The King Beyond the Gate

'It is his way,' said the giant. 'Leave him be.'

Rayvan shrugged and returned to the business of treating the wounded. Makeshift stretchers had been put together, using the Legion lances and cloaks. The Thirty, stripped of their armour, moved among the wounded using their awesome skills to remove pain while stitches were inserted.

On the open field the dead were laid side by side, Legion lancers alongside Skoda warriors. Six hundred and eleven lancers had died that day; two hundred and forty-six Skoda men lay alongside them.

Rayvan wandered through the ranks of the dead, staring down at the corpses, bringing the names of her warriors to mind and praying over each man. Many had farms and crofts, wives and children, sisters, mothers. Rayvan knew them all. She called Lake to her and told him to fetch paper and charcoal to list the dead.

Ananais washed the blood from his clothes and skin and then summoned the Legion general Kare-spa to him. The man was sullen and in no mood for conversation.

'I am going to have to kill you, Karespa,' said Ananais apologetically.

'I understand.'

'Good! Will you join me in a meal?'

'No, thank you. My appetite just left me.'

Ananais nodded his understanding. 'Do you have any preference?'

The man shrugged. 'What does it matter?'

'Then it will be a sword-thrust. Unless you would rather do it yourself?'

'Go to the devil!'

'Then I will do it. You have until dawn to prepare yourself.'

'I don't need until dawn. Do it now, while I am in the mood.'

'All right.' Ananais nodded once and pain like the fires of Hell exploded in Karespa's back. He tried to turn, but darkness blanketed his mind. Galand pulled the sword clear and wiped it clean on the general's cloak. Moving forward, he sat beside Ananais.

'Shame about that,' said the black-bearded warrior.

'We couldn't let him go, knowing what he did.'

'I suppose not. Gods, general, but we won! Incredible, isn't it?'

'Not with Tenaka planning it.'

'Come now, anything could have happened. They didn't have to charge — they could have dismounted and sent in the archers to drive us back.'

'Could have. Might have. They did not. They went by the book. According to the Cavalry Manual, the obvious move for horsemen against irregular foot-soldiers is the charge. The Legion are disciplined men and therefore bound to operate by the Manual. You want me to quote chapter and verse?'

'It's not necessary,' muttered Galand. 'I expect you wrote it.'

'No. Tenaka Khan introduced the most recent alterations eighteen years ago.'

'But just suppose. .'

'What's the point, Galand? He was right.'

'But he couldn't have known where Karespa would wait with his bugler. And yet he told Parsal and me to make for that hill.'

'Where else could Karespa watch the battle from?'

'He might have gone in with his men.'

'And left his bugler to make the decisions?'

'You make it sound so simple, but battles are not like that. Strategy is one thing, heart and skill another.'

'I don't deny it. The Legion didn't fight at their best. There are many good men among them and I don't suppose they relished their task. But that's in the past. For now I am going to ask the men of the Legion to join us.'

'And if they refuse?'

'I shall send them out of the valley — where you will be waiting with one hundred archers. No one man will leave alive.'

'You're a ruthless man, general!'

'I am alive, Galand. And I mean to stay alive.'

Galand heaved himself to his feet. 'I hope you do, general. And I hope Tenaka Khan can produce another miracle when the Joinings arrive.'

'That's tomorrow,' said Ananais. 'Let us enjoy today.'

12

Tenaka found the place of solitude he needed at a sheltered waterfall high in the mountains, where the air was cool and clean and the snow lay in patches on the slopes. Slowly, carefully, he built a fire in a ring of stones and sat watching the flames. He felt no elation at the victory, his emotions washed from him in the blood of the slain. After a while he moved to the stream, remembering the words of Asta Khan, the ancient shaman of the Wolfshead tribe.

'All things in the world are created for Man, yet all have two purposes. The waters run that we might drink of them, but they are also symbols of the futility of Man. They reflect our lives in rushing beauty, birthed in the purity of the mountains. As babes they babble and run, gushing and growing as they mature into strong young rivers. Then they widen and slow until at last they meander, like old men, to join with the sea. And like the souls of men in the Nethervoid, they mix and mingle until the sun lifts them again as raindrops to fall upon the mountains.'

Tenaka dipped his hand into the rushing water. He felt out of place, away from time. A bird hopped on to a rock nearby, ignoring him in its quest for food; it was tiny and brown. Suddenly it dived into the water and Tenaka jerked upright, leaning over the stream to see it flying beneath the surface: an eerie sight. It came to the surface, hopped to a rock and fluttered its feathers; then it returned to the stream. In a strange way Tenaka was soothed by the sight. He observed the bird for a while, then lay back on the grass watching the clouds bunch in the blue sky.

An eagle soared high on the thermals with wings spread, seemingly static as it rose on the warm air.

A ptarmigan fluttered into view, its feathers still mottled and part white — perfect camouflage, for the snow still patched the slopes. Tenaka considered the bird. In winter it was pure white against the snow. In spring it was part white, while in summer the mottling turned slate-grey and brown, allowing it to sit by the boulders — the image of a rock. Its feathers were its only defence.

The ptarmigan rose into the air and the eagle banked sharply, dropping like a stone. But it cut across the sun and its shadow fell athwart the ptarmigan, which swerved just as the talons flashed by. The little speckled bird fled back to the bushes.

The eagle settled on a tree branch close to Tenaka, its dignity ruffled. The Nadir warrior leaned back and closed his eyes.

The battle had been close and the strategy would not work again. They had gained a respite, but that was all. Ceska had sent his Legion to round up a few rebels — had they known Tenaka Khan was here, they would have adopted different tactics. Now they would know. . Now all Ceska's skill would be pitted against Tenaka.

How many men would Ceska range against them now?

There was the rest of the Legion — four thousand men. The regulars numbering ten thousand. The Drenan Pikers, two thousand at the last count. But more terrifying than all the others were the Joinings.

How many now had he created? Five thousand? Ten?

And how could they be rated against common men? One Joining to five? Even that would make them worth 25,000 soldiers.

Ceska would not make the mistake of underestimating the Skoda rebellion a second time.

Weariness settled on Tenaka like a shroud. His first plan had been so simple: kill Ceska and die. Now the complexities of his scheme swirled in his mind like mist.

So many dead, so many still to die.

He moved back to his fire and added fuel; then he lay down beside it, wrapping himself in his cloak. He thought of Illae and his Ventrian home. How good had been the years.

Then Renya's face formed in his thoughts and he smiled. All his life he had been lucky. Sad, lonely, but lucky. To have a mother as devoted as Shillat, that was luck. To find a man like Ananais to stand beside him. To be with the Dragon. To love Illae. To find Renya.

Such good fortune was a gift that more than made up for the loneliness and the pain of rejection. Tenaka began to shiver. Adding more wood, he lay back waiting for the nausea he knew would follow. The headache started first, with bright lights flickering in his eyes. He breathed deeply, calming himself for the onslaught. The pain grew, clawing at his brain with fingers of fire.