David Gemmell - Quest for Lost Heroes

'None,' admitted Finn. 'But the Valley? I wouldn't go there if my soul depended on it. Neither will Beltzer. They don't like visitors.'

Til go there with you,' said Kiall. Til go anywhere if it means a chance to find Ravenna.'

'I can remember when we sounded like that,' mused Finn. 'It's a wonder we've survived so long, Blademaster. If you want to die, why not leap from a cliff, or open your veins with a sharp blade? The Tattooed People will kill you slowly. But then you know that.'

Chareos turned to Finn and smiled. 'I know the perils, Finn, and I won't go without Beltzer. For some reason, Okas seemed to like him.'

'Perhaps it was the smell,' offered Finn. 'He was the only man I ever met who stank worse than the big man. Even so, it is not a journey I would undertake.'

'What is so terrible there?' Kiall asked.

Finn scratched at his beard. 'According to Okas the land is hot, and there are beasts there who feed on human flesh. Also, the Tattooed People collect heads and shrink them down by magic. About twenty years ago a nobleman named Carsis led a small force into the Valley; their shrunken heads were left on spears at the entrance. For ten years, whenever a traveller passed by, the heads would shriek warnings. I saw them once — aye, and heard them. They spoke of the terrors of Hell.'

They are not there now, then?' said Kiall.

'No. The Lord Regent sent a section of lancers into the hills — they built a great fire and burned the heads.'

'Do the Tattooed People venture into our lands?'

'Sometimes, boy. And that's when a man locks his doors and sits up at night with sword and bow close to hand. You still want to go there?'

Kiall swallowed hard. 'I will go wherever I have to.'

'Spoken like a hero,' said Finn sourly.

The door opened and Beltzer entered, carrying two pitchers of ale. Til come with you,' he told Chareos.

'Spoken like an idiot,' whispered Finn.

The soldiers dug a shallow trench a half-mile from the settlement. The bodies of the Nadren, stripped of their armour and weapons, were unceremoniously flung into it. The corpses of the soldiers, eleven in all, were wrapped in their blankets and reverently placed on the back of a wagon, ready for burial with honours in Talgithir.

Salida ordered the Nadren grave to be filled with rocks, to prevent wolves and foxes from digging for food. It was almost dusk, and he was bone-weary. Seven of the dead had been new recruits, unused to war, but four were seasoned veterans. One of these had been his valet, a bright, amusing man named Caphes; he had a wife and five sons in Talgithir and Salida did not relish the visit he would have to make to the family home. The sound of a horse's hooves made him turn, and he saw Chareos riding towards him on a huge white stallion.

The former monk dismounted and approached.

'I wanted to make sure,' said Chareos, 'that you had no second thoughts on the matter of my arrest.'

Salida gazed into the man's dark eyes, unable to read the thoughts of the tall swordsman before him. 'No, I have not,' he said and Chareos nodded.

'You are a good man, Salida. Here, I have brought Logar's sabre.' He handed the scabbarded weapon to the officer. Dipping his hand into the sack hung behind his saddle, he produced a wineskin and two leather-covered brass cups. 'Join me?' he enquired.

'Why not? But let's move away from the stench of death — I've had my fill of it.'

'You look tired,' Chareos told him. 'And not just because of the battle, I think?'

They strolled to a group of boulders and sat down; Salida unbuckled his iron breastplate and laid it beside him. 'No, it is not. I am a family man now, Chareos. There was a time when I believed that soldiers could make a difference.' He accepted a goblet of red wine and sipped it. 'But now? I have three sons and a beautiful wife. The Nadir are gathering again, and one day soon they will cross the mountains and destroy the Gothir. What then of my sons and their dreams?'

'Maybe they will not come,' said Chareos. 'The Gothir have little; this is not a rich land.'

'They don't care about riches, they live for war. And what do we have to oppose them? The army has been cut to two thousand men. We couldn't even hold Bel-azar now.' He drained his wine and held out the cup for more. Chareos filled it and sat silently.

'I was born out of my time,' continued Salida, forcing a smile. 'I should have been an officer in the great days when the Gothir swept across Nadir lands all the way to the Delnoch mountains.'

'It is all a circle,' Chareos told him. 'The Gothir had their day, as did the Drenai and the Vagrians. Now we live in Nadir days. Their time will come, and then an officer just like you will sit at the last outpost of the Nadir empire bewailing his fate, and wondering about the dreams of his sons.'

Salida nodded. 'May that day come soon,' he said, grinning. 'Is it true that you were once a Drenai prince?'

Chareos smiled and refilled his own cup. 'So the singers would have us believe.'

'Have you never thought to return to your homeland?'

'This is my homeland. But yes, I have considered crossing the Delnoch mountains. . one day, perhaps.'

'I once visited Castle Tenaka,' said Salida. 'It is an incredible place: six great walls and a keep with walls three feet thick.'

'I knew it as Dros Delnoch,' Chareos told him. 'It was said that it could never be taken. I was raised on stories of Druss the Legend, and Rek, the Earl of Bronze. Strange that it should have been conquered by one of Rek's descendants. Castle Tenaka? I don't like the sound of the name.'

'You met him once, did you not? The Great Khan?'

'Yes. A very long time ago. Another lifetime.' Chareos rose. 'If you do not object, I would like to find my companion another sabre. I doubt the Nadren had anything of similar workmanship, but then he is no swordsman.'

'There's no point in going through the Nadren weapons — poor iron, badly fashioned. I gave a sword to my valet. It is a good blade, and he will have no further use for it. Take it with my blessing.' Salida walked across to the wagon and lifted clear a cavalry sabre in a wooden, leather-covered scabbard. 'The balance is good, the edge keen.'

'Thank you, my friend,' said Chareos, offering his hand. Salida gripped it.

'At least I can tell my sons I fought alongside a hero of Bel-azar.'

'May the Source go with you, Salida.'

The Captain watched as Chareos swung into the saddle. The stallion reared and came down at a run. Salida stood for several minutes as the rider grew ever smaller, then he returned to the tasks at hand — ordering the wagon hitched, and the riderless horses tied to the rear.

It would be a sad ride back to Talgithir.

An eerie silence covered the high forest like an invisible cloak as the dawn light bathed the tavern. Kiall gazed around the seemingly deserted settlement. There were few signs now of the battle, save for the dried bloodstains on the snow. Beltzer hoisted his pack to his shoulders and stamped his feet. 'I hate the cold,' he declared.

'We haven't started yet,' said Finn, 'and already you're complaining.'

Kiall struggled to get his arms through the pack ropes and Maggrig assisted him, lifting the loops over the thick goatskin jerkin Kiall now wore.

'It's too big for me,' said Kiall.

'There's gratitude,' snapped Beltzer, 'after all the trouble I took to get it for you.'

'You stripped it from a dead Nadren,' Chareos pointed out.

'Had to kill him first,' retorted Beltzer, aggrieved.

Chareos ignored him, and shrugged into his pack. Finn had loaned him a fur-lined cloak with a deep hood, which he lifted into place and tied under his chin. Moving away from the others, he drew his sabre. After several practice lunges and parries, he scabbarded the sword and adjusted the loops of the pack. He dropped his arms and the pack fell away… the sabre flashed into the air. Twice more Chareos repeated the manoeuvre. At last, satisfied, he rejoined the others. The pack was less comfortable now, the ropes biting into his shoulders, the weight too low on his back. But it could be swiftly jettisoned if the need arose, and that was worth a little discomfort.