Gemmell, David - Drenai 09 - Hero In The Shadows Page 7

  'Handle this with care,' he said, passing her a blade. 'It is very sharp.' She took it gingerly. It was heavier than it appeared. 'It is not just about direction and speed,' he told her, 'but about spin. The blade must reach its target point first.' He pointed to a nearby straw man. 'Hit that.'

  'Where?'

  'In the throat.'

  Her hand came up, the arm snapping forward. The blade struck the throat area hilt first then bounced away. 'I see what you mean,' she said. 'Can I have the second?' He passed it to her. This time the blade sliced home through the straw man's chin. 'Damn!' she swore.

  'Not bad,' he said. 'You have a good eye and excellent co-ordination. That is rare.'

  'In a woman, you mean?'

  'In anyone.' Moving to the straw target he extracted the blade, picked up the second from the floor and returned to her side. 'Turn your back to the target,' he said. Keeva did so. The Grey Man handed her a blade. 'At my command spin and throw - aiming for the chest.'

  He stepped back from her. 'Now,' he said softly. Keeva whirled, the blade slashing through the air to cannon from the target's shoulder and strike the far wall. Sparks flashed briefly from the stone.

  'Again,' he said, offering her the second blade. This time it thumped home - once more in the shoulder, but closer to the chest.

  'Why are we doing this?' she asked.

  'Because we can,' he answered, with a smile. 'You are very talented. With a little work you could be exceptional.'

  'If I wanted to spend my life throwing knives,' she observed.

  'You told me you had no craft, but were willing to learn. Skilled marksmen can earn a good living at market fairs and celebration days. Not one man in a hundred could have brought down three pigeons in four shots with an unfamiliar weapon. Not one in a thousand could have achieved it without some rudimentary training. In short, like me, you are a freak of nature. Mind and body in harmony. The gauging of distance, the balancing of weight, the power of the throw - all these require precise judgement. For some it takes a lifetime to acquire. For others it can be learnt in a matter of moments.'

  'But I missed the chest. Twice.'

  'Try again,' he said, gathering up the fallen blade.

  She spun - and sent it hurtling into the target.

  'Straight through the heart,' he said. 'Trust me. With training you can be among the best.'

  'I do not know that I want to be skilled with weapons,' she told him. 'I loathe men of war, their posturing, their arrogance and their endless cruelties.'

  Removing the knives from the target the Grey Man took them to the bench and began to clean them with a soft cloth. Placing them in sheaths of black leather he turned again to Keeva. 'I was once a farmer. I lived with a woman I adored. We had three children, a boy of seven and two babes. One day, when I was out hunting, a group of men came to my farm. Nineteen men. Mercenaries seeking employment between wars.' He fell silent for a moment. 'I rarely speak of this, Keeva, but today it is strong in my mind.' He took a deep breath. 'The men tied my Tanya to a bed then - after a little time - killed her. They also killed my children. Then they left.

  'When I rode out that morning I recall the sound of laughter in the air. My wife and my son were playing a chasing game in the meadow, my babes were asleep in their cots. When I returned all was silence, and there was blood upon the walls. So I, too, loathe the men of war and their cruelty.'

  His face was terribly calm, and there was no sign of the emotional struggle Keeva guessed was raging below the surface. 'And that is when you became a hunter of men,' she said.

  The Grey Man ignored the question. 'My point is that there will always be vile men, just as there will always be men of kindness and compassion. It should have no bearing on whether you choose to develop your talents. This world is a troubled, savage place. It would, however, be even more ghastly if only evil men took the time to master weapons.'

  'Was your wife skilled with weapons?' she asked.

  'No. And before you ask, it would have made no difference had she been the finest archer in the land. Nineteen killers would have overpowered her and the result would have been the same.'

  'Did you go after them, Grey Man?' she asked softly.

  'Yes. It took many years, and in that time some of them committed other foul deeds. Others married, settled down and raised families of their own. But I found them all. Every one.'

  It was suddenly quiet in the room, the air heavy. Keeva watched the Grey Man. His gaze seemed far away, and upon his face was a look of infinite sadness. In that moment she understood this grim and gloomy dwelling place, set alongside the gleaming white marble of his palace. The Grey Man had no home, for the home of his heart had been destroyed a long time ago. She glanced around at the targets of straw and the array of weapons upon the walls. When she looked back she met his gaze. 'I do not wish to learn this craft,' she said. 'I am sorry if that disappoints you.'

  'People long ago ceased to disappoint me, Keeva Tali-ana,' he told her, with a rueful smile. 'But let me ask you this: how did you feel when you killed the raider captain?'

  'I do not want to talk about it.'

  'I understand.'

  'Do you? You have been a killer so long I wonder if you do.' She reddened as she realized what she had said. 'I'm sorry if that sounds disrespectful, Grey Man. I do not mean it to be. You saved my life and I will be for ever in your debt. But what I mean is that I do not want to experience again the feelings I had when I killed Camran. What I did was needless. He was dying anyway. All I did was to inflict a little more agony. If I had the time again I would merely have walked away from him. What hurts and angers me is that, in those few heartbeats, I allowed myself to be dragged down in the filth of his evil. I became him. You understand?'

  He smiled sadly. 'I understood that long before you were born, Keeva, and I respect what you say. Now you had better return to your duties.'

  Yu Yu Liang was not a happy man. A little distance away the arguments were still raging among the dozen survivors and Yu Yu struggled to hear what they were saying. His understanding of the round-eye tongue was merely fair, and he found that many of the words and phrases sailed by him before his ears could catch them and his mind translate them. He was concentrating hard, for he knew it was only a matter of time before someone pointed an accusing finger at him.

  Sitting on the rock, his stolen sword in his lap, the former ditch-digger did his best to look silently ferocious - like the warrior he pretended to be. Yu Yu had only been with the group for three days. In that time he had heard many fine promises from the now dead leader, Rukar, about life on the road, and the riches to be made from passing merchants. Instead Rukar had been cut down by the Rajnee and Yu Yu had moved faster than ever in his twenty-three years to escape the swinging swords of the charging horsemen.

  Truth to tell, he felt a little stab of pride that it had been a Chiatze who had cowed them - a true Rajnee. Not a fraud with a stolen blade. Yu Yu shivered. Six years of training before a Rajnee could own a blood-tempered blade, and a further five years of philosophical study before he was allowed to fight. But only the very, very best were allowed to wear the grey robes and black sash sported by the man who killed Rukar. As soon as Yu Yu had seen him he had carefully eased himself to the back of the second group and was primed to flee the moment the horsemen charged.

  The reality was that Rukar had been a dead man from the moment the Rajnee approached him.

  'One little swordsman,' someone said, 'and you all run like frightened rabbits.' Yu Yu understood the word rabbits and guessed the moment of truth was approaching.

  'I didn't notice you standing up to him,' another man pointed out.

  'I was caught up in the rush,' the first responded. 'It was like being in a stampede. If I hadn't run I'd have been crushed to death.'

  'I thought we had our own Chiarze Rajnee,' put in a third voice. 'Where in Shem's balls was he when we needed him?'

  Here it comes, thought Yu Yu Liang miserably. He turned his bearded fa
ce towards the twelve men in the group and glowered. 'Well, he ran past me like his arse was on fire,' someone observed. A ripple of laughter sounded.

  Yu Yu rose slowly to his feet, his double-handed sword glinting as he swept it left and right in what he hoped might look a menacing fashion. Plunging the blade into the ground dramatically, he drew himself up to his full height. 'Any man think me afraid?' he asked, lowering his voice. 'Do you?' he thundered, leaping forward and stabbing his finger at the nearest, who, surprised by the suddenness of the move, fell backwards. 'Or you?' No one spoke. Yu Yu breathed an inner sigh of relief. 'I am Yu Yu Liang!' he shouted. 'Feared from Blood River to shores of Jian Seas. I kill you all!' he bellowed.

  In that instant he saw their faces change, from surprise to stark horror. It was very satisfying. Suddenly one of them scrambled to his feet and ran towards the south. Immediately the others followed, leaving behind their meagre possessions. Yu Yu laughed and threw his hands in the air. 'Rabbits!' he shouted after them. He expected the men to retreat a little distance, but they carried on running. Surely I cannot have been that terrifying, he thought. Must have been the firelight glinting on the muscles of my arms and shoulders, he reasoned, looking down and clenching his fists. Ten years of ditch-digging had honed his upper body beautifully. This warrior life is really not so hard, thought Yu Yu. Bluff and bravado could achieve wonders.

  Even so, their reaction was unusual, to say the least. He squinted into the distance, looking for signs of their return. 'I am Yu Yu Liang,' he shouted again, keeping his voice gruff. Then he laughed, and swung back to where he had left his sword.

  Standing quietly in the firelight was the little grey-garbed swordsman.

  Yu Yu's heart skipped a beat. He leapt backwards, his heel landing in the fire. He swore and jumped forward, then scrabbled for the sword, yanking it from the ground and waving it furiously back and forth, while at the same time shouting a battle cry. It would have been more impressive, he realized, had it not burst forth in a shrill falsetto.

  The Rajnee stood very still, watching him. He had not drawn his sword. Yu Yu, still holding his sword aloft, glared at him. 'I am Yu Yu Liang . . .'he began, this time in Chiatze.

  'Yes, I heard,' said the swordsman. 'Are you left-handed?'

  'Left-handed?' echoed Yu Yu, bemused. 'No, I am not left-handed.'

  'Then you are holding the sword incorrectly,' observed the Rajnee. Moving past Yu Yu he glanced towards the south.

  'Are you going to fight me?' Yu Yu asked him.

  'Do you wish me to?'

  'Isn't that why you came here?'

  'No. I came to see if the robbers were planning another attack. Obviously they are not. Where did you find the sword?'

  'It has been in my family for generations,' said Yu Yu.

  'May I see it?'

  Yu Yu was about to hand it to the man. Then he jumped back again, slashing it through the empty air. 'You seek to trick me?' he shouted. 'Very clever!'

  The Rajnee shook his head. 'I am not trying to trick you,' he said quietly. 'Farewell.'

  As he turned away Yu Yu called out after him. 'Wait!' The Rajnee halted and glanced back. 'I found it after a battle,' Yu Yu said. 'So I took it. The owner didn't care. Most of his head was missing.'

  'You are a long way from home, Yu Yu Liang. Is it your ambition to be a robber?'

  'No! I want to be a hero. A great fighter. I want to strut through the market towns and hear people say, "There he is. That's—"'

  'Yes, yes,' said the Rajnee, 'Yu Yu Liang. Well, all journeys begin with a single step, and at least you have mastered the strutting. Now I suggest you follow me.' With that he walked away.

  Yu Yu sheathed his sword, and looped the baldric over his shoulder. Then, grabbing the carrysack containing his meagre possessions, he ran to catch up with the departing Rajnee.

  The man said nothing at first, as Yu Yu marched along beside him, but after walking for almost an hour the Rajnee paused. 'Beyond those trees is the camp of my master, the merchant Matze Chai.' Yu Yu nodded sagely and waited. 'Should anyone recognize you what will you tell them?'

  Yu Yu thought about this for a moment. 'That I am your pupil, and you are teaching me to be a great hero.'

  'Are you an imbecile?'

  'No, I am a ditch-digger.'

  The Rajnee turned towards him and sighed. 'Why did you come to this land?' he asked.

  Yu Yu shrugged. 'I don't really know. I was heading west when I found the sword, then I decided to swing north-east.'

  Yu Yu felt uncomfortable under the man's dark gaze and the silence grew. 'Well,' he said, at last, 'what are you thinking?'

  'We will talk in the morning,' said Kysumu. 'There is much to consider.'

  'Then I am your pupil?'

  'You are not my pupil,' said Kysumu. 'If you are recognized you will tell the truth. You will say you are not a robber and that you were merely travelling with them.'

  'Why was I travelling with them?'

  'What?'

  'If they ask.'

  The Rajnee took a deep breath. 'Just tell them about your desire to strut.' Then he strode away towards the campfires.

  Chapter Four

  The first of the outlaws drifted back to the fading campfire, moving in warily, terrified that the grey-robed Rajnee would be hiding somewhere close by, ready to leap out and rip their lives from them with his wickedly curved sword. They had seen Rukar's body opened from shoulder to belly, his entrails spilling out, and had no wish to share his grisly fate.

  Satisfied that the swordsman had gone, one of the men gathered up some dead wood, throwing it on to the fire. Flames licked out, the light spreading.

  'What happened to Yu Yu?' said another man, searching the ground for signs of a struggle.

  'He must have run,' said another. 'There's no blood.'

  Within an hour nine men had gathered around the fire. Three were still hiding out on the plain. It was growing colder, and a fine mist had begun to seep across the land, swirling like pale smoke.

  'Where did you hide, Kym?' someone asked.

  'There are some ruined walls. I lay down behind one.'

  'Me too,' said another. 'Must have been a big settlement here once.'

  'It was a city,' said Kym, a small man with sandy hair and buck teeth. 'I remember my grandfather used to tell stories about it, great stories. Monsters and demons. Wonderful stuff. Me and my brother used to lie in bed and listen to them. We'd be terrified.' The man laughed. 'Then we wouldn't be able to sleep and our mother would start shouting at Grandfather for scaring us. Then the following night we'd beg him to tell us more.'

  'So what was this place then?' asked Bragi, a stoop-shouldered figure with thinning black hair.

  'It was called Guanador, I think,' said Kym. 'Grandfather said there was a great war and the entire city was destroyed.'

  'Where did the monsters come in?' put in another man.

  Kym shrugged. 'There were magickers, and they had great black hounds with teeth of sharpened iron. Then there were the man-bears, eight feet tall with talons like sabres.'

  'How come they got beat, then?' asked Bragi.

  'I don't know,' said Kym. 'It's only a story.'

  'I hate stories like that,' said Bragi. 'Don't make any sense. Who beat 'em, anyway?'

  'I don't know! Wish I'd never mentioned it.'

  The mist thickened and edged into the camp. 'Man, it's cold,' said Bragi, taking up a blanket and wrapping it around his shoulders.

  'You're always complaining about something,' said a powerfully built man with a shaven head and a forked beard.

  'A pox on you, Canja,' snapped Bragi.

  'He's right, though,' said someone else. 'It is damned cold. It's this mist. Feels like ice.' Rising from the ground, the men sought out more wood, building up the fire. Then they sat, wrapped in their blankets.

  'It's worse than winter,' said Kym.

  Moments later the cold was forgotten as a terrible scream echoed in the night. Kym swore and drew
his sword. Canja leapt to his feet, dagger in hand, and peered out past the fire. The mist was so thick that he could see no more than a few feet.

  'I bet it's that Rajnee,' he said. 'He's out there.'

  Canja moved a little way into the mist. Kym was watching him.

  A curious noise began. The men looked at one another, then clambered to their feet.

  'What the Hell is that?' whispered one. It sounded like scratching on the rocky ground just beyond the line of their sight.

  The mist was even thicker now, flowing across the fire, causing it to hiss and splutter. Then came a sickening sound, followed by a grunt. Kym swung round to see Canja tottering back towards the fire. Blood was gouting from a huge hole in his chest. His mouth was open, but no sound came forth. Then something white closed around the dying man's head, wrenching it from his body. Bragi spun on his heel and ran several steps in the opposite direction. A huge white form loomed from the mist, and a taloned arm swept down. Bragi's face disappeared in a crimson spray. Talons ripped into his belly, hurling him high into the air.

  Kym screamed, and backed away to the fire, dragging out a blazing brand, which he waved around in front of him. 'Get away!' he shouted. 'Get away!'

  Something cold curled around his ankle. He glanced down to see a white serpent slithering over his boot. He leapt back - straight into the fire. Flames licked around his leggings. The pain was terrible, but even through it he could see huge white forms approaching the blaze on every side.

  Dropping the brand, Kym drew his dagger and turned the point towards his throat. Closing his eyes he rammed it into his jugular.

  Something struck him in the back, and he fell from the fire. Gurgling on his life blood he felt sharp teeth rip into his side.

  And the mist closed over him.

  Kysumu was sitting on the ground, cross-legged, his back against the tree. He was not asleep but in a meditation trance, which served to revitalize his tired muscles. It took many minutes to establish the trance, for the snoring of Yu Yu Liang beside him was a constant irritant, rather like the buzzing of an insect around one's face on a summer's day.