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He climbed the mountain, and now he has nowhere to go.”
“What is important? You are the finest swordsman I ever saw. You were one of the heroes of Bel-azar. You could have been rich beyond the dreams of common men.” “I am rich beyond the dreams of common men, my lord. And that is what is important. This life suits me. I am by nature a student. The libraries here in Gothir are among the best anywhere. Far south, they say, the libraries of Drenan contain more books, but here are the complete works of Tertullus. It will take me many years to study them all.”
The farmer had become a hero, and it had destroyed him in a way the Nadir could not.
I loved once … and in truth I could love again. But the pain of loss was too much for me. I would rather live alone than suffer it.”
There are men and women in the world who perform heroic acts daily, and no one sees them.
“You’ve fallen a long way,” he told himself aloud.
“You know, there’s an insanity to it all, Naza. I was the most famous person in Gothir. I was the standard-bearer. I was wined and dined; money and presents poured into my hands. I was on top of the mountain. But there was nothing there. Nothing. Just clouds. And I found that you can’t live on that mountain.
I came to you as a broken man, and you made me whole.
The boy had seen his village razed and his loved ones taken, and he had now been whipped to add to his agony. Justice was for the rich … it always had been.
“You are slaves, and you will begin to think like slaves. That way you will survive. Any slave who attempts to run will be treated more harshly than this one. Remember these words.”
“Men dream of many things, Blademaster. We dream of fame we can never know or riches we can never win. But the most foolish of all is the dream of love, of the great abiding love. Let it go.”
“Ah yes, but we have the great hunter Finn, the smeller of trouble! Not a bird can break wind in the mountains without Finn picking up the scent.”
But above all he must believe. He must believe in his strength of will, of purpose, of heart and soul. Do not speak badly of yourself, for the warrior that is inside you hears your words and is lessened by them.
You are strong, and you are brave. There is a nobility of spirit within you. Let it grow—you will do well enough.
“Is this what you will brag about to your children?” he shouted. “How you cringed in the face of danger? Get up! Arm yourselves!”
“ ‘Needs must when demons rise,’
“I am helping young Kiall rescue a woman stolen by the Nadren.” “A noblewoman? A princess?” “No, a village girl—the daughter of a pig breeder.”
“I once visited Castle Tenaka,” said Salida. “It is an incredible place: six great walls and a keep with walls three feet thick.” “I knew it as Dros Delnoch,” Chareos told him. “It was said that it could never be taken. I was raised on stories of Druss the Legend and Rek, the Earl of Bronze. Strange that it should have been conquered by one of Rek’s descendants. Castle Tenaka? I don’t like the sound of the name.”
They fear proud women.
“He’s a man with iron principles. He knows the world is shades of gray, but he lives like it’s black and white. There’s a nobility in him, a gallantry, if you like.
“Why did you come with me?” “Why must there always be answers?” countered Chareos. “Perhaps I was bored. Perhaps it was because my mother’s name was Ravenna. Perhaps it is because I am secretly a noble prince who lives to quest for the impossible.” He closed his eyes and was silent for a moment. “And perhaps I do not know myself,” he whispered.
broth. And you should see the mountains in spring, ablaze with color under a sky so blue that it would bring tears to your eyes. What more could a man need?”
She could be dead or sold as a whore. She could be diseased. She could be wed. But whatever the situation, short of death, she will know that someone cared enough to come after her. That is important, I think.”
“A man should not risk his life for beauty alone, Kiall, for that fades. You might as well risk it for a rose. Think on it.”
You can live with fear only so long, then you absorb it and it loses its power.”
“You took not only his life but his dignity,” said the lord regent. “If I could, my lord, I would follow him into hell and destroy his soul as well,” Chareos told him.
Now he dried his eyes with the edge of his cloak. “What would you think of this quest, Attalis?” he whispered. “The hunt for the pig breeder’s daughter? Yes, I can almost hear your laughter.”
Beltzer glanced up, his small, round eyes fixing to Kiall. “What is this fascination you have with that place? You weren’t there—you don’t know what it was like.” “It was glorious. It is part of our history,” said Kiall. “The few against the many. It was a time of heroes.” “It was a time of survivors—like all wars. There were good men there who died on the first day and cowards who lasted almost until the end. There were thieves there and men who had raped or murdered. There was the stench of open bowels and split entrails. There was screaming and begging and whimpering. There was nothing good
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“Whores’ lives don’t make pretty stories.”
Chareos explained about the raid on the village and Kiall’s love for Ravenna. “The others are coming along for different reasons. Beltzer is a lost soul down from the mountain. Finn fears his death will leave Maggrig alone.” “And you?” “Me? I have nothing better to do with my life.” “Is that true, Chareos? Do you not carry a dream?” “Another man’s dream. It was never my own.”
You are son of last Earl of Dros Delnoch. You are heir to Armor of Bronze.
blood is strong, and it calls across the centuries.
“Are not all men the ghosts of the future?”
“There are many forms of cowardice, Chareos. One man can face a score of enemies with a sword but not a sickness which paralyzes him. Another can face death with a smile yet fear the years of hardship and toil which are life. Are you a coward?”
“Everything changes,” said Beltzer, “except the mountains and the sky.”
With this in mind, it is vital that you account for yourselves well. I would not expect any man to die until he has dispatched at least four of the enemy. There will be no retreat; you will die here.”
This land could do with more flowers. Perhaps then the Nadir would become interested more in poetry than in war.
Did you take lessons in stupidity, or does it come naturally?”
“Win or lose, we achieve nothing that the world would understand,” said Finn. “But then, the world does not matter,” answered Chareos, rising. “Indeed it does not,” Finn replied. “It is good to understand that.”
“Rest now. Let the poultice do its work.” He tried to release her hand, but her fingers gripped his. “Why?” she asked again. “Because you were in need,” he said lamely.
“Glad? Never be glad another man has died. Not ever. Just be relieved that you are alive. I had a teacher once, a great man called Attalis. He told me that the path to evil often begins with righteous anger.
“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.
He was the strongest of them all, confident enough to be gentle, humble enough to be wise. His was the strength born of caring, whereas the others had built their fortresses on their talent for violence.
“Now you know, Tenaka,” he said, “the meaning of the ghosts-yet-to-be. Bring on your demons. We defy you all!”
He turned away and walked back to the demon horde. A path opened before him, and he vanished from sight.
