Quest for Lost Heroes

by David Gemmell

  Kiall ducked his head under the surface of the pool. “That was good,” he said as he sat up.

  The lion roared. The horses reared, and Beltzer almost lost his grip on the reins. The lion rose and padded across toward Kiall.

  “Make no move!” came the voice of Okas in Kiall’s mind. “Sit still. Absolutely still.”

  The lion prowled around Kiall, baring its yellow fangs. The song of Okas came louder now, hypnotic in its rhythm. The lion’s face loomed before Kiall’s eyes, the fangs brushed his skin, and he could smell the creature’s fetid breath. Then the lion padded back to the pride and settled down. Kiall rose unsteadily. Chareos had gathered the reins of Kiall’s mount and passed them to him silently; slowly the group retreated from the pool, down the long slope, and out onto the plateau.

  Okas joined them and the party rode on for an hour, camping just before daybreak in a shallow lava ditch.

  Finn clapped Kiall’s shoulder. “Not many men have been kissed by a lion,” he said. “It will be something to tell your children.”

  “I thought he was going to tear my head off,” said Kiall.

  “I thought of doing the same,” snapped Chareos. “Did you not see the sign for silence? Did you take lessons in stupidity, or does it come naturally?”

  “Leave him be, Blademaster,” said Finn. “You were young once. Do you know why the lion nuzzled you, Kiall?”

  “No.”

  “He has scent glands in his mouth. Lions often mark their territory with them. You were lucky; mostly they urinate to establish the borders of their domain.”

  “In that case I feel doubly lucky,” said Kiall, smiling. He turned to Okas. “How long before we reach the Nadren settlement?”

  “Tomorrow … the day after.” The old man shrugged. “The hunters are everywhere. We must continue to move with care.”

  “Will Ravenna still be there, do you think?” Kiall asked Chareos.

  “I would doubt it. But we’ll find out where she went.”

  “I’m sorry for that mistake,” apologized Kiall, seeing that Chareos was still angry.

  The older man smiled. “Finn was right; we were all young once. Do not allow mistakes to become a habit. But there is something we must talk about. There is no way we can rescue all the women who may be held by the Nadren—we are not strong enough—so prepare yourself for disappointment, Kiall. It will be wonderful if we can establish where Ravenna was sent, but there is no more than that to be gained. You understand?”

  “But if they are there, we must make the attempt, surely.”

  “What purpose would it serve? You have seen yourself the difficulty we are experiencing just getting to the settlement. Can you imagine what chance we would have of getting out?”

  Kiall wanted to argue, to find some compelling reason why Chareos was wrong. But he had seen the arid lands of the steppes and knew that they would have no chance to escape if they were encumbered by perhaps twenty freed captives. Yet he could not bring himself to answer Chareos. He looked away and stared at the stars.

  “I know that you made a promise, Kiall,” continued Chareos. “I know what that means to you. But it was a foolhardy promise. All life is compromise, and a man can only do his best.”

  “As you say, I made a promise,” returned Kiall. “And yes, it was foolish. But perhaps I can buy them back. I have gold.”

  “And they would sell them to you, and a day later, or even before, they would ride after you, kill you, and take back what they sold. We are not dealing with men of honor.”

  “We shall see,” said Kiall. “It may all be as you say. But let us not decide until the day comes.”

  “When the sun rises, the day has come,” said Chareos.

  Kiall settled down to sleep, but his thoughts were many. He had dreamed of riding off like a knight in pursuit of his love; he had pictured her returning beside him, her gratitude and love sustaining him. But it was almost four months now since she had been taken, and he was as likely to find her wedded to a savage or dead. As for the other women, many of them he had not known too well. He had always been shy in female company, and they had laughed at his blushes. Lucia, the baker’s daughter, had always been kind to him. But what could he offer her now? Her father was dead, her home burned. If he took her back, she would have nowhere to live and would probably be forced to find employment in Talgithir. Then there was Trianis, the niece of Paccus the seer. Again there were no living relatives. He ran the names of the captives through his mind: Cascia, Juna, Colia, Menea … so many.

  Chareos was right. How could they attempt to rescue twenty or more young women and then spirit them across the steppes?

  Yet if they did not at least try, then Kiall would have branded himself both a liar and a braggart.

  Kiall slept fitfully into the day. Soon after dusk the questers set off, avoiding skylines, keeping to the low ground. At last Okas led them up a winding deer trail and halted within a clearing surrounded by poplar trees. There he dismounted and moved off to the brow of a low hill. Chareos and the others joined him there and found themselves overlooking a large settlement. A tall stockade wall was built around the town, with four wooden turrets at each corner. Inside there were some sixty dwellings and a long hall. Guards paced the battlements, and lanterns were hung over the gates.

  “It’s more like a cursed fortress,” said Beltzer.

  “We’re not here to attack it,” Chareos told him.

  “Thank the gods for that,” said Beltzer.

  Chareos studied the layout of the buildings and the movements of the people within the town. It was just after dawn, and few of the town dwellers could be seen. Two women carrying wooden buckets on yokes walked to the rear of the stockade and out through a side exit. Chareos focused his attention on this; it was shaped like a portcullis, with a heavy metal block that was raised by turning two spoked wooden wheels situated on the battlements.

  Chareos eased his way back from the skyline and joined the others.

  “I can see no way for us to gain entry without being seen,” he told them, “unless we have someone on the inside.”

  “Who?” asked Beltzer.

  “I’ll go myself,” proposed Chareos.

  “No,” said Kiall. “It makes no sense to send our leader into peril. What would the rest of us do if you were taken? No, I will go.”

  “What will you tell them, boy?” chortled Beltzer. “That you’ve come for your lady and they’d better surrender her or else?”

  “Something like that,” said Kiall. He pushed himself to his feet and walked to his horse. Swiftly he emptied his saddlebag of gold, keeping only a single red gold ring, then he returned to the group. “I shall tell their leader, whoever he is, that I am willing to buy back the women taken. If he is agreeable, I will signal you from the ramparts; I will raise my right arm and wave. If I think there is treachery in the air, I will raise my left.”

  “What are we supposed to do then, General?” Beltzer sneered. “Storm the citadel?”

  “Be silent, you oaf!” snapped Chareos. “So far the plan is sound. At midnight Finn and I will be at the southern wall. If you have not signaled in that time, we will come in and look for you. Be careful, Kiall. These men are killers. Life means nothing to them.”

  “I know,” Kiall replied. As he walked to his horse and mounted, Okas’ voice came into his mind.

  “I will be with you, seeing through your eyes.”

  He smiled at the Tattooed Man and touched heels to his horse.

  The sun was bright as he headed down the grass-covered slope toward the settlement. Looking up at a sentry who had notched an arrow to his bow, Kiall waved and smiled. The gates loomed, and he rode through. Sweat trickled to his back, and he could not bring himself to look up at the archer. He guided the mount to a hitching rail and dismounted. There was a well nearby, and he hauled up the bucket and drank from a rusty iron ladle.

  He heard the sound of moving men and turned slowly to see four guards approaching him with s
words drawn. He spread his hands. “There is no need for violence, my friends. I am here to buy a woman—maybe two.”

  “Let’s feel the weight of your gold,” answered a tall man.

  Kiall dipped his hand into his pocket and came up with the ring. He tossed it to the man, who examined it closely.

  “Very nice,” he said. “And the rest?”

  “Hidden until we complete our business.”

  “Hidden, eh? Well, I know a few tricks that always make a man sing out his secrets.”

  “I am sure that you do,” said Kiall. “Now take me to whoever is the leader here.”

  “How do you know it’s not me?” the man asked, sneering.

  Kiall’s temper flared. “I do not. I merely assumed the leader would have more than half a brain.”

  “You cowson!” The man’s sword came up, and Kiall leapt to the right, drawing his saber.

  “Leave him be!” roared a voice, and the men froze. A tall man dressed in black came walking through the crowd that had gathered beyond the group.

  “What has this to do with you?” the swordsman asked.

  “I know this man,” he answered, “and I do not want to see him killed.” Kiall looked closely at the speaker. He was hawk-faced and lean, and a jagged scar showed on his cheek; his nose was hooked, his features dark and hard. But Kiall had never seen him before.

  “Why push that long nose of yours into another man’s business, Harokas?” the swordsman sneered.

  The man smiled coldly and drew his own saber. “You brainless dolt, Githa! You never saw the day dawn when you could best me with a blade.”

  Githa swallowed nervously and backed away, aware that he had gone too far.

  “Enough!” bellowed Kiall, doing his best to copy the authoritative tone used by Chareos. Both men froze. “You,” said Kiall, moving forward to stand before Githa. “Hand me the ring and go back to the ramparts.” The man blinked sweat from his eyes and happily obliged. He did not look at Harokas but sheathed his sword and hurried away. With the excitement over, the crowd dispersed. Harokas grinned and shook his head.

  “Not bad for a farm boy,” he said. “Not bad at all. I see that Chareos has trained you well. Is he close by?”

  “Perhaps. Are you a friend of his?”

  “No, but I need to see him. I have been looking for you for almost four months.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a message from the earl,” said Harokas. He lifted a ladle of water from the bucket and sipped it. “But what are you doing here, Kiall, so far from home?”

  “If you are from the earl, then you must know already. This is where the women from my village were taken.”

  “And you have come to win them back? How noble of you. A shame, though, that you have arrived too late. The last of them was sold off months ago. This is only a market town, Kiall. Every three months or so Nadir merchants and princes come here to buy slaves.”

  Kiall swallowed back his frustration. “How is it, then, that you, an earl’s man, are welcome here?”

  “I am welcome in many strange places. Come, I will take you to the leader you inquired about. Perhaps then you will find answers.”

  Kiall followed the tall man through the alleyways and out into the main square. Here was the hall he had seen from the hill. Harokas entered the building and led Kiall to a curtained area at the rear.

  A woman rose from a satin-covered divan and strode to meet them. Her hair was short-cropped and dark, her eyes wide and slanted, her lips full. She wore a black tunic belted at the waist, and her long legs were bare. Kiall blinked and tried not to stare at her. She stood before him, too close, and he shifted his feet, trying to put more distance between them. He looked into her eyes, noting that they were blue tinged with purple.

  “Well,” said Harokas, “you have your wish, Kiall. Here is the leader you asked to meet.”

  Kiall bowed, aware that he was blushing. “I am pleased to … that is … I …”

  “Is he retarded?” she inquired of Harokas.

  “I do not believe so, Princess.”

  “What do you want here?” she asked Kiall.

  He took a deep breath. “I am seeking a woman.”

  “Does this look like a brothel?” she snapped.

  “No. Not at all. I meant that I was seeking a special woman. She was taken from my village, and I want to buy her back.”

  “To buy? Our prices here are high. Can you afford her?”

  “I believe that I can. How high?”

  “That would depend,” said the woman, “on how beautiful she is.”

  “Her name is Ravenna. She is the most beautiful—” He stumbled to a halt and found himself staring into her eyes. In that moment he realized that Ravenna could never be called beautiful, not compared with the woman before him. He felt like a traitor even to think such thoughts. “She is … I think she is … beautiful,” he stammered, at last.

  “You are riding with the heroes of Bel-azar?” she asked. Her words sent a cold chill through him. For a moment only he hesitated, considering a lie.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  She nodded. “It is always better to be truthful with me, Kiall,” she told him, taking his arm and leading him back to the divan. With a wave of her hand she dismissed Harokas; leaving Kiall standing, she stretched herself out on the couch, her head resting on a blue silk-covered cushion. “Tell me of the heroes,” she said.

  “What would you have me say? They are strong men, courageous, skillful in the ways of war.”

  “And why would they be interested in this … this girl?”

  “Merely to see her safe and restored to her … loved ones.”

  “And you are a loved one?”

  “No. Well … yes.”

  “Is it no or yes? Sit by me and explain it.” He perched on the edge of the divan, feeling the warmth of her leg against his. He cleared his throat and told her of his love for Ravenna and her decision to marry the farmer Jarel.

  “I don’t blame her. She was right, of course. I was … am a dreamer.”

  “And you have no other woman?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “No stolen kisses in high meadows, no soft touches during secret trysts?”

  “No.”

  She moved up to sit alongside him, her arm draped over his shoulder. “One last question, Kiall, and be sure to answer it honestly. Much depends on it. This quest of yours—have you told me the whole truth? All you seek is the girl, Ravenna?”

  “I have told you the whole truth,” he said. “I swear it.”

  For several seconds she looked into his eyes, then she nodded and smiled. Her hand slipped from his shoulder, and she replaced the small dagger in its hiding place behind the cushion.

  “Very well. I will consider what you have said. But I make no promises. Go out into the square and find Harokas. He will see that you are fed.” He rose and bowed awkwardly. As he turned to leave, she suddenly spoke. “Tell me, Kiall, do you trust me?”

  “I would like to, my lady. It ought to be that a man could put his faith in beauty.”

  She rose smoothly and moved in to him, her body pressing against him, her arms on his shoulders, and her mouth only inches from his. “And can you put your faith in beauty?”

  “No,” he whispered.

  “You are quite correct. Go now.”

  10

  “I AM GROWING tired of sitting up here,” declared Beltzer. “What is he doing? Why does he not signal?”

  “He has met the leader,” said Okas, moving in to sit by Beltzer. “It was interesting meeting.” The old man chuckled. “It will be more interesting yet.”

  “Why?” asked Chareos. “Who is he?”

  “It is not a he, Blademaster. It is a she.”

  “Then he is in no danger at present?” Chareos asked.

  The smile faded from Okas’ face. “Of that I am not certain. There was a moment when he spoke with her when his danger was great. I felt she would kill him. But
something stayed her hand.”

  “We shouldn’t have sent him,” said Maggrig. “He does not have the experience.”

  “Not so,” said Okas. “I believe it is lack of experience which keeps him alive down there. The woman is hard, very hard. But whatever else, she finds Kiall … of interest.”

  “She wants him in her bed. Is that what you’re saying?” put in Beltzer.

  “Perhaps; she is certainly a predatory woman, and it is often the way that such people find innocence attractive. But there is more; I can feel it. She questioned him about all of you.”

  “And he told her?” Beltzer hissed.

  “He did. That is what, I believe, saved his life.”

  “But if she is the leader,” said Chareos, “then it is she who has been sending out the hunters to kill us.”

  “Exactly,” replied Okas. “Curious, is it not?”

  “There is something missing here,” said Chareos.

  “Yes,” Okas agreed. “There is something else also. There is a man in the settlement who saved Kiall. His name is Harokas and he told Kiall he wishes to talk with you, Chareos.”

  “Harokas? The name is not familiar to me.”

  “He says he has a message from the earl, whatever that may mean.”

  “Nothing good, I’ll wager,” muttered Beltzer. “So, what do we do?”

  “We wait,” said Chareos.

  “She could have armed men moving in on us,” Beltzer argued.

  “Indeed she could,” agreed Chareos. “Even so—we wait.”

  “I do not know why you are still alive, farm boy,” said Harokas as he and Kiall sat at a bench table in the crowded eating house. “Tanaki is not usually so gentle with enemies.”

  “I am not her enemy,” Kiall told him, spooning the last of the hot broth to his mouth.