David Gemmell - The King Beyond the Gate

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A century has passed since the heroic defence of Dros Delnoch. But the people of the Drenai face a new terror: a mad emperor kept in power by two forces of unsurpassed evil. The Joinings are werebeasts of awesome power. The Dark Templars are warrior-priests whose fighting skills are without equal. Against them, the Drenai face certain defeat. One man, an outsider hated by the Drenai for his Nadir blood, and despised by the Nadir for his Drenai ancestry, sets out to bring down the emperor. He is one man against the armies of chaos. He is Tenaka Khan — the Prince of Shadows.

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Tenaka drew on the reins and stared at the distant Delnoch mountains.

Nadir we,

youth born,

axe wielders,

blood letters,

victors still.

He laughed and dug his heels into his gelding's flanks. The beast snorted and then broke into a full gallop across the plain, hooves drumming in the early morning silence.

Tenaka let the horse run for several minutes before slowing it to a canter and then a trot. They had many miles to go, and though the beast was game he did not wish to overtire it.

By all the gods, it was good to be free of people! Even Renya.

She was beautiful and he loved her, but he was a man who needed solitude — freedom for his plans to form.

She had listened in silence when he told her of his plan to travel alone. He had expected a bitter row, but she had offered none. Instead she embraced him and they had made love without passion, but with great tenderness.

If he survived this insane venture, he would take her to his heart and his home. If he survived? He calculated the odds against success at hundreds to one; perhaps thousands. A sudden thought struck him. Was he a fool? He had Renya and a fortune waiting in Ventria. Why risk everything?

Did he love the Drenai? He pondered the question, knowing that he did not but wondering just what his feelings were. The people had never accepted him, even as a Dragon general. And the land, though beautiful, had nothing of the savage splendour of the Steppes. So what were his feelings?

The death of Illae had unhinged him, coming so close to the destruction of the Dragon. The shame he felt for spurning his friends had merged with the agony of lilac's passing and in some strange way he saw her death as a punishment for his failure to fulfil his duty. Only Ceska's death — and his own — could wipe away the shame. But now it was different.

Ananais would stand alone if necessary, believing in Tenaka's promise that he would return. And friendship was something infinitely more solid and greatly more sustaining than love of the land. Tenaka Khan would ride across the deepest pit of Hell, endure the greatest hardships under the sun, to fulfil his promise to Ananais.

He glanced back at the Skoda mountains. There would the deaths begin in earnest. Rayvan's band stood upon the anvil of history, staring up defiantly at Ceska's hammer.

Ananais had ridden with him from the city just before dawn, and they had stopped on the brow of a hill.

'Look after yourself, you Nadir slop-swiller!'

'And you, Drenai. Look to your valleys!'

'Seriously, Tani, take care. Get your army and come back swiftly. We don't have long. I should think they will send a Delnoch force against us, to soften us up for the main thrust.'

Tenaka nodded. 'They will probe and cut — tire you out. Use The Thirty; they will be invaluable in the days to come. Have you anywhere in mind for a second base?'

'Yes, we are moving supplies to the high country south of the city. There are two narrow passes we could hold. But if they push us back there, we are finished. There is nowhere to run.'

The two men shook hands and then hugged one another warmly.

'I want you to know. .' began Tenaka, but Ananais cut him short.

'I know, boy! You must hurry back. You can rely on old Darkmask to hold the fort.'

Tenaka grinned and rode for the Vagrian Plains.

14

For six days there was no sign of hostile activity on the eastern Skoda borders. Refugees poured in to the mountains, bringing tales of torture, starvation and terror. The Thirty screened the refugees as best they could, turning away those found to be lying or secretly sympathetic to Ceska.

But, day by day, the numbers swelled as the outer lands bled of people. Camps were set up in several valleys and the problems of food supply and sanitation plagued Ananais. Rayvan took it in her stride, organising the refugees into work parties to dig latrine trenches and build simple shelters for the elderly and infirm.

Young men came forward hourly to volunteer for the army and it was left to Galand, Parsal and Lake to sift them and find them duties among the Skoda militia.

But always they asked for Darkmask, the black-garbed giant. 'Ceska's Bane', they called him, and among the newcomers were saga poets whose songs floated out in the night from the valley camp-fires.

Ananais found it irksome but he hid it well, knowing how valuable the legends would be in the days to come.

Every morning he rode out into the mountains to study the valleys and the slopes, seeking the passes and gauging distances and angles of attack. He set men to work digging earth-walls and ditches, moving rocks to form cover. Caches of arrows and lances were hidden at various points, along with sacks of food hung high in the branches of trees, screened by thick foliage. Each section leader knew of at least three caches.

At dusk Ananais would call the section leaders to his fire and question them about the day's training, encouraging them to come forward with ideas, strategies and plans. He carefully noted those who did so, keeping them with him when others were dismissed. Lake, for all his idealistic fervour, was a sound thinker who responded intelligently. His knowledge of terrain was extensive and Ananais used him well. Galand too was a canny warrior and the men respected him; he was solid, dependable and loyal. His brother Parsal was no thinker, but his courage was beyond question. To these of the inner circle Ananais added two others; Turs and Thorn. Solitary men who said little, both were former raiders who had earned their living crossing Vagrian lands and stealing cattle and horses to trade in the eastern valleys. Turs was young and full of fire; his brother and two sisters had been killed in the raid that saw Rayvan rebel. Thorn was an older man, leather-tough and wolf-lean. The Skoda men respected them both and listened in silence when they spoke.

It was Thorn who brought news of the herald on the seventh day after Tenaka's departure.

Ananais was scouting the eastern slopes of the mountain Carduil, when Thorn found him and he rode east at speed. Thorn alongside him.

Their horses were well-lathered when Ananais finally reached the valley of the Dawn, where Decado and six of The Thirty waited to greet him. Around them were some two hundred Skoda men, dug into position overlooking the plain beyond.

Ananais walked forward to climb a craggy outcrop of rock. Below him were six hundred warriors wearing the red of Delnoch. At the centre on a white horse sat an elderly man in bright blue robes. His beard was white and long. Ananais recognised him and grinned sourly.

'Who is it?' asked Thorn.

'Breight. They call him the Survivor. I am not surprised — he has been a counsellor for over forty years.'

'He must be Ceska's man,' said Thorn.

'He is anybody's man, but a wise choice to send for he is a diplomat and a patrician. He could tell you that wolves lay eggs and you would believe him.'

'Should we fetch Rayvan?'

'No. I will talk to him.'

At that moment six men rode forward to flank the aged counsellor. Their cloaks and armour were black. As Ananais watched them look up and felt their eyes upon him, ice flowed into his veins.

'Decado!' he shouted as the fear hit him. Instantly the warmth of friendship blanketed him as Decado and his six warriors turned the power of their minds to protect him.

Angry now, Ananais bellowed for Breight to approach. The old man hesitated, but one of the Templars leaned in to him and he spurred his horse forward, riding awkwardly up the steep slope.

'That is far enough!' said Ananais, moving forward.

'Is it you, Golden One?' asked Breight, his voice deep and resonant. The eyes were brown and exceedingly friendly.

'It is I. Say what you have to say.'

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