Part 24 (1/2)

'Yes? And then?'

'He said, ”Like this!” Then he broke the man's nose.' Belash mimicked the blow, a straight left.

Senta's laughter pealed out, echoing in the pa.s.s. 'It is not something to laugh at,' insisted Miriel.

'One man with a broken nose and jaw, two others with broken arms. One even fractured his leg.'

'That was the man he threw out of the window,' said Belash. 'And it was not even open.'

'Why were you so angry?' Miriel asked Angel. 'Back at the cabin you were always so ... so controlled.'

He relaxed and sat slumped in the saddle. 'That was then,' he told her, touching his heels to the gelding and riding ahead.

Senta glanced at Miriel. 'You don't see a great deal without your Talent, do you?' he observed, urging his horse into a canter and coming alongside Angel once more.

'What now?' asked the gladiator.

'You took out six men with your bare hands. That's impressive, Angel.'

'Is there a joke coming?'

'No. I'm sorry I missed the fight.'

'It wasn't much. A bunch of town-dwellers. Not a single muscle in sight.'

'I'm glad you decided to stay with us. I'd have missed your company.'

'I'd not miss yours, boy.'

'Oh yes, you would. Tell me, how long have you been in love with her?'

'What kind of a stupid question is that?' stormed Angel. 'I'm not in love. Shemak's b.a.l.l.s, Senta, look at me! I'm almost as old as her father and my face would curdle milk. No, she'll be better off with a younger man. Even you, may my tongue turn black for saying it.'

Senta was about to speak when he saw a rider emerging from the rocks to the left. It was a young Nadir woman with jet-black hair, wearing a goatskin tunic and tan leggings. Belash galloped past them and leapt from the saddle. The woman dismounted and embraced him. Miriel, Senta and Angel sat their mounts quietly as the two Nadir conversed in their own tongue. Then Belash led the girl to the waiting trio.

'This is s.h.i.+a, my sister. She was sent to find me,' he told them.

'It is good to meet you,' said Senta.

'Why? You do not know me.'

'It is a traditional greeting,' he explained.

'Ah. What is the traditional response?'

”That depends on the circ.u.mstances,' said Senta. 'And this is Miriel.' s.h.i.+a glanced at the tall mountain woman, seeing the knives on the black baldric and the sabre at her side.

'What a strange people,' she said. 'Men who live like women and women who arm themselves like men. Truly it is beyond understanding.'

'And this is Angel.'

'Yes,' she said. 'Old Hard-to-Kill. It-is-good-to-meet-you.' Angel shook his head and grunted.

Tugging his reins he moved off down the pa.s.s. 'Was the greeting incorrect?' s.h.i.+a asked Senta.

'He's having a bad day,' observed the swordsman.

Bodalen tried to blame his trembling on the cold wind hissing down from the high pa.s.ses of the Mountains of the Moon, but he knew better. Seven days from Gulgothir, and deep into Nadir territory his fear was almost uncontrollable. The eleven riders had skirted three small tent villages and encountered no hostile action, but Bodalen's mind was filled with images of torture and mutilation. He had heard many stories of the Nadir, and the thought that the tribesmen were close was unmanning him.

What am I doing here, he asked himself. Riding into a hostile land with sc.u.m like Gracus and his men. It's your fault, Father. Always pus.h.i.+ng, cajoling, forcing! I'm not like you. I never was, nor would I wish to be! But you made me what I am.

He recalled the day Galen had first approached him, bringing with him the refined Lora.s.sium leaf, and remembered with pleasure the taste of it upon his tongue, bitter and numbing. And with it the exquisite thrill that ran through his veins. All his fears vanished, all his dreams grew. Joy beyond reckoning flooded his senses. Oh, yes. The memories of the orgies that had followed aroused him even now, as his horse slowly trudged along the mountain trail. Pa.s.sion, and the daring excitement of pain inflicted on willing - aye and unwilling - partners, the slender whips, the begging screams.

Then Galen had introduced him to the Lord Zhu Chao. And the promises began. When Karnak - that bloated, self-obsessed tyrant - was dead it would be Bodalen who would rule the Drenai. And he could fill his palace with concubines and slaves. A lifetime of pleasure, free from restraint. What price those promises now?

He s.h.i.+vered and swung to see the dark, hawk-like Gracus riding just behind him, the other riders following in a silent line. 'Almost there, Lord Bodalen,' said Gracus, unsmiling.

Bodalen nodded, but did not reply. He knew he lacked his father's physical courage, but he lacked nothing of his intelligence. Zhu Chao no longer saw him as a person of value. He was being used as an a.s.sa.s.sin.

Where had it all gone wrong? He licked his lips. That was easy to answer. When that d.a.m.ned girl had died.

Waylander's daughter.

What a cursed trick of fate!

His horse reached the crest of the trail and Bodalen gazed down on a green valley, with sparkling streams. It was some two miles across and perhaps four deep, and at the centre reared an ancient fortress with four turrets and a portcullis gate. Bodalen blinked and rubbed his eyes. The turrets were leaning and twisted, the walls uneven, as if the earth had reared up below the structure.

And yet it still stood.

Gracus drew alongside. 'Kar-Barzac,' he said.

'It looks like something fas.h.i.+oned by a drunken man,' said Bodalen.

Gracus shrugged, unconcerned. 'We can shelter there,' he answered.

Slowly the eleven riders filed down into the valley. Bodalen could not take his eyes from the citadel. The windows, archers' slits, were not straight but crooked, each a different height, some canted, others stretched. 'It couldn't have been built like that, surely?' he asked Gracus. One of the towers leaned out at an impossible angle, and yet there were no cracks in the great stones. As they grew closer Bodalen remembered a visit to an armoury when he was a child. Karnak had showed him a great furnace. They had thrown an iron helm into the fire and the boy had watched as it slowly melted. Kar-Barzac was like that helm.

They rode across the valley and Gracus pointed at a nearby tree. The trunk was split and had curled around itself, forming a weird knot. And the leaves were sharp and long, five-p.r.o.nged and red as blood. Bodalen had never seen a tree like it.

As they neared the citadel they saw the half-eaten carca.s.s of a bighorn sheep. Gracus angled his mount to ride close to the body. Bodalen followed him. The sheep's eyes were gone, but the head remained, mouth wide open.

'By the blood of Missael!' whispered Bodalen. The sheep had short, pointed fangs.

'This valley is bewitched!' said one of the men.

'Be silent!' roared Gracus, dismounting. He knelt by the carca.s.s. 'It looks as if it has been chewed by rats,' he said. 'The bite-marks are small.' He stood and swung into the saddle.