He hoped there were no Templars at Delnoch.

  “When do you go in?” asked Magir.

  “Tonight. After midnight.”

  “Why so late?”

  “With luck the commander will be sleeping. He will be drowsy and less inclined to question me.”

  “This is a great risk, Lord Earl.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “I wish we could have descended on the fortress with ten thousand tulwars.”

  “Yes,” Scaler agreed uneasily. “That would have been nice. Still, never mind!”

  “You are a strange man, my lord. Always the jest.”

  “Life is sad enough, Magir. Laughter is a thing to be treasured.”

  “Like friendship,” said the Sathuli.

  “Indeed.”

  “Was it hard being dead?”

  “Not as hard as it is to be alive without hope.”

  Magir nodded solemnly. “I hope this venture is not in vain.”

  “Why should it be?”

  “I do not trust the Nadir.”

  “You are a suspicious man, Magir. I trust Tenaka Khan. When I was a child, he saved my life.”

  “Then he, too, is reborn?”

  “No.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “I did not rise full-grown from the grave, Magir. I grew like any other child.”

  “There is much I do not understand. But we shall leave it for another day. Now it is time to prepare.”

  Scaler nodded, amazed at his own stupidity. How easily could a man betray himself.

  Magir watched Scaler don the black armor, and he wondered. He was not a stupid man, and he sensed the unease in the earl, knowing in that moment that all was not as he had believed. And yet the spirit of Joachim had trusted him.

  It was enough.

  Scaler tightened the saddle cinch on the black gelding and swung to the saddle, hooking the helm over the pommel.

  “Farewell, my friend,” he said.

  “May the god of fortune rest with you,” answered Magir.

  Scaler heeled the gelding away through the trees. He rode for over an hour, until at last the southern gates of Delnoch appeared before him, the great wall spanning the pass. It was so long since he had been home.

  Two sentries saluted as he rode under the portcullis gate, turning left to the doors of the keep. A soldier came forward and took the reins as he dismounted.

  Scaler marched forward, and another sentry approached.

  “Take me to the gan,” ordered Scaler.

  “Gan Paldin is asleep, sir.”

  “Then wake him!” snapped Scaler, keeping his voice bleak and cold.

  “Yes, sir. Follow me, sir,” said the man.

  He led Scaler down the long torchlit corridor, through the Hall of Heroes lined with statues, and on up the marble staircase to Paldin’s quarters. Once they had belonged to Scaler’s grandfather. The sentry rapped on the door several times before a sleepy voice answered; the door swung open. Gan Paldin had pulled on a woolen robe. He was a short man of middle years with large protruding dark eyes. Scaler disliked him instantly.

  “Could this not have waited?” Paldin asked testily.

  Scaler handed over the scroll, and Paldin ripped it open and read it swiftly.

  “Well,” he said, “is that it? Or is there a personal message?”

  “I have another message, my lord. From the emperor himself. He is expecting aid from the north, and you are to allow the Nadir general through the gates. You understand?”

  “How strange,” murmured Paldin. “Let them through; you say?”

  “That is correct.”

  Paldin swung around, seizing a dagger from his bedside table. The blade swung up, resting on Scaler’s throat.

  “Then perhaps you would explain the meaning of this message?” he said, holding up the scroll for Scaler to read.

  “Watch out for Nadir army. Hold at all costs. Ceska.”

  “I do not intend to stand here for much longer with a knife at my throat,” said Scaler stonily. “I do not wish to kill a general. Remove it this instant or face the fury of the Templars.”

  Paldin blanched but removed the knife. The sentry had drawn his sword and was standing behind Scaler.

  “Good,” said Scaler. “Now read the message again. You will note that it says ‘Watch out for Nadir army.’ Hence my message to you. ‘Hold at all costs’ refers to the rebels and the damned Sathuli. What the emperor required of you is that you obey him. He needs the Nadir—you understand?”

  “It is not clear.”

  “It is clear enough to me,” snapped Scaler. “The emperor had arranged a treaty with the Nadir. They are sending a force to help him stamp out the rebels there and elsewhere.”

  “I must have confirmation,” argued Paldin.

  “Indeed? Then you refuse the emperor’s orders?”

  “Not at all. I am loyal, always have been. It is just that this is so unexpected.”

  “I see. You criticize the emperor for not bringing you into all his plans?”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth. That is not what I said.”

  “Do I look like a fool to you, Paldin?”

  “No, that’s …”

  “What kind of fool would I be, coming here with a letter that proved me a liar?”

  “Yes, I see that …”

  “Well, there are only two possibilities. I am a fool or …?”

  “I understand,” mumbled Paldin.

  “However,” said Scaler, his voice taking on a more kindly tone, “your caution is not without reason. I could have been a traitor.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Therefore, I will allow you to send a message to confirm.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It is nothing. You have fine quarters here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you checked them thoroughly?”

  “For what?”

  “Hidden places where spies can lurk and listen.”

  “There are no such places here.”

  Scaler smiled and closed his eyes. “I will search for you,” he said.

  Gan Paldin and the sentry stood in silence as Scaler slowly turned on his heel. His finger stabbed out. “There!” he said, and Paldin jumped.

  “Where?”


  Scaler opened his eyes. “There, by the panel. A secret passage!” He walked to the carved oak paneling and pressed a switch. The panel slid open to reveal a narrow walkway and a flight of stairs.

  “You really should be more careful,” said Scaler. “I think I will sleep now and travel back with your message tomorrow. Or would you prefer another messenger to go tonight?”

  “Er … no!” said Paldin, peering into the web-shrouded chamber. “How did you do that?”

  “Question not the power of the spirit!” said Scaler.

  23

  Ananais stepped down from the wall and joined Thorn, Lake, and Galand on the grass below. Jugs of wine and plates of meat had been set out, and the group ate in weary silence. Ananais had not watched as his old friend had been torn apart, but he had turned back in time to see the power of the Templars ripped asunder by the awful ferocity of the dying beasts.

  After that the legion had attacked again, but halfheartedly. They were repulsed with ease. Darik called a halt while the bodies were cleared away: five thousand Joinings, three hundred Templars, and another thousand soldiers had died in those terrifying minutes.

  Ananais saw Balan sitting alone near the trees; taking a jug of wine, he joined him. Balan was a picture of misery, sitting with head bent, staring at the ground. Ananais sat beside him.

  “Tell me!” he ordered.

  “What is to tell?” answered the priest. “They gave their lives for you.”

  “What did they do?”

  “I cannot describe it to you, Darkmask. But simply they projected a picture into the minds of the beasts. The picture awakened that within them which was still human; it tore them apart.”

  “Couldn’t they have done it from the safety of the walls?”

  “Perhaps. But the closer you are to a man, the stronger is your power. They had to get close in order to be sure.”

  “And now only you are left.”

  “Yes. Only Balan!”

  “What is happening at Tarsk?”

  “I shall find out for you,” said Balan, closing his eyes. Moments later he opened them again. “All is well. The wall holds.”

  “How many men did they lose?”

  “Three hundred will not fight again. Only 140 have died.”

  “Only,” muttered Ananais. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me,” said Balan. “I loathe everything to do with this insane venture.”

  Ananais left him and wandered back into the trees, pulling off his mask and allowing the cool night air to soothe his burning skin. Stopping by a stream, he dunked his head, then drank deeply. Rayvan saw him there and called out, giving him time to replace his mask.

  “How goes it?” she asked.

  “Better than we expected. But more than four hundred men are dead at both walls. At least another four hundred will not fight again.”

  “How many does that leave us?”

  “Around three hundred here. Five hundred at Tarsk.”

  “Can we hold?”

  “Who the hell knows? Maybe one more day. Maybe two.”

  “Still a day short,” said Rayvan.

  “Yes. Tantalizing, isn’t it?”

  “You look weary. Get some rest.”

  “I will, lady. How are your wounds?”

  “The scar on my face will enhance my looks. The hip is sore.”

  “You have done well.”

  “Tell that to the dead.”

  “I don’t need to,” said Ananais. “They died for you.”

  “What will you do if we win, Darkmask?”

  “A strange question in the circumstances.”

  “Not at all. What will you do?”

  “Stay a soldier, I suppose. Re-form the Dragon.”

  “What about marriage?”

  “No one would have me. I am not exactly pretty under this mask.”

  “Show me!” she said.

  “Why not?” He pulled the mask clear.

  “Yes,” she said, “that is ghastly. I am surprised you survived. The fang marks are almost at your throat.”

  “Do you mind if I put this on again? I feel uncomfortable.”

  “Not at all. It is said that you were once the most handsome man in the empire.”

  “True, lady. In those days I would have swept you from your feet.”

  “That’s not saying much. I always had trouble saying no … And that was with ugly men. I even slept with Thorn once, though I daresay he wouldn’t remember. It was thirty years ago, before I married, I might point out.”

  “You must have been very young.”

  “How gallant! But yes, I was. We are in the mountains, Darkmask, and there is precious little entertainment. But tell me, do you love Valtaya?”

  “It’s no business of yours,” he snapped.

  “Indeed it is not. But answer me anyway.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “This is going to sound hurtful, Ananais …”

  “I wondered what we were leading up to.”

  “Well, it is this: If you love her, leave her alone.”

  “Did she ask you to come to me?”

  “No. But she is confused, uncertain. I don’t think she loves you. I think she is grateful and trying to prove it.”

  “I take what I can get these days,” he said bitterly.

  “I don’t think that’s true.”

  “Leave me alone, Rayvan. Please!”

  When she had gone, Ananais sat alone for some hours, unable to sleep. His mind relived his triumphs, but strangely, there was no longer any satisfaction in his memories. Cheering crowds, pliant women, envious men—he wondered if he had genuinely enjoyed any of it.

  Where were the sons he should have had?

  Where was the woman of his heart?

  Valtaya?

  Be honest with yourself, man. Was it ever Valtaya? If you were still the Golden One, would you give her a second look? Dawn tinted the eastern sky, and Ananais chuckled, then laughed aloud.

  What the hell. He had lived as hard as a man could.

  No use in morbid regret. The past was a dead beast, anyway, and the future was a bloody sword in a Skoda valley.

  You are nearing fifty years of age, he told himself, and you are still strong. Men follow you. The Drenai people depend on you. Your face may be gone, but you know who you are.

  Ananais, the Golden One.

  Darkmask, the Ceska bane.

  A bugle sounded. Ananais heaved himself to his feet and walked back to the ramparts.

  Renya lay awake for the third night, angry and uncertain. The walls of her small tent crowded in on her, and the heat was oppressive. For two days now the Nadir had been preparing for war, gathering provisions, choosing their ponies with care. Tenaka had selected two warlords to accompany him, Ingis and Murapi. Renya had learned this from Subodai, for not one word had passed between Tenaka and herself since the night before the shaman quest.

  She sat up, hurling the sheepskin blanket across the floor. She was tired yet tense as a bowstring. She knew why, yet knowledge was useless. She was in limbo, caught between her love of the man and her hatred of his mission. And she was lost, for her mind dwelt on him ceaselessly.

  Renya’s childhood had been built on rejection, for she was deformed and could not take part in children’s games. They had mocked her lame leg and twisted back, and she had withdrawn into her room … and into her mind. Aulin had taken pity on her, giving her the gift of beauty through the machines of terror. But though outwardly she had changed, the inner Renya remained the same: fearful of affection lest it turn on her, afraid of love because it meant opening the heart and removing the defenses. Yet love had taken her like an assassin’s blade, and she felt tricked. Tenaka had been a hero, a man she could trust. And she had welcomed the blade. Now she found it was tipped with poison.

  She could not live with him.

  She could not live without him.

  The drab tent depressed her, and she walked out into the night. The camp sp
rawled over almost half a mile, with Tenaka’s tent at the center. Subodai groaned and rolled over as she passed him. “Sleep, woman!” he muttered.

  “I cannot.”

  He cursed and sat up, scratching his head. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “None of your business.”

  “His wives bother you,” decided Subodai. “Natural for a Drenai woman. Greedy.”

  “It has nothing to do with his wives,” snapped Renya.

  “So you say! How come he put you out of his tent, eh?”

  “I put myself out.”

  “Mm. You’re a good-looking woman, I will say that.”

  “Is that why you sleep outside my tent? Waiting to be invited in?”

  “Shhh, don’t even whisper it!” said Subodai, his voice rising. “A man could lose his head—or worse. I don’t want you, woman. You are strange, crazy even. I heard you howl like an animal, watched you leap on those dumb Pack Rats. I wouldn’t want you in my bed—I would never sleep for worrying!”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “The khan ordered it.”

  “So now you are his dog. Sit, stay, sleep outside the tent!”

  “Yes, I am his dog. I am proud to be his dog. Better the hound of a king than a king among jackals.”

  “Why?” asked Renya.

  “What do you mean, why? Is it not obvious? What is life but a betrayal? We start out young, full of hope. The sun is good; the world awaits us. But every passing year shows how small you are, how insignificant against the power of the seasons. Then you age. Your strength fails, and the world laughs at you through the jeers of younger men. And you die. Alone. Unfulfilled. But sometimes … sometimes there will come a man who is not insignificant. He can change the world, rob the seasons of their power. He is the sun.”

  “And you think Tenaka is such a man?”

  “Think?” said Subodai. “What do I know of think? A few days ago he was Bladedancer. Alone. Then he took me. A Spear. Then Gitasi. Then Ingis. Then the nation. You understand? There is nothing he cannot do. Nothing!”

  “He cannot save his friends.”

  “Foolish woman. Still you do not see.”

  Renya ignored him and walked away toward the center of the camp. He followed her discreetly, keeping some ten paces behind. This was no hardship, for it allowed him to gaze at her with undisguised pleasure. His dark eyes lingered on her long legs and the subtle swing of her hips. Gods, what a woman! So young and strong. Such animal grace.