QUEST FOR LOST HEROES by David A. Gemmell

‘You have it all planned then?’ asked Oshi softly.

‘As much as can be considered at this time. It is all subject to change. Now let us ride, and seek a good camping-site.’

They made camp in a old, dry river-bed, lighting a fire against the vertical bank and eating a light meal of dried fruit. Chien was in no mood for conversation. Unrolling the blanket from behind his saddle, he wrapped it around his shoulders and settled down.

‘No, lord, here,’ said Oshi. ‘I have pushed aside the pebbles and there is soft sand beneath. I have bunched some for a pillow. You will be more comfortable.’

Chien moved to the place Oshi had prepared; it was indeed softer, and away from the cold wind. He settled down to sleep. He dreamt of home in the ivory-white palace, with its terraced gardens and landscaped streams and waterfalls. It was a place of tranquillity. But he awoke sharply when he heard the sound of boots on the pebbles of the river-bed. Rolling from his blanket, he rose. The moon was high, full and bright. Kubai stood staring at him with a wide smile on his face, beside him four Nadir warriors. Oshi awoke and huddled against the rocks.

‘Did you think I could not count?’ asked Kubai. ‘I searched for you among the bodies. You know why?’

‘Pray tell me,’ said Chien, folding his hands across his chest.

‘Because of him,’ he replied, pointing at Oshi. ‘His body was nowhere. So I examined the corpse we took to be yours. There was a gash on the face, but not enough to fool me.’

‘Your intelligence staggers me,’ said Chien. ‘You are quite correct. I took you for an evil-smelling, stupid, treacherous barbarian. I was wrong; you are not stupid.’

Kubai laughed. ‘You cannot make me angry, yellow man. You know why? Because tonight I will hear you scream. I will take your skin an inch at a time.’ Kubai drew his sword and advanced but Chien stood waiting, arms still folded. ‘Are you not even going to fight, yellow man?”

Chien’s arm flicked out and Kubai stopped in his tracks, the ebony handle of the throwing-knife jutting out from his throat. Chien leapt and his foot cracked against Kubai’s head, cartwheeling him from his feet. The other Nadir rushed in. Ducking under a sweeping blade Chien stabbed his hand, fingers extended, to the man’s midriff. The warrior doubled over, all breath gone from his lungs. Sidestepping a thrust, Chien hammered the edge of his palm into a second warrior’s throat. Hurling himself for­ward, he rolled to his shoulder on the pebbles and came to his feet in one smooth motion. The remaining two Nadir came at him more carefully. Chien’s hand snaked out and one of them crumpled to the ground with a dagger through his eye. The last warrior backed away, but Oshi reared up behind him, plunging a thin dagger through his heart.

‘You must not take risks,’ Chien told him. ‘You are too old.’

‘I am sorry, lord.’

Kubai had pulled the blade from his throat and was kneeling on the stream-bed, blood gushing to his goatskin jerkin. Chien knelt before him and gathered his blade.

‘In case it is of any interest,’ he said, ‘your lungs are filling with blood. It is said that a man can experience the most delightful visions at such a time. You, on the other hand, deserve no such joy.’

Chien slammed the blade into Kubai’s heart and pushed the body on to its back.

‘I was having the most wonderful dream,’ said Chien. ‘I was in the gardens at home, and – you recall the plant we tried to train by the dry stone wall at the south gate?’ Oshi nodded. ‘Well, it was in bloom, and the flowers were quite the most exquisite shades of purple. And there was a fragrance I recall that put my roses to shame. I wonder if that purple plant ever took root?’

‘I would imagine so, lord. You have a fine touch with flowers.’

‘It pleases me to think so.’

A groan came from the Nadir Chien had winded and the Kiatze warrior stood and hammered a kick to the man’s temple. His neck cracked and Oshi winced.

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