The King Beyond the Gate

by David Gemmell

  “Sometimes!”

  “No, I don’t want your word. Do as you please. But the next time we meet, I will see you all dead. That is my word!”

  “The word of a barbarian,” said the man. He hawked and spit.

  Tenaka grinned. “Exactly so.” Turning his back, he walked back to Ananais and then on into the trees. Valtaya had prepared a fire and was talking to Scaler. Renya, dagger in hand, returned to the clearing as Tenaka arrived; he smiled at her. The others followed, except Galand, who was keeping an eye on the outlaws.

  The black man arrived last, carrying two saddle bags across one broad shoulder. He was tall and very powerful, dressed in a tight-fitting tunic of blue silk under a sheepskin cloak. Valtaya had never seen anyone like him, though she had heard stories of dark races far to the east.

  “Greetings to you, my friends,” he said, dumping his saddlebags to the ground. “Many blessings be upon you all!”

  “Will you eat with us?” asked Tenaka.

  “That is kind, but I have my own provisions.”

  “Where are you headed?” asked Ananais as the black man delved into his bags, pulling out two apples, which he polished on his tunic.

  “I am visiting your fine land. I have no set destination for the moment.”

  “Where are you from?” asked Valtaya.

  “A far way, my lady, many thousands of leagues east of Ventria.”

  “You are on a pilgrimage?” inquired Scaler.

  “You could say that. I have a small mission to perform, and then I shall return home to my family.”

  “How are you called?” asked Tenaka.

  “I fear my name would be difficult for you to pronounce. However, one of the robbers called me something that touched a chord. You may call me Pagan.”

  “I am Tenaka Khan.” Swiftly he introduced the others.

  Ananais held out his hand; Pagan took it in a firm clasp, and their eyes met. Tenaka leaned back, watching them. Both men were from the same mold, immensely powerful and inordinately proud. They were like two prize bulls, each gauging the other.

  “Your mask is dramatic,” said Pagan.

  “Yes. It makes us look like brothers, black man,” replied Ananais, and Pagan chuckled, a deep rolling sound full of good humor.

  “Then brothers we are, Ananais!” he said.

  Galand appeared and moved to Tenaka. “They’ve gone north. I don’t think they will be back.”

  “Good! That was fine work back there.”

  Galand nodded and moved to sit beside his brother. Renya signaled to Tenaka, and the two of them moved away from the fire.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “The black man.”

  “What about him?”

  “He carries more weapons than anyone I have ever seen. He has two knives in his boots, a sword and two bows that he left in the trees back there. And there’s a broken ax under his horse. He’s like a one-man army.”

  “So?”

  “Did we meet him by accident?”

  “You think he might be hunting us?”

  “I don’t know. But he is a killer; I can sense it. His pilgrimage has to do with death. And Ananais doesn’t like him.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said softly.

  “I am not Nadir, Tenaka. I’m not a fatalist.”

  “Is that all that’s worrying you?”

  “No. Now you mention it—the two brothers; they don’t like us. We don’t belong together, and we are none of us close, just a group of strangers thrown together by events.”

  “The brothers are strong men and good warriors. I know about these things. I also know they regard me with suspicion, but there’s nothing I can do about that. It has always been the way. But we share a common goal. And they will come to trust me. Belder and Scaler? I don’t know. But they will do us no harm. And as for Pagan, if he is hunting me, I will kill him.”

  “If you can!”

  He smiled. “Yes. If I can.”

  “You make it sound easy. I don’t see it that way.”

  “You worry too much. The Nadir way is better: tackle each problem as it arises and worry about nothing.”

  “I shall never forgive you if you let yourself be killed,” she said.

  “Then you watch out for me, Renya. I trust your instincts—I mean that, truly. You are right about Pagan. He is a killer, and he may be hunting us. It will be interesting to see what action he now takes.”

  “He will offer to travel with us,” she said.

  “Yes, but that would make sense. He is a stranger in our land and has already been attacked once.”

  “We should refuse him. We are conspicuous enough with your giant friend and his black mask. But to add a black man in blue silk?”

  “Yes. The gods—if such there be—are in a humorous mood today.”

  “I am not laughing,” said Renya.

  Tenaka awoke from a dreamless sleep, his eyes flaring open and fear touching him like a cold caress. He rose to his feet. The moon was unnaturally bright, glowing like an eldritch lantern, and the branches of trees rustled and swayed though there was no breath of wind.

  He looked around him. His companions were all sleeping. Then he glanced down, and shock hit him hard: his own body lay there, wrapped in its blankets. He began to shiver.

  Was this death?

  Of all the cruel jests fate could play …

  A faint stirring, like the memory of yesterday’s breeze, caused him to turn. At the edge of the trees stood six men in dark armor, their black swords in their hands. They advanced on him, spreading out in a half circle. Tenaka reached for his own blade but could not touch it; his hand passed through the hilt as if it were mist.

  “You are doomed,” said a hollow voice. “The chaos spirit calls.”

  “Who are you?” asked Tenaka, ashamed that his voice quavered.

  Mocking laughter came from the dark knights.

  “We are death,” they said.

  Tenaka backed away.

  “You cannot run. You cannot move,” said the first knight. Tenaka froze. His legs would not obey him, and still the knights came closer.

  Suddenly a feeling of peace swept over the Nadir prince, and the knights halted their slow advance. Tenaka glanced left and right. Beside him stood six warriors in silver armor and white cloaks.

  “Come, then, you dogs of darkness,” said the silver warrior nearest him.

  “We will come,” replied a dark knight. “But not when you call.” One by one they backed away into the trees.

  Tenaka turned slowly, lost and frightened, and the silver warrior who had spoken placed his hand on the Nadir prince’s shoulder.

  “Sleep now. The Source will protect you.”

  Darkness settled over him like a blanket.

  On the morning of the sixth day they cleared the trees and entered the broad plains stretching from Skultik to Skoda. In the distance, to the south, was the city of Karnak, but only the tallest spires could be seen as white pinpoints against a green horizon. The snow lay in white patches now, the spring grass groping for the sunlight.

  Tenaka held up his hand as he saw the smoke.

  “It cannot be a grass fire,” said Ananais, shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight.

  “It’s a village burning,” Galand said, walking alongside.

  “Such sights are all too common these days.”

  “Yours is a troubled land,” said Pagan, dumping his huge pack on the ground at his feet and laying his saddlebags on it. Attached to the pack was a bronze-edged shield of stiffened buffalo hide, an antelope-horn bow, and calfhide quiver.

  “You carry more equipment than a Dragon platoon,” muttered Ananais.

  “Sentimental reasons,” answered Pagan, grinning.

  “We’d best avoid the village,” said Scaler. His long hair was greasy with sweat, and his lack of fitness was telling on him. He sat down beside Pagan’s pack.

  The wind shifted, and the sound of drumming hooves came to them.


  “Spread out and lie low,” said Tenaka. The companions ran for cover, dropping to their bellies in the grass.

  A woman crested the top of a small hill, running at top speed, her auburn hair flowing behind her. She was dressed in a skirt of green wool and wore a brown shawl. In her arms she carried a small babe, whose piping screams carried to the travelers.

  As the woman ran on, she cast occasional panic-stricken glances over her shoulder. The haven of the trees was an eternity away as the soldiers cantered into view, but still she ran, cutting toward the hidden Tenaka.

  Ananais swore and stood up. The woman screamed and veered left—into the arms of Pagan.

  The soldiers reined their mounts, and the leader dismounted. He was a tall man, dressed in the red cloak of Delnoch, his bronze armor burnished to a sheen.

  “Thank you for your help,” he said, “though we did not need it.” The woman was quiet now, and in her despair she buried her head against Pagan’s broad chest.

  Tenaka smiled. There were twelve soldiers, eleven of them still mounted. There was nothing to be done except to hand back the woman.

  Then an arrow flashed into the neck of the nearest rider, and he pitched from the saddle. Tenaka’s eyes flared in shock. A second arrow buried itself in the chest of another soldier, and he, too, fell back, his horse rearing and hurling him from the saddle. Tenaka drew his sword, plunging it into the officer’s back, for the man had turned as the arrows had struck home.

  Pagan pushed the woman from him and dropped to his knee, drawing the throwing knives from his boots. They flew from his hands, and two more soldiers died as they tried to control their mounts. Tenaka ran forward, leaping into the saddle of a riderless horse, scooping up the reins, and heeling the beast forward. The seven remaining soldiers had drawn their weapons, and two charged at Pagan. Tenaka’s mount crashed into the remaining five, and one horse fell, the others rearing and whinnying madly. As Tenaka’s sword sliced down, an arrow whipped by him, taking a rider through the left eye socket.

  Pagan drew his short sword, then dived left as the horses thundered by him, rolling to his feet once more as the riders dragged their mounts to a halt. Running forward, he blocked a wild slashing cut and buried his blade in the rider’s side. As the man screamed and fell from the saddle, Pagan vaulted to the beast’s back; then he hurled himself at the second rider, carrying the man clear of his horse. They fell heavily, and Pagan broke the man’s neck with a single blow.

  Renya hurled aside her bow and, dagger in hand, ran from cover to where Tenaka, joined by Ananais, was battling the remaining soldiers. She leapt to a horse’s back behind its rider and hammered her dagger between his shoulder blades. The man screamed and tried to twist around, but Renya punched him behind the ear. His neck snapped, and he tumbled clear.

  The last two soldiers turned their mounts and spurred them clear of the fray, riding back toward the hill. But Parsal and Galand stepped out in their paths, and the horses reared, throwing one man from the saddle. The other clung on grimly until Galand’s sword opened his throat. Parsal pulled his blade clear of the downed rider.

  “I’ll say this,” he called, grinning broadly. “It’s not been dull since we came back.”

  Galand grunted. “We’re damned lucky is all I’ll say.” Wiping his sword on the grass, he gathered the reins of the two horses and walked back to the main group.

  Tenaka hid his anger and called out to Pagan, “You fight well!”

  “I think it must be all the practice I am getting,” answered the black man.

  “What I want to know is, Who fired that arrow?” shouted Ananais.

  “Forget it—it’s done,” said Tenaka. “Now we had best move from here. I suggest we ride back to the forest until nightfall. Now that we have mounts, we can make up the time.”

  “No!” said the woman with the babe. “My family. My friends. They’re being butchered back there!”

  Tenaka went to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Listen to me. Unless I am mistaken, these soldiers were part of a half century, which means there are almost forty men in your village. It is too many—we cannot help you.”

  “We could try,” said Renya.

  “Be silent!” snarled Tenaka, and Renya’s mouth dropped open but she said no more. He turned back to the woman.

  “You are welcome to stay with us, and we will come to the village tomorrow. We will do what we can.”

  “Tomorrow will be too late!”

  “It is probably already too late,” said Tenaka, and she pulled away from him.

  “I would not expect help from a Nadir,” she said, tears flowing. “But some of you are Drenai. Please help me!”

  “Dying will not help anyone,” said Scaler. “Come with us. You escaped—so may others. And anyway, there is nowhere else for you to go. Come on, I will help you to a horse.”

  The companions mounted and headed for the forest. Behind them the crows circled and wheeled.

  That night Tenaka called Renya to him, and they went from the campsite and into the trees. No word had passed between them all afternoon.

  Tenaka’s manner was cold and distant. He walked to a moonlit clearing, then turned on the girl.

  “You loosed that arrow! Don’t ever act again without my order.”

  “Who are you to order me?” she snapped.

  “I am Tenaka Khan, woman! Cross me again and I will leave you behind.”

  “They would have killed that woman and baby.”

  “Yes. But because of your action we might all be dead. What would that have achieved?”

  “But we are not dead. And we saved her.”

  “Through luck. A soldier may need luck on occasion, but we would rather not have to rely on it. I am not asking you, Renya, I am telling you: you will not do it again!”

  “I do as I please,” she said. He struck her open-handed across the face. She hit the ground hard but rolled to her feet with eyes blazing, fingers curled into talons. Then she saw the knife in his hand.

  “You would kill me, wouldn’t you?” she whispered.

  “Without a thought!”

  “I loved you! More than life. More than anything.”

  “Will you obey me?”

  “Oh, yes, Tenaka Khan, I will obey you. Until we reach Skoda. And then I will leave your company.” She turned on her heel and strode back to the campsite.

  Tenaka sheathed his dagger and sat down on a boulder.

  “Still the loner, eh, Tani?” said Ananais, stepping from the shadows of the trees.

  “I don’t want to talk.”

  “You were hard on her, and quite right, too. But you went a little far. You wouldn’t have killed her.”

  “No. I would not.”

  “But she frightens you, doesn’t she?”

  “I said I didn’t want to talk.”

  “True, but this is Ananais, your crippled friend who knows you well. As well as any man. You think that because we risk death there is no place for love? Don’t be a fool—enjoy it while it’s there.”

  “I cannot,” said Tenaka, head bowed. “When I came here, I could see nothing but Ceska. But now I seem to spend more time thinking of … you know.”

  “Of course I know. But what happened to your Nadir code? Let tomorrow look to itself.”

  “I am only half-Nadir.”

  “Go and talk to her.”

  “No. It is better this way.”

  Ananais stood up and stretched his back. “I think I’ll get some sleep.” He ambled away back to the camp, stopping where Renya sat staring miserably into the fire.

  He squatted down beside her. “It is a strange thing about some men,” he said to her. “In matters of business or war they can be giants, wise to a fault. In matters of the heart they are like children. Now, women are a different matter; they see the child in a man for what it is.”

  “He would have killed me,” she whispered.

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Do you?”

&nbs
p; “Renya, he loves you. He couldn’t hurt you.”

  “Then why? Why say it?”

  “To make you believe it. To make you hate him. To make you go.”

  “Well, it worked,” she said.

  “That’s a shame. Still … you shouldn’t have loosed that arrow.”

  “I know that!” she snapped. “You don’t need to tell me. I just … couldn’t see them kill a baby.”

  “No, I wasn’t overkeen myself.” He glanced across the fire to where the woman lay sleeping. The black giant, Pagan, sat with his back to a tree, holding the babe against his chest. The child had reached a pudgy hand from its blanket and curled it around Pagan’s finger while he was speaking to it in low, gentle tones.

  “Good with children, isn’t he?” said Ananais.

  “Yes. And with weapons.”

  “A real man of mystery. Still, I am watching him.”

  Renya glanced at the bright blue eyes beyond the black mask. “I like you, Ananais. I really do.”

  “Like me, like my friends,” he said, nodding toward the tall figure of Tenaka Khan as he made his way to his blankets.

  She shook her head and returned her gaze to the fire.

  “That’s a shame,” he said again.

  They rode into the village two hours after dawn. Galand had scouted ahead and reported that the soldiers were setting off toward the south and the distant spires of Karnak. The village was gutted, charred timbers oozing dark plumes of smoke. Bodies lay here and there, while around the edge of the burned-out buildings ten crosses had been erected, from which hung the village council. They had been whipped and beaten before being nailed to the beams; finally their legs had been broken, causing their battered frames to slump and cut off the air supply to the lungs.

  “We have become barbarians,” said Scaler, turning his mount away from the scene. Belder merely nodded, but he followed the young Drenai to the grass fields beyond.

  Tenaka dismounted at the village square, where the mass of bodies lay: more than thirty women and children.

  “There is no sense to it,” he said as Ananais joined him. “Now who will work the fields? If this is happening all over the empire …”

  “It is,” said Galand.

  The woman with the babe lifted her shawl over her head and closed her eyes. Pagan glimpsed the movement and rode alongside her, taking the reins from her hands.