Quest for Lost Heroes (10 page)

'I couldn't believe my eyes,' said the giant. 'Blade-master? What are you doing here? Did you come to see me? Have you a task for me? Dear Gods of Heaven, what a day!'

'Put me down, you ape!' thundered Chareos. Beltzer dropped him and stepped back, hands on hips.

'Gods, but you look older. Maggrig and Finn are here. We're all here! It's wonderful. I've been waiting for something to happen. Anything! But to have you here . . . well, say something, Blademaster.'

'You look dreadful,' said Chareos, 'and your breath would make rotting fish smell like perfume. Moreover I think you've broken one of my ribs.'

'Who is the boy?' asked Beltzer, jerking a thumb at Kiall.

'His name is Kiall. We are travelling together.'

'Good to meet you,' said Beltzer, thumping Kiall on the back. The villager groaned and staggered. 'What's the matter with him?'

'He suffered a whipping,' snapped Chareos, rubbing at his ribs, 'which I think you just reminded him of. Do you live here now?'

'After a fashion. I've been helping Naza - the tavern owner. Come, you must be dying of thirst. Let's have a drink or two ... or three. Gods, what a lucky day! I'll fetch us some ale.' Beltzer ambled away towards the tavern.

'What
was
that?' Kiall asked.

'
That
was Beltzer. Once seen, never to be forgotten.'

'Beltzer?' whispered Kiall. 'The golden-haired hero of Bel-azar?'

'You will find, Kiall, that song and fable are not reliable. There could once have been a blind sow who would have considered Beltzer handsome - but I doubt it. I've seen whores turn him away while his pockets were bulging with gold coin.'

'It's incredible,' whispered Kiall. 'He's ugly and fat - and he smells.'

Those are his good points,' said Chareos. 'Wait until you get to know him.' He stood and walked towards the barn, where Finn was helping Maggrig to stand.

'Still drawn to trouble like moths to candles,' remarked Chareos, smiling.

'It would seem so, Blademaster,' answered Finn. The boy here got a crack to the skull.'

'Bring him to my room.'

'I don't want to stay here too long,' said Finn. 'I hate crowded places - you know that.'

'I remember. But spare me an hour, if you will. Kiall will show you the way.'

Chareos walked over to where Salida sat on the raised walkway around the tavern.

'I have met some old friends, Captain. I will be in my room if you wish to talk to me.'

Salida nodded. 'Get your friend another sabre. I will take Logar's back to the Earl.'

'And what of me, my friend? And what of you?'

'You go where you will, Chareos. And may the Source guide you. As for me . . . who knows? I wasn't always a Captain of Lance - there may be other roles I will enjoy. But I think the Earl will send others after you. He is no longer rational where you are concerned.'

'Be careful, Salida.'

'Yes, this is a world for careful men,' he replied, waving a hand at the battlefield.

*

Inside the tavern the bodies had been dragged away, leaving trails of blood on the wooden boards. The eastern end of the dining room was now a hospital area, where soldiers were stitching wounds and applying bandages. Chareos saw the innkeeper's wife sitting beside her husband. With a deep wound in his shoulder and a lump on his temple, Naza was white-faced and deeply in shock.

Chareos joined them and the woman looked up and smiled wearily. 'Thank you for your aid, sir,' she said. 'I thought they would kill me.'

'What did they want?' asked Chareos.

'The timber workers are paid tomorrow. We keep the silver coin hidden here. There are four hundred men, and they are paid each quarter year; it is a sizeable sum.'

'I see. Would you mind if I took some food from the kitchen? My companion and I still have not eaten.'

'I will prepare you something presently,' she offered, her face flushing.

'Not at all,' said Chareos swiftly. 'Stay with your husband. It is no trouble to me, I assure you.'

'You are kind, sir,' said Mael.

Chareos walked through to the kitchen. Several tables had been overturned and there were broken pots and crockery on the floor, but a large pot of stew still simmered on the huge iron stove. A serving-maid entered from the rear of the building. Short and slender, with dark, curled hair, she curtseyed. 'May I help you, sir?' she enquired.

'Bring some food, stew, meat, bread . . . whatever, to the upper guest room. We will also need some wine - five goblets. Oh yes, and some linen for bandages. Will you do it now?' he asked, handing her a half silver piece. She pocketed the coin and curtseyed once more.

Chareos returned to his room where Finn was sitting on one wide bed, dabbing with a cloth at the wound on Maggrig's head; it was a shallow cut, and his temple was bruised and swollen. Beltzer was sitting by the fire with a pitcher of ale in his hands; Kiall was standing by the window, looking down at the former battleground. He had surprised himself today, leading the farm workers into the fight - the excitement had been great, and his fears had vanished in the chaos of the skirmish. Now he felt like a warrior. He glanced up at the sky. How blue it was, how fresh and clean the air. He turned and smiled at Chareos, then switched his gaze to Beltzer. Ugly the man was, but he had swung his axe like a giant of legend. He had not seen Maggrig and Finn in action, but merely to be in the same room as the heroes of Bel-azar filled him with pride.

A serving-maid brought food, but Kiall was no longer hungry. Beltzer took his share, while Chareos sat quietly opposite the giant, gazing into the fire. Finn had applied a linen bandage to Maggrig's head and the younger man lay back on the bed and fell asleep. There was no conversation and Kiall pulled up a chair and sat in silence. His hands began to shake, and his stomach heaved. Chareos saw this and passed across a chunk of black bread.

'Eat it,' he said. Kiall nodded and chewed at the crust and the nausea passed.

'What now?' said Beltzer, laying the empty pitcher beside the chair. 'Back to chopping wood and punching timber men?'

'What do you want?' asked Chareos softly.

'I want it to be the way it was,' the giant answered him.

'Nothing is the way it was. And I'll tell you something, Beltzer, old friend - it never was the way it was.'

'I'm supposed to understand that, am I? You always were so clever with words. But they don't mean pig-wind. I'm not old, I can hold my own with any man. I can drink a mountain of ale and still lift a barrel of sand over my head. And there's no man alive can stand against me in battle.'

'That's probably true,' Chareos agreed, 'but you are not young either. What are you, Beltzer? Fifty?'

'Forty-eight. And that's not old.'

'It's older than Kalin was at Bel-azar. And didn't you advise him to go home and leave the fighting to the younger men?'

'It was a jest,' snapped Beltzer. 'And I didn't know then what I know now. Gods, Blademaster, there must be something for me!'

Chareos eased himself back in his chair and stretched his legs to the fire. 'I am on a quest,' he said softly.

Beltzer leaned forward, his eyes shining. Tell me,' he invited.

'I am helping young Kiall to rescue a woman stolen by the Nadren.'

'A noblewoman? A princess?'

'No, a village girl - the daughter of a pig-breeder.'

'What? Why? Where is the glory in that? The Nadren have been stealing women for centuries. Who'll sing a song about the rescue of a pig-breeder's daughter?'

'No one,' admitted Chareos, 'but if you'd rather stay here and chop wood . . .'

'I didn't say that - don't put words in my mouth. Which group took her?'

'No one knows.'

'Which Nadir camp did they head for?'

Chareos shrugged. 'We don't know.'

'If you are mocking me I'll break your head,' said Beltzer. 'What DO we know?'

'We know she was taken. Now all we have to do is find her - and steal her back.'

'You'd need the Tattooed Man for that - and he's gone. Probably dead by now.'

'My thoughts exactly," agreed Chareos, 'but I shall ride into the Valley and seek him. Unless you have a better plan?'

'Anything's better than that,' said Beltzer. 'They'll take your head and shrink it down to wear on a belt. You don't even speak the language.'

'You do.'

'I need some more ale,' said Beltzer, lurching to his feet and striding from the room.

'Who is the Tattooed Man?' asked Kiall. 'And where is the Valley?'

'The Gateway is not of this world,' answered Finn, moving to join them. 'And only a moonstruck fool would venture there. What game are you playing, Chareos? No one goes into the Valley.'

'It is no game, Finn,' Chareos told him. 'The quest, as it stands, is impossible . . . unless we can find a man who can follow spirit-trails. Do you know of any as skilled as Okas?'

'None,' admitted Finn. 'But the Valley? I wouldn't go there if my soul depended on it. Neither will Beltzer. They don't like visitors.'

'I'll go there with you,' said Kiall. Til go anywhere if it means a chance to find Ravenna.'

'I can remember when we sounded like that,' mused Finn. 'It's a wonder we've survived so long, Blademaster. If you want to die, why not leap from a cliff, or open your veins with a sharp blade? The Tattooed People will kill you slowly. But then you know that.'

Chareos turned to Finn and smiled. 'I know the perils, Finn, and I won't go without Beltzer. For some reason, Okas seemed to like him.'

'Perhaps it was the smell,' offered Finn. 'He was the only man I ever met who stank worse than the big man. Even so, it is not a journey I would undertake.'

'What is so terrible there?' Kiall asked.

Finn scratched at his beard. 'According to Okas the land is hot, and there are beasts there who feed on human flesh. Also, the Tattooed People collect heads and shrink them down by magic. About twenty years ago a nobleman named Carsis led a small force into the Valley; their shrunken heads were left on spears at the entrance. For ten years, whenever a traveller passed by, the heads would shriek warnings. I saw them once - aye, and heard them. They spoke of the terrors of Hell.'

They are not there now, then?' said Kiall.

'No. The Lord Regent sent a section of lancers into the hills - they built a great fire and burned the heads.'

'Do the Tattooed People venture into our lands?'

'Sometimes, boy. And that's when a man locks his doors and sits up at night with sword and bow close to hand. You still want to go there?'

Kiall swallowed hard. 'I will go wherever I have to.'

'Spoken like a hero,' said Finn sourly.

The door opened and Beltzer entered, carrying two pitchers of ale. Til come with you,' he told Chareos.

'Spoken like an idiot,' whispered Finn.

*

The soldiers dug a shallow trench a half-mile from the settlement. The bodies of the Nadren, stripped of their armour and weapons, were unceremoniously flung into it. The corpses of the soldiers, eleven in all, were wrapped in their blankets and reverently placed on the back of a wagon, ready for burial with honours in Talgithir.

Salida ordered the Nadren grave to be filled with rocks, to prevent wolves and foxes from digging for food. It was almost dusk, and he was bone-weary. Seven of the dead had been new recruits, unused to war, but four were seasoned veterans. One of these had been his valet, a bright, amusing man named Caphes; he had a wife and five sons in Talgithir and Salida did not relish the visit he would have to make to the family home. The sound of a horse's hooves made him turn, and he saw Chareos riding towards him on a huge white stallion.

The former monk dismounted and approached.

'I wanted to make sure,' said Chareos, 'that you had no second thoughts on the matter of my arrest.'

Salida gazed into the man's dark eyes, unable to read the thoughts of the tall swordsman before him. 'No, I have not,' he said and Chareos nodded.

'You are a good man, Salida. Here, I have brought Logar's sabre.' He handed the scabbarded weapon to the officer. Dipping his hand into the sack hung behind his saddle, he produced a wineskin and two leather-covered brass cups. 'Join me?' he enquired.

'Why not? But let's move away from the stench of death - I've had my fill of it.'

'You look tired,' Chareos told him. 'And not just because of the battle, I think?'

They strolled to a group of boulders and sat down; Salida unbuckled his iron breastplate and laid it beside him. 'No, it is not. I am a family man now, Chareos. There was a time when I believed that soldiers could make a difference.' He accepted a goblet of red wine and sipped it. 'But now? I have three sons and a beautiful wife. The Nadir are gathering again, and one day soon they will cross the mountains and destroy the Gothir. What then of my sons and their dreams?'

'Maybe they will not come,' said Chareos. 'The Gothir have little; this is not a rich land.'