Quest for Lost Heroes (33 page)

She looked at him, but he could not read her expression through the bruises she bore. 'He still lives? Surprising. My father set great store by him.'

'He does still,' said Kiall.

'What madness are you speaking? My father is dead; he has been for years.'

'It is hard to explain.'

'Try!' she snapped. 'I may be bruised, but there is nothing wrong with my brain.'

As best he could, Kiall outlined the duel with the demons, and the violet-eyed warrior who had come to his assistance. 'Okas told me it was the spirit of Tenaka Khan.'

'How did he fight?'

'With two short swords. He spun like a dancer; I have never seen anything like it.'

She nodded. 'That is one of the names he carried: Bladedancer. He was also the Prince of Shadows.'

'Chareos and Beltzer both knew him,' said Kiall, 'as did Maggrig and Finn. They are the heroes of Bel-azar; he sat with them on the last night of the battle.'

'I know. My father told me. They are the
ghosts-yet-to-be
.'

'What does that mean?'

She shrugged. 'I do not know. My father was a secretive man. He told me of the warriors of the Gothir; he said one of them was blood kin - a Drenai prince. I would guess that to be Chareos. It is inconceivable that it could be the bald, fat one.'

'I know what you mean. Beltzer is not exactly cultured.'

The sound of a walking horse came to them and Beltzer leapt up, his axe in his hands. Kiall stood, drawing his sabre, as Harokas guided his mount into the camp and stepped down.

'I thought you had gone for good,' said Beltzer.

'So did I,' answered Harokas, wearily, 'but I found your friend.'

'Maggrig?' Beltzer whispered.

'Yes.'

Finn lurched to his feet and ran forward. 'Where is he?' he shouted, grasping Harokas' black jerkin.

Harokas put his hand on Finn's shoulder. 'The Nadir took him.'

'Oh, no! Oh, please no!' cried Finn, stumbling back. He ran to his horse, but Chareos cut him off, grabbing his arms and holding him tight.

'Wait!' said Chareos softly. 'We will all go. Calm yourself, my friend.'

Finn seemed to sag in Chareos' arms, his head falling to rest on the swordman's shoulder. Chareos turned to Kiall. 'Wait here with the woman. We'll be back.'

'There's no point,' said Harokas. 'The Nadir are everywhere. It's madness.'

'Even so,' replied Chareos, 'will you take us to the body?'

'It means that much to you? You'll risk your lives for a corpse?'

'Yes.'

Harokas shook his head in disbelief. 'Follow me then, but ride warily.'

Trees were sparse as the questors rode in single file behind Harokas, and the land spread out before them in a series of folds and gullies, like a giant's cloak carelessly tossed from Heaven.

They moved with care for more than an hour, coming at last to a rocky rise. Harokas dismounted and led his horse up the hill, the questors following his lead. He tethered his mount to a skeletal poplar and waited. Chareos joined him. No one had spoken since they rode from the camp. Finn stood by, white-faced, expressionless, his eyes tormented. Beltzer was beside him.

'Follow me,' whispered Harokas, 'and please ... no heroics?'

He led them to a rock-face, and on into a narrow fissure which wound down to a ledge. There he squatted in the fading light and pointed to the Nadir camp below. The greater part of the three hundred Wolves were there, and six camp-fires had been set. At the centre of the camp, staked out naked on the ground was Maggrig, his body covered in cuts and burns. Finn groaned and Beltzer's hand gripped the hunter's shoulder.

'Have you seen enough?' whispered Harokas. 'It does not take a warrior's eye to know the man is dead.' Chareos nodded. Maggrig had been tortured, his skin partially flayed, his eyes put out.

'They are still searching for you,' said Harokas, 'so he could have told them nothing. He had courage. Great courage.'

'Yes, he did,' agreed Chareos, glancing at Finn. 'He was a fine man.'

'I think his horse broke a leg,' continued Harokas. 'It was just bad luck. He almost made it to the slopes.'

'There's nothing more to see,' said Chareos softly. He touched Finn's arm. 'Let us go, my friend.'

'Yes,' murmured Finn.

Harokas backed away from the rim of the ledge and the questors clambered back through the fissure. As they reached the horses, it was Beltzer who first noticed Finn's absence.

'No!' he cried. Turning, he ran back for the fissure, Chareos and Harokas behind him. They came to the ledge in time to see Finn walking slowly down the scree-covered slope towards the Nadir camp. Beltzer made as if to follow him, but Chareos grabbed the neck of his jerkin, hauling him from his feet.

Beltzer hit the ground hard. He stared up into Chareos' face. 'Leave it be,' said Chareos. 'He wouldn't want you there; you know that.'

Beltzer tried to speak, but no words came. He rolled to his knees, gathered his axe and stumbled back through the fissure. Harokas knelt beside Chareos.

The Blademaster ignored him, his eyes fixed on the small, dark figure closing on the Nadir camp. It would be so easy, thought Harokas, his hand on the hilt of his dagger . . . just slip the blade through his ribs, sliding it up into the heart. So easy. Then he could return to the Earl, claim his gold and get on with his life. But that would mean leaving Tanaki. He cursed inwardly and took his hand from the hilt.

Below them Finn reached the bottom of the slope and walked forward, back straight, head high. There was a roaring in his ears, like the distant sea, and his eyes were misted. So many years together, years of joy and fear. It never paid to love too much, he'd always known that. All life was balance. There was always a reckoning. Better by far not to have loved at all. He walked past two Nadir warriors who were honing their swords; they stared at him for a moment, then rose behind him. Steadily Finn walked on. He could see Maggrig now, and the terrible cruelty they had unleashed upon him. A man seized Finn's arm. Almost absently, Finn plunged his hunting-knife into the warrior's throat.

There had been that time when Maggrig went down with the Red Plague. No one survived that, but Finn had sat with him, begging him to live. The fever had burned all the flesh from Maggrig's body, leaving translucent skin stretched tightly over the bones. But Finn had nursed him to health. He remembered the day he had first realised Maggrig was going to live. The sky had been grey and overcast, the mountains covered with mist. Moisture dripped from the trees and yet the day had been beautiful - so incredibly beautiful that Finn had been unable to look upon it without tears.

A second warrior came at him. Finn killed him, but the man's sword plunged into Finn's side. There was little pain. He staggered on. Something struck him in the back, but he ignored it. Close to the body now, he fell to his knees and slashed his knife through the ropes binding Maggrig's arms to the stakes. Dropping his knife, he lifted Maggrig's head. Blood gushed into Finn's throat but he spat it clear.

'You are nothing but trouble to me, boy,' he said, struggling to lift the stiffening corpse.

A spear hammered into his back, smashing through his ribs and exiting from the chest. He felt Maggrig slipping from his hands and tried, so hard, to lower the body gently to the earth.

Slowly he toppled, his head resting on Maggrig's cheat.

If he could just get Maggrig to the mountains, all would be well. The sky would be grey and overcast, the mist clinging to the trees.

If he could just. . .

Swords and knives plunged into Finn's body, but he did not feel them.

High on the ledge Chareos watched it all. His hands were trembling and he tore his eyes from the scene, staring down at the ground. He sucked in a deep breath, then leaned back. For several minutes he sat in silence, remembering Finn and Maggrig as they had been back at Bel-azar. Then he turned to Harokas. 'You had your chance,' he said softly. 'It will not come again. Why did you not kill me?'

Harokas spread his hands and said nothing. Chareos backed away from the ledge and returned to the horses. Beltzer was sitting on a rock, his axe on the ground beside him.

'Did he die well?' asked the giant.

'Yes . . . whatever that means,' answered Chareos. He stepped into the saddle. 'Let's get back.'

'What are we going to do, Blademaster?' Beltzer asked. 'Yesterday seems so far away now. Okas is dead. Finn and Maggrig are dead. Do we go on?'

'What do we have to go back to? We go on.' Touching heels to the grey, Chareos rode out of the clearing. Beltzer gathered his axe, mounted and followed him.

For some time Harokas waited. Finally he vaulted into the saddle and rode after them. Chareos heard him coming and reined in as the assassin came alongside.

'Well?' asked Chareos.

'You can't take on the Nadir army with three men,' said Harokas.

'What do you suggest?'

'Four would even the odds.'

Chien-tsu opened his eyes. Around him the mountains reared like the spears of the gods, looming and threatening. An icy wind howled through the crags. His servant, Oshi, was huddled by a small fire, his face blue with cold. Chien shivered.

'She is dead,' he said, picturing Mai-syn as he had last seen her, radiant and happy, her dress of yellow silk shining in the sunlight.

'As always then, lord, you were correct,' said Oshi.

'I had hoped to be wrong. Come, let us find a cave.' Oshi was reluctant to leave even the illusory warmth of the small fire, but he rose without complaint and the two men led their horses along the winding mountain path. There were no trees at this height, only an occasional stunted shrub cloaked in snow. The walls of the mountains rose sheer to the left and right of the travellers, and there was no sign of a cave or shelter of any kind beyond shallow depressions in the rock-face. Oshi was convinced they would die here. It was three days since they had eaten - and that had been a stringy hare brought down by an arrow from Chien's bow.

They walked on. Chien did not feel the cold; he closed his mind to it, and thought instead of the beautiful Mai-syn. He had spirit-searched the land, seeking her soul, listening for the music of her spirit.

His mood was dark now, and colder than the mountain winds.

The trail dropped into a narrow valley, then rose again. For a while they rode, but it seemed colder to sit immobile on a saddle and they dismounted. Oshi stumbled and fell and Chien turned. 'Are you weary, old man?'

'A little, lord,' he admitted.

Chien moved on. He could not stop the servant from addressing him with his title, and had long since given up the effort.

They rounded a bend in the trail and saw an elderly man sitting cross-legged on a rock. He seemed incredibly ancient, the skin of his face weathered like sandstone. He was wearing only a loin-cloth of pale skin and a necklace of human teeth; his body was emaciated, the bones sharp and jutting, like knife-blades under leather. Snow had settled on his skeletal shoulders.

'Good evening, old father,' greeted Chien, bowing.

The old man looked up and as Chien met his gaze he shuddered inwardly. The eyes were blacker than night, and cold with an ancient malice. The man smiled, showing several blackened teeth.

His voice whispered out like a breeze across tombstones. 'Mai-syn angered Jungir Khan. He threw her to his Wolves, who used her and threw her back. In her despair she cut her throat with a pair of silver scissors. It happened less than a month after her arrival.'

Chien felt his stomach heave, but he fought to keep all expression from his face.

'A simple "good evening" would have been sufficient to open the conversation, old father. But thank you for the information.'

'I do not have the time for pleasantries, Chien-tsu, nor the elaborate and inane rituals of the Kiatze.' The old man laughed. 'Look around you - this is Nadir land. It is cold, inhospitable. Only the strong survive. Here there are no green fields, no verdant pastures. A warrior is old by the time he is thirty. We have no energy to spend on pretty words.' He waved one hand. 'But that is of no matter. It is important only that you are here, and that your desire for vengeance is strong. Follow me.' Nimbly he leapt from the rock and walked away into the snow.

'He is a demon,' wailed Oshi. 'That loin-cloth is human skin.'

'I do not care for his lack of sartorial elegance,' said Chien. 'If he is a demon I will deal with him, but let us hope he is a demon with a warm cave.'

They followed the old man to what seemed a sheer rock-face. He disappeared and Oshi began to tremble, but Chien walked to the rock wall and found a narrow opening, almost invisible from the outside. He led his horse within and Oshi followed him.

Inside it was dark and cold. From somewhere in the shadows Chien heard a soft chanting. Torches sprang to life in rusted brackets on the walls. His horse reared but he calmed the beast, stroking its neck and whispering soothing words. The travellers moved on into a torch-lit tunnel that branched out into a deep cave where a fire was burning without wood.