David Gemmell - The Legend of the Deathwalker

'He was tied,' said Lin-tse. Okai did not answer; he was staring up at the gable from which Zhen-shi had fallen. The rooms on that top level were reserved for the senior cadets from noble families. But the nearest window was that of Argo. Lin-tse followed Okai's gaze. The blond-haired son of Gargan was leaning on his window-sill, and gazing down with mild interest on the scene below.

' Did you see what happened, Argo?' someone shouted.

'The little monkey tried to climb the roof. I think he was drunk.' Then he leaned back and slammed shut his window.

Okai turned to Lin-tse and the two boys walked back to their room. Dalsh-chin was waiting for them. Once inside they squatted on the floor and spoke Nadir in low voices.

'Argo sent for Zhen-shi,' whispered Dalsh-chin, 'three hours ago.'

'He was tied and beaten,' said Okai. 'He could not stand pain, and therefore must have also been gagged. Otherwise we would have heard the screams. There will be an inquiry.'

'It will find,' said Lin-tse, 'that Grinning Monkey, having consumed too much alcohol in celebration of his success, fell from the roof. A salutary lesson that barbarians have no tolerance for strong drink.'

'That is true, my friend,' said Okai. 'But we will make them suffer — as Zhen-shi suffered.'

'A pleasing thought,' said Lin-tse. 'And how will this miracle be accomplisheo?'

Okai sat silently for a moment. Lin-tse would never forget what followed. Okai's voice dropped even lower: 'The re-building work on the north tower is not yet complete. The labourers will not return for three days. It is deserted. Tomorrow night we will wait until everyone is asleep, then we will go there and prepare the way for vengeance.'

Gargan, Lord of Larness, removed his helm and drew in a deep breath of hot desert air. The sun was beating down, shimmering heat hazes forming over the steppes. Twisting in the saddle, he glanced back along the column. One thousand lancers, eight hundred infantry Guardsmen and two hundred archers were moving slowly in line, dust rising in a cloud around them. Gargan tugged on the reins and cantered back along the column, past the water-wagons and supply carts. Two of his officers joined him and together they rode to the crest of a low hill where Gargan drew rein and scanned the surrounding landscape.

'We will make camp by that ridge,' said Gargan, pointing to a rocky outcrop some miles to the east. 'There is a series of rock pools there.'

'Yes, sir,' answered Marlham, a grizzled, white-bearded career officer coming close to mandatory retirement.

'Put out a screen of scouts,' Gargan ordered. 'Any Nadir seen should be killed.'

'Yes, sir.'

Gargan swung to the second officer, a handsome young man with clear blue eyes. 'You, Premian, will take four companies and scout the marshes. No prisoners. All Nadir are to be treated as hostiles. Understand?'

'Yes, Lord Gargan.' The boy had not yet learned how to keep bis feelings from showing in his expression.

'I had you transferred to this force,' said Gargan. 'Do you know why?'

'No, Lord Gargan.'

'Because you are soft, boy,' snapped the general. 'I saw it at the Academy. The steel in you — if steel there is — has not been tempered. Well, it will be during this campaign. I mean to soak the steppes in Nadir blood.' Spurring his stallion, Gargan galloped down the hillside.

'Watch yourself, my boy,' said Marlham. 'The man hates you.'

'He is an animal,' said Premian. 'Vicious and malevolent.'

'All of that,' Marlham agreed. 'He always was a hard man, but when his son disappeared. . well, it did something to him. He's never been the same since. You were there at the time, weren't you?'

'Aye. It was a bad business,' said Premian. 'There was to be an inquiry over the death of a cadet who fell from Argo's window. On the night before the inquiry Argo vanished. We searched everywhere; his clothes were gone, as was a canvas shoulder-pack. We thought at first that he had feared being implicated in the boy's death. But that was ridiculous, for Gargan would have protected him.'

'What do you think happened?'

'Something dark,' said Premian. With a flick of the reins he moved away, returning to the rear of the column and signalling his junior officers to join him. Swiftly he told them of their new orders. The news was greeted with relief by the two hundred men under his command, for it would mean no more swallowing the dust of the column.

While the men were being issued with supplies, Premian found himself thinking back to his last days at the Academy, that summer two years ago. Only Okai remained of the original Nadir contingent, his two comrades having been sent home after failing the toughest of the pre-final examinations. Their failure had concerned Premian, for he had worked with them and knew their mastery of the subjects was no less proficient than his own. And he had passed with a credit. Only Okai remained — a student so brilliant there was no way he could fail.. Even he, however, had barely scraped a pass.

Premian had voiced his concerns to the oldest — and best — of the tutors, a former officer named Fanlon. Late at night, in the old man's study, he told Fanlon he believed the youths were unfairly dismissed.

'We speak much of honour,' said Fanlon sorrowfully, 'but in reality it is in short supply. It always was. I was not allowed to take part in the judging of their papers; the Lord Larness and two of his cronies marked them. But I fear you are correct, Premian. Both Dalsh-chin and Lin-tse were more than capable students.'

'Okai was allowed to pass. Why?' asked Premian.

'He is exceptional, that one. But he will not be allowed to graduate; they will find a way to mark him down.'

'Is there no way we can help him?'

'Tell me first, Premian, why you would wish to? You are not friends.'

'My father taught me to loathe injustice,' answered Premian. 'Is that not enough?'

'Indeed it is. Very well then, I shall help you.'

On the day of the finals, upon entering the examination room, each cadet was handed a small numbered disc taken from a black velvet sack held by the Chief Prefect, a tall, spindly youth named Jashin. Each disc was wrapped in paper to prevent the number being seen by the Prefect. It was a ritual intended to ensure no preferential treatment could be given to any student during the examinations; cadets would merely write the number of their disc at the top of their papers. At the close of the examination the gathered papers would be taken to the judges, who would mark them immediately.

Premian stood in line behind Okai, and noticed that Jashin's fist was already clenched as he delved into the bag before handing the Nadir boy his disc. Premian followed Okai into the examination room, where desks had been set out in rows.

The examination lasted three hours and involved, firstly, establishing a logistical formula and a strategy for supplying an invading army of twenty thousand men, conducting a campaign across the Ventrian Sea; and secondly, constructing a letter of advice to the commanding officer of the expedition, outlining the hazards he must expect to face during his invasion of Ventria.

Premian felt exhausted by the close, but was fairly certain he had performed well. The questions were based on a real campaign of two centuries earlier led by the legendary Gothir General, Bodacas, after whom the Academy was named. Happily, Premian had studied the campaign fairly recently.

As the cadets trooped out, Premian saw General Gargan enter the room along with the other judges. Premian avoided eye contact and sought out Fanlon. The elderly tutor poured the cadet a goblet of watered wine, and the two of them sat for a while in silence by the upper window overlooking the bay.

The afternoon wore on and finally the Keep bell sounded. Premian joined the other students streaming towards the main hall to hear the results.