Read Drenai Series 08 - Winter Warriors for Free Online Page B

giants and Kebra shivered and drew his pale blue cloak closer about his slender frame. 'My eyes are fading. I could not win.'
    'No, but you could have taken part.' The words hung in the cold air. A team of thirty workers moved to the king's pavilion and began to raise wind-shields of stiffened crimson silk around it. Kebra had seen the pavilion constructed on many occasions, and recalled, with a stab of regret, the last time he had stood before it, receiving the Silver Arrow from the hand of the king himself. Skanda had given his boyish grin. 'Does winning ever get boring, old lad?' he had asked.
    'No, sire,' he had answered. Turning to the crowd he had raised the Silver Arrow, and the cheers had thundered out. Kebra shivered again. He looked up into the black man's pale, unreadable eyes. 'I would be humiliated. Is that what you want to see?'
    Nogusta shook his head. 'You would not be humiliated, my friend. You would merely lose.'
    Kebra gave a tired smile. 'If I had entered most of the Drenai soldiers would have bet on me. They would lose their money.'
    'That would be a good reason to decline,' agreed Nogusta. 'If it were truly the reason.'
    'What is it you want from me?' stormed Kebra. 'You think there is a question of honour at stake here?'
    'No, not honour. Pride. False pride, at that. Without losers, Kebra, there would be no competitions at all. There will be more than a hundred archers taking part in the tourney. Only one will win. Of the ninety-nine losers more than half will know they cannot win before they draw the first shaft. Yet still they will try. You say your eyes are fading. I know that is true. But it is distance that troubles you. Two of the three events require speed, skill and talent. Only the third is shot over distance. You would still be in the top ten.'
    Kebra stalked away from the fence. Nogusta followed him. 'When the day comes that you don't wish to hear the truth from me,' he said, 'you merely have to say.'
    The bowman paused and sighed. 'What is the truth here, Nogusta?'
    The black man leaned in close. 'You demean the championship by refusing to take part. The new champion will feel he has not earned the title. In part, I fear, this is why you have declined.'
    'And what if it is? He will still earn a hundred gold pieces. He will still be honoured by the king, and carried shoulder high around the Park.'
    'But he will not have beaten the legendary Kebra. I seem to recall your delight fifteen years ago when you took the Silver Arrow from the hands of Menion. He was as old as you are now when he stood against you in the final. And you beat him finally only when it came to the distant targets. Could it be that his eyes were fading?'
    Bison strolled over to where they stood. 'Going to be a great day,' he said, wiping crumbs from his white moustache. 'The Ventrian sorcerer, Kalizkan, has promised a display no-one will ever forget. I hope he conjures a dragon. I've always wanted to see a dragon.' The bald giant looked from one man to the other. 'What is it? What am I missing here?'
    'Nothing,' said Nogusta. 'We were just involved in a philosophical debate.'
    'I hate those,' said Bison. 'I never understand a word. Glad I missed it. By the way I've entered the wrestling. I hope you two will be cheering for me.'
    Nogusta chuckled. Ts that big tribesman taking part this year?'
    'Of course.'
    'He must have thrown you ten feet last year. It was only luck that you landed head first, and thereby avoided injury.'
    Bison scowled. 'He caught me by surprise. I'll take him this year - if we're matched.'
    'How many times have you entered this competition?' asked Kebra.
    'I don't know. Almost every year. Thirty times, maybe.'
    'You think you'll win this time?'
    'Of course I'll win. I've never been stronger.'
    Nogusta laid his hand on Bison's massive shoulder. 'It doesn't concern you that you've said the same thing for more than thirty years? And yet you've never even reached the quarter-finals.'
    'Why should it?'