David Gemmell - The King Beyond the Gate

'Don't worry about it, you will think of something,' said Pagan, grinning. 'When do you want to leave?'

'In about two years.'

'Don't be hard on yourself, Scaler; it does no good. I know your mission is tough. Dros Delnoch is a city with six walls and a keep. More than seven thousand warriors are stationed there — and some fifty Joinings. But we will do what we can. Tenaka says you have a plan.'

Scaler chuckled. 'That is good of him. He thought of it days ago and waited for me to catch up!'

'So tell me.'

'The Sathuli — they are a mountain and desert people, fierce and independent. For centuries they fought the Drenai over the rights to the Delnoch ranges. During the First Nadir War they aided my ancestor, the Earl of Bronze. In return he gave them the land. I don't know how many there are — possibly ten thousand, maybe less. But Ceska has revoked the original treaty and border skirmishes have begun again.'

'So, you will seek aid from the tribesmen?'

'Yes.'

'But without great hope of success?'

"That's fair comment. The Sathuli have always hated the Drenai and there is no trust there. Worse than that, they loathe the Nadir. And even if they do help, how in Hell's name do I get them to leave the fortress?'

'One problem at a time, Scaler!'

Scaler stood up and the sword twisted again, half-tripping him; he pulled the scabbard from the belt and hurled it to the bed.

'One problem at a time? All right! Let us look at problems. I am no warrior, no swordsman. I have never been a soldier. I am frightened of battles and have never displayed much skill at tactics. I am not a leader and would be hard-pressed to get hungry men to follow me to a kitchen. Which of these problems shall we tackle first?'

'Sit down, boy,' said Pagan, leaning forward and resting his hands on the arms of the chair. Scaler sat, his anger ebbing from him. 'Now listen to me! In my own land, I am a king. I rose to the throne on blood and death, the first of my race to take the Opal. When I was a young man and full of pride, an old priest came to me telling me that I would burn in the fires of Hell for my crimes. I ordered a regiment to build a fire from many trees. It could not be approached closer than thirty paces and the flames beat against the vault of heaven. Then I ordered that regiment to put out the flames. Ten thousand men hurled themselves on the blaze and the fire died. "If I go to Hell," I told the priest, "my men will follow me and stamp out the flames." From the great Sea of Souls to the Mountains of the Moon, I ruled that kingdom. I survived poison in my wine-cup and daggers at my back, false friends and noble enemies, treacherous sons and summer plagues. And yet I will follow you, Scaler.'

Scaler swallowed as he watched the lantern light dance on the ebony features of the man in the chair.

'Why? Why will you follow me?'

'Because the thing must be done. And now I am going to tell you a great truth, and if you are wise you will take it to your heart. All men are stupid. They are full of fear and insecurity — it makes them weak. Always the other man seems stronger, more confident, more capable. It is a lie of the worst kind, for we lie to ourselves.

'Take yourself. When I came in here I was your black friend, Pagan — big, strong and friendly. But what am I now? Now am I not a savage king far above you? Do you not feel ashamed of having forced your tiny doubts upon me?'

Scaler nodded.

'And yet, am I a king? Did I truly command my regiment to stamp out a fire? How do you know? You do not! You listened to the voice of your inadequacy, and because you believed you are in my power. If I draw my sword, you are dead!

'And again, when I look at you I see a bright courageous young man, well-built and in the prime of his manhood. You could be the prince of assassins, the deadliest warrior under the sun. You could be an emperor, a general, a poet. .

'Not a leader, Scaler? Anyone can be a leader, because everyone wants to be led.'

'I am not a Tenaka Khan,' said Scaler. 'I am not of the same breed.'

'Tell me that in a month. But from now on, act the part. You will be amazed at the number of people you fool. Don't share your doubts! Life is a game, Scaler. Play it like that.'

Scaler grinned. 'Why not? But tell me — did you truly send your men into the fire?'

'You tell me,' said Pagan, his face hardening and his eyes glowing in the lamplight.

'No, you did not!'

Pagan grinned. 'No! I will have the horses ready at dawn — I'll see you then.'

'Make sure you pack plenty of honey-cakes — Belder has a fondness for them.'

Pagan shook his head. 'The old man is not coming. He is no good for you and his spirit is gone. He stays behind.'

'If you follow me, then you do as I damn well say,' snapped Scaler. 'Three horses and Belder travels with us!'

The black man's eyebrows rose and he spread his hands. 'Very well.' He opened the door.

'How was that?' asked Scaler.

'Not bad for a start. I'll see you in the morning.'

As Pagan returned to his room, his mood was sombre. Lifting his huge pack to the bed, he spread out the weapons he would carry tomorrow: two hunting-knives, sharp as razors; four throwing-knives to be worn in baldric sheaths; a short sword, double-edged, and a double-headed hand-axe he would strap to his saddle.

Stripping himself naked, he took a phial of oil from his pack and began to grease his body, rubbing hard at the bunched muscles of his shoulders. The damp western air was creeping into his bones.

His mind soared back over the years. He could still feel the heat of the blaze and hear the screams of his warriors as they raced into the flames. .

Tenaka rode down from the mountain onto the slopes of the Vagrian plains. The sun rose over his left shoulder and the clouds bunched above his head. He felt at peace with the breeze in his hair; though mountainous problems reared ahead of him, he felt light and free of burdens.

He wondered if his Nadir heritage had made him uneasy among city dwellers, with their high walls and shuttered windows. The breeze picked up and Tenaka smiled.

Tomorrow death could flash towards him on an arrow point — but today. . today was fine.

He pushed all thoughts of Skoda from his mind — those problems could be dealt with by Ananais and Rayvan. Scaler too was now his own man, riding for his own destiny. All Tenaka could do was fulfil his particular part in the tale.

His mind swam back to his childhood among the tribes. Spear, Wolfshead, Green Monkey, Grave Mountain, Soul Stealers. So many camps, so many territories.

Ulric's tribe were acknowledged as the premier fighting men: the Lords of the Steppes, the Bringers of War. Wolfshead they were and their ferocity in war was legend. But who ruled the wolves now? Surely Jongir was dead.

Tenaka considered the contemporaries of his youth:

Knifespeaks, swift to anger and slow to forgive. Cunning, resourceful and ambitious.

Abadai Truthtaker, devious and devout in the ways of the shamen.

Tsuboy, known as Saddleskull after he killed a raider and mounted the man's skull on his saddle-horn.

All these were grandsons of Jongir. All descended from Ulric.

Tenaka's violet eyes grew bleak and cold as he brought the trio to mind. Each had showed his hatred of the half-breed.

Abadai had been the most vicious and had even resorted to poison during the Feast of the Long Knives. Only Shillat, Tenaka's vigilant mother, had observed the placing of the powder in her son's cup.

But none had challenged Tenaka directly, for even by the age of fourteen he had earned the name Bladedancer and was accomplished with every weapon of war.

And he sat for long night hours round the camp-fires, listening to the old men as they remembered wars past, picking up details of strategy and tactics. At fifteen he knew every battle and skirmish in Wolfshead history.