Drenai Saga 02 - The King Beyond the Gate Page 4

  The first three had died almost instantly, and that spoke of speed. The fourth had run past the lone warrior. The tall man followed the track and nodded.

  So. Here was a mystery. The lone warrior was not alone; he had a companion who had taken no part in the fray. The footprints were small, yet the stride was long. A woman?

  Yes, a woman. A tall woman.

  He glanced back at the bodies.

  “That was well done,” he said aloud, the voice muffled by the mask. “Damn well done.” One against four. Not many men could survive such odds, yet this man had not only survived but won the day with skill to spare.

  Ringar? He was a lightning killer with astonishing reflexes. Yet he barely chanced a neck cut, more often choosing the lower torso: the disemboweling cut.

  Argonin? No, he was dead. Strange how a man could forget such a thing.

  Who, then? An unknown? No. In a world where skill with arms was of paramount importance, there were few unknowns of such bewildering talent.

  He studied the tracks once more, picturing the battle, seeing at last the blurred print at the center. The warrior had leapt and spun in the air like a dancer before hammering home the death blow.

  Tenaka Khan!

  Realization struck the big man like a blow to the heart. His eyes glittered strangely, and his breathing grew ragged.

  Of all the men in the world he hated, Tenaka had pride of place.

  Or was that still true? He relaxed and remembered, his thoughts tracing his memories like salt over a festering wound.

  “I should have killed you then,” he said. “None of this would have happened to me.”

  He pictured Tenaka dying, his blood seeping into the snow. It gave him no joy, but still he hungered for the deed.

  “I will make you pay,” he said.

  And set off to the south.

  Tenaka and Renya made good progress on the second day, seeing no one or any track made by man. The wind had died down, and the clean air held the promise of spring. Tenaka was silent through most of the day, and Renya did not press him.

  Toward dusk, as they clambered down a steep incline, she lost her footing and pitched forward, tumbling and rolling to the foot of the hill and striking her head on a gnarled tree root. Tenaka ran to her side, pulling free her burnoose and examining the seeping gash on her temple. Her eyes flared open.

  “Don’t touch me!” she screamed, clawing at his hands.

  He moved back, handing her the cotton burnoose.

  “I don’t like to be touched,” she said apologetically.

  “Then I shall not touch you,” he answered. “But you should bandage that wound.”

  She tried to stand, but the world spun and she fell to the snow. Tenaka made no move to help her. Glancing around for a place to camp, he spotted a likely site some thirty paces away to the left: a natural screen of trees blocking the wind, with overhanging boughs to halt any storm snow. He made his way to it, collecting branches as he went. Renya watched him walk away and struggled to rise but felt sick and began to tremble violently. Her head throbbed, the pain a rhythmic pounding that sent waves of nausea through her. She tried to crawl.

  “I … don’t need you,” she whispered.

  Tenaka prepared the fire, blowing the tinder until tiny flames shivered above the snow. Then he added thicker twigs and finally branches. When the blaze was well set, he returned to the girl, stooping to lift her unconscious body. He laid her by the fire, then climbed a nearby fir tree to hack away green boughs with his short sword. Gathering them, he made a bed for her, lifted her onto it, and then covered her with the blanket. He examined the wound. There was no fracture as far as he could tell, but an ugly bruise was forming around an egg-sized lump.

  He stroked her face, admiring the softness of her skin and the sleekness of her neck.

  “I will not harm you, Renya,” he said. “Of all the things that I am, of all the deeds I have done that shamed me, I have never harmed a woman. Nor a child. You are safe with me … Your secrets are safe with me.

  “I know what it is like, you see. I, too, am between worlds—half-Nadir, half-Drenai, wholly nothing. For you it is worse. But I am here. Believe in me.”

  He returned to the fire, wishing he could say those words when her eyes were open but knowing he would not. In all his life he had opened his heart to only one woman: Illae.

  Beautiful Illae, the bride he had purchased in a Ventrian market. He smiled at the memory. Two thousand pieces of silver and he had taken her home only to have her refuse to share his bed.

  “Enough of this nonsense,” he had stormed. “You are mine. Body and soul! I bought you!”

  “What you bought was a carcass,” she had retorted. “Touch me and I will kill myself. And you, too.”

  “You will be disappointed if you try it in that order,” he had said.

  “Don’t mock me, barbarian!”

  “Very well. What would you have me do? Resell you to a Ventrian?”

  “Marry me.”

  “And then, I take it, you will love and adore me?”

  “No. But I will sleep with you and try to be good company.”

  “Now, there is an offer that’s hard to refuse. A slave girl who offers her master less than he paid for, at a much greater price. Why should I do it?”

  “Why should you not?”

  They had wed two weeks later, and ten years of their life together had brought him joy. He knew she did not love him, but it did not matter. He did not need to be loved; he needed to love. She had seen that in him from the first and had played on it mercilessly. He had never let her know that he understood the game; he had merely relaxed and enjoyed it. The wise man, Kias, had tried to warn him.

  “You give too much of yourself to her, my friend. You fill her with your dreams and your hopes and your soul. If she leaves or betrays you, what will you have left?”

  “Nothing,” he had answered truthfully.

  “You are a foolish man, Tenaka. I hope she stays by you.”

  “She will.”

  He had been so sure. But he had not bargained for death.

  Tenaka shivered and drew his cloak about him as the wind picked up.

  He would take the girl to Sousa and then head on for Drenan. It would not be hard to find Ceska or to kill him. No man was so well protected that he became safe. Not as long as the assassin was prepared to die. And Tenaka was more than prepared.

  He desired death, longed for the bleak emptiness and the absence of pain.

  By now Ceska would know that Tenaka was on his way. The letter would have reached him within the month, traveling as it did by sea to Mashrapur and then northeast to Drenan.

  “I hope you dream of me, Ceska. I hope I walk in your nightmares.”

  “I don’t know about him,” said a muffled voice, “but you walk in mine.”

  Tenaka spun to his feet, his sword flashing into the air.

  Before him stood the giant in the black mask.

  “I have come to kill you,” he said, drawing his longsword.

  Tenaka edged away from the fire, watching the man, his mind clearing and his body easing into the smooth confident fluidity of combat.

  The giant twirled his sword and spread his arms wide for balance. Tenaka blinked as recognition hit him.

  “Ananais?” he said.

  The giant’s sword whistled for his neck, but Tenaka blocked the cut and jumped back.

  “Ananais, is it you?” he said again.

  The giant stood silently for a moment. “Yes,” he said at last. “It is I. Now defend yourself!”

  Tenaka sheathed his sword and walked forward. “I could not fight you,” he said. “And I know not why you should desire my death.”

  Ananais leapt forward, hammering a fist to Tenaka’s head and pitching him to the snow.

  “Why?” he shouted. “You don’t know why? Look at me!”

  He wrenched the leather mask from his face, and in the flickering firelight Tenaka saw a living nightma
re. There was no face, only the twisted, scarred ruin of features. The nose was gone, along with the upper lip, jagged white and red scars crisscrossing the remaining skin. Only the blue eyes and the tightly curled blond hair showed evidence of humanity.

  “Sweet gods of light!” whispered Tenaka. “I didn’t do that … I never knew.”

  Ananais moved forward slowly, lowering the point of his sword to touch Tenaka’s neck.

  “The pebble that caused the landslide,” the giant said cryptically. “You know what I mean.”

  Tenaka lifted his hand and slowly pushed aside the sword blade.

  “You will have to tell me, my friend,” he said, sitting up.

  “Damn you!” shouted the giant, dropping his sword and hauling Tenaka to his feet, dragging him forward until their faces were inches apart. “Look at me!”

  Tenaka gazed steadily into the ice-blue eyes, sensing the edge of madness lurking there. His life hung on a thread.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said softly. “I am not running away. If you desire to kill me, so be it. But tell me.”

  Ananais released him and turned, seeking his mask, presenting his broad back to Tenaka. And in that moment Tenaka knew what was required of him. Sadness filled him.

  “I cannot kill you,” he said.

  The giant turned again, tears flowing from his eyes.

  “Oh, Tani,” he said, his voice breaking, “look what they did to me!” As he sank to his knees, hands covering the ruined face, Tenaka knelt beside him in the snow and embraced him. The giant began to weep, his chest heaving, his sobbing loud and painful. Tenaka patted his back as if he were a child and felt his pain as if it were his own.

  Ananais had come not to kill him but to die at his hand. And he knew why the giant blamed him. On the day the order to disband the Dragon had been served, Ananais had gathered the men, ready to march on Drenan and depose Ceska. Tenaka and the Dragon gan, Baris, had defused the situation, reminding the men that they had lived and fought for democracy. Thus, the revolution was over before it had begun.

  And now the Dragon was destroyed, the land was in ruins, and terror stalked the Drenai.

  Ananais had been right.

  Renya watched silently until the sobbing ceased, then she stood and walked to the two men, pausing to add fuel to the dying fire. Ananais glanced up and saw her, then scrabbled for his mask.

  She moved to his side, kneeling by him, then gently touched the hands that held the mask in place. Curling her fingers around his hands, she pulled the mask clear, her dark eyes fixed only to the giant’s own.

  As the ruined face came into view, Ananais closed his eyes and bowed his head. Renya leaned forward and kissed his brow, then his scarred cheek. His eyes opened.

  “Why?” he whispered.

  “We all have scars,” she said. “Better by far for them to be worn on the outside.” She rose and returned to her bed.

  “Who is she?” asked Ananais.

  “She is hunted by Ceska,” Tenaka told him.

  “Aren’t we all?” the giant commented, replacing his mask.

  “Yes, but we will surprise him,” said Tenaka.

  “That would be nice.”

  “Trust me, my friend. I mean to bring him down.”

  “Alone?”

  Tenaka grinned. “Am I still alone?”

  “No! Do you have a plan?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Good. I thought perhaps the two of us were going to surround Drenan!”

  “It might come to that. How many of the Dragon still live?”

  “Precious few. Most followed the call. I would have done so, too, had it reached me in time. Decado still lives.”

  “That is good news,” said Tenaka.

  “Not really. He has become a monk.”

  “A monk? Decado? He lived to kill.”

  “Not anymore. Are you thinking of gathering an army?”

  “No, it would do no good against the Joinings. They are too strong, too fast—too everything.”

  “They can be beaten,” said Ananais.

  “Not by men.”

  “I defeated one.”

  “You?”

  “Yes. After we disbanded, I tried farming. It didn’t work out. I had heavy debts, and Ceska had opened the arenas for combat games, so I became a gladiator. I thought I would have maybe three fights and earn enough to settle my debts. But I enjoyed the life, you know? I fought under another name, but Ceska found out who I was. At least, that’s what I assume. I was due to fight a man named Treus, but when the gates opened, there stood a Joining. Gods, he must have been eight feet tall.

  “But I beat him. By all the demons in hell, I beat him!”

  “How?”

  “I had to let him come in close and think he had won. Then I gutted him with my knife.”

  “That was an awful risk,” said Tenaka.

  “Yes.”

  “But you got away with it?”

  “Not quite,” Ananais answered. “He tore off my face.”

  “I really thought I could kill you, you know?” Ananais said as they sat together by the fire. “I really believed it. I hated you. The more I saw the nation suffer, the more you came into my mind. I felt cheated, as if all I had ever lived for had been ruined. And when the Joining … when I was injured … I lost my mind. My courage. Everything.”

  Tenaka sat silently, his heart heavy. Ananais had been a vain man but gifted with humor that was always self-mocking; it took the edge from his vanity. And he had been handsome, adored by the ladies. Tenaka did not interrupt him. He had the feeling that a long, long time had passed since Ananais had sat in company. The words flowed like a torrent, but always the giant returned to his hatred of the Nadir prince.

  “I knew it was irrational, but I couldn’t help it, and when I found the bodies at the barracks and knew it was you, I was blind with rage. Until I saw you sitting there. And then … then …”

  “Then you thought to let me kill you,” Tenaka said softly.

  “Yes. It seemed … fitting.”

  “I am glad we found each other, my friend. I just wish some of the others were here.”

  The morning was bright and fresh, and the warmth of the promise of spring kissed the forest, lightening the hearts of the travelers.

  Renya watched Tenaka with new eyes, remembering not only the love and understanding he had shown to his scarred friend but the words he had said to her before the giant had arrived: “Believe in me.”

  And Renya believed.

  But more than this. Something in his words touched her heart, and the pain in her soul eased.

  He knew.

  And yet he cared. Renya did not know what love was, for in all her life only one man had ever cared for her, and that was Aulin, the ancient arcanist. Now there was another. He was not ancient.

  Oh, no. Not ancient at all!

  He would not leave her in Sousa. Or anywhere else. Where Tenaka Khan walked, there would be Renya. He was unaware of it now. But he would learn.

  That afternoon Tenaka stalked a young deer, bringing it down with a dagger hurled twenty paces, and the companions ate well. They slept early, making up for the late night before, and the following morning sighted the spires of Sousa to the southeast.

  “You’d best stay here,” Ananais advised. “I should imagine your description has been circulated throughout Drenai by now. Why ever did you write that damned letter? It’s not the sensible thing to let the victim know the assassin is on his way!”

  “On the contrary, my friend. Paranoia will eat at him. It will keep him awake—on edge—he will not think clearly. And for every day that there is no news of me, his fears will grow. It will make him uncertain.”

  “You think,” Ananais said. “Anyway, I will take Renya into the city.”

  “Very well. I shall wait here.”

  “And does Renya have nothing to say about this arrangement?” said the girl sweetly.

  “I did not think it would displease you,”
answered Tenaka, nonplussed.

  “Well, it does!” she snapped. “You do not own me; I go where I will.” She sat down on a fallen tree and folded her arms, staring into the trees.

  “I thought you wanted to go to Sousa,” said Tenaka.

  “No. Aulin wanted me there.”

  “Well, where do you want to go?”

  “I am not sure yet. I will let you know.”

  Tenaka shook his head and turned to the giant, spreading his hands.

  Ananais shrugged. “Well, I will go in, anyway. We need some food—and a little information would not go amiss. I shall see what I can find out.”

  “Stay out of trouble,” warned Tenaka.

  “Don’t worry about me; I will blend in. I shall just find a large crowd of tall black-masked men and stick with them.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes. Don’t worry! I will not risk fifty percent of our new army on one reconnaissance.”

  Tenaka watched him walk away and returned to the girl, sweeping the snow from the trunk and sitting down beside her.

  “Why did you not go with him?”

  “Did you want me to?” she countered, turning to look into his violet eyes.

  “Want you to? What do you mean?”

  She leaned into him. He caught the musky perfume of her skin and noticed again the sleekness of her neck and the dark beauty of her eyes.

  “I want to stay with you,” she whispered.

  He closed his eyes, shutting out the magic of her beauty. But the perfume lingered.

  “This is insane,” he said, pushing himself to his feet.

  “Why?”

  “Because I am not going to live very long. Don’t you understand? Killing Ceska is not a game. My chances of survival are one in a thousand.”

  “It is a game,” she said. “A man’s game. You don’t need to kill Ceska. It is not for you to take on the burden of the Drenai.”

  “I know that,” he said. “It is personal. But I will see it through, and so will Ananais.”

  “And so will I. I have as much reason to hate Ceska as both you and your friend. He hounded Aulin to death.”

  “But you are a woman,” he said desperately.

  She laughed at him, a rich, pealing sound that was full of humor. “Oh, Tenaka, how I have longed for you to say something foolish. You are always so right. So clever. A woman, indeed! Yes, I am. And more than that. Had I wished, I could have slain those four soldiers myself. My strength is as great as yours, possibly greater, and I can move just as fast. You know what I am: a Joining! Aulin knew me in Drenan, where I was a cripple with a twisted back and a ruined leg. He took pity on me and brought me to Graven, where he used the machines as they were intended. He healed me by blending me with one of Ceska’s pets. You know what he used?”