The Legend of Deathwalker

by David Gemmell

  Niobe stirred beside him.,'Can you not sleep, po-et?'

  'I was thinking about the dead woman.'

  'For why?'

  'I don't know. It was a cruel way to die, blinded, chained and left alone in a volcanic cave. Brutal and vicious. And why did they bring her here, to this desolate place? Why hide the body?'

  Niobe sat up. 'Where does the sun go to sleep?' she asked. 'Where are the bellows of the winds? Why do you ask yourself questions you cannot answer?'

  Sieben smiled and kissed her. 'That is how knowledge is gained,' he said. 'People asking questions for which there are no immediate answers. The sun does not sleep, Niobe. It is a great ball of fire in the heavens, and this planet is a smaller ball spinning round it.' She looked at him quizzically, but said nothing. 'What I am trying to say is that there are always answers even if we cannot see them right away. The woman in that cave was rich, probably high-born, a princess or a queen. The medallion I found has two heads engraved upon it, a man and a woman. Both have Nadir or Chiatze features.'

  'Show me.'

  Sieben took the medallion from his pouch and dropped it into her hand. The moonlight was bright, and Niobe studied the heads. 'She was very lovely. But she was not Nadir.'

  'Why do you say that?'

  'The writings on the lon-tsia. They are Chiatze; I have seen the symbols before.'

  'Can you read what it says?'

  'No.' She passed it back to him.

  'What did you call it? A lon-tsia?'

  'Yes. It is a love gift. Very expensive. Two would have been made for the wedding. The man is her husband, and her lon-tsia would have been worn with the man's head facing inward, over her heart. He would wear his in the reverse way, her head upon his heart. Old Chiatze custom - but only for the rich.'

  'Then I wonder what happened to her husband.'

  Niobe leaned in close. 'No more questions, po-et,' she whispered. 'I shall sleep now.' Sieben lay down beside her. Her fingers stroked his face, then slid over his chest and belly.

  'I thought you said you wanted sleep?'

  'Sleep is always better after love-making.'

  By the afternoon of the following day the group came to the last outcrop of rocks before the steppes. Nuang sent out scouts, and the last of the water was doled out to the women and children. Druss, Nuang and the boy, Meng, climbed the rocks and scanned the bleak, apparently empty steppes. There was no sign of any enemy.

  After an hour the scouts returned to report that the Lancers had moved on. The riders had followed their tracks to a water-hole in a deep gully, which had been drunk dry and was now deserted.

  Nuang led his weary people to the hole, and there made camp. 'They have no patience, these gajin,' he told Druss as they stood beside the mud-churned water-hole. 'It is a seep, and yet they allowed their horses to ride into it. Had they waited and taken only a little water at a time, it would have fully nourished both men and mounts. Now? Ha! Their horses will have barely wet their tongues, and will be useless to them by sunset.'

  Several of the Nadir women began digging in the mud and the gravel below, slowly clearing the hole. Then they sat back and waited. After an hour the small seep began to fill.

  Later Nuang sent out scouts once more. They returned an hour before dusk. Nuang spoke to them, then moved to where Druss and Sieben were saddling their horses. 'The gajin have cut to the north-west. My men saw a great cloud of dust there. They rode as close as they dared - and saw an army on the march. For why is an army here? What is here for them to fight?'

  Druss laid his huge hand on the old man's shoulder. 'They are riding for the Valley of Shul-sen's Tears. They seek to pillage the Shrine.'

  'They want Oshikai's bones?' asked the old man, incredulously.

  'How far is it to the Shrine?' Druss asked.

  'If you take two spare mounts and ride through the night to the north-east, you will see its walls in two days,' said Nuang. 'But the gajin will not be far behind you.'

  'May your luck be good,' said Druss, holding out his hand. The Nadir leader nodded, and shook hands.

  Sieben moved away to where Niobe stood. 'I hope we meet again, my lady,' he said.

  'We will or we won't,' she said, and turned away from him. The poet walked to his horse and vaulted to the saddle. Druss mounted the mare and, leading two spare ponies, the two men left the camp.

  Even before Nosta Khan's arrival at the Shrine, news of the Gothir invasion had reached the four camps. A rider from the Curved Horn tribe came in, his pony lathered in sweat. Galloping to the tents of his own people, he leapt from the saddle. A cavalry group had attacked two Curved Horn villages, slaughtering men, women and children. Thousands more soldiers were heading towards the valley, he said.

  The leader of the Curved Horn contingent, a middle-aged warrior named Bartsai, sent for the other leaders and they gathered at noon within his tent: Lin-tse of the Sky Riders, Quing-chin of the Fleet Ponies, and Kzun, the shaven-headed war chief of the Lone Wolves. They sat in silence as the rider told of what he had seen - a Gothir army on the march, killing all Nadir in their path.

  'It makes no sense,' said Kzun. 'Why have they made war upon the Curved Horn?'

  'And why is their army heading for this valley?' put in Lin-tse.

  'Perhaps more importantly,' said Quing-chin, 'we should be asking ourselves what we intend to do. They are less than two days from us.'

  'Do?' queried Bartsai. 'What can we do? Do you see an army around you? We have fewer than one hundred and twenty men.'

  'We are the guards of the Sacred Shrine,' said Lin-tse. 'Numbers mean nothing. Were we but four, we should fight.'

  'You speak for yourself!' snapped Bartsai. 'I see no point in throwing away our lives. If there are no warriors here then the gajin will pass by the Shrine. There is nothing here for them, save the bones of Oshikai. No treasures, no plunder. Therefore we keep the Shrine safe by fleeing.'

  'Pah!' sneered Lin-tse. 'What more could be expected from a Curved Horn coward?'

  Bartsai surged to his feet, snatching a curved dagger from his belt as Lin-tse reared up, reaching for his sabre. Quing-chin jumped between them. 'No!' he .shouted. 'This is madness!'

  'I will not be insulted in my own tent,' shouted Bartsai, glowering at the taller Lin-tse.

  'Then do not talk of flight,' said Lin-tse, slamming his sabre back into its scabbard.

  'What else is there to talk of?' asked Kzun. 'I do not wish to run from gajin. Neither do I wish to throw away the lives of my men needlessly. I have no love for the Curved Horn, but Bartsai is a warrior who has ridden in many battles. He is no coward. Neither am I. What he says is true. Whatever their purpose, the gajin are looking to kill Nadir. If there are none of us here, they must move on. We should draw them further into the steppes, away from water. Their horses will die there.'

  The tent-flap opened and a small man stepped inside. He was old and wizened, and wore a necklace of human finger-bones.

  'Who are you?' asked Bartsai warily, aware from the bones that the man was a shaman.

  'I am Nosta Khan.' Moving forward he sat between Kzun and Bartsai. Both men moved sideways, making more room for him. 'You now know the threat facing you,' said the shaman. 'Two thousand Gothir warriors, led by Gargan Nadir Bane, are marching upon this holy place. What you do not know is why, but I shall tell you. They come to destroy the Shrine, to raze the walls, take the bones of Oshikai and grind them to dust.'

  'For what purpose?' asked Kzun.

  'Who can read the minds of the gajin?' said Nosta Khan. 'They treat us like vermin, to be destroyed at their whim. I care nothing for their reasons, it is enough that they are coming.'

  'What do you advise, shaman?' asked Lin-tse.

  'You must appoint a war leader, and resist them with all your might. The Shrine must not fall to the gajin.'

  'Stinking round-eyed vermin!' hissed Kzun. 'It is not enough that they hound us and kill us. Now they wish to desecrate our holy places. I will not suffer this. The question is, wh
ich of us should lead? I do not wish to sound arrogant, but I have fought in thirty-seven battles. I offer myself.'

  'Hear me,' said Quing-chin softly. 'I respect every leader here, and my words are not intended to cause insult. Of the men here in this tent only two could lead, myself and Lin-tse, for we were both trained by the gajin and we well know the ways of the siege. But one among us here is a man who understands the strategies of gajin warfare better than any other.'

  'Who is this . . . hero ?' asked Bartsai. Quing-chin turned towards Lin-tse. 'Once he was named Okai. Now he is called Talisman.'

  'And you believe this man can lead us to victory?' put in Kzun. 'Against a force twenty times our number?'

  'The Sky Riders will follow him,' said Lin-tse suddenly.

  'As will the Fleet Ponies,' added Quing-chin. 'What tribe is this man from?' Bartsai asked. 'Wolfshead,' Lin-tse told him. 'Then let us go to him. I wish to see him myself before I commit my men to him,' said Bartsai. 'In the meantime I will send out riders, for there are many Curved Horn villages close by. We will need more fighters.'

  Zhusai had endured a troubled night, with strange dreams filling her mind. Men were dragging her through a twisted landscape, chaining her in a dark, gloomy chamber. Names were screamed at her: 'Witch! Whore!' Blows struck her face and body.

  She had opened her eyes, her heart hammering in panic. Jumping from her bed she had run to the window, throwing it open and breathing deeply of the cool night air. Too frightened to return to sleep, she had walked out into the open yard before the Shrine. Talisman and Gorkai were sitting there as she approached and Talisman rose. 'Are you well, Zhusai?' he asked, taking her arm. 'You are very pale.'

  'I had a terrible dream but it is fading now.' She smiled. 'May I sit with you?'

  'Of course.'

  The three of them had discussed the search for the Eyes of Alchazzar. Talisman had checked the Shrine Room thoroughly, scanning walls and floor for hidden compartments, but there were none. Together with Gorkai he had even lifted the stone coffin lid and examined the dried bones within. There was nothing to be found, save a lon-tsia of heavy silver bearing the heads of Oshikai and Shul-sen. 'He had left it with the bones and carefully replaced the lid.

  'Oshikai's spirit told me the Eyes were hidden here, but I cannot think where else to look,' said Talisman.

  Zhusai stretched herself out beside the men, and drifted to sleep . . .

  A slim man with burning eyes pushed his face into her own, biting her lip until it bled. 'Now you die, witch, and not before time.' She spat in his face.

  'Then I shall be with my love,' she said, 'and will never have to look upon your worthless face again!' He struck her then, savagely, repeatedly. Then he grabbed her hair. 'You'll never see him this side of eternity.' Holding up his hand he showed her five small golden spikes. 'With these I shall put out your eyes, and pierce your ear-drums. The last I will drive through your tongue. Your spirit will be mine, throughout time. Chained to me, as you should have been in life. Do you want to beg? If I cut you loose will you fall down on your knees and swear loyalty to me?'

  Zhusai wanted to say yes, but the voice that came from her mouth was not hers. 'Swear loyalty to a worm? You are nothing, Chakata. I warned my Lord of you, but he would not listen. Now I curse you, and my curse will follow you until the stars die!'

  Her head was dragged back. His hand came up, and she felt the glittering spike push into her eyeball. . .

  With a cry of pain, Zhusai woke to find Talisman sitting beside her bed. 'How did I get here?' she asked. 'I carried you. You began speaking in Chiatze. It is not a tongue with which I am familiar; it changed your voice incredibly.'

  'I had the dream again, Talisman. It was so real. A man . . . many men . . . took me to a dark chamber, and there they put out my eyes. It was horrible. They called me a witch and a whore. They had . . . I think . . . murdered my husband.'

  'Rest,' said Talisman. 'You are distraught.'

  'I am distraught,' she agreed, 'but . . . I have never experienced a dream like this one. The colours were so sharp, and . . .' Gently he stroked her head and, exhausted, she slept again. And this time there were no dreams.

  When she awoke she was alone, and bright sunlight filled the room. There was a jug of water and a basin on a table by the window. Rising from the narrow bed she took off her clothes, filled the basin, added three drops of perfume from a tiny bottle and washed her face and upper body. From her pack she took a long tunic of white silk; it was crumpled, but clean. Once dressed, she washed the clothes she had been wearing the previous day and laid them over the window-sill to dry. Bare-footed she left the room, walked down the narrow wooden stairs and emerged into the courtyard below.

  Talisman was sitting alone, eating a breakfast of bread and cheese. Gorkai was grooming the ponies on the other side of the courtyard. Zhusai sat beside Talisman and he poured her a goblet of water. 'Did you dream again?' he asked her.

  'No.' He is bone-tired, she thought, his eyes dull. 'What will you do now?' she asked him.

  'I know . . . believe . . . the Eyes are here, but I cannot think where else to look.'

  Five men came walking through the open gates. Zhusai's heart sank as she recognized Nosta Khan, and she stood and moved back into the shadows. Talisman's face was impassive as the men approached. The first of the men, a shaven-headed warrior with a gold earring, halted before him. 'I am Kzun of the Lone Wolves,' he said, his voice deep and cold. His body was lean and hard, and Zhusai felt a flicker of fear as she gazed upon him. His posture was challenging as he stood looming over Talisman. 'Quing-chin of the Fleet Ponies claims you are a war leader to follow. You do not look like a war leader.'

  Talisman rose and stepped past Kzun, ignoring him. He walked to a tall, solemn-faced warrior. 'It is good to see you, Lin-tse,' he said.

  'And you, Okai. The Gods of Stone and Water have brought you here at this time.'

  A burly, middle-aged man stepped forward. 'I am Bartsai of the Curved Horn.' Dropping into a crouch, he extended his right arm with palm upward. 'Quing-chin of the Fleet Ponies speaks highly of you and we are here to ask of you a service.'

  'Not yet we don't,' snapped Kzun. 'First let him prove himself.'

  'Why do you need a war leader?' asked Talisman, directing his question at Lin-tse.

  'Gargan is coming with an army. The Gothir seek to destroy the Shrine.'

  'They have already attacked several Nadir camps,' added Quing-chin.

  Talisman walked away from the group, and sat cross-legged on the ground. Three of the others followed and sat around him. Kzun hesitated, then joined them. Gorkai moved across the courtyard and stood, arms folded across his chest, behind Talisman.

  'How many men in the Gothir army?' Talisman asked.

  'Two thousand,' said Nosta Khan. 'Lancers and foot soldiers.'

  'How long before they arrive?'

  'Two days. Perhaps three,' Bartsai answered.

  'And you intend to fight?'

  'Why else would we need a war leader?' asked Kzun.

  For the first time Talisman looked the man in the eye. 'Let us be clear, Kzun of the Lone Wolves,' he said, no anger in his voice, 'the Shrine is ultimately indefensible. A sustained assault by two thousand men will take it. . . eventually. There is no hope here of victory. At best we could hold for a few days, perhaps a week. Look around you. One wall has already crumbled, and the gates are useless. All the defenders would die.'

  'Exactly what I said,' put in Bartsai.

  'Then you advocate flight?' Kzun asked.

  'At this moment I am not advocating anything,' said Talisman. 'I am stating the obvious. Do you intend to fight?'

  'Yes,' said Kzun. 'This is the one place sacred to all Nadir. It cannot be surrendered without a fight.'

  Lin-tse spoke up: 'You know the ways of the Gothir, Okai. You know how they will fight. Will you lead us?'

  Talisman rose. 'Go back to your warriors. Tell them to assemble here in one hour; I will speak with them.'
Leaving them sitting there Talisman walked across the courtyard and climbed to the east-facing parapet. Bewildered, the leaders rose and left the Shrine. Nosta Khan followed Talisman.

  Zhusai stood quietly by the wall as Gorkai approached her. 'I don't think we will live to see the day of the Uniter,' he said grimly.

  'And yet you will stay,' she said.

  'I am Wolfshead,' he told her, proudly. 'I will stay.'

  On the wall Nosta Khan came alongside Talisman. 'I did not foresee this,' said the shaman.

  'It does not matter,' Talisman told him. 'Win or lose, it will speed the day of reckoning.'

  'How so?'

  'Four tribes will fight together. It will show the way we must follow. If we succeed, then the Nadir will know the Gothir can be beaten. If we fail, then the sacrilege they commit upon this Shrine will bind the tribes with chains of fire.'

  'Succeed? You said we would all die.'

  'We must be prepared for death. But there is a chance, Nosta. They have no water, so we must guard the wells, denying them access. Two thousand men will require two hundred and fifty gallons of water a day; the horses three times that. If we deny them water for more than a few days, the horses will start to die. Then the men.'

  'Surely they will have thought of that?' argued Nosta Khan.

  'I doubt it. They will expect to take the Shrine within a day. And here there are three deep wells.'

  'Can you hold them with a hundred men - and guard the wells and water-holes outside?'

  'No, we need more warriors. But they will come.'

  'From where?' asked the shaman.

  'The Gothir will send them,' Talisman told him.

  Chapter Eight

  Talisman sat alone on the parapet, cross-legged, arms outstretched, eyes closed and face upwards to the blazing sun. There were so many ambitions he had longed to achieve, the foremost of them to ride into the city of Gulgothir beside the Uniter; to see the Gothir humbled, their high walls brought down and their army in ruins. Anger flooded him and for a while he allowed the richness of the emotion to rage within his veins; then, slowly, he calmed himself. What he had told Nosta Khan was true. The Battle for the Shrine would unite the tribes as never before. Even were he to die here - which was probable - the effect would be to speed the day of the Uniter.