Quest for Lost Heroes by David Gemmell

down near the other prisoners.
    'There is a lesson to be learnt here,' said a man with a scarred face. '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.'
    Ravenna would remember . . .
    The time to escape would not be while the Nadren held them. No, it was necessary to be more cunning. She would wait until she was bought by some lecherous Nadir. She would be pliant and helpful, loving and grateful . . . and when he had grown confident of her emotions - then she would run.
    'Where are you from?' whispered the woman beside her. Ravenna told her.
    'I visited your village once. For the Summer Solstice Fair.' Ravenna looked at the bony figure, scanning the lean, angular face and the shining black hair. She could not remember her.
    'Are you wed?' she asked.
    'Yes,' said the woman, shrugging. 'But that does not matter any more.'
    'No,' Ravenna agreed.
    'And you?'
    'I was due to marry. Eighteen - no, seventeen - days from now.'
    'Are you a virgin?' asked the woman, her voice dropping lower.
    'No.'
    'You are from now on. They will ask. Virgins fetch higher prices. And it will mean these . . . pigs . . . will not touch you. You understand?'
    'Yes. But surely the man who buys me. . . .'
    'What do they know? Men! Find yourself a sharp pin, and on the first night cut yourself.'
    Ravenna nodded. 'Thank you. I will remember that.'
    They lapsed into silence as the wagons moved on. The raiders rode warily and Ravenna could not stop herself scanning the horizon.
    'Do not expect help,' the woman told her.
    'One should always hope.'
    The woman smiled. 'Then hope for a handsome savage with kindly ways.'
     
    *
     
    The mountains towered before them like a fighting line of white-bearded giants and an icy wind drifted over the peaks into the faces of the riders. As Chareos pulled his fur-lined cloak about him and belted it, he glanced at the villager. Kiall's face was grey and he swayed in the saddle, but offered no complaint. Chareos gazed back towards the city. It was far behind them now, and only the tallest turrets could be seen beyond the hills. 'How are you faring?' he asked Kiall. The villager gave a weak smile. The lirium was wearing off and pain was eating into his back like hot coals. The old swayback gelding was a serene beast and normally the ride would have been comfortable, but now every movement pulled at Kiall's tortured flesh. 'We will stop in a while,' said Chareos, 'once we are in the trees. There are lakes there, with crystal-clear water. We will rest and I will see to your injuries.' Kiall nodded and gripped the pommel of his saddle. He felt sick, and sweat had formed a sheen on his face. Cursing inwardly, Chareos moved alongside the swayback. Suddenly the white stallion arched its neck and flashed a bite at the older animal. Chareos dragged on the reins and the gelding reared. Kiall all but toppled from the saddle. The stallion bucked and dipped its head, but Chareos clung on grimly, his thighs locked tight to the barrel of the animal's body. For several seconds the horse tried to unseat him, then settled down as if nothing had happened and stood calmly. Chareos stepped down from the saddle, stroking the stallion's long neck. Moving to stand before the horse's head, he rubbed at its nose, then blew a long slow breath into each of its nostrils. 'Know me,' whispered Chareos, over and over again. 'I will not harm you. I am not your master. I am a friend.'
    At last he remounted and continued the journey south. Chareos had never travelled these hills, but travellers spoke of a settlement built around a tavern. He hoped the village was close - and that they had a healer. Kiall's fever was climbing, and for all Chareos knew the wounds could be festering. As a soldier, he had seen many men die from what appeared to be small wounds. The skin would swell and discolour; fever would deepen and flesh melt away.