Quest for Lost Heroes (15 page)

'You don't need to ask, Finn.'

'Good,' said Finn, rising. 'That's a burden off my heart. Maybe we'll even find the girl. Who knows?'

*

Tsudai watched the auction with little interest. He had no taste for these pale-skinned Gothir women with their cold blue eyes and their huge cow-like breasts. He swung away from the window and looked at the dark-haired woman seated on the satin-covered divan. Now here was a real Nadir beauty.

The first time he had seen her was when Tenaka Khan brought her to Ulrickham. She had been fourteen years old, her skin golden, her eyes proud. Tsudai had always believed proud women were the devil's curse and he had longed to take a whip to her, to see her kneeling at his feet. Even now the memory brought a surge of arousal.

He moved to sit beside her. As she smiled thinly and edged back from him, his face reddened, but he forced himself to remain calm.

'Your brother, Jungir, sends greetings. He hopes that you are in good health,' said Tsudai. 'I will tell him that you are, for I have never seen you look more beautiful, Tanaki.'

'Why should I not be in good health?' she asked him. 'Did Jungir not send me to this desolate land in order that I might enjoy the freshness of the air?'

'It was for your own safety, Princess. There were rumours of plots and fears for your life.'

She laughed then, the musical sound doing little to ease Tsudai's physical discomfort. Her eyes met his, and for the first time it seemed to him that she smiled with genuine warmth.

'Why do we play such foolish games, Tsudai? There is no one else here, and we both know why my brother sent me here. He killed his own brothers and, possibly, his own father. Why should he baulk at slaying his sister? I'll tell you why. Because I am the only hope the Nadir have for providing a male heir. For all his skill with horses and weapons, Jungir is sterile.'

Tsudai blanched. 'You must not say that! If I was to repeat that to the Khan . . .'

'Not even you would dare to voice that, even at second hand. Now why are you really here, Tsudai?'

He swallowed his anger, feeling uncomfortable sitting here dressed in the full armour of his rank. He reached for the buckle of his black and silver breastplate.

'Do not undress,' she chided him. That would not be seemly.'

'Seemly? What would you know of seemly? You take a succession of barbarian lovers, discarding them daily. That is no way for a person of your blood-line to behave.'

Tanaki stood and stretched her arms over her head. Her figure was slim and lithe and the short, silken tunic rode up to show smooth golden thighs.

'You do this to fire my blood,' snapped Tsudai, rising to his feet aware of arousal coursing through him.

'A volcano could not fire you,' she said. 'Now, for the last time, tell me why you are here.'

He looked hard into her violet eyes and suppressed the desire to strike her, to hammer her to her knees before him.

'Your brother merely wishes to know of your well-being,' Tsudai said. 'Is that so hard to understand?'

She laughed, the sound rippling across his emotions like bee-stings. 'My well-being? How sweet of him! I saw your aide looking over the new slaves. The great warrior, Tsudai, now reduced to finding concubines. Have you seen any that please you, Tsudai?'

'I do not find any of them attractive, though there are one or two that may suit. But you wrong me, Tanaki. I came here in order that I might speak with you. You know how perilous is your position. You know that at any time your death could become expedient. Four years ago you had the opportunity to become my wife. Now I offer that gift to you once more. Agree and you will be safe.'

She moved closer, her perfume washing over him. Lifting her hands, she rested them on his shoulders and looked deeply into his dark, slanted eyes.

'Safe? With you? I remember when you sought my hand. I considered it with due seriousness. I sent spies into your palace, Tsudai. Not one of your women lacks scars from the whip. I know what you want,' she whispered huskily, 'and you will never have it!' Then she laughed again and stepped back. His hand lashed out. She swayed out of his reach, then stepped inside. Tsudai froze as the dagger-point touched his neck. 'I could kill you now,' she told him.

It was his turn to laugh as he pushed her hand away. 'You still want to live, though, do you not? And an attack on me would bring you down. I offered you my hand, Tanaki. But now I will wait. And when the day comes for you to suffer, it will be Tsudai who rides to you. It will be Tsudai to whom you will beg. And I tell you now that no pleas will be heard. When next we meet, you will not be so haughty.'

The warrior spun on his heel and stalked from the room. Tanaki returned the small dagger to its sheath and poured herself a goblet of wine.

It had been foolish to anger Tsudai. As Jungir Khan's most trusted adviser, his was a friendship it would have been wise to court. But there was something about the man, a coldness within the soul, a meanness of spirit that she could not tolerate. Her father, Tenaka, had distrusted him. 'I have nothing against a man who disciplines his household,' Tenaka told his daughter, 'but any man who needs a whip to deal with a woman has no place in my service.'

Tanaki swallowed hard as she pictured her father, his violet eyes full of warmth, his smile like the dawn light -welcoming, reassuring. Her stomach knotted and tears welled in her eyes. How could he be dead? How could the greatest man in the world be dead?

Blinking away her tears, she wandered to the window and watched the auction, wondering which of the women Tsudai would purchase. Rarely did she feel sorry for any of the slaves. But today . . .

She saw a dark-haired young woman pulled to the block, her yellow dress stripped from her. She had a good figure and her breasts were not over-large. Tanaki's eyes flickered to Tsudai's bidder and she saw his hand rise.

There were several other bidders, but the woman was sold to the Nadir general.

'Tread warily, girl,' whispered Tanaki. 'Your life depends on it.'

Maggrig's fever-induced weakness lasted a further five days, during which time Chareos continued to teach Kiall the elementary moves of swordplay. Beltzer, his mood foul, took to walking alone in the mountain woods. Finn spent much of the time in his workshop, completing a new long-bow.

The snow all but disappeared from around the cabin, and the sun shone with summer warmth over the mountains.

On the morning of the sixth day, as the questors prepared to set off for the Valley of the Shrieking Gateway, Finn called Beltzer to his workshop. The others gathered round as the hunter pulled clear a brass-bound oak chest from its hiding place beneath a bench seat. Finn opened the chest and lifted out a long object, wrapped in oiled skins. He placed it on the bench-top and cut the thong bindings with his hunting-knife. He gestured to Beltzer. 'It's yours. Take it.'

The giant unwrapped the skins and there lay a gleaming, double-headed axe. The haft and handle were as long as a man's arm - oiled oak and reinforced with silver wire. The heads were curved and sharp, acid-etched and decorated with silver runes. Beltzer's hand curled around the haft, lifting the weapon.

'Nice to have it back,' he said and, without another word, stalked from the workshop.

'Ignorant, ungrateful pig,' stormed Maggrig. 'He didn't even say thank you.'

Finn shrugged, and gave a rare smile. 'It is enough that he has it,' he said.

'But it cost you a fortune. We had no salt for two years, and precious little else.'

'Forget it. It is past.'

Chareos moved forward and placed his hand on Finn's shoulder. 'That was nobly done. He wasn't the same man without that axe. He sold it while drunk in Talgithir and never knew what became of it.'

'I know. Let's be on our way.'

The journey to the Valley took three days. They saw no sign of any Nadren, and only once caught sight of a single rider far to the south. The air was thin here and the questors talked little. At night they sat beside camp-fires, but slept early and rose with the dawn.

Kiall found it a curious time. It was an adventure, full of promise - yet these men, these comrades of war, hardly spoke at all. When they did it was to discuss the weather, or the preparation of food. Not once did they mention the Gateway, or the Nadir, or the quest. And when Kiall tried to introduce such topics to the conversation they were brushed aside with shrugs.

The Valley proved an anti-climax to Kiall. It was just like several others they had journeyed through, its pine-cloaked flanks dropping away into a deep cleft between the mountains. There were meadows at the base, and a stream ran along its length. Deer moved across the gentle hills, and there were sheep and goats grazing close by.

Finn and Maggrig chose a camp-site, removed their packs, took up their bows and moved off to hunt for supper. Chareos climbed a nearby hill and scanned the surrounding countryside while Beltzer prepared a fire and sat, watching the flames flicker and dance.

Kiall seated himself opposite the bald giant. 'It is a beautiful axe,' he said.

'The best,' grunted Beltzer. 'It is said that Druss the Legend had an axe from the Elder Days that never showed rust, and never lost its edge. But I don't believe it was better than this one.'

'You carried that at Bel-azar?'

Beltzer glanced up, his small, round eyes fixing to Kiall.

'What is this fascination you have with that place? You weren't there - you don't know what it was like.'

'It was glorious. It is part of our history,' said Kiall. The few against the many. It was a time of heroes.'

'It was a time of survivors - like all wars. There were good men there who died on the first day, and cowards who lasted almost until the end. There were thieves there, and men who had raped or murdered. There was the stench of open bowels, and split entrails. There was screaming and begging, and whimpering. There was nothing good about Bel-azar. Nothing.'

'But you won,' persisted Kiall. 'You were honoured throughout the land.'

'Aye, that was good - the honour, I mean. The parades and the banquets, and the women. I never had so many women. Young ones, old ones, fat ones, thin ones: they couldn't wait to open their legs for a hero of Bel-azar. That was the real glory of it, boy - what came after. By the gods, I'd sell my soul for a drink!'

'Does Chareos feel as you do - about Bel-azar, I mean?'

Beltzer chuckled. 'He thinks I don't know ... but I know. The Blademaster had a wife,' he said, twisting his head to check that Chareos was still high upon the hill. 'Gods, she was a beauty. Dark hair that gleamed like it was oiled, and a body shaped by Heaven. Tura, that was her name. She was a merchant's daughter. Man, was he glad to be rid of her! Anyway, Chareos took her off his hands and built a house for her. Nice place. Good garden. They'd been married maybe four months when she took her first lover. He was a scout for the Sabres - just the first of many men who romped in the bed Chareos made for her. And him? The Blademaster, the deadliest swordsman I ever saw? He knew nothing. He bought her presents, constantly talked about her. And we all knew. Then he found out ... I don't know how. That was just before Bel-azar. Man, did he try to die! He tried harder than anyone. But that's what makes life such a bitch, isn't it? No one could kill him. Short sword and dagger he carried, and his life was charmed. Mind you, he had me alongside him and I don't kill easy. When the Nadir rode away you've never seen a man so disappointed.'

Kiall said nothing but gazed into the fire, lost in thought.

'Shocked you, did I, boy?' said Beltzer. 'Well, life's full of shocks. It's all insane. There never was a better husband. Gods, he loved her. You know where she ended up?'

Kiall shook his head.

'She became a whore in New Gulgothir. The Blademaster doesn't know that but I saw her there, plying her trade by the docks. Two copper coins.' Beltzer laughed. 'Two of her front teeth were gone, and she wasn't so beautiful. I had her then. Two copper coins' worth. In an alley. She begged me to take her with me; she'd go anywhere, she said. Do anything for me. She said she had no friends, and nowhere to stay.'

'What happened to her?' whispered Kiall.

'She threw herself from the docks and died. They found her floating among the scum and the sewage.'

'Why did you hate her?' asked Kiall. 'She did nothing to you.'

'Hate her? I suppose I did. I'll tell you why. Because in all the time she was cuckolding Chareos, she never once offered it to me. She treated me like dirt.'

'Would you have accepted?'

'Sure I would. I told you, she was beautiful.'

Kiall looked into Beltzer's face and remembered the song of Bel-azar. Then he looked away and added fuel to the fire.

'Don't want to talk any more, young Kiall?' asked Beltzer.

'Some things it is better not to hear,' said the villager. 'I wish you hadn't told me.'

'Whores' lives don't make pretty stories.'

'No, I suppose they don't. But I wasn't thinking of her; I was thinking of you. Your story is as disgusting as hers.'

Kiall rose and walked away. The sun was fading, the shadows lengthening. He found Chareos sitting on a fallen tree, gazing at the sunset. The sky was aglow, red banners flowing over the mountains.