The Legend Of Deathwalker By David Gemmell

‘There is nothing,’ lied Talisman smoothly. ‘The well is vital and it is my judgement that you are the best man to lead the defence. But the well is on Curved Horn lands and they would feel insulted should I ask another tribe to defend it.’

‘You think they will not feel insulted when you name me as their leader?’

‘That is a risk that must be taken. Come with me now, for they are waiting for us.’

Bartsai was furious, but he bit back his anger as he watched Kzun lead the warriors out through the gates. The nagging chest pain was back – a dull, tight cage of iron around his upper ribs. He had looked forward eagerly to the fight at the well. There were many escape routes open. He and his men would have defended it well, but also slipped away to safety should the need have arisen. Now he was trapped here in this rotting would-be fortress. Talisman approached him. ‘Come, we must talk,’ he said. A fresh pain stabbed at him as he looked at the younger man.

‘Talk? I have had enough of talk. If the situation were not desperate I would challenge you, Talisman.’

‘I understand your anger, Bartsai,’ said Talisman. ‘Now hear me: Kzun would have been useless in the siege. I have watched him pacing this compound, and seen his lantern flickering throughout the night. He sleeps in the open. Have you noticed that?’

‘Aye, he’s a strange one. But what makes you think he should lead my men?’

Talisman led Bartsai to the table in the shade. ‘I do not know what demons plague Kzun, but it is obvious he fears confinement. He does not like the dark, and he avoids enclosed spaces. When the siege begins we will all be confined here. I think that would have broken Kzun. But he is a fighter, and will defend the well with his life.’

‘As would I,’ said Bartsai, not meeting Talisman’s eyes. ‘As would any leader.’

‘We all carry our own fears, Bartsai,’ said Talisman softly.

‘What does that mean?’ snapped the Curved Horn leader, reddening. Anxiously he looked up into Talisman’s dark, enigmatic eyes.

‘It means that I also fear the coming days. As do Quing-chin, Lin-tse and all the warriors. None of us want to die. That is one reason why I value your presence here, Bartsai. You are older and more experienced than the other leaders. Your calm and your strength will be of great importance when the Gothir attack.’

Bartsai sighed, and the pain subsided. ‘When I was your age I would have ridden a hundred miles to be at this battle. Now I can feel the cold breath of Death upon my neck. It turns my bowels to water, Talisman. I am too old, and it would be best if you did not rely on me too much.’

‘You are wrong, Bartsai. Only the stupid are fearless. I am young, but I am a good judge of men. You will stand, and you will inspire the warriors around you. You are Nadir!’

‘I don’t need pretty speeches. I know my duty.’

‘It was not a speech, Bartsai. Twelve years ago, when Chop-backs raided your village you led a force of twenty men into their camp. You scattered them, and recovered all the lost ponies. Five years ago you were challenged by a young swordsman from the Lone Wolves. You were stabbed four times, but you killed him. Then, though wounded, you walked to your pony and rode away. You are a man, Bartsai.’

‘You know a great deal about me, Talisman.’

‘All leaders must know the men who serve them. But I only know this of you because your men brag of it.’

Bartsai grinned. ‘I’ll stand,’ he said. ‘And now I had better get back to the work on the ramparts. Otherwise I’ll have nothing to stand on!’

Talisman smiled and the older man walked away. Nosta Khan came out of the Shrine building and walked across the compound. Talisman’s good mood evaporated as the shaman approached. ‘There is nothing there,’ said Nosta Khan. ‘I have cast search spells, but they fail. Perhaps Chorin-Tsu was wrong. Perhaps they are not there at all.’