The King Beyond the Gate

'Are you far from your people?' asked the Notas leader, a burly warrior with a scarred face.

'I am never far from my people,' Tenaka answered him, accepting a bowl of raisins and some dried fruit.

'Your man is a Spear,' said the leader.

'We were pursued by Pack-rats,' answered Tenaka. 'We slew them and took their ponies. It is a sad thing for Nadir to kill Nadir.'

'But it is the way of the world,' commented the leader.

'Not in Ulric's day.'

'Ulric is long dead.'

'Some say he will rise again,' observed Tenaka.

'Men will always say that about kings of greatness. Ulric is forgotten meat and dusty bones.'

'Who leads the Wolves?' asked Tenaka.

'Are you Wolfshead then?'

'I am what I am. Who leads the Wolves?'

'You are Bladedancer.'

'Indeed I am.'

'Why have you come back to the Steppes?'

'Why does the salmon swim upstream?'

'To die,' said the leader, smiling for the first time.

'All things die,' observed Tenaka. 'Once the desert in which we sit was an ocean. Even the ocean died when the world fell. Who leads the Wolves?'

'Saddleskull is the Khan. So he says. But Knifespeaks has an army of eight thousand. The tribe has split.'

'So, now it is not only Nadir who kills Nadir, but Wolf who rends Wolf?'

'The way of the world,' said the leader once more.

'Which is the nearest?'

'Saddleskull. Two days north-east.'

'I will rest here with you tonight. Tomorrow I will go to him.'

'He will kill you, Bladedancer!'

'I am a hard man to kill. Tell that to your young men.'

'I hear you.' The leader rose to leave the tent but stopped at the flap. 'Have you come home to rule?'

'I have come home.'

'I am tired of being Notas,' said the man.

'My journey is perilous,' Tenaka told him. 'As you say, Saddleskull would desire my death. You have few men.'

'In the coming war we will be destroyed by one or other faction,' said the man. 'But you — you have the look of eagles about you. I will follow you, if you desire it.'

A sense of calm settled over Tenaka. An inner peace seemed to pulse from the very earth at his feet, from the distant blue mountains, to whisper in the long grass of the Steppes. He closed his eyes and opened his ears to the music of silence. Every nerve in his body seemed on edge as the land cried out to him.

Home!

After forty years Tenaka Khan had learned the meaning of the word.

His eyes opened. The leader stood very still, watching him; he had seen men in a state of trance many times, and always it brought a sense of awe, and a feeling of sadness that he could never experience this himself.

Tenaka smiled. 'Follow me,' he told the man, 'and I will give you the world.'

'Are we to be wolves?'

'No. We are the Nadir Rising. We are the Dragon.'

* * *

At dawn the forty men of the Notas, less the three outriding sentries, sat in two lines outside Tenaka's tent. Behind them were the children: eighteen boys and three girls. Lastly sat the women, fifty-two of them.

Subodai stood apart from the group, baffled by this new turn of events. There was no point to it. Who would wish to start a new tribe at the dawn of a civil war? And what could Tenaka possibly gain from this shoddy band of goat-breeders? It was all beyond the Spear warrior; he wandered into an empty tent and helped himself to some soft cheese and a loaf of gritty black bread.

What did it matter?

When the sun was high he would ask Tenaka to release him from his bond, take his six ponies and ride home. Four ponies would buy him a fine wife and he would relax for a while in the western hills. He scratched his chin, wondering what would happen to Tenaka Khan.

Subodai felt strangely uncomfortable at the thought of riding away. Few were the moments of original interest in the harsh world of the Steppes. Fight, love, breed, eat. There was a limit to the amount of excitement these four activities could generate! Subodai was thirty-four years old and he had left the Spears for a reason none of his peers could understand:

He was bored!

He moved out into the sunlight. Goats were milling at the edge of the camp-site near the pony picket line, and high above a sparrowhawk circled and dived.

Tenaka Khan stepped out into the sunlight and stood before the Notas — arms folded across his chest, face impassive.

The leader walked towards him, dropped to his knees, bent low and kissed Tenaka's feet. One by one every member of the Notas followed him.

Renya watched the scene from within the tent. The whole ceremony disturbed her, as did the subtle change she sensed in her lover.

The previous night, as they lay together under fur rugs, Tenaka had made love to her.lt was then that the first tiny sparks of fear had flashed in her subconscious. The passion remained, the thrill of the touch and the breathless excitement. But Renya sensed a newness in Tenaka which she could not read. Somewhere inside him one gate had opened and another closed. Love had been locked away. But what had replaced it?

Now she gazed at the man she loved as the ceremony continued. She could not see his face, but she could see the faces of his new followers: they shone.

When the last of the women backed away, Tenaka Khan turned without a word and re-entered the tent. Then the sparks within Renya became a fire, for his face reflected what he had become. He was no longer the warrior of two worlds. His Drenai blood had been sucked from him by the Steppes and what was left was pure Nadir.

Renya looked away.

By midday the tribesmen had seen their women dismantle the tents and pack them on wagons. The goats were rounded up and the new tribe headed north-east. Subodai had not requested to be free of his bond and he rode beside Tenaka and the Notas leader, Gitasi.

That night they camped on the southern slopes of a range of wooded hills. Towards midnight as Gitasi and Tenaka talked by a camp-fire, the pounding of hooves sent tribesmen rolling from their blankets to grab at swords and bows. Tenaka remained where he was, seated cross-legged by the fire. He whispered something to Gitasi and the scarred leader ran to his men, calming them. The hoofbeats grew louder and more than a hundred warriors rode into the camp, bearing down on the fire. Tenaka ignored them, calmly chewing on a strip of dried meat.

The horsemen dragged on their reins. 'You are in the land of the Wolfshead,' said the lead warrior, sliding from the saddle. He wore a helm of bronze, rimmed with fur, and a lacquered black breastplate edged with gold.

Tenaka Khan looked up at him. The man was close to fifty years old and his massive arms were criss-crossed with scars. Tenaka gestured to a place by the fire.

'Welcome to my camp,' he said softly. 'Sit and eat.'

'I do not eat with Notas,' said the man. 'You are on Wolfshead land.'

'Sit down and eat,' said Tenaka, 'or I shall kill you where you stand.'

'Are you a madman?' asked the warrior, taking a firmer grip on the sword in his hand. Tenaka Khan ignored him and, furious, the man swung the sword. But Tenaka's leg shot out, hooking his feet from under him, and he fell with a crash as Tenaka rolled to his right with his knife flashing in his hand. The point rested gently on the warrior's throat.

An angry roar went up from the riders.