David Gemmell - Quest for Lost Heroes

'Well, I don't know him and I don't believe I care to,' retorted the man sourly.

'My name is Chareos. It would at least be polite if you told me yours.'

'I don't need to be polite to the likes of you,' said the man. 'Be off with you!'

Chareos spread his hands and stepped closer. Suddenly he seized the man's tunic with his left hand, dragging him forward. His right hand flashed up holding his hunting-knife, the blade point resting against the man's throat.

'I have an abhorrence for bad manners,' he said quietly. 'Now order your men to lower their weapons, or I will cut your throat.'

The man swallowed hard, the action causing his flabby skin to press on the knife point. A thin trickle of blood traced a line to his tunic.

'Put. . put down your weapons,' the leader whispered.

'Louder, fool!' hissed Chareos and the man did as he was told.

Reluctantly the archers obeyed, but they crowded in to surround the group. Still holding on to the fat man, Chareos turned to the crowd. 'Where is Paccus the Seer?' he called. No one answered him.

Kiall stepped forward. 'Does no one remember me?' he asked. 'What about you, Ricka? Or you, Anas? It's me — Kiall.'

'Kiall?' said a tall, thin man with a pockmarked face. He moved closer to peer at the young warrior. 'It is you,' he said, surprised. 'But you look so different. Why have you come back?'

'To find Ravenna, of course.'

'Why?' asked Anas. 'She'll be some Nadir's wife by now — or worse.'

Kiall reddened. 'I will find her anyway. What is going on here? Who is this man? And where is Paccus?'

Anas shrugged. 'After the raid a lot of families chose to move north, to settle nearer Talgithir. New families moved in. He is Norral; he's a good man, and our leader. The stockade was his idea — as were the bows. We are going to defend ourselves in future, Kiall. The Nadren will not find us an easy target the next time they ride into Gothir lands.'

'What about Paccus?'

'He died three days ago.'

In the background, Chareos sheathed his knife and pushed Norral away from him. Beltzer and the others dismounted.

Kiall looked at the rest of the crowd. 'We are not raiders,' he said. 'I am of this village, and we will be leaving come morning to seek the women stolen in the raid. We will bring them back. These warriors with me may not be known to you by sight, but you do know of them. This one is Chareos the Blademaster, and this is Beltzer of the Axe. The man with the dark beard is the famed archer Finn, and beside him is his friend Maggrig. They are the heroes of Bel-azar, my friends. The other man is a mystic from the lands of die Tattooed People; he will follow the spirit trail that leads us to the saving of our people.'

Anas stared hard at Beltzer. 'He is the famous axeman?'

'Yes I am, goat brain!' thundered Beltzer, drawing his axe and holding the shining blade under Anas' chin. 'Perhaps you'd like to see more proof?'

'Not at all,' said Anas, stepping back.

Norral stepped alongside Chareos. 'A thousand apologies,' he whispered. 'I didn't know, of course. Please make my home your own. I would be honoured if you would spend the night at my house.'

Chareos nodded. 'That is kind,' he said at last, forcing a smile. 'I also must apologise. You were quite right to be concerned at the appearance of six armed men, and your precautions were commendable.'

Norral bowed.

The food he supplied them was excellent, cooked by his two plump comely daughters, Bea and Kara. But the evening was dominated by Norral, who told them the story of his largely uninteresting life in great detail, punctuating it with anecdotes concerning famous Gothir statesmen, poets or nobles. Each story had the same ending: how the famous complimented Norral on his sagacity, wit, far-sightedness and intelligence.

Beltzer was the first to grab a jug of wine and wander out into the cool night air. Maggrig and Finn soon followed. Unconcerned by the stream of sound from Norral, Okas curled up on the floor to sleep.

Chareos and Kiall sat with the fat farmer until after midnight, but when he showed no sign of fatigue Chareos yawned theatrically. 'I must thank you,' he said, 'for a most entertaining evening. But we will be leaving soon after dawn and, if you will excuse me, I will leave you in Kiall's company. He is younger than the rest of us, and I am sure will learn much from you.'

Rigid with boredom, Kiall contained his anger and settled himself for more of Norral's history. But with the last of the heroes of Bel-azar gone, Norral had no wish to converse with a former villager. He excused himself and took to his bed.

Kiall stood and walked out into the night. Only Beltzer remained awake and Kiall sat down beside him.

'Did the old windbag run out of stories?' the giant asked.

'No. He ran out of listeners.'

'By the Gods, he doesn't need a stockade; he could just visit a Nadren village for an evening. The raiders would avoid this place like a plague pit.'

Kiall said nothing, but sat with his chin resting on his hands staring at the homes around him. Golden light showed in thin beams from the closed shutters of the windows.

'What ails you, boy?' asked Beltzer, draining the last of his wine.

'It is all changed,' replied Kiall. 'It's not my home any more.'

'Everything changes,' said Beltzer, 'except the mountains and the sky.'

'But it was only a few months ago. Now. . it's as if Ravenna never existed.'

'They can't afford to stay in mourning, Kiall. Look around you. This is a working village; there are crops to be planted, cultivated, harvested; animals to be fed, watered, cared for. Ravenna was last year's crop. Gods, man, we're all of us last year's crop.'

'It shouldn't be that way,' argued Kiall.

'Wrong, boy. It is the only way it can be.' He picked up the empty jug and passed it to Kiall. 'What do you see?'

'What is there to see? You finished it all.'

'Exactly. The wine was good, but now it isn't here any more. Worse, I'll piss it against a tree tomorrow — then no one could tell if it was wine or water.'

'We're not talking about wine — we're talking about people. About Ravenna.'

There's no difference. They mourned. . now they're living again.'

Soon after dawn Okas vanished into the hills to seek the spirit trails. Kiall wandered in search of Ravenna's sister and found her at the house of Jar el. She smiled and invited him inside where Jarel was sitting by the window, staring out over the mountains. Karyn poured Kiall a goblet of watered wine.

'It is good to see you again,' she said, smiling. She looked so like Ravenna that his heart lurched — the same wide eyes, the same dark hair gleaming as if oiled.

'And you,' he replied. 'How are you faring?'

'I'm going to have Jarel's child in the autumn,' she told him.

'I congratulate you both,' he said.

Jarel swung from the window. He was a strongly built young man with black, tightly curled hair and deep-set blue eyes.

'Why must you pursue this business?' he asked. 'Why chase after the dead?'

'Because she is not dead,' answered Kiall.

'As good as,' snapped Jarel. 'She is tainted. . finished among civilised people.'

'Not for me.'

'Always the dreamer. She used to talk of you, Kiall; she used to laugh at you for your silly ideas. Well, don't bring her back here, she won't be welcome.'

Kiall put the goblet down on the table-top and rose, his hands shaking. 'I will say this once to you, Jarel. When I bring her back, if there is one evil word from you I will kill you.'

'You?' snorted Jarel. 'Dream on, Kiall.'

Kiall walked forward to where Jarel stood with hands on hips, grinning. He was a head taller than Kiall and far the heavier. Kiall's fist slammed into the bigger man's face, rocking him back on his heels. Blood spurted from his smashed lips and his jaw dropped, then anger blazed in his eyes and he sprang forward — only to jerk to a stop as he saw the long hunting-knife in Kiall's hand. Fear touched him then.