The King Beyond the Gate

by David Gemmell

  “There are two gans,” said the old man. “This is Gan Orrin—he is the first gan. Hogun does our scouting.”

  Tenaka bowed deeply. “I have heard of Gan Orrin. My compliments on your defense of Dros Delnoch.”

  “The gan says you are welcome and may join him in his quarters. I am his aide. My name is Ciall—Dun Ciall.”

  The old man put down his broken spear and wandered away to the darkened keep. Tenaka loosened the saddle cinch and left his horse to wander in search of grass. Renya followed suit, and they set off after Dun Ciall.

  “He’s mad!” said Renya. “There’s no one else here.”

  “He seems harmless enough. And he must have food. I’d as soon save as many of our supplies as I can. Listen, the men he is referring to were the original gans of Dros Delnoch when my ancestor fought Ulric. Orrin and Hogun were the commanders before Rek became the Earl of Bronze. Humor him. It will be a kindness.”

  In the gan’s quarters Ciall had set out a table for three. A jug of red wine was placed at the center, and a stew was bubbling in a pot over the fire. With trembling hands the old man filled their plates, said a prayer to the Source, and set to with a wooden spoon. Tenaka tried the stew; it was bitter but not unpleasant.

  “They’re all dead,” said Ciall. “I am not mad—I know they’re dead, but they’re here just the same.”

  “If you see them, then they are here,” said Renya.

  “Don’t humor me, woman! I see them, and they tell me stories … Wonderful stories. They forgave me. People didn’t, but ghosts are better than people. They know more. They know a man can’t be strong all the time. They know there are some times when he can’t help running away. They forgave me, said I could be a soldier. They trust me to look after the fortress.”

  Ciall winced suddenly and gripped his side. Renya looked down and saw blood flowing into the rust and dripping to the bench seat.

  “You are hurt,” she said.

  “It’s nothing. I don’t feel it. I am a good soldier now—they tell me that.”

  “Remove your mail shirt,” Tenaka said softly.

  “No. I am on duty.”

  “Remove it, I say!” thundered Tenaka. “Am I not a gan? There will be no lack of discipline while I am here.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Ciall, fumbling with the ancient strap.

  Renya stepped forward to help him, and slowly the mail shirt came away. The old man made no sound. His back was raw with the marks of a whip. Renya searched the drawers and cupboards, finding an old shirt. “I’ll get some water,” she said.

  “Who did this to you, Ciall?” asked Tenaka.

  “Riders … yesterday. They were looking for someone.” The old man’s eyes glittered. “They were looking for you, Nadir prince.”

  “I expect they were.”

  Renya returned carrying a copper bowl brimming with water. Gently she washed the old man’s back, then tore the shirt into strips to place over the worst of the wounds.

  “Why did they whip you?” Did they think you knew of my whereabouts?”

  “No,” Ciall said sadly. “I think they just enjoyed it. The ghosts could do nothing. But they were sorry for me; they said I bore it bravely.”

  “Why do you stay here, Ciall?” asked Renya.

  “I ran away, lady. When the Nadir were attacking, I ran away. There was nowhere else to go.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “A long, long time. Years probably. It’s very nice here, with lots of people to talk to. They forgave me, you see. And what I do here is important.”

  “What is it you do?” asked Tenaka.

  “I guard the stone of Egel. It is placed by the gate, and it says that the Drenai empire will fall when Corteswain is manned no more. Egel knew things. He’s been here, you know, but I wasn’t allowed to see him when he came; I hadn’t been here long then, and the ghosts didn’t trust me yet.”

  “Go to sleep, Ciall,” said Tenaka. “You need your rest.”

  “First I must hide your horses,” said Ciall. “The riders will be coming back.”

  “I will do that,” promised Tenaka. “Renya, help him into bed.”

  “I can’t sleep here—it’s the gan’s bed.”

  “Orrin says that you can. He’s going to meet Hogun and will share his quarters tonight.”

  “He’s a good man,” said Ciall. “I’m proud to serve under him. They’re all good men, even though they’re dead.”

  “Rest, Ciall. We will talk in the morning.”

  “Are you the Nadir prince who led the charge on the Ventrian raiders near Purdol?”

  “I am.”

  “Do you forgive me?”

  “I forgive you,” said Tenaka Khan. “Now sleep.”

  Tenaka awoke to the sound of galloping hooves on the cold stone of the courtyard. Kicking aside his blanket, he woke Renya, and together they crawled to the window. Below, some twenty riders were grouped together; they wore the red capes of Delnoch and shining helms of bronze topped with black horsehair plumes. The leader was a tall man with a trident beard, and beside him was one of the outlaws who had captured Tenaka.

  Ciall limped out into the courtyard, broken spear in hand.

  “Halt!” he said. His arrival broke the tension, and the riders began to laugh.

  The leader raised his hand for silence and then leaned forward over his horse’s neck.

  “We seek two riders, old man. Are they here?”

  “You are not welcome at the fortress. The gan commands you to leave.”

  “Did you not learn your lesson yesterday, fool?”

  “Must we force you to go?” countered Ciall.

  The outlaw leaned over to whisper something, and the leader nodded. He turned in the saddle. “The tracker says that they are here. Take the old man and get him to talk.”

  Two riders began to dismount. Ciall screamed a battle cry and ran forward; the officer was still half-turned when the broken spear rammed into his side. He screamed and half fell. Ciall dragged the spear loose and hacked at him once more, but a rider to the left dipped his lance and spurred his mount forward, and Ciall was lifted from his feet as the iron tip plunged into him. The lance snapped, and the old man fell to the stones.

  The officer hauled himself upright in the saddle. “Get me away from here; I’m bleeding to death!” he said.

  “What about the riders?” asked the tracker.

  “Damn them! We have men spread out from here to Delnoch, and they can’t escape. Get me away from here!” The tracker took the officer’s reins, and the troop cantered back through the gates. Tenaka raced out to the courtyard, kneeling beside the mortally wounded Ciall.

  “You did well, Dun Ciall,” he said, lifting the man’s head.

  Ciall smiled. “They’ve done it now,” he said. “The stone.”

  “You will still be here. With the gan and the rest.”

  “Yes. The gan has a message for you, but I don’t understand it.”

  “What does he say?”

  “He says to seek the king beyond the gate. You understand?”

  “Yes I do.”

  “I had a wife once …” whispered Ciall. And died.

  Tenaka closed the old man’s eyes, then lifted the frail body and carried it to the shade of the gate tower, laying it to rest beneath the stone of Egel. He placed the broken spear in the dead man’s hand.

  “Last night,” he said, “he prayed to the Source. I don’t know enough to believe in any god, but if you are there, then I pray you will take his soul into your service. He was not an evil man.”

  Renya was waiting in the courtyard when he returned.

  “Poor man,” she said.

  He took her in his arms and kissed her brow. “Time to go,” he told her.

  “You heard what they said: There are riders everywhere.”

  “First, they must see us. Second, they must catch us. We are only an hour’s ride from the mountains, and where I go, they will not follow.”


  Throughout the long morning they rode, hugging the tree line and moving carefully out onto open ground, avoiding the skylines. Twice they saw riders in the distance. By midday they had reached the base of the Delnoch peaks, and Tenaka led them up into the high country. By dusk the horses were exhausted, and the riders dismounted, seeking a place to camp.

  “Are you sure we can cross here?” asked Renya, wrapping her cloak tightly about her.

  “Yes. But we may not be able to take the horses.”

  “It’s cold.”

  “It will get colder. We have maybe another three thousand feet to climb yet.”

  Throughout the night they huddled together beneath their blankets. Tenaka slept fitfully. The task he had set himself was awesome. Why should the Nadir follow him? They hated him more than the Drenai did. The two-worlds warrior! He opened his violet eyes and watched the stars, waiting for the dawn.

  It arrived in garish splendor, bathing the sky in crimson, a giant wound that seeped from the east. After a hurried breakfast they set off once more, moving ever higher into the peaks.

  Three times during the morning they dismounted to rest the horses, leading them on over the patchy snow. Far below them Renya glimpsed the red cloaks of the Delnoch riders.

  “They’ve found us!” she shouted.

  Tenaka turned. “They’re too far back. Don’t worry about them.”

  An hour before dusk they breasted a rise. Before them the ground dropped away alarmingly. To the left a narrow trail hugged a sheer wall of icy rock; nowhere was the trail wider than six feet.

  “We’re not going to cross that?” asked Renya.

  “Yes.”

  Tenaka touched his heels to his mount and moved out. Almost at once the horse slipped, then righted itself. Tenaka kept up its head and began talking to the beast in a low soothing voice. His left leg was touching the rock wall, and his right was over the awesome drop; he did not dare swing his weight to see if Renya was following. The horse moved on slowly, its ears flat against its skull and its eyes wide in fear. Unlike the Nadir or Sathuli ponies, it had not been bred for mountain work.

  The trail wound around the mountains, widening in some places and narrowing sickeningly in others, until at last they came to a slanting sheet of ice across their path. Tenaka had just enough room to slide from the saddle, and he moved forward slowly, kneeling to examine the ice. The surface was powdery with freshly fallen snow, but beneath it was glossy and sheer.

  “Can we go back?” called Renya.

  “No, there is nowhere to turn the horses. And the Delnoch riders will have reached the trail. We must go on.”

  “Across that?”

  “We must lead the horses,” said Tenaka. “But if it starts to go, don’t hold on. You understand?”

  “This is stupid,” she said, staring down at the rocks hundreds of feet below.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” he answered with a wry grimace.

  “Keep to the cliff face and don’t curl the reins around your hand—hold them loosely. Ready?”

  Tenaka stepped out onto the sloping ice, placing his foot carefully on the powdery snow.

  He tugged on the reins, but the horse refused to budge; its eyes were wide with fear, and it was close to panic. Tenaka stepped back, curling his arm over the beast’s neck and whispering in its ear.

  “There is no problem for you, noble heart,” he whispered. “You have courage in your soul. It is merely a difficult path. I will be here with you.” For some minutes he spoke thus, patting and stroking the sleek neck. “Trust me, great one. Walk with me for a little while.”

  He stepped out onto the slope and pulled the reins, and the horse moved forward. Slowly and with great care they left the safety of the trail.

  Renya’s horse slipped but recovered its footing. Tenaka heard the commotion but could not look back. Solid rock was only inches away, but as Tenaka stepped onto it, his horse slithered suddenly, whinnying in terror. Tenaka grabbed the reins tightly with his right hand, his left snaking out to the cliff face and hooking around a jutting edge of rock.

  As the horse slid back toward the drop, Tenaka felt the muscles across his back tighten and tear. It seemed as if his arms were being torn from their sockets. He wanted to let go of the reins but could not; instinctively he had curled the leather around his wrist, and if the horse fell, he would be drawn with it.

  As suddenly as it had lost its footing, the beast found a solid section of rock and with Tenaka’s help struggled back to the trail. Tenaka sagged against the cliff face. The horse nuzzled him, and he patted it. His wrist was bleeding where the leather had burned through the skin.

  “Stupid!” said Renya, leading her horse to the safety of the trail.

  “I cannot deny it,” he said, “but we made it. From here on the trail widens, and there are few natural dangers now. And I do not think the Drenai will follow us over this path.”

  “I think you were born lucky, Tenaka Khan. But don’t use up all your luck before we reach the Nadir.”

  They made camp in a shallow cave and fed the horses before lighting a fire with brushwood they had strapped to their saddles. Tenaka stripped off his leather jerkin and lay down on a blanket by the fire while Renya massaged his bruised back. The struggle to keep the horse from falling had taken its toll, and the Nadir prince could hardly move his right arm. Renya gently probed the shoulder blade and the swollen muscles around it.

  “You are a mess,” she said. “Your body is a patchwork of bruises.”

  “You should feel them from this side.”

  “You are getting too old for this,” she said mischievously.

  “A man is as old as he feels, woman!” he snapped.

  “And how old do you feel?”

  “About ninety,” he admitted.

  She covered him with a blanket and sat staring out at the night. It was peaceful here, away from war and the talk of war. Truthfully, she did not care about overthrowing Ceska—she did care about being with Tenaka Khan. Men were so stupid; they didn’t understand the reality of life at all.

  Love was what mattered. Love of one for one. The touching of hands, the touching of hearts. The warmth of belonging, the joy of sharing. There would always be tyrants. Man seemed incapable of existing without them. For without tyrants there would be no heroes. And man could not live without heroes.

  Renya wrapped herself in her cloak and added the last of the wood to the fire. Tenaka lay asleep, his head resting on his saddle.

  “Where would you be without Ceska, my love?” she asked him, knowing he could not hear her. “I think you need him more than you need me.”

  His violet eyes opened, and he smiled sleepily.

  “Not true,” he said. Then his eyes closed once more.

  “Liar,” she whispered, curling up beside him.

  16

  Scaler, Belder, and Pagan lay on their bellies overlooking the Drenai camp. There were twenty soldiers sitting around five camp fires. The prisoners sat back to back at the center of the camp, and sentries patrolled near them.

  “Are you sure this is necessary?” asked Belder.

  “It is,” Scaler told him. “If we rescue two Sathuli warriors, it will give us a great advantage in seeking aid from the tribesmen.”

  “They look too well guarded to me,” muttered the older man.

  “I agree,” said Pagan. “There is one guard within ten paces of the prisoners. Two others patrol the edge of the trees, and a fourth has positioned himself in the forest.”

  “Could you find him?”

  Pagan grinned. “Of course. But what of the other three?”

  “Find the one in the forest and bring me his armor,” said Scaler.

  Pagan slipped away, and Belder slithered across to lie beside Scaler. “You’re not going down there?”

  “Of course. It’s a deception—that’s something I am good at.”

  “You won’t be able to pull it off. We shall be taken.”

  “Please, Belder, no mor
ale-boosting speeches. You will make me conceited.”

  “Well, I’m not going down there.”

  “I don’t recall asking you.”

  It was almost half an hour before Pagan returned. He was carrying the sentry’s clothes wrapped in the man’s red cloak.

  “I hid the body as best I could,” he said. “How soon will they change the guards?”

  “An hour, maybe a little less,” said Belder. “There’s not enough time.”

  Scaler opened the bundle, examined the contents, and then buckled on the breastplate. It was a poor fit, but better too large than too small, he thought.

  “How do I look?” he asked, placing the plumed helm on his head.

  “Ridiculous,” said Belder. “You won’t fool them for a minute.”

  “Old man,” hissed Pagan, “you are a pain in the ears! We have been together only three days, and already I am sick of you. Now close your mouth.”

  Belder was about to whisper a cutting reply, but the look in the black man’s eyes stopped him dead. The man was ready to kill him! His blood froze, and he turned away.

  “What is your plan?” asked Pagan.

  “There are three guards, but only one near the prisoners. I intend to relieve him.”

  “And the other two?”

  “That’s as far as I have worked it out.”

  “It is a beginning,” said Pagan. “If the first part works and the man takes to his blankets, move across to the other two. Keep your knife handy and make your move when I make mine.”

  Scaler licked his lips. Keep your knife handy? He was not sure he would have the nerve to plunge the blade into someone’s body.

  Together the two men crept through the undergrowth toward the camp. The moon was bright, but the occasional cloud masked it, plunging the clearing into darkness. The fires had burned low, and the warriors were sleeping soundly.

  Pagan put his mouth close to Scaler’s ear and whispered: “It’s about ten paces to the first sleeping soldier. The next time a cloud passes the moon, move forward and lie down. When the clouds clear, sit up and stretch. Make sure the sentry sees you.” Scaler nodded.

  Minutes passed in silent tension until at last darkness fell once more. Immediately Scaler was up and moving, hitting the ground just as the moon shone clear again.