The King Beyond the Gate

Tenaka took time to speak with the leaders of The Thirty, for despite the many legends he knew little of their Order. According to the stories, The Thirty were semi-gods with awesome powers who chose to die in wars against evil. The last time they had appeared was at Dros Delnoch, when the albino Serbitar stood beside the Earl of Bronze and defied the hordes of Ulric, the greatest Nadir warlord of all time.

But though Tenaka questioned the leaders, he learned little.

They were courteous and polite — even distantly friendly — but their answers floated above his head like clouds beyond the grasp of common men. Decado was no different; he would merely smile and change the subject.

Tenaka was not a religious man, yet he felt ill-at-ease among these warrior priests and his mind constantly returned to the words of the Blind Seeker.

'Of Gold and Ice and Shadow. .' The man had predicted the trio would come together. And they had. He had also foreseen the danger of t" he Templars.

On the first night of their journey, Tenaka approached the elderly Abaddon and the two walked away from the fire together.

'I saw you in Skultik,' said Tenaka. 'You were being attacked by a Joining.'

'Yes. I apologise for the deceit.'

'What was the reason for it?'

'It was a test, my son. But not merely of you — of ourselves.'

'I do not understand,' said Tenaka.

'It is not necessary that you should. Do not fear us, Tenaka. We are here to help you in whatever way we can.'

'Why?'

'Because it serves the Source.'

'Can you not answer me without religious riddles? You are men — what do you gain from this war?'

'Nothing in this world.'

'You know why I came here?'

'Yes, my son. To purge your mind of guilt and grief — to drown it in Ceska's blood.'

'And now?'

'Now you are caught up in the forces beyond your control. Your grief is assuaged by your love for Renya, but the guilt remains. You did not obey the call — you left your friends to be butchered by the Joinings of Ceska. You ask yourself if it would have been different, had you come. Could you have defeated the Joinings? You torment yourself thus.'

'Could I have defeated the Joinings?'

'No, my son.'

'Can I do it now?'

'No,' said Abaddon sadly.

"Then what are we doing here? What is the point?'

'That is for you to say, for you are the real leader.'

'I am not a torchbearer, priest! I am a man. I choose my own destiny.'

'Of course you do; I did not say otherwise. But you are a man of honour. When responsibility is thrust upon you, can you run from it? No — you never have and you never will. That is what makes you as you are. That is why men follow you, though they hate your blood. They trust you.'

'I am not a lover of lost causes, priest. You may have a desire to die, but I do not. I am not a hero — I am a soldier. When the battle is lost I retreat and regroup; when the war is over I lay down my sword. No last dashing charge, no futile last stand!'

'I understand that,' said Abaddon.

'Then know this: no matter how impossible this war, I shall fight to win. Whatever I have to do, I will do. Nothing could be worse that Ceska.'

'Now you are speaking of the Nadir. You want my blessing?'

'Don't read my mind, damn you!'

'I did not read your mind, only your words. You know the Nadir hate the Drenai — you will merely exchange one bloody tyrant for another.'

'Perhaps. But I shall attempt it.'

'Then we will help you.'

'As simply as that? No pleas, no urgings, no advice?'

'I have told you that your plan with the Nadir carries too many dangers. I shall not repeat myself. But you are the leader — it is your decision.'

'I have told only Arvan. The others would not understand.'

'I shall say nothing.'

Tenaka left him then and walked out into the night. Abaddon sat down with his back against a tree. He was tired and his soul felt heavy. He wondered then if the Abbots before him had known such doubts.

Did the poet Vintar carry such a burden when he rode with The Thirty into Delnoch? One day soon, he would know.

He sensed the approach of Decado. The warrior was troubled, but his anger was fading. Abaddon closed his eyes, resting his head against the rough bark of the three.

'May we talk?' asked Decado.

'The Voice may speak to whomever he pleases,' answered Abaddon, without opening his eyes.

'May we talk as before, when I was your pupil?'

Abaddon sat up and smiled gently. 'Join me then, my pupil.'

'I am sorry for my anger and the harsh words I used.'

'Words are but noises, my son. I put you under great strain.'

'I fear I am not the leader the Source would prefer. I wish to stand down in favour of Acuas. Is that allowed?'

'Wait for a little while. Make no decision yet. Rather, tell me what changed your mind.'

Decado leaned back on his elbows, staring at the stars. His voice was low, barely above a whisper. 'It was when I challenged the Templar and I risked all your lives. It was not a worthy deed and it shamed me. But you obeyed. You put your souls in my hand. And I didn't care.'

'But you care now, Decado?'

'Yes. Very much.'

'I am glad, my boy.'

For a while they sat in silence and then Decado spoke. Tell me, Lord Abbot, how it was that the Templar fell so easily?'

'You expected to die?'

'I thought it a possibility.'

'The man you slew was one of the Six, the rulers of the Templars. His name was Padaxes. He was a vile man, a former Source priest, whose lusts overcame him.

'True, he had powers. They all have. Compared with ordinary men, they are invincible. Deadly! But you, my dear Decado, are no ordinary man. You also have powers, but they lie dormant. When you fight you release those powers and they make you a warrior beyond compare. But add to this the fact that you fought not just for yourself, but for others, and you became invincible. Evil is never truly strong, for it is born of fear. Why did he fall so easily? Because he tested your strength and saw the possibility of death. At that moment, had he possessed true courage, he would have fought back. Instead he froze — and died.

'But he will return, my son. In greater strength!'

'He is dead.'

'But the Templars are not. There are six hundred of them, and many more acolytes. The deaths of Padaxes and his group of twenty will have whip-lashed through their Order. Even now they will be mustering, preparing for the hunt. And they have seen us.

'Throughout today I have felt the presence of evil. As we speak, they hover beyond the shield Acuas and Katan have placed over our camp.'

Decado shivered. 'Can we win against them?'

'No. But then we are not here to win.'

"Then why?'

'We are here to die,' said Abaddon.

* * *

Argonis was tired and not a little hung-over. The party had been fine and the girls… oh, the girls! Trust Egon to find the right women. Argonis reined in his black gelding as the scout galloped into view. He lifted his hand, halting the column.

The scout dragged back on his reins and his mount checked its run and reared, pawing the air. The man saluted.

'Riders, sir — about forty of them, heading into Skoda. They're well-armed and they seem military. Are they ours?'

'Let us find out,' said Argonis, lifting his arm and waving on the column. It was conceivable they were a scouting party from Delnoch, but in that case they would not head into the rebels' lair — not with only forty men. Argonis glanced back, seeking reassurance, and received it as his eyes wandered over the hundred Legion riders.