Quest for Lost Heroes

by David Gemmell

  “What does that mean?”

  “I took you for a selfish, greedy pig,” said Kiall, smilingly oblivious to Beltzer’s growing anger.

  “I pay my debts,” declared Beltzer.

  “Truly? You didn’t even thank Finn for buying back your ax—and that cost him dear.”

  “That is between Finn and me. You don’t count, boy. Now curb your tongue before I cut it out!”

  Kiall blinked and sobered swiftly. “And you are a liar,” he said. “You told me Tura was dead, drowned in a dock. All lies. And I don’t fear you, you fat-bellied pig. Don’t threaten me!”

  Beltzer lurched to his feet, and Kiall rose, scrabbling for his saber, but not before Beltzer’s fingers grabbed the front of his jerkin and hoisted him into the air. As Beltzer’s fist rose, Kiall’s foot lashed up into his groin and the giant bellowed with pain, dropping the younger man and staggering back. Now Kiall drew his saber. Beltzer grinned at him and advanced.

  “What are you going to do with that, boy? You going to stick old Beltzer? Are you?” Kiall backed away, aware that the situation had careered out of control. Beltzer lunged at him, slapping the saber aside. Kiall hit him with a straight left that slammed into Beltzer’s face. The giant ignored the blow and stuck Kiall’s jaw open-handed, cartwheeling the younger man across the floor. Half-stunned, Kiall came to his knees and dived headfirst at Beltzer’s belly. Beltzer’s knee came up with sickening force, snapping Kiall’s head back …

  He awoke to find himself in the chair by the fire with Beltzer sitting opposite him.

  “Want some wine?” Beltzer asked. Kiall shook his head. Hammers were beating inside his skull. “You are a game fighter, boy, and one day you may even be a wolf. But wolves know better than to tackle a bear.”

  “I’ll remember that,” Kiall promised. “And I’ll have that wine now.”

  Beltzer handed him a goblet. “I love old Finn. And he knows how much it meant to me to have that ax back; he didn’t need any words. Back at Bel-azar Finn was dragged from the ramparts by the Nadir. Chareos, Maggrig, and me, we jumped down to haul him clear. It was I who carried Finn on my back and cut a path to the gate tower. He didn’t thank me then; he didn’t need to. You understand?”

  “I believe I do.”

  “It’s the drink. It makes me talk too much. You don’t like me, do you?”

  Kiall looked at the flat, ugly face under the shining bald head; he stared into the small round eyes. “No, not much,” he admitted.

  Beltzer nodded solemnly. “Well, don’t let it concern you. I don’t like myself much, either. But I was on the mountain, boy. No one can take that away from me.”

  “I was on the mountain, too,’ said Kiall.

  “Not my mountain. But maybe you will one day.”

  “What is so special about it?”

  “Nothing,” replied Beltzer.

  “Then why should I wish to go there?”

  Beltzer looked up from his wine. “Because that’s where your lady is, Kiall.”

  Moonlight bathed the gray stone walls, and a hunting owl swooped low over the deserted ramparts. Chareos could hear the screams of the wounded and the dying, yet there were no bodies sprawled on the stone, no blood pooling by the gate tower steps. As he sat down on the edge of the crenellated battlement, staring out over the valley of Bel-azar, the screams faded into the echoes of memory. The land was now empty of life. Where Nadir campfires had lit the valley like fallen stars, now there was only the shimmering grass, the lonely boulders, and a long-dead lightning-struck tree.

  Chareos was alone. He could not remember traveling to Bel-azar, but that did not seem to matter. He felt in some strange way that he was home, safe among the ghosts of the past.

  Safe? Dark shapes moved at the edge of his vision, vanishing into the shadows as he swung to confront them. He backed away to the rotted gate tower door and climbed the spiral steps to the circular battlement. There he drew his sword and waited. He could hear the scratching of talons on the stairway, smell the fetid odors of the dwellers in the dark: slime on fur, the sweet, sickly stink from mouths that fed on corpses.

  He slammed shut the top door. There was no bolt, and he dropped his sword into the catch, wedging the door shut. Heavy bodies beat on the wood.

  “Beltzer!” called Chareos. “Help me!”

  But there was no answer. “Maggrig, Finn!”

  “It would seem you are alone, kinsman,” said a quiet voice, and Chareos turned slowly, knowing whom he would see. The tall man sat on the battlement’s edge, his black hair tied at the nape of the neck, his violet eyes seeming gray in the moonlight.

  “Will you help me?” whispered Chareos.

  “Blood always aids blood, my friend. Are you not my kinsman?”

  “Yes. Yes, I am. Will you help me? Please?”

  The door splintered, and a taloned hand broke through, ripping at the wood.

  “Begone!” shouted Tenaka Khan. The hissing cries beyond the doorway faded into silence, and the hand slid back from view.

  “Are they your creatures?” Chareos asked.

  “No, but they know a voice of power. And they can smell fear like a lion smells blood. Why are you afraid, Chareos?”

  “I don’t know how I came here. I am alone.”

  “That is not an answer. Fear brought you, but what caused the fear?”

  Chareos laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “You can ask that? You who slew my father and mother and made me an outcast? I should hate you, Tenaka. Once I thought I did. But then you climbed alone to this tower, and you sat and talked with us.” Chareos stared at the man before him. He was dressed exactly as he had been on that night so many years ago, in black riding boots and leather leggings, topped by a shirt of black silk embroidered with silver. “You called me kinsman,” whispered Chareos. “You know who I am?”

  “I knew you when first I saw you on this tower,” answered Tenaka. “Blood recognizes blood.”

  “I should have killed you!” hissed Chareos, “for all the pain. I was twelve when they sent me from Dros Delnoch. The night when your hordes finally stormed the last wall, I was taken from the fortress and brought to the lands of the Gothir. My father’s last words to me were ‘Avenge me, my son. And remember the Drenai.’ My mother was already dead. And for what? So that a treacherous cur like you could take Nadir savages into the last bastion of civilization. What caused my fear? You dare ask me that?”

  “I still ask it,” replied the khan smoothly. “And all you tell me is a history I already know.”

  “You were descended from the Earl of Bronze and raised by the Drenai. How could you destroy them?”

  “How, indeed?” replied the khan. “If you truly knew the story of my life, you would not ask such a question. As you know, I was raised by the Nadir until I was fourteen. You think you were the only child who ever suffered pain and rejection? I was hated for being part Drenai. Then I was sent, as part of my mother’s marriage agreement, to live among the Drenai. Were they different from the Nadir? No. To them I was a savage from the steppes, something they could bait and torture. Yet I learned to live among them. And I fought for them. I rode with the Dragon. I even made a few friends among them. But when the mad emperor, Ceska, brought terror to the land, I risked my life and my soul to aid the Drenai. I paid my debt to them. I brought the Nadir to crush the emperor’s army, and I allowed Rayvan and your father to form a new republic. Why did I take Dros Delnoch years later? Because I was the khan! Because the day of the Nadir had dawned. Yet if I can be accused of treachery, what of you? Why did you not obey your father’s command? Why did you not return home?”

  “For what purpose?” shouted Chareos. “To die? Achieving what?”

  “So that is your fear?” responded Tenaka Khan. “You were afraid to try. Afraid to fail.”

  “Don’t you dare to judge me!” Chareos stormed. “I will not be found wanting by a murderous traitor.”

  Tenaka Khan spread his hands. “And who did I betray,
Chareos? I was the khan of the Nadir. I had saved the Drenai once. I gave them good warning that I would return. But you—you betrayed your father and all your ancestors back to Regnak, second Earl of Bronze. He held Dros Delnoch against seemingly insurmountable odds. Generations of Drenai warriors have died to protect their homeland, but not you. No, you would be content to marry a whore and win a little battle here at Bel-azar.”

  Chareos dragged his sword from the bolt latch of the door and swung on Tenaka.

  “Is this how you repay me for saving your soul?” Tenaka asked mildly. “Only a few moments ago you were asking for my help against the beasts of the night.”

  Chareos lowered his sword. “Am I a coward, then?” he whispered.

  “There are many forms of cowardice, Chareos. One man can face a score of enemies with a sword but not a sickness which paralyzes him. Another can face death with a smile yet fear the years of hardship and toil which are life. Are you a coward?”

  Chareos sat down on the battlements, staring at the sword in his hand. “I have never feared an opponent. But yes, I am a coward. I did not have the strength to return to the Drenai … I still haven’t.”

  “You found the Tattooed Man?”

  “Yes. Yes, we found him. And he will come with us on our … journey.”

  “You feel this quest is below you?” asked the khan.

  “We are seeking to rescue a pig breeder’s daughter taken by Nadren raiders. Will the sun fall from the sky if we fail?”

  Tenaka stood and placed his hands on Chareos’ shoulders. “I returned to the lands of the Drenai to kill a madman. Instead I found a friend, and a love, and a home I never knew I had lost. From being the Prince of Shadows I became the great khan, and I took the Nadir to heights undreamed of. Do not judge your quest until you have completed it. You remember that other night on this very tower?”

  “How could I forget? You let us live.”

  “One day soon you will know why.”

  Chareos awoke. The fire had died, and the room was cold; he shivered and pulled the blankets over his chilled frame. He could still picture the slanted violet eyes and feel the strength of the grip on his shoulders.

  The door opened, and Okas stepped in. He moved silently to the bed and sat on it.

  “The dawn is up,” said Okas. “Your quest awaits.”

  “I had a dream, Okas.”

  “I, too. I dreamed of a bed of rushes and a soft woman.”

  “And I of Tenaka Khan.”

  “Was he at Bel-azar?” the Tattooed man inquired.

  “Yes.” Chareos sat up. “How do you know that?”

  “I did not,” replied Okas, blinking. “It was a question.”

  “But why did you ask it?”

  The old man was silent for a moment. “There is a mystery here. Tenaka Khan was buried with his ancestor Ulric in the great tomb. It was sealed by his son, Jungir, and a thousand spells were cast upon it so that it should never be opened.”

  “I know all this,” snapped Chareos.

  “You do not know,” said Okas, “or you would solve mystery. I understand magic that is hidden in the world; I can read hearts of men. Yet the Source of All Things has his own secrets, and I cannot read those. Tenaka Khan died and was buried—this we know. His son was anxious that no one should enter the tomb; this also we know. But here is the mystery, Chareos: Why do Tenaka Khan’s bones lie hidden at Bel-azar?”

  “That is impossible. It would be sacrilege.”

  “Indeed so.”

  Chareos shook his head. “Our quest has nothing to do with Tenaka Khan. We will be traveling nowhere near Bel-azar.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I will stake my life on it.”

  Okas said nothing.

  7

  CHIEN-TSU WAS NOT a man who liked to travel. He did not like the dust of the steppes or the arid, inhospitable country; most especially he abhorred the squat dwellings, the stench of the towns, and the barely concealed hostility of the Nadir. It was said back in Hao-tzing that the Nadir were closely related to the people of the Middle Kingdom. Chien-tsu doubted it; despite the similarity of skin color and language, he could not believe that their origins were identical. He put forward the entirely reasonable view that the gods had made the Nadir first and then, realizing the ghastly flaws inherent in the species, had created the perfect people and had given them the Middle Kingdom for their own. This hateful visit only confirmed his theory. The Nadir did not seem disposed toward bathing, and their clothes remained unwashed from season to season—in fact, probably from decade to decade, he thought.

  And what a country! Though he traveled light, which did not befit an ambassador from the Supreme City, he still found it difficult to obtain lodgings for his forty-two servants, eleven concubines, and sixty members of the guard royal. He had been reduced to purchasing sixteen wagons to carry necessities such as tents, beds, tables, chairs, soft linen sheets, harps, flutes, two enamel baths, and five full-sized mirrors. And he had brought a mere twenty-five chests of personal luggage containing his own—entirely inadequate—traveling wardrobe.

  Chien-tsu found it curious that the emperor should have allowed one of his daughters to wed a savage, but a wise man did not question the decisions of the divine one. And Chien-tsu, as all civilized men knew, was wise far beyond his thirty-two years.

  He reined in his horse before the city and sighed. The buildings were in the main unlovely, and the palace that towered at the center, despite having an arrogant, almost primal simplicity, lacked any sense of aesthetic beauty. There were six square towers and a crenellated battlement. No banners flew. Chien-tsu halted the wagons and ordered his tent pitched. Once this was done, he had his mirrors assembled and a bath prepared. His handmaidens washed the dust from his body and massaged him with aromatic oils; his long dark hair was carefully greased and combed, drawn back from the brow and held in place by ivory combs. Then he dressed in leggings of gold-embroidered blue silk and shoes with golden straps. His shirt was of the whitest silk, and over it he placed a lacquered breastplate of wood and leather decorated with a golden dragon. His long, curving sword hung between his shoulder blades, and two knives in gleaming wooden scabbards were carefully placed within the satin sash tied around his waist. He ordered the presents for Jungir Khan to be carried forward: there were seventeen chests, matching the age of the new queen of the Nadir. It would, Chien-tsu decided, be pleasant to see Mai-syn once more. The youngest of the emperor’s legitimate daughters, she was quite breathtakingly beautiful and could play the nine-stringed harp with exquisite style.

  He stepped into the saddle and led his entourage of five footmen and thirty-four bearers down toward the palace.

  They were greeted by twenty soldiers led by an officer wearing a silver chain who inclined his head in a perfunctory bow. Chien-tsu stiffened, for the bow was some six inches short of politeness. Raising his head, he looked the officer in the eye … the silence grew. It would not be good manners to speak first, but Chien-tsu found his irritation growing.

  “Well?” snapped the officer at last. “What do you want?” Chien-tsu was taken aback but controlled his rising temper. It would not be seemly to kill a man on his first day in the city.

  “I am Chien-tsu, ambassador of the supreme emperor to the court of Jungir Khan. I have come with suitable gifts on the anniversary of the queen’s birthday. Kindly take me to the royal presence.”

  As Chien-tsu had expected, the man’s expression changed; he bowed once more, this time exceeding the distance required. Then he barked out a command, and the twenty soldiers turned. “Follow me,” he told Chien.

  There was no open courtyard within the great gates, merely a maze of tunnels. They emerged swiftly into a large shrub garden to the east of the gate. A line of stables stretched to the right, and Chien-tsu dismounted, allowing his horse to be led away. The party was passed on to a second officer; taller than the first, he wore a silver breastplate and helm. He bowed correctly to Chien and smiled.
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  “Welcome, Ambassador. The lord khan was not expecting you so swiftly.”

  “Is this not the day of the anniversary?”

  The man seemed confused. “Please follow me,” he said.

  Chien and his party moved on into another intricate system of tunnels and corridors that opened on to a wide hallway before huge double doors of oak mounted with silver.

  Four guards stood before the doors. They stepped aside as the officer approached and the doors swung open.

  Inside, to Chien’s surprise, the main hall resembled a giant tent with curtains and hangings of the finest silk. At the far end, on a raised dais, the great khan lounged on a satin-covered divan. Chien entered and bowed low, holding the pose for the obligatory ten heartbeats.

  The khan waved him forward. “Welcome, Ambassador; this is an unexpected pleasure.” The man’s voice was deep and powerful. He rose and stepped from the dais. “We did not expect you until tomorrow.”

  Chien lifted his hands and clapped them, and the thirty-four bearers moved forward to place the chests in a line before the khan. The men backed away with heads low, eyes averted. Chien bowed once more. “Great Khan, I have come bearing gifts from the Divine Lord of the Golden Realm to celebrate the first year of your marriage and to inquire on behalf of His Majesty whether Mai-syn has continued to bring exquisite joy to your hearth.”

  “Indeed she has,” Jungir answered. “Now to the chests, if you please.”

  This was not the response Chien had been expecting, but he hid his consternation and opened the first of the silver-bound chests. Lifting clear a handsome coat of silver silk decorated with pearls, he held it before the khan.

  “Pleasant,” commented the khan. “Are they all clothes?”

  “No, Great Khan,” said Chien, forcing a smile. He opened the second chest, which was filled with emeralds, some the size of a man’s fist.

  “What is this worth in your land in, say, horses and men?” asked the khan.

  “A man could equip an army of ten thousand lances for a full summer,” Chien answered.