Drenai Saga 02 - The King Beyond the Gate (30 page)

“We’re not going to cross that?” asked Renya.

“Yes.”

Tenaka touched his heels to his mount and moved out. Almost at once the horse slipped, then righted itself. Tenaka kept up its head and began talking to the beast in a low soothing voice. His left leg was touching the rock wall, and his right was over the awesome drop; he did not dare swing his weight to see if Renya was following. The horse moved on slowly, its ears flat against its skull and its eyes wide in fear. Unlike the Nadir or Sathuli ponies, it had not been bred for mountain work.

The trail wound around the mountains, widening in some places and narrowing sickeningly in others, until at last they came to a slanting sheet of ice across their path. Tenaka had just enough room to slide from the saddle, and he moved forward slowly, kneeling to examine the ice. The surface was powdery with freshly fallen snow, but beneath it was glossy and sheer.

“Can we go back?” called Renya.

“No, there is nowhere to turn the horses. And the Delnoch riders will have reached the trail. We must go on.”

“Across that?”

“We must lead the horses,” said Tenaka. “But if it starts to go, don’t hold on. You understand?”

“This is stupid,” she said, staring down at the rocks hundreds of feet below.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he answered with a wry grimace.

“Keep to the cliff face and don’t curl the reins around your hand—hold them loosely. Ready?”

Tenaka stepped out onto the sloping ice, placing his foot carefully on the powdery snow.

He tugged on the reins, but the horse refused to budge; its eyes were wide with fear, and it was close to panic. Tenaka stepped back, curling his arm over the beast’s neck and whispering in its ear.

“There is no problem for you, noble heart,” he whispered. “You have courage in your soul. It is merely a difficult path. I will be here with you.” For some minutes he spoke thus, patting and stroking the sleek neck. “Trust me, great one. Walk with me for a little while.”

He stepped out onto the slope and pulled the reins, and the horse moved forward. Slowly and with great care they left the safety of the trail.

Renya’s horse slipped but recovered its footing. Tenaka heard the commotion but could not look back. Solid rock was only inches away, but as Tenaka stepped onto it, his horse slithered suddenly, whinnying in terror. Tenaka grabbed the reins tightly with his right hand, his left snaking out to the cliff face and hooking around a jutting edge of rock.

As the horse slid back toward the drop, Tenaka felt the muscles across his back tighten and tear. It seemed as if his arms were being torn from their sockets. He wanted to let go of the reins but could not; instinctively he had curled the leather around his wrist, and if the horse fell, he would be drawn with it.

As suddenly as it had lost its footing, the beast found a solid section of rock and with Tenaka’s help struggled back to the trail. Tenaka sagged against the cliff face. The horse nuzzled him, and he patted it. His wrist was bleeding where the leather had burned through the skin.

“Stupid!” said Renya, leading her horse to the safety of the trail.

“I cannot deny it,” he said, “but we made it. From here on the trail widens, and there are few natural dangers now. And I do not think the Drenai will follow us over this path.”

“I think you were born lucky, Tenaka Khan. But don’t use up all your luck before we reach the Nadir.”

They made camp in a shallow cave and fed the horses before lighting a fire with brushwood they had strapped to their saddles. Tenaka stripped off his leather jerkin and lay down on a blanket by the fire while Renya massaged his bruised back. The struggle to keep the horse from falling had taken its toll, and the Nadir prince could hardly move his right arm. Renya gently probed the shoulder blade and the swollen muscles around it.

“You are a mess,” she said. “Your body is a patchwork of bruises.”

“You should feel them from this side.”

“You are getting too old for this,” she said mischievously.

“A man is as old as he feels, woman!” he snapped.

“And how old do you feel?”

“About ninety,” he admitted.

She covered him with a blanket and sat staring out at the night. It was peaceful here, away from war and the talk of war. Truthfully, she did not care about overthrowing Ceska—she did care about being with Tenaka Khan. Men were so stupid; they didn’t understand the reality of life at all.

Love was what mattered. Love of one for one. The touching of hands, the touching of hearts. The warmth of belonging, the joy of sharing. There would always be tyrants. Man seemed incapable of existing without them. For without tyrants there would be no heroes. And man could not live without heroes.

Renya wrapped herself in her cloak and added the last of the wood to the fire. Tenaka lay asleep, his head resting on his saddle.

“Where would you be without Ceska, my love?” she asked him, knowing he could not hear her. “I think you need him more than you need me.”

His violet eyes opened, and he smiled sleepily.

“Not true,” he said. Then his eyes closed once more.

“Liar,” she whispered, curling up beside him.

16

S
caler, Belder, and
Pagan lay on their bellies overlooking the Drenai camp. There were twenty soldiers sitting around five camp fires. The prisoners sat back to back at the center of the camp, and sentries patrolled near them.

“Are you sure this is necessary?” asked Belder.

“It is,” Scaler told him. “If we rescue two Sathuli warriors, it will give us a great advantage in seeking aid from the tribesmen.”

“They look too well guarded to me,” muttered the older man.

“I agree,” said Pagan. “There is one guard within ten paces of the prisoners. Two others patrol the edge of the trees, and a fourth has positioned himself in the forest.”

“Could you find him?”

Pagan grinned. “Of course. But what of the other three?”

“Find the one in the forest and bring me his armor,” said Scaler.

Pagan slipped away, and Belder slithered across to lie beside Scaler. “You’re not going down there?”

“Of course. It’s a deception—that’s something I am good at.”

“You won’t be able to pull it off. We shall be taken.”

“Please, Belder, no morale-boosting speeches. You will make me conceited.”

“Well, I’m not going down there.”

“I don’t recall asking you.”

It was almost half an hour before Pagan returned. He was carrying the sentry’s clothes wrapped in the man’s red cloak.

“I hid the body as best I could,” he said. “How soon will they change the guards?”

“An hour, maybe a little less,” said Belder. “There’s not enough time.”

Scaler opened the bundle, examined the contents, and then buckled on the breastplate. It was a poor fit, but better too large than too small, he thought.

“How do I look?” he asked, placing the plumed helm on his head.

“Ridiculous,” said Belder. “You won’t fool them for a minute.”

“Old man,” hissed Pagan, “you are a pain in the ears! We have been together only three days, and already I am sick of you. Now close your mouth.”

Belder was about to whisper a cutting reply, but the look in the black man’s eyes stopped him dead. The man was ready to kill him! His blood froze, and he turned away.

“What is your plan?” asked Pagan.

“There are three guards, but only one near the prisoners. I intend to relieve him.”

“And the other two?”

“That’s as far as I have worked it out.”

“It is a beginning,” said Pagan. “If the first part works and the man takes to his blankets, move across to the other two. Keep your knife handy and make your move when I make mine.”

Scaler licked his lips. Keep your knife handy? He was not sure he would have the nerve to plunge the blade into someone’s body.

Together the two men crept through the undergrowth toward the camp. The moon was bright, but the occasional cloud masked it, plunging the clearing into darkness. The fires had burned low, and the warriors were sleeping soundly.

Pagan put his mouth close to Scaler’s ear and whispered: “It’s about ten paces to the first sleeping soldier. The next time a cloud passes the moon, move forward and lie down. When the clouds clear, sit up and stretch. Make sure the sentry sees you.” Scaler nodded.

Minutes passed in silent tension until at last darkness fell once more. Immediately Scaler was up and moving, hitting the ground just as the moon shone clear again.

He sat up and stretched his arms wide, waving to the sentry. Then he stood, looked around, and gathered up a lance from beside a sleeping warrior. Taking a deep breath, he walked across the clearing, yawning.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he told the man. “Ground is damp.”

“You should try standing here for a while,” grumbled the sentry.

“Why not?” offered Scaler. “Go on—get some sleep. I’ll take the watch.”

“Mighty large of you,” said the man. “I’m due to be relieved soon.”

“Your choice,” said Scaler, yawning once more.

“I haven’t seen you before,” said the man. “Who are you with?”

Scaler grinned. “Picture a man with the face of a pig with warts and the brain of a retarded pigeon.”

“Dun Gideus,” said the man. “Bad luck!”

“I’ve known worse,” commented Scaler.

“I’ve not,” said the man. “I think there’s a special place where they breed the fools. I mean, why attack the Sathuli? As if there are not enough pox-ridden problems in the Skoda. Baffles me!”

“Me, too,” said Scaler. “Still, as long as the pay comes through …”

“You had yours, then? I’ve been waiting four months,” said the man, outraged.

“It was a joke,” said Scaler. “Of course I haven’t!”

“Don’t joke about that, man. There’s enough trouble brewing as it is.”

A second sentry joined them. “Cal, is that the relief?”

“No, he just couldn’t sleep.”

“Well, I’m going to wake them up. I’ve had enough of standing around,” said the second soldier.

“Don’t be a fool,” advised the first. “You wake up Gideus and we’ll be for a flogging!”

“Why don’t you go off and get some rest,” offered Scaler. “I can stand watch—I’m wide awake.”

“Damn it, I think I will,” said the first man. “I’m dead on my feet. Thanks, friend,” he said, clapping Scaler on the shoulder before wandering away to lie down with the others.

“If you want to put your head down in the forest, I’ll wake you when I see the relief getting ready,” suggested Scaler.

“No, thanks anyway. The last time a watchman was found asleep, Gideus had him hanged. Bastard! I won’t take that risk.”

“Whatever you like,” said Scaler indifferently, his heart hammering.

“Bastards have canceled leave again,” said the sentry. “I haven’t seen my wife and youngsters in four months.” Scaler eased his knife into his hand. “Farm’s not doing too well. Bastard taxes! Still, at least I’m alive, I suppose.”

“Yes, that’s something,” agreed Scaler.

“Life’s a pig, isn’t it? Any time now they’re going to send us into the Skoda, killing a few more of our own. Life’s a pig and no mistake!”

“Yes.” Holding the knife behind his back, Scaler adjusted his grip, ready to hammer the blade into the man’s throat.

Suddenly the man swore. “I will take you up on that offer,” he said. “This is the third night they’ve put me on watch. But promise you’ll wake me.”

“I promise,” said Scaler, relief washing over him.

But then Pagan moved from the shadow, whipping his knife across the other sentry’s throat. Scaler reacted instantly, his own blade slashing upward, entering the man’s neck under the jawline and plunging on into the brain. He sank without a sound, but Scaler caught the look in his eyes as he died and looked away.

Pagan ran across to him. “Good work. Let’s free the prisoners and get away from here.”

“He was a good man,” whispered Scaler.

Pagan gripped him by the shoulders. “There are a lot of good men dead in Skoda. Get a hold … Let’s move.”

The two prisoners had watched the killings in silence. Both wore the robes of Sathuli tribesmen and had their faces partly hidden by flowing burnooses. Pagan moved to them, his knife slashing through their bonds; Scaler joined them, kneeling by the first warrior as the man pulled the burnoose sash from his face and took a deep breath. His face was strong and dark, a curved nose above a full black beard; his eyes were deep-set and seemingly black in the moonlight.