QUEST FOR LOST HEROES by David A. Gemmell

She moved closer, her perfume washing over him. Lift­ing her hands, she rested them on his shoulders and looked deeply into his dark, slanted eyes.

‘Safe? With you? I remember when you sought my hand. I considered it with due seriousness. I sent spies into your palace, Tsudai. Not one of your women lacks scars from the whip. I know what you want,’ she whis­pered huskily, ‘and you will never have it!’ Then she laughed again and stepped back. His hand lashed out. She swayed out of his reach, then stepped inside. Tsudai froze as the dagger-point touched his neck. ‘I could kill you now,’ she told him.

It was his turn to laugh as he pushed her hand away. ‘You still want to live, though, do you not? And an attack on me would bring you down. I offered you my hand, Tanaki. But now I will wait. And when the day comes for you to suffer, it will be Tsudai who rides to you. It will be Tsudai to whom you will beg. And I tell you now that no pleas will be heard. When next we meet, you will not be so haughty.’

The warrior spun on his heel and stalked from the room. Tanaki returned the small dagger to its sheath and poured herself a goblet of wine.

It had been foolish to anger Tsudai. As Jungir Khan’s most trusted adviser, his was a friendship it would have been wise to court. But there was something about the man, a coldness within the soul, a meanness of spirit that she could not tolerate. Her father, Tenaka, had distrusted him. ‘I have nothing against a man who disciplines his household,’ Tenaka told his daughter, ‘but any man who needs a whip to deal with a woman has no place in my service.’

Tanaki swallowed hard as she pictured her father, his violet eyes full of warmth, his smile like the dawn light -welcoming, reassuring. Her stomach knotted and tears welled in her eyes. How could he be dead? How could the greatest man in the world be dead?

Blinking away her tears, she wandered to the window and watched the auction, wondering which of the women Tsudai would purchase. Rarely did she feel sorry for any of the slaves. But today . . .

She saw a dark-haired young woman pulled to the block, her yellow dress stripped from her. She had a good figure and her breasts were not over-large. Tanaki’s eyes flickered to Tsudai’s bidder and she saw his hand rise.

There were several other bidders, but the woman was sold to the Nadir general.

‘Tread warily, girl,’ whispered Tanaki. ‘Your life depends on it.’

CHAPTER FIVE

Maggrig’s fever-induced weakness lasted a further five days, during which time Chareos continued to teach Kiall the elementary moves of swordplay. Beltzer, his mood foul, took to walking alone in the mountain woods. Finn spent much of the time in his workshop, completing a new long-bow.

The snow all but disappeared from around the cabin, and the sun shone with summer warmth over the mountains.

On the morning of the sixth day, as the questors pre­pared to set off for the Valley of the Shrieking Gateway, Finn called Beltzer to his workshop. The others gathered round as the hunter pulled clear a brass-bound oak chest from its hiding place beneath a bench seat. Finn opened the chest and lifted out a long object, wrapped in oiled skins. He placed it on the bench-top and cut the thong bindings with his hunting-knife. He gestured to Beltzer. ‘It’s yours. Take it.’

The giant unwrapped the skins and there lay a gleam­ing, double-headed axe. The haft and handle were as long as a man’s arm – oiled oak and reinforced with silver wire. The heads were curved and sharp, acid-etched and decorated with silver runes. Beltzer’s hand curled around the haft, lifting the weapon.

‘Nice to have it back,’ he said and, without another word, stalked from the workshop.

‘Ignorant, ungrateful pig,’ stormed Maggrig. ‘He didn’t even say thank you.’

Finn shrugged, and gave a rare smile. ‘It is enough that he has it,’ he said.

‘But it cost you a fortune. We had no salt for two years, and precious little else.’