QUEST FOR LOST HEROES by David A. Gemmell

But one night she awoke screaming, rolling from her blankets and scrabbling for her swords. Beltzer was up instantly, his silver axe in his hands. Chareos and Kiall moved to her.

‘It is all right,’ said Chareos, reaching out. ‘It was only a dream.’

‘Get back! Don’t touch me!’ screamed Tanaki. Her sword snaked out and Chareos leapt back, the blade miss­ing him by a finger’s breadth.

Tanaki?’ said Kiall softly. ‘All is well. You were dream­ing. You are with friends. Friends.’

She stepped back, her breathing ragged, her violet eyes wide and frightened. Gradually her breathing grew more calm. ‘I am sorry,’ she whispered, and turning on her heel, she walked from the camp-site. Beltzer returned to his blankets, grumbling. Kiall walked after Tanaki, coming upon her sitting on a flat rock. Her moonlit face was pale as ivory, and he was struck anew by her beauty. For a moment he said nothing, then he sat beside her.

She swung to face him. They must think me weak,’ she said.

‘No one thinks that,’ he assured her. ‘But I do not know how to help you, Tanaki. I can heal bruises, stitch wounds, prepare herbs that will bring down fevers. But I cannot deal with your pain.’

‘I have no pain,’ she said. ‘I am healed.’

‘I do not think so. Every night you toss and turn. Often you cry out, and sometimes you even weep. It hurts me to see you in pain.’

Suddenly she laughed and stood with hands on hips, facing him. ‘I know what you want,’ she said. ‘You want what those soldiers wanted. Admit it. Be a man! Do not come to me with your, “It hurts me to see you in pain.” You don’t care for me. And why should you? As far as you are concerned I’m just another Nadir bitch, to be used when you desire it.’

That’s not how I see you,’ he said. ‘Yes, you are beauti­ful. Yes, any man would desire you. But I was talking of friendship – and I do care.’

‘Well, I don’t want your pity either,’ she snapped. ‘I’m not some colt with a broken leg, or a blind puppy.’

‘Why are you so angry with me? If I have said – or done – anything to upset you, then I apologise.’

She seemed about to speak, but her breath came out in a long sigh and she sagged back to the stone beside him. ‘I am not angry with you, Kiall.’ She closed her eyes and leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. ‘It is not you,’ she repeated. ‘I cannot put it behind me. Every time I close my eyes I can see their faces, feel their hands, their . . . Every time. When I sleep, they come for me. And in my dreams I think that the rescue was the dream, and this is the reality. I keep thinking about it. It isn’t the rape itself, or the beating, it is . . .’

Her voice faded for a moment and Kiall said nothing, allowing the silence to grow. ‘I have always known about such atrocities, but until you suffer you cannot understand the enormity of it. And worse, you cannot explain it. Two of those men were once palace guards at Ulrickham. One of them used to carry me on his shoulders when I was a child. So I ask myself, how could he do that to me? And why would he want to? I feel as if the world was never how I saw it – as if a gossamer veil hung before my eyes which they ripped away, leaving me to see the vileness that is reality. Only a few weeks ago I would see that look in Harokas’ eye, and I would take it as a compliment. It would make me feel good. Now? Now it is like the look a fox gives a chicken, and it terrifies me.’ She looked up at him. ‘Do you understand any of this?’

‘I understand all of it,’ he told her. He held out his hand but she backed away from it. ‘Fear,’ he said gently, ‘is usually good. It stops us from being reckless; it gives us caution. But Chareos says that fear is a servant who longs to be the master. And he is a terrible master who must be fought, held in thrall. You are strong, Tanaki. You are iron. You are proud. Take my hand.’