Then Nakor heard horses on the trail. He stood as Bek crested the rise and started down the track. Nakor hurried to the top of the rise so he could see the vista below.
A hundred yards down the trail he saw two riders approaching Bek. Both reined in and stood their ground when the armed man approached them on foot. As one of them began to speak, Bek leapt an amazing distance, covering the ground between himself and the first rider. Before either horseman could react, Bek swung as hard as he could, and removed the first man’s arm at his shoulder.
The other man was momentarily stunned, and then started to turn his horse to flee. Bek reached back and hurled his sword, launching it like a javelin, and the blade speared the man through the back. He fell from his horse and hit the ground before Nakor could take two steps.
By the time Nakor reached the scene of the carnage, Bek had retrieved his sword and was cleaning the blade on the tunic of one of the two men. ‘What happened?’ asked Nakor.
‘You wanted to keep this place a secret.’ Bek reached down and took a hat from one of the dead men: a broad-brimmed, black felt thing with a low crown wrapped with a leather hatband and decorated with glass beadwork. ‘I like this hat,’ he said, putting on his head to see if it fitted. He adjusted it, and said, ‘Nice hat.’
‘But—’
Bek shrugged. ‘Got any more to eat?’
Nakor watched as Ralan Bek calmly marched over the rise. He followed him and found the young man sitting exactly where he had been moments before, and eating what was left on the oiled paper. ‘Got one of those oranges left?’
Nakor reached in and got one and tossed it to him. ‘Why did you kill those men? Why not just send them away?’
‘Because they would only assume that there was something here and inevitably come back, and maybe bring more men with them. I thought I’d save a lot of needless talking and took care of the problem swiftly. It was either kill two men now, or many more later.’ His eyes narrowed as he asked, ‘Is there something wrong with that?’
Nakor shook his head. ‘It’s murder.’
Bek shrugged. ‘If they could have killed me, they would have.’
Nakor’s voice rose, ‘In self defence! I’ve seen you fight. You tested Tomas, and the only mortal man who could come close to doing that was Talwin Hawkins, and he was a Champion of the Masters’ Court! They never stood a chance!’
‘Never heard of him.’
‘You wouldn’t have, down here.’ Nakor studied Bek while the young man finished his food. Bek leaned back, looked at Nakor and said, ‘Now what are we going to do?’
Nakor said, ‘We wait.’
‘Wait for what?’
‘For another to come and study those things, so that I can go about some other business.’
‘Perhaps I may go with you?’ said Bek, flashing a grin.
‘Perhaps you should,’ said Nakor. ‘You have an impulsive nature and a complete lack of concern for any consequences.’
‘Why should I worry about consequences?’ asked Bek. ‘Someday I’ll die; but before that I want to have things, and anyone who stands in my way will suffer for it.’ He smiled. ‘And I enjoy making them suffer if it comes to that. If someone is strong enough to kill me, then it will be over.’
‘You don’t worry about what will happen when you arise in Lims-Kragma’s Hall, to face your judgment?’
Bek shrugged. ‘Why should I? I am as the gods made me, aren’t I? If one of them has a problem with my behaviour, then let them act. I can’t stand against a god, so if I’m wrong why hasn’t one of them … turned me into a bug yet?’ he asked with a laugh. ‘Because, I don’t think the gods care what I do. I don’t think the gods care what anyone does.’ He nodded, as if he had given this a lot of thought. ‘I guess you could get into trouble if you sacked a temple, or killed a priest for no reason, but if you leave the gods alone, then they leave you alone. That’s how I see it.’
Nakor said, ‘What about friends? Family?’
Bek looked at Nakor. ‘Do you have friends and family?’
Nakor said, ‘Family, no. I had a wife once, but that was a very long time ago. But friends? Yes, I have many friends, the most and best I’ve ever had, right now. People whom I trust and who trust me.’
‘Then you’re lucky, I suppose.’ Bek looked off into the distance as if he was seeing something in the air.
‘Sometimes I think that there’s something about me that scares people. I never find I have much in common with most of them.’ He looked at Nakor. ‘Mostly I find young bravos to ride with, looking for a good time, trouble or quick gold. From time to time I meet a few I like; usually lads who really enjoy a brawl. There was this one lad, Casamir, he liked to drink and fight. It didn’t matter if there was no reason for it; he just would find somebody, hit them and start one. He really enjoyed pain.’ Bek’s eyes shone as he talked. ‘I enjoyed watching him beat up people, until a guardsman down in Kiptak broke his head with the butt of a sword. I finished off the guardsman but had to flee Kiptak. So now I travel with whoever I find who’s looking for fun, but there’s nobody I’d call a true friend.’
Nakor was silent as he considered what he knew about this young man, which was very little, and what he suspected, which was a great deal. Finally he said, ‘When did you start hearing voices?’
Bek stared at Nakor for a long minute then said, ‘When I was about eight or nine years old. How do you know about the voices?’
‘Because I heard them when I was that age, too.’
‘What did they say to you?’ asked Bek, looking eagerly at Nakor as he waited for an answer.
‘That I … needed to be somewhere else.’
Bek’s face lit up as he smiled. ‘That’s what I hear, too.’ Then he lost the smile. ‘That and other things.’
‘What other things?’ asked Nakor.
‘I don’t know.’ Bek shrugged and looked down. ‘Sometimes they’re not really voices, but … feelings that I need to do something. Hurt someone. Take something. Go somewhere.’ He looked back at the cave. ‘That’s how I felt when I heard about this cave. Some of the boys with me didn’t want to bother, but I knew I had to come here.’
Nakor nodded. ‘When did the dreams start?’
Bek closed his eyes, as if something suddenly pained him. ‘I don’t remember not having them.’ He opened his eyes and again stared into space. ‘They’re—’
After a moment of silence, Nakor said gently, ‘They’re what?’
Bek looked at Nakor. ‘It’s like I’m looking through a window or standing on a tower looking down. I see things … places … people doing things.’ He looked away again. ‘Violent things, Nakor. I see battles, rapes, burning cities … Sometimes it can be too much for me. It’s like when you meet a girl who likes to be slapped when you’re coupling, and so you slap her. And then you reach the point where she wants you to stop … and you’re there, with your hand held back and you know that she’s not enjoying it any more, but you also know that hitting her just one more time will feel so good. She gets frightened and starts crying, but that only makes you feel even better. But if you hit her now, she’ll stop being afraid because she’ll be unconscious—’
‘Or dead,’ said Nakor softly.
Bek shrugged. ‘Or dead. It’s that place in the middle, it’s being on the edge of it, knowing that in an instant everything could change. It’s like jumping your horse over something that may just be a little too high, or the feeling of running through a door, knowing that just inside the room someone’s waiting