David Gemmell - The Legend of the Deathwalker

Seventeen Nadir youngsters, all the sons of chieftains, were brought to the city of Bodacas in that late summer. Talisman-Okai remembered the ride through the city streets, children pointing at the Nadir, then baying and screeching and making gestures with their fingers. Adults too stood and watched, their faces grim. The cavalcade came to a stop at a walled structure on the outskirts of the city, where the double gates of bronze and iron were dragged open. For Okai it was like riding into the mouth of a great dark beast, and fear rose as bile in his throat.

Beyond the gates was a flat, paved training area, and Okai watched as young men and older boys practised with sword and shield, spear and bow. They were dressed identically in crimson tunics, dark breeches and knee-length boots of shining brown leather. All exercise ceased as the Nadir youngsters rode in with their escort.

A young man with blond hair stepped forward, his training sword still in his hand. 'I see we are to be given proper targets for our arrows,' he said to his comrades, who laughed loudly.

The Nadir were ordered to dismount, then led into a six-storey building and up a seemingly interminable winding stair to the fifth level. Here was a long, claustrophobic corridor leading to a large room in which, behind a desk of polished oak, sat a thick-set warrior with a forked beard. His eyes were bright blue, his mouth wide and full-lipped. A scar ran from the right side of his nose, curving down to his jawbone. His forearms too showed the scars of close combat. He stood as they entered.

'Get in two lines,' he ordered them, his voice deep and cold. The youngsters shuffled into place. Okai, being one of the smallest, was in the front line. 'You are here as janizaries. You do not understand what that means but I will tell you. The King — may he live for ever — has conceived a brilliant plan to halt Nadir raids, both now and in the future. You are here as hostages so that your fathers will behave. More than that, however, you will learn during your years with us how to be civilized, what constitutes good manners and correct behaviour. You will learn to read, to debate, to think. You will study poetry and literature, mathematics and cartography. You will also be taught the arts of war, the nature of strategy, logistics and command. In short you are to become cadets, and then officers in the great Gothir army.' Glancing up, he addressed the two officers who had led the boys into the room. 'You may go now and bathe the dust of travel from your bodies. I have a few more words to say to these. . cadets.'

As the officers departed and the door clicked shut, the warrior moved to stand directly before the boys, towering over Okai. 'What you have just heard, you dung-eating monkeys, is the official welcome to Bodacas Academy. My name is Gargan, the Lord of Larness, and most of the scars I carry come from battles with your miserable race. I have been killing Nadir scum for most of my life. You cannot be taught, for you are not human; it would be like trying to teach dogs to play the flute. This foolishness springs from the addled mind of a senile old man, but when he dies this stupidity will die with him. Until that blessed day work hard, for the lash awaits the tardy and the stupid. Now get downstairs where a cadet awaits you. He will take you to the quartermaster who will supply you with tunics and boots.'

Talisman was jerked back to the present as he heard Zhusai move behind him. He opened his eyes, and smiled. 'We must move with care today. This area is, your grandfather tells me, controlled by a Notas group called Chop-backs. I wish to avoid them if I can.'

'Do you know why they are called Chop-backs?' she asked him.

'I doubt that it is connected with the study of philanthropy,' he said, moving past her to the ponies.

'The study of philanthropy?' echoed Zhusai. 'What kind of a Nadir are you?'

'I am the dog who played the flute,' he told her, as he tightened the cinch of his saddle and vaulted to the pony's back.

They rode through most of the morning, halting at noon in a gully to rest the horses and eat a meal of cold meat and cheese. No riders had been seen, but Talisman had spotted fresh tracks, and once they had come across horse-droppings that were still moist. 'Three warriors,' said Talisman. 'They are ahead of us.'

'That is most disconcerting. Is it not possible that they are merely travellers?'

'Possible — but not likely. They are not carrying supplies, and they are making no effort to disguise their tracks. We will avoid them if we can.'

'I have two throwing-knives — one in each boot, Lord,' she said, bowing her head. 'I am skilled with them. Though, of course,' she added hurriedly, 'I have no doubt that a warrior such as yourself can easily kill three Notas.'

Talisman absorbed the information. 'I shall think on what you have said, but I hope there will be no need for bloodshed. I will try to talk my way through them. I have no wish to kill any Nadir.'

Zhusai bowed again. 'I am sure, Lord, you will devise a suitable plan.'

Talisman pulled the cork from the water canteen and took a sip, swishing the warm liquid around his mouth. According to Chorin-Tsu's map, the closest water was half a day to the east; that was where he intended to camp, though it occurred to him that the Notas were probably thinking along similar lines. He passed the canteen to Zhusai and waited while she drank. Then he took the canteen to the hobbled ponies and, wetting a cloth, cleaned the dust and sand from their nostrils. Returning to Zhusai, he squatted down before her. 'I accept your offer,' he said. 'But let us be clear: you will use your knife only upon my explicit command. You are right-handed?' She nodded. 'Then your target will be the furthest man to your left. If we meet the Notas you must draw your knife surreptitiously. Listen for the command. It will be when I say your name.'

'I understand, Lord.'

'There is one other matter we must settle. Chiatze politeness is legendary, and well suited to a world of silk-covered seats, vast libraries and a ten-thousand-year civilization. Not so here. Put from your mind thoughts of guardian and ward. We have just established our battle plan, and are now two warriors travelling together in a hostile land. From now on it would please me to have you speak less formally.'

'You do not wish me to call you Lord?'

Talisman looked into her eyes and felt his mouth go dry. 'Save that honorific for your husband, Zhusai. You may call me Talisman.'

'As you command, so be it. . Talisman.' The afternoon sun beat down upon the steppes, and the ponies plodded on, heads down, towards the distant mountains. Although the land looked flat and empty, Talisman knew there were many hidden gullies and depressions and the three Notas could be in any one of a hundred different hiding-places. Narrowing his eyes, Talisman scanned the shimmering heat-scorched landscape. There was nothing to be seen. Loosening his sabre, he rode on.

Gorkai was a killer and a thief. Usually — but not exclusively — in that order. The sun beat down upon him, but not a bead of sweat shone on his flat, ugly face. The two men with him both wore wide-brimmed straw hats, protecting head and neck from the merciless heat, but Gorkai gave no thought to the heat as he waited for yet another victim. Once he had aspired to be more than a thief. He had longed to possess his own goat herd, and a string of fine ponies sired from the hardy stallions of the north passes. Gorkai had dreamt of the day when he could afford a second wife, even though he had not yet won his first. And further to this, on those evenings when his imagination took flight, he saw himself invited to sit among the Elders. All of his dreams were like remembered smoke now, merely an acrid aftertaste upon the memory.