Quest for Lost Heroes by David Gemmell
“Wrong? You are a fool, Kiall. It was honest lust. Do not be ashamed of it, but do not write poems about it, either. I have had fifty lovers. Some were gentle, some were cruel, and some I even grew fond of. But love? If it existed, I would have found it by now. Oh, Kiall, do not look so shocked. Life is short. Joy is everything. To deny that is to deny life.”
“You have the advantage of me,” he said softly. “I do not have your experience of life. I was raised in a village where we farmed and raised cattle and sheep. But there were people there who had been together for half a lifetime. They were happy; I believe they loved one another.”
She shook her head. “A man and a woman are drawn together by animal passions; they stay together for security. But if a better, perhaps richer man comes along or a younger, more beautiful woman, then—and only then—can you test their love. Look at you, Kiall. Three days ago you loved a woman enough to risk death for her. Now you say you did not love her, after all. And why? Because I appeared. Does that not prove my point?”
He remained silent for several seconds, staring out over the horizon. Finally he spoke. “It proves only that I am a fool. That is not hard to do.”
Tanaki moved to him. “I am sorry, I should not say these things. I thank you for rescuing me. I will be grateful to you all the days of my life. It was noble of you—and courageous. And I thank you also for walking away back there; that was considerate. But give me a few days and I will teach you joy.”
“No!” he said. “I do not want to learn that kind of joy.”
“Then remain a fool,” she snapped, turning and stalking away to sit alone.
For almost three weeks the questers journeyed more deeply into the lands of the Nadir, moving across the desolate steppes toward the far gray mountains. Occasionally they stayed in small Nadir tent settlements, but mostly they camped in hidden gullies, caves, or hollows. There was no sign of pursuit, and they saw nothing of the soldiers of Tsudai.
Chareos said little during their journey. His face was set and grim, his eyes haunted. Beltzer, too, had little to say. Harokas proved adept with the bow and twice brought down deer. But mostly their food came from the land in the shape of long, twisted roots, purple in color, which made a thin but nourishing soup.
Tanaki recovered well and often entered into bantering conversations with Harokas, but Kiall saw the fear in her eyes when any of the questers came too close, watched her flinch at a touch. For some days he said nothing of it. He treated her with courtesy, though she ignored him most of the time; he guessed she was still angry at what she saw as his rejection of her.
But one night she awoke screaming, rolling from her blankets and scrabbling for her swords. Beltzer was up instantly, his silver ax in his hands. Chareos and Kiall moved to her.
“It is all right,” said Chareos, reaching out. “It was only a dream.”
“Get back! Don’t touch me!” screamed Tanaki. Her sword snaked out, and Chareos leapt back, the blade missing him by a finger’s breadth.
“Tanaki?” said Kiall softly. “All is well. You were dreaming. You are with friends. Friends.”
She stepped back, her breath ragged, her violet eyes wide and frightened. Gradually her breathing grew more calm. “I am sorry,” she whispered, and turning on her heel, she walked from the campsite. Beltzer returned to his blankets, grumbling. Kiall walked after Tanaki, coming upon her sitting on a flat rock. Her moonlit face was pale as ivory, and he was struck anew by her beauty. For a moment he said nothing, then he sat beside her.
She swung to face him. “They must think me weak,” she said.
“No one thinks that,” he assured her. “But I do not know how to help you, Tanaki. I can heal bruises, stitch wounds, prepare herbs that will bring down fevers. But I cannot deal with your pain.”
“I have no pain,” she said. “I am healed.”
“I do not think so. Every night you toss and turn. Often you cry out, and sometimes you even weep. It hurts me to see you in pain.”
Suddenly she laughed and stood with hands on hips, facing him. “I know what you want,” she said. “You want what those soldiers wanted. Admit it. Be a man! Do not come to me with your ‘It hurts me to see you in pain.’ You don’t care for me. And why should you? As far as you are concerned, I’m just another Nadir bitch, to be used when you desire it.”
“That’s not how I see you,” he said. “Yes, you are beautiful. Yes, any man would desire you. But I was talking of friendship—and I do care.”
“Well, I don’t want your pity, either,” she snapped. “I’m not some colt with a broken leg or a blind puppy.”
“Why are you so angry with me? If I have said or done anything to upset you, then I apologize.”
She seemed about to speak, but her breath came out in a long sigh and she sagged back to the stone beside him. “I am not angry with you, Kiall.” She closed her eyes and leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “It is not you,” she repeated. “I cannot put it behind me. Every time I close my eyes, I can see their faces, feel their hands, their … Every time. When I sleep, they come for me. And in my dreams I think that the rescue was the dream and this is the reality. I keep thinking about it. It isn’t the rape itself or the beating; it is …”
Her voice faded for a moment, and Kiall said nothing, allowing the silence to grow. “I have always known about such atrocities, but until you suffer, you cannot understand the enormity of it. And worse, you cannot explain it. Two of those men were once palace guards at Ulrickham. One of them used to carry me on his shoulders when I was a child. So I ask myself, How could he do that to me? And why would he want to? I feel as if the world was never how I saw it—as if a gossamer veil hung before my eyes which they ripped away, leaving me to see the vileness that is reality. Only a few weeks ago I would see that look in Harokas’ eye, and I would take it as a compliment. It would make me feel good. Now? Now it is like the look a fox gives a chicken, and it terrifies me.” She looked up at him. “Do you understand any of this?”
“I understand all of it,” he told her. He held out his hand, but she backed away from it. “Fear,” he said gently, “is usually good. It stops us from being reckless; it gives us caution. But Chareos says that fear is a servant who longs to be the master. And he is a terrible master who must be fought, held in thrall. You are strong, Tanaki. You are iron. You are proud. Take my hand.”
“I don’t think that I can,” she said.
“Think back to the woman I first met. You are still her. You have suffered, but you are still the Princess Tanaki, daughter of Tenaka Khan. In you is the blood of greatness.”
He held out his hand, and her fingers lifted toward it, fell away, then rose swiftly to hold tightly to his.
Tears welled in her eyes, and she sank forward against him. He put his arm around her and sat with her for some time, neither of them speaking. At last she pulled away.
“Then we are friends?” she asked.
“Always,” he told her, smiling.
Together they walked back to the camp, where Chareos was sitting alone, staring up at the eastern sky. He did not seem to notice them, and Kiall wandered over to him.
“How are you faring?” he asked.
Chareos looked up. “I do not need to be comforted,” he said with a wry smile. “You did well by her. You are a good man.”
“You followed me?”
“Yes. But I did not stay long. She’s a fine woman, Kiall. Strong and beautiful.”
“I know that,” said the younger man, uncomfortable.
“If you were to ask me for advice—which you won’t—I would tell you to take her away from here. Return to the lands of the Gothir, marry, and raise tall sons.”
“And what would you do?” asked Kiall.
“I would continue this mad quest,” answered Chareos.
“Yes, I know. You cannot stop now,” said Kiall sadly. “Now that it has cost the lives of three of your friends.”
“You are a gifted young man, Kia
“I wish I had never asked you for aid. I mean that truly.”
“I know. Sleep well, boy.”
During the weeks that followed Tanaki found herself constantly watching Kiall, enjoying his hesitant, nervous smile, the tilt of his head as he spoke. She had not completely lost her nervousness with the others, but Kiall’s friendship had given her strength to battle her fears. During the long evenings Tanaki would walk away from the others and sit with her back to a rock or a tree and watch the men. They talked little, but in their movements there was much to read. Beltzer was a bear, a great ambling powerhouse filled with a bitterness he could not voice. Yet his actions were sure and confident, and his speed belied his bulk. Chareos was the timber wolf, lean and canny, always checking the back trail, always thinking, always aware. Harokas was the leopard, sleek yet savage.
And Kiall?
He was the strongest of them all, confident enough to be gentle, humble enough to be wise. His was the strength born of caring, whereas the others had built their fortresses on their talent for violence.
But what animal? she wondered. She sat back and closed her eyes, allowing her mind to relax into memories. She was back in the cold palace of Ulrickham. Jungir was playing with a set of carved soldiers, setting them out in battle formation, while she was sitting on a bearskin rug snuggled up against Nameas, the huge war hound. He had been a gift to Tenaka from the Gothir regent, and he had followed the khan on every hunt. Nameas was a killer in war, his terrible jaws rending and tearing, yet in the palace he was soft and gentle, turning his great head every now and then to lick the infant curled up beside him.
Yes, that was Kiall. The war hound.
Often Tanaki would smile and beckon Kiall to her, and they would sit long into the evening talking. She would reach out her hand, and he would take it, and they would sit beneath the stars.
One evening, in the third week of travel, she was sitting alone when a shadow fell across her. She thought it was Kiall and looked up, smiling.
“May I join you, Princess?” asked Harokas, sitting down beside her.
She swallowed hard and held the smile in place. “I did not expect you to join this quest,” she said. “I have always thought of you as a man who looks out only for himself.”
“As always, you are correct, Tanaki,” he said. “The quest means nothing to me.”
“Then why are you with us?”
“That should be obvious,” he told her, reaching out to touch her arm. She shrank back instinctively, and his face darkened.
“You were not so coy back in the settlement, as I recall. Many was the time you invited me to your bed on cold winter evenings.”
“That was then,” she said, holding her back stiff against the tree.
“And what has changed? We were good together, Tanaki. You were the best I ever had. And did I not satisfy you?”
“Yes, you did. You are an unselfish lover, Harokas. You know how to wait. But I have changed.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Changed? No, not you. You are a lusty wench, and in any civilized land you would be the king’s courtesan. No, don’t fool yourself. You will never change.” He moved back from her, his dark eyes scanning her face. “At first I thought it was the rape, but it’s not, is it? It’s the farm boy. Tanaki of the Blades has fallen for a virgin!” He chuckled. “There’s a story to liven a dull evening.”
“Be careful, Harokas,” she warned him. “My patience is not much spoken of—and with good reason. Leave me alone.”
He shook his head, and his face grew grave. “I could never do that, Princess. You are in my blood. I want you more than I ever wanted anything.”
For a moment she said nothing, then she rose. “What we had was good. It was more than good. But it is in the past; there is no more to be said.”
He pushed himself to his feet and bowed elaborately. “I think you are wrong, Tanaki. But I will not push myself at you; I will be here when you come to your senses. The farm boy is not for you; he never could be. What does he know? I have seen you holding hands. Sweet! But take him to your bed and he’ll rut like the peasant he is. And without his innocence what will he be save yet another farmer? You know what the attraction is for you, don’t you? It has been the same since the beginning of time, my love: the desire of the experienced for the innocent, the magnetic lure of virginity. There is an excitement there; you become the first and therefore unforgettable. But what then? No, Tanaki, it has not all been said yet. Good night to you.”
Chien-tsu watched the small group as they angled their horses across the pass. He noted that the lead rider paused often to study the trail: left and right, front and back. A careful man, then. Chien nodded in appreciation. He stood, beckoned Oshi, and walked out to meet the riders as they reined in. A huge man on a swaybacked gelding lifted a double-headed ax in both hands and slid from the saddle, but Chien ignored him. He reached the lead rider and gave a bow that was a fraction lower than what was required.
“You would be Chareos the Blademaster,” said Chien, looking up into the man’s dark eyes.
“And you are from Kiatze,” responded Chareos, stepping down to stand before the small warrior.
Chien was both gratified and annoyed. It was good to be recognized as a superior human being, but the man had not returned his bow, and that spoke of ill breeding. “Yes, my name is Chien-tsu. I am the ambassador from the court of Kiatze. The shaman Asta Khan asked me to guide you to him.”
“I don’t like the look of him, Blademaster,” said Beltzer, moving alongside Chareos.
“And I am not overly impressed with you,” remarked Chien. “Save for the smell, which is truly awe-inspiring.”
“You have a large mouth for such a little man,” Beltzer hissed.
“Better that than to be a giant with a brain the size of a pebble,” replied Chien, stepping back and dropping into a hand-fighting stance.
“Be silent, Beltzer,” said Chareos. “We have enough enemies without adding more.” He turned to Chien and bowed deeply. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador. You will forgive, I hope, the words of my companion. We have been riding for weeks with little food, and we have lost three of our comrades. We are short on provisions, on stamina, and on courtesy.”
Chien nodded. “A graceful apology, sir. Perhaps you would follow me, and then we can see to the introductions. There is venison and a warm fire in the cave.”
Chien spun on his heel and marched off, followed by Oshi. Beltzer grinned. “Plucky little gamecock, isn’t he? I’m damned if I don’t like him.”
“That is just as well,” said Chareos softly. “Had you attacked him, he would have killed you.” Without another word Chareos stepped into the saddle and touched his heels to the gray.
At the cave the questers finished the venison with a speed that, to Chien at least, was more gorging than dining. Still, they were barbarians, after all, and little more could be expected of them.
“Where is Asta Khan?” asked Chareos, wiping the fat from his fingers onto the front of his shirt.
“Sleeping,” answered Chien. “He will join us this evening. Perhaps we could complete the introductions.”
“Of course. Well, that is Beltzer.” The giant grinned and thrust out a hand. Chien looked down at it with some distaste. It had all the aesthetic appeal of a shovel: the fingers were thick and short, ingrained with dirt, and there were grease stains on the skin. Chien sighed and gripped the hand briefly. Harokas merely nodded, as did Tanaki, but Kiall also offered his hand. This one at least was clean.
“So why is an ambassador from the east dressed as a Nadir rider?” asked Chareos.
Chien told him of the bridal gift and the attack on his party. “Unfortunately, treachery is a way of life among the Nadir,” he said.
“Not only the Nadir,” put in Tanaki, her face blushing. “The Gothir, too, have a long history of betrayal and broken promises.”
“I am sorry, Princess,” said Cha
“All in its own time, Chareos,” answered the warrior. “But for now I have offered my aid to Asta Khan, and he is willing to help you. That, I believe, makes us companions.”
“You are more than welcome to travel with us, but I would appreciate knowing your purpose. It does not sit well with me to have a comrade whose plans are a mystery.”
“That I can understand. But I will follow your lead and even your instructions as leader of the group. You need know no more. When my own plans are more stone than smoke, I will inform you—and we will part company.”
Chien moved to the rear of the cave and settled down alongside a second fire that had been built for him by Oshi. He was more relaxed now. Chareos was almost civilized and a thinking man. Beltzer was obviously no great thinker, but he wielded the huge ax as if it had no weight at all. The woman was unusual—great facial beauty but with a body too stringy and boylike for Chien’s taste. Yet her eyes radiated strength and purpose. Chien could identify no weak point within the group, and that pleased him.
He settled down to sleep.
Chareos wandered to the cave mouth, looking up at the stars. There were few clouds, and the vault of heaven was enormous, breathtaking in its scale.
“Welcome to my hearth,” said a sibilant voice, and Chareos felt the hairs at the nape of his neck stiffen. He turned slowly. Squatting in the shadows was an old man wearing a thin loincloth of skin and a necklace of human teeth.
“Thank you, Asta Khan,” replied Chareos, moving to sit opposite the old man. “I am glad to see you well.”
“Your aid was vital. I will not forget it.”
“Okas is dead,” said Chareos.
“I know. Protecting me was a great trial for him, and he had little strength left. Now I shall aid you. I know a way into the city, into the bowels of the palace. There you can rescue the woman.”
“Why would you do this, shaman? And do not tell me about paying a debt: that is not the Nadir way. What do you hope to gain?”