David Gemmell - The King Beyond the Gate

"There is no need for harshness between us, Ananais. Was I not the first to cheer when you were honoured for your battle triumphs? Did I not secure your first commission with the Dragon? Was I not your mother's troth-holder?'

'All these things and more, old man! But now you are a lick-spittle lackey to a tyrant and the past is dead.'

'You misjudge my lord Ceska — he has only the good of the Drenai in his heart. These are hard times, Ananais. Bitter hard. Our enemies wage a silent war upon us, starving us of food. Not one kingdom around us wishes to see the enlightenment of the Drenai prosper, for it signals the end of their corruption.'

'Spare me this nonsense, Breight! I cannot be bothered to argue with you. What do you want?'

'I see your terrible wounds have made you bitter and I am sorry for that. I bring you a royal pardon! My lord is deeply offended by your actions against him, yet your past deeds have earned you a place in his heart. In your honour, he has pardoned every man who stands against him in Skoda. Further, he promises to review personally every grievance you have, real or imagined. Can he be fairer than that?'

Breight had pitched his voice to carry to the listening defenders and his eyes scanned the line watching for their reactions.

'Ceska would not know "fair" if it burned his buttocks,' said Ananais. 'The man is a snake!'

'I understand your hatred, Ananais — look at you. . scarred, deformed, unhuman. But surely there is a shred of humanity left in you? Why should your hatred carry thousands of innocent souls to terrible deaths? You cannot win! The Joinings are now assembling and there is no army on the face of the earth which can stand against them. Will you bring this devastation upon these people? Look into your heart, man!'

'I will not argue with you old man. Down there your men wait, and among them are the Templars — they who feed on the flesh of children. Your semi-human beasts gather in Drenan, and daily thousands of innocents pour into this small bastion of freedom. All of this gives the lie to your words. I am not even angry with you, Breight the Survivor! You sold your soul for a silk-covered couch. But I understand you — you are a frightened old man who has never lived because you never dared to live.

'In these mountains there is life and the air tastes like wine. You are right when you say we may not stand against the Joinings. We know that for we are not fools. There is no glory here; but we are men and the sons of men, and we bend the knee to no one. Why don't you join us, and learn even now of the joys of freedom?'

'Freedom? You are in a cage, Ananais. The Vagrians will not let you move east into their lands, and we wait in the west. You delude yourself. What price your freedom? In a matter of days the armies of the emperor will gather here, filling the plain. You have seen the Joinings of Ceska — well, there are more to come. Huge beasts, blended from the apes of the east, from the great bears of the north, from the wolves of the south. They strike like lightning and they feed on human flesh. Your pitiful force will be swept aside like dust before a storm. Tell me then of freedom, Ananais. I desire not the freedom of the grave.'

'And yet it comes to you, Breight, in every white hair, every decaying wrinkle, death will stalk you and lay his cold hands upon your eyes. You cannot escape! Begone, little man, your day is done.'

Breight looked up at the defenders and opened his arms.

'Don't let this man deceive you!' he shouted. 'My lord Ceska is a man of honour and he will abide by his promise.'

'Go home and die!' said Ananais, turning on his heels and striding back to his men.

'Death will come to you before me,' screamed Breight, 'and his coming will be terrible.' Then the old man wheeled his horse and cantered downhill.

'I think the war will start tomorrow,' muttered Thorn.

Ananais nodded and waved Decado to him. 'What do you think?'

Decado shrugged. 'We could not pierce the screen the Templars mounted.'

'Did they pierce ours?'

'No.'

'Then we start even,' said Ananais. 'But they have tried to win us with words. Now it will be swords and they will try to demoralise us by a sudden attack. The question is where, and what are we going to do about it?'

'Well,' said Decado, 'the great Tertullian was once asked what he would do if he was attacked by a man stronger, faster and infinitely more skilful than he.'

'What did he say?'

'He said he would cut off his damned head for being a liar.'

'Sounds good,' put in Thorn, 'but words are not worth pigs' droppings now.'

'You are right there,' said Ananais, grinning. 'So what do you suggest, mountain man?'

'Let's cut off their damned heads!'

The hut was bathed in a soft red glow as the log fire burned low. Ananais lay on the bed, his head resting on his arm. Valtaya sat beside him rubbing oil into his shoulders and back — kneading the muscles, loosening the knots of tension around his spine. Her fingers were strong and the slow rhythmic movements of her hands soothing. He sighed and fell into a half-sleep, dreaming dreams of brighter days.

As her fingers began to burn with fatigue, she lifted them from his broad back, pushing pressure on to her palms for a while. His breathing deepened. She covered him with a blanket and then pulled a chair alongside the bed and sat staring at his ruined face. The angry scar below his eye seemed cooler now, and dry; she gently smoothed oil on the skin. His breath made a snuffling sound as it was sucked through the oval holes where his nose should have been. Valtaya leaned back, sadness a growing ache within her. He was a fine man and did not deserve his fate. It had taken all her considerable nerve just to kiss him, and even now she could not gaze on his features without feeling revulsion. Yet she loved him.

Life was cruel and infinitely sorrowful.

She had slept with many men in her life. Once it had been a vocation, once a profession. During the latter time many ugly men had come to her and with them she had learned to hide her feelings. She was glad now of the lessons, for when she had removed Ananais' mask two sensations had struck her simultaneously. One was the awful horror of his mutilated face. The other was the terrible anxiety in his eyes. Strong as he was, in that moment he was made of crystal. Now she transferred her gaze to his hair — tightly curled gold thread, laced with silver. The Golden One! How handsome he once must have been. Like a god. She pushed a hand through her own fair hair, sweeping it away from her eyes.

Tired, she stood and stretched her back. The window was part open and she pushed it wide. Outside the valley was silent beneath a scimitar moon.

'I wish I was young again,' she whispered. 'I would have married that poet.'

Katan soared above the mountains and wished that his body could fly as high as his spirit. He wanted to taste the air, feel the harsh winds upon his skin. Below him the mountains of Skoda reared like spear-points. He flew higher and now the mountains took on another image. Katan smiled.

Skoda had become a stone rose with jagged petals on a field of green. Rings of towering granite, interlinking to create a gargantuan bloom.

To the north-east Katan could just make out the fortress of Delnoch, while to the south-east were the glittering cities of the Drenai. It was all so beautiful. From here there was no cruelty, no torture, no terror. No room here for men with small minds and limitless ambition.

He turned again to the rose of Skoda. The outer petals concealed nine valleys through which an army could march. He scanned them all, gauging the contours and the gradients, picturing lines of fighting men, charging horsemen, fleeing infantry. Committing the facts to memory, he moved on to the second ring of mountains. Here there were only four main valleys, but three treacherous passes threaded their way through to the open pastures and woodlands beyond.