He felt the stares of his men upon him and glanced up to see the courtyard ringed with Sathuli warriors. And yet he was alone; not one of them would come to his aid. He had to attack, but to do so meant death. With a wild scream he threw himself forward, tulwar raised. Scaler buried his sword in the prince’s heart, then dragged it clear and the body sagged to the flagstones.
Magir stepped to Scaler’s side. ‘Now you must leave. They will allow you to pass from the mountains, then they will follow to avenge this killing.’
‘That’s of no importance to me,’ said Scaler. ‘I came here to win them. Without them we are lost anyway.’
‘You have the Cheiam, my friend. We will follow you back into Hell itself.’
Scaler looked down at the dead prince. ‘He didn’t even try to fight – he just ran forward to die.’
‘He was a dog and the son of a dog. I spit on him!’ said Magir. ‘He was not worthy of you, Lord Earl, though he was the greatest swordsman in all of Sathuli.’
‘He was?’ said Scaler, astonished.
‘He was. But he knew you were a greater man and the knowledge destroyed him before your sword could do so.’
‘The man was a fool. If he only . . .’
‘Rek,’ said Pagan, ‘it is time to leave. I will fetch the horses.’
‘No. I want to see Belder buried before we leave this place.’
‘My men will see to it,’ said Magir. ‘But your friend speaks wisely and I will have horses brought to the courtyard. It is only an hour to our camp, where we can rest and speak of your plans.’
‘Magir!’
‘Yes, my Lord.’
‘I thank you.’
‘It was my duty, Lord Earl. I thought I would hate this duty, for the Cheiam bear no love for Drenai warriors. But you are a man.’
Tell me, what are the Cheiam?’
‘We are the Drinkers of Blood, the sons of Joachim. We worship only one god: Shalli, the spirit of Death.’
‘How many of you are there?’
‘One hundred only, Lord Earl. But judge us not by our number. Rather, watch the numbers of dead we leave behind us.’
17
The man was buried up to his neck, the dry earth packed tightly around him. Ants crawled on his face and the sun beat down on his shaven head. He heard the sound of approaching horses, but could not turn.
‘A pox on you and all your family!’ he shouted.
Then he heard someone dismount and a merciful shadow fell across him. Glancing up, he saw standing before him a tall figure in black leather tunic and riding boots; he could not see his face. A woman led the horses round to the front and the man squatted down.
‘We are seeking the tents of the Wolves,’ he said.
The buried man spat an ant from his mouth. ‘Good for you!’ he said. ‘Why tell me? You think I have been left here as a signpost?’
‘I was contemplating digging you out.’
‘I shouldn’t bother. The hills behind you are full of Pack-rats. They would not take kindly to your intrusion.’
‘Pack-rats’ was the name given to members of the Green Monkey tribe following a battle some two hundred years before, when they had been deprived of their ponies and forced to carry their possessions on their backs. The other tribes never forgot the humiliation, nor allowed the Monkeys to forget.
‘How many are there?’ asked Tenaka.
‘Who knows? They all look alike to me.’
Tenaka held a leather canteen of water to the man’s lips and he drank greedily.
‘What tribe are you?’ asked Tenaka.
‘I’m glad you asked that after offering me water,’ said the man. ‘I am Subodai of the Spears.’
Tenaka nodded. The Spears were hated by the Wolfshead on the ample grounds that their warriors were equally as vicious and efficient as their own.
For the Nadir there was seldom respect for an enemy. Weaker foes were treated with contempt, stronger regarded with hatred. The Spears, though not exactly stronger, fell into the latter category.
‘How did a Spear fall to the Pack-rats?’ asked Tenaka.