Drenai Saga 02 - The King Beyond the Gate Read Online Free PDF Page A

the man hilt first at the base of the helm. Unbalanced, the warrior tumbled in the snow, losing his grip on his sword. Tenaka ran forward as he scrambled to rise, then threw himself on the man’s back, and he pitched forward once more, his helm tumbling from his head. Tenaka grabbed his hair, tugging the head back, then took hold of the man’s chin and wrenched it to the left. His neck snapped like dry wood.
    Recovering his knife, Tenaka wiped it clean and replaced it. He scanned the clearing. All was silent.
    “Nadir we,” he whispered, closing his eyes.
    “Shall we go?” asked Renya.
    Puzzled, he took her arm, gazing down into her eyes.
    “What is the matter with you? Do you want to die?”
    “No,” she said absently.
    “Then why did you just stand there?”
    “I don’t know. Shall we go?”
    Tears welled in her night-dark eyes, spilling to her cheek, but her pale face remained impassive. Reaching up, he smoothed a tear from her skin.
    “Please don’t touch me,” she whispered.
    “Now, you listen to me. The old man wanted you to live; he cared for you.”
    “It doesn’t matter.”
    “It mattered to him!”
    “Does it matter to
you
?” The question caught him cold, like a blow. He absorbed it and searched himself swiftly for the right answer.
    “Yes, it does.” The lie came easily, and only when it was spoken did he realize it was not a lie.
    She looked deeply into his eyes, then nodded.
    “I will come with you,” she said. “But know this: I am a curse to all who love me. Death haunts me, for I should never have tasted life.”
    “Death haunts everyone and never fails,” he said.
    Together they walked to the south, stopping by the stone dragon. Icy rain had stung her flanks, giving her a diamond sheen. Tenaka’s breath caught in his throat as he gazed on her face; the water had run to the ruined fangs of her upper mouth, forming new teeth of sparkling ice, renewing her grandeur, restoring her power.
    He nodded as if hearing a silent message.
    “She is beautiful,” said Renya.
    “Better than that,” said Tenaka softly, “she is alive.”
    “Alive?”
    “In here,” he answered, touching his heart. “She is welcoming me home.”
    Throughout the long day they pushed on toward the south. Tenaka said little, concentrating on the snow-hidden trails and keeping a wary eye out for patrols. He had no way of knowing if the four soldiers were the full complement of hunters or whether there were several groups pursuing the girl.
    In a strange way he did not care. He forced the pace, rarely looking back to see if Renya was struggling. When he did pause to check out skylines or scan stretches of open ground, she was always just behind him.
    For her part Renya followed quietly, eyes fixed on the tall warrior, noting the sureness of his movements and the care with which he chose the route. Again and again two scenes played in her mind: the naked dance in the deserted gymnasium and the dance of death with the soldiers in the snow. One scene overlaid the other … blending, merging. The same dance. The movements were so smooth, almost liquid, as he leapt and turned. The soldiers by comparison seemed ungainly; disjointed, like Lentrian puppets with knotted string.
    And now they were dead. Did they have families? Probably. Did they love their children? Probably. They had walked into that clearing as confident men. And yet, in a matter of icy moments, they were gone.
    Why?
    Because they chose to dance with Tenaka Khan.
    She shivered. The light was failing, and long shadows crept from the trees.
    Tenaka chose a site for his fire against a jutting of rock, sheltered from the wind. It was set in a hollow surrounded by gnarled oaks, and the fire was well screened. Renya joined him, gathering dead wood and stacking it carefully. A sense of unreality gripped her.
    All the world should be like this, she thought, ice-covered and cleansed, all plants sleeping, waiting for the golden perfection of spring, all evil