David Gemmell - The Legend of the Deathwalker

'Why do you search, Lord? Is there no Paradise for you?'

The spirit stared at him. 'What Paradise could there be without Shul-sen? Death I could bear, but not this parting of souls. I will find her, though it take a dozen eternities. Fare you well, Talisman of the Nadir.'

Before Talisman could speak the figure was gone. The young Nadir warrior rose unsteadily and backed to the door.

Gorkai was waiting in the moonlight. 'What happened in there? I heard you speak, but there was no answer.'

'He came, but he could not help me. He was a soul in torment, seeking his wife.'

'The witch, Shul-sen. They say she was burned alive, her ashes scattered to the four winds and her spirit destroyed by sorcery.'

'I have never heard that story,' said Talisman. 'Among others we were taught that she crossed the sea to a land where there was no nightfall, and there she lives for ever in the hope that Oshikai will find her.'

'It is a prettier tale,' admitted Gorkai, 'and both would explain why the Lord of War cannot find her. What will we do now?'

'We will see what tomorrow brings,' said Talisman, striding off to the rooms Gorkai had found for them. There were thirty small chambers set within the main building, all constructed for the use of pilgrims. Zhusai had spread her blankets on the floor beneath the window, and pretended to be asleep as Talisman entered. He did not go to her, but pulled up a chair and sat staring out at the stars. Unable to bear the silence any longer, she spoke.

'Did the spirit not come to you?' she asked.

'Aye, he came.' Slowly he told her the full story of Oshikai's search for Shul-sen, and of the two legends told of her passing.

Zhusai sat up, holding the blanket around her. 'There are other stories of Shul-sen — that she was thrown from a cliff high on the Mountains of the Moon; that she committed suicide; that she was turned into a tree. Every tribe has a different tale. But it is sad that he cannot find her.'

'More than sad," said Talisman. 'He said that without her there could be no Paradise.'

'How beautiful,' she said. 'But then he was Chiatze, and we are a people who understand sensitivity.'

'I have found in my life that people who boast of their sensitivity are sensitive only to their own needs, and utterly indifferent to the needs of others. However, I am in no mood to argue the point.' Taking up his blanket, he lay down beside her, and slept. His dreams, as always, were filled with pain.

The lash cut deep into his back, but he did not cry out. He was Nadir, and no matter how great the pain he would never show his suffering to these gajin — these round-eyed foreigners. The whip he had been forced to make himself, the leather wound tightly around a wooden handle, then sliced into thin strips each tipped with a small pellet of lead. Okai counted each stroke to the prescribed fifteen. As the last slashing swipe lanced across his bleeding back, he allowed himself to slump forward against the stake. 'Give him five more,' came the voice of Gargan.

'That would exceed the regulations, my Lord,' answered Premian. 'He has received the maximum allowed for a cadet of fifteen.' Okai could scarce believe that Premian had spoken up for him. The House Prefect had always made clear his loathing of the Nadir boys.

Gargan spoke again. 'That regulation is for human beings, Premian, not Nadir filth. As you can see, he has not suffered at all.-Not a sound has he made. Where there is no sense, there is no feeling. Five more!'

'I cannot obey you, my Lord.'

'You are stripped of your rank, Premian. I had thought better of you.'

'And I of you, Lord Gargan.' Okai heard the lash fall to the floor. 'If one more blow is laid upon this young man's back I shall report the incident to my father at the palace. Fifteen strokes was bad enough for a misdemeanour. Twenty would be savage beyond belief.'

'Be silent!' thundered Gargan. 'One more word and you will suffer a similar punishment, and face expulsion from this academy. I'll not tolerate disobedience, nor insubordination. You!' he said, pointing at a boy Okai could not see. 'Five more lashes if you please.'

Okai heard the whisper of the lash being swept up from the floor, and tried to brace himself. Only when the first blow fell did he realize that Premian had been holding back. Whoever now held the lash was laying on with a vengeance. At the third stroke a groan was torn from him, that shamed him even more than the punishment, but he bit down hard on the leather belt between his teeth and made no further sound. Blood was running freely down his back now, pooling above the belt of his leggings. At the fifth stroke a great silence fell upon the hall. Gargan broke it. 'Now, Premian, you may go and write to your father. Cut this piece of offal down.'

Three Nadir boys ran forward, untying the ropes that bound Okai. Even as he fell into their arms he swung to see who had wielded the whip, and his heart sank. It was Dalsh-chin, of the Fleet Ponies tribe.

His friends half carried him to the infirmary, where an orderly applied salve to his back and inserted three stitches into a deeper cut on his shoulder. Dalsh-chin entered and stood before him. 'You did well, Okai,' he said, speaking in the Nadir tongue. 'My heart swelled with pride for you.'

'Why then did you make me cry out before the gajin ?

'Because he would have ordered five more had you not, and five more still. It was a test of will, and one which might have killed you.'

'You stop talking in that filthy language,' said the orderly. 'You know it is against the rules, and I won't have it!'

Dalsh-chin nodded, then reached out and laid his hand on Okai's head. 'You have a brave heart, young one,' he said, in the southern tongue. Then he turned and strode from the room.

'Twenty lashes for defending yourself,' said his closest friend Zhen-shi. 'That was not just.'

'You cannot expect justice from gajin ,' Okai told him. 'Only pain.'

'They have stopped hurting me,' said Zhen-shi. 'Perhaps it will be better for all of us from now on.'

Okai said nothing, knowing that they had stopped hurting his friend because Zhen-shi ran errands for them, cleaned their boots, bowed and scraped, acted like a slave. As they mocked him he would smile, and bob his head. It saddened Okai, but there was little he could do. Every man had to make his own choices. His own was to resist them in every way, and yet to learn all that they could teach. Zhen-shi had not the strength for this course; he was soft, and remarkably gentle for a Nadir boy.

After a short rest in the infirmary, Okai walked unaided to the room he shared with Lin-tse. From the Sky Rider tribe, Lin-tse was taller than most Nadir youths, his face square and his eyes barely slanted. It was rumoured that he had gajin blood, but no-one said this to his face. Lin-tse was short of temper, and long on remembered wrongs. He stood as Okai entered. 'I have brought you food and drink, Okai,' he said. 'And some mountain honey for the wounds upon your back.'

'I thank you, brother,' replied Okai formally.

'Our tribes are at war,' said Lin-tse, 'and therefore we cannot be brothers. But I respect your courage.' He bowed, then returned to his studies.

Okai lay face down on the narrow pallet bed and tried to block the hot pain that flowed from his lacerated back. 'Our tribes are at war now , he said, 'but one day we will be brothers, and the Nadir will sweep down upon these gajin and wipe them from the face of the earth.'

'May it be so,' responded Lin-tse. 'You have an examination tomorrow, do you not?'

'Yes. The role of cavalry in punitive expeditions.'

'Then I shall question you upon the subject. It will help to shield your mind from the pain you are suffering.'