by Legend [lit]
Thirty yards to go. Gilad dropped back alongside Orrin. 'Give it everything,' he said. 'Run, you fat son of a bitch!'
Gilad increased his pace and sped by the Cul. Orrin gritted his teeth and took after him. Anger gave him strength. Fresh adrenalin flowed to tired muscles.
Ten yards to go and now he was at the man's shoulder. He could hear the encouragement screamed from the crowd. The man beside him pulled ahead with a last effort, his face twisted in agony.
Orrin drew level in the shadow of the gate and lurched ahead. He hurled himself forward, crashing to the earth and rolling into the crowd. He couldn't get up, but hands grabbed him, hauling him to his feet and pounding his back. He fought for breath . . . A voice said: 'Keep walking. It will help. Come on, move your legs.' Supported on both sides, he began to walk. Druss's voice came down from the battlements.
'That man's group, one more circuit.'
Group Fire set off, this time at a slow jog.
Gilad and Bregan helped Orrin to a jutting foundation block and sat him upon it. His legs were shaking, but his breathing was less ragged.
'I am sorry I insulted you,' said Gilad. 'I wanted to make you angry. My father always said anger helps the strength.'
'You don't have to make excuses,' said Orrin. 'I shall take no action.'
'It's not an excuse. I could do that run ten times over; so could most of my men. I just thought it would help.'
'It did. Thank you for dropping back.'
'I think you did wonderfully well,' said Bregan. 'I know how you felt. But we've been doing this for nearly two weeks. Today is only your second day.'
'Will you join us again tomorrow?' asked Gilad.
'No. I should like to, but I do have other work to do.' He smiled suddenly. 'On the other hand,' he said, 'Pinar is very good at paperwork, and I am damned tired of having complaining deputations knocking at my door every five minutes. Yes, I'll be here.'
'May I make a suggestion?' said Gilad.
'Of course.'
'Get yourself some ordinary armour. You will stand out less.'
'I'm supposed to stand out,' said Orrin, smiling. 'I am the Gan.'
High above them, Druss and Hogun shared a bottle of Lentrian Red.
'It took nerve for him to come out today after the jeering yesterday,' said Druss.
'Yes, I suppose so,' said Hogun. 'No, dammit, I'll agree with you and praise the man. But it goes against the grain. You gave him the backbone.'
'You can't give a man something that isn't there,' said Druss. 'he just never looked for it.' Druss grinned and took a long swig from the bottle, passing it to Hogun half-drained.
'I like the little man,' said Druss. 'He's game!'
*
Orrin lay back on his narrow bunk, his back cushioned by soft pillows, his hand curled around a clay cup. He tried to tell himself there was no glory in coming second from last. Happily he failed. He had never been athletic, even as a child. But he came from a family of warriors and Drenai leaders and his father had insisted he take part in all soldierly pursuits. He had always handled a sword well, which, in his father's eyes, made up for the other, mightier, shortcomings. Like not being able to stand physical pain. Or not being able to understand, even after patient explanation, the great mistake made by Nazredas at the battle of Plettii. He wondered if his father would have been pleased at his hurling himself to the floor in order to beat a Cul in a foot race. He smiled: he would think him mad.
The sound of knuckles rapping at his door brought him back to the present.
'Come!'
It was Druss, minus his black and silver jerkin. Strange how he looked like an old man, thought Orrin, without his legendary garb. The warrior's beard was combed and he wore a flowing white shirt-tunic with billowing sleeves gathered in at the wrists. About his middle was a thick black belt with silver buckle. He was carrying a large bottle of Lentrian Red.
'I thought, if you were awake, I might join you for a drink,' said Druss, pulling up a chair and reversing it, as Orrin had seen Hogun do on many occasions.
'Why do you do that?' asked Orrin.
'What?' said Druss.
Turn the chair round.'
'Old habits die hard - even among friends. It's a warrior's habit. With your legs astride the chair, it is easier to rise. Also it puts a thick layer of wood between your belly and the man you are talking to or sitting with.'
'I see,' said Orrin. 'I had always meant to ask Hogun, but I never got round to it. What makes men adopt habits like that?'
'The sight of a friend with a knife in his belly!' said Druss.
'I can see that it would. Will you teach me your tricks, Druss, before the Nadir arrive?'
'No. You will have to learn them the hard way. Little things I will help you with at the right time -they may make a difference.'
'Little things? You intrigue me, Druss. Tell me something now.' Orrin accepted a cup of Lentrian and settled back. Druss drank from the bottle.
'All right,' said the axeman, half the bottle drained, 'answer me this, why are the men issued with oranges every morning?'
'It keeps them fit and helps prevent dysentery. It's refreshing and cheap. Is that it?' asked Orrin puzzled.
'Some of it,' said Druss. 'The Earl of Bronze introduced oranges to the army, partly for the reasons you mention, but mainly because if you rub the juice into the palm of your hand your sword will not slip as the hand sweats. Also, if you rub it on your brow, sweat will not drop into your eyes.'
'I never knew that. I expect I should have done, but I didn't. How simple! Give me another.'
'No,' said Druss, 'another time. Tell me, why have you joined in the training with the Culs?'
Orrin sat up, his dark eyes fixed on Druss's face. 'You don't think it's a good idea?'
'It depends on what you are trying to achieve. Are you seeking respect?'
'Great Gods no!' said Orrin. 'I have left it too late for that, Druss. No, it was something you said the other night when the men were turfed out of bed for that night run. I asked you if it was wise and you said, "They need to know their limitations." Well, so do I. I've never been in a battle. I want to know what it's like to be woken from sleep after a full day's training and to be expected to fight again.
'I've let down a lot of people here. I may let them down again when tbe Nadir are scaling the wall, though I hope not. But I need to be fitter and faster. And I shall be.
'Is that such a bad idea?'
Druss tilted the bottle, licked his lips and smiled.
'No. It's a good idea. But when you are a little fitter, spread yourself around the groups more. It will pay off.'
'Pay off?'
'You'll see.'
'Have you seen the Earl?' asked Orrin suddenly. 'Syn says he's bad. Very bad indeed.'
'I don't think I have seen worse. He's constantly delirious now - how he hangs on I don't know.'
The two men talked on for over an hour, Orrin questioning the old man about his life and the many battles he had taken part in, returning always to the immortal story of Skeln and the fall of King Gorben.
When the Keep alarm bell sounded, both men reacted instantly. Druss cursed, threw the bottle aside and raced for the door. Orrin heaved himself from his bunk and followed. Across the parade ground square and up the short hill to the Keep Druss ran, pounding under the portcullis gate and up the long winding stone stairs to the Earl's bedchamber. Calvar Syn was at his bedside, with Dun Mendar, Pinar and Hogun. An old servant stood weeping by the window.
'Is he dead?' asked Druss.
'No. Soon,' answered Calvar Syn.
Druss moved to the bedside, sitting beside the frail figure. The Earl's eyes opened and blinked twice.
'Druss?' he called, his voice weak. 'Are you there?'
'I am here.'
'He's coming. I see him. He is hooded and black.'
'Spit in his eye for me,' said Druss, his huge hand stroking the Earl's fevered brow,
'I thought . . .
after Skeln . . . I would live for ever.'
'Be at peace, my friend. One thing I have learned about Death is that his bark's worse than his bite.'
'I can see them, Druss. The Immortals. They're sending in the Immortals!' The dying man grabbed Druss's arm, and tried to haul himself upright. 'Here they come! Gods, will you look at them, Druss!'
'They're just men. We will see them off.'
'Sit by the fire, child, and I'll tell you of it. But don't tell your mother I told you - You know how she hates the bloodthirsty tales. Ah, Virae, my little love! You will never understand what it has meant to me just being your father . . .' Druss bowed his head as the old Earl rambled on, his voice thin and wavering. Hogun gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, Calvar Syn sat slumped in an armchair and Orrin stood by the door, remembering his own father's death so many years before.
'We were at the pass for many days, holding out against everything they could throw at us. Tribesmen, chariots, infantry, cavalry. But always the threat of the Immortals hung over us. Never beaten! Old Druss stood at the centre of our first line, and as the Immortals marched towards us we froze. You could feel panic in the air. I wanted to run and I could see the same feeling reflected on the faces around me. Then old Druss lifted his axe in the air and bellowed at the advancing line. It was wonderful. Magical almost. The spell broke. The fear passed. He raised his axe for them to see, then he shouted. I can hear him now: "Come on, you fat bellied whore-sons! I am Druss, and this is Death!"
'Virae? Virae? I waited for you . . . just one more time. See you. So much . . . So much wanted . . .' The frail body trembled, then lay still. Druss closed the dead man's eyes and wiped a hand across his own.
'He should never have sent her away,' said Calvar Syn. 'He loved that girl, she was all he lived for.'
'Maybe that's why he sent her,' said Hogun.
Druss pulled the silk sheet up and over the Earl's face, and walked to the window. Now he was alone -the last survivor of Skeln. He leaned on the window sill and sucked in the night air.
Outside the moon bathed the Dros hi eldritch light, grey and ghostly, and the old man gazed towards the north. Overhead a fluttering pigeon flew in and circled a loft beneath the Keep. It had come out of the north.
He turned from the window.
'Bury him quietly tomorrow,' he said. 'We will not interrupt training for a full funeral.'
'But Druss, this is Earl Delnar!' said Hogun, eyes blazing.
'That,' said Druss, pointing at the bed, 'is a cancer-ridden corpse. It isn't anyone. Just do as I say.'
'You cold-hearted bastard,' said Dun Mendar.
Druss turned his icy gaze on the officer.
'And just you remember that, laddie, the day you - or any of you - go against me.'
12
Rek leaned on the starboard rail with one arm about Virae's shoulders and stared at the sea. Strange, he thought, how night changed the mood of the ocean. A vast, semi-solid mirror reflecting the stars, while the moon's twin floated, fragmented and ethereal, a mile or so away. Always a mile or so away. A gentle breeze billowed the triangular sail as the Wastrel cut a white path through the waves, gently dipping and rising with the swell. Aft stood the mate at the spoked wheel, his silver eye-patch glinting in the moonlight. Forward a young seaman cast his lead into the waves, calling out the changes in depth as they passed over the hidden reef.
All was tranquillity, peace, and harmony. The steady lapping of the waves added to the feeling of isolation that enveloped Rek as he stared out to sea. With stars above and below them they could be floating on the tides of the galaxy, far from the all too human struggle that awaited them.
This is contentment, thought Rek.
'What are you thinking?' asked Virae, slipping an arm round his waist.
'I love you,' he said. A dolphin surfaced below them, calling out a musical welcome before again seeking the depths. Rek watched his lithe form swimming among the stars.
'I know you love me,' said Virae, 'but I was asking you what you were thinking?'
'That's what I was thinking. I am content. At peace.'
'Of course you are. We're on a ship and it's a lovely night.'
'Woman, you have no soul,' he said, kissing her brow.
She looked up at him and smiled. 'If you think that - you are a fool! I'm just not as practised as you at telling pretty lies.'
'Hard words, my lady. Would I lie to you? You would cut my throat.'
'I would too. How many women have heard you say you love them?'
'Hundreds,' said Rek, watching her eyes and seeing the smile fade from them.
'So why should I believe you?'
'Because you do.'
'That's no answer.'
'Of course it is. You're not some dimwitted milkmaid fooled by an easy smile. You know the truth when you hear it. Why do you suddenly doubt it?'
'I don't doubt you, you oaf! I just wanted to know how many women you've loved.'
'Slept with, you mean?'
'If you want to be coarse.'
'I don't know,' he lied. 'It's not my habit to keep count. And if your next question is, "How do I compare?", you will find yourself alone, because I shall go below.'
It was. But he did not.
The mate by the tiller watched them, listened to their easy laughter and smiled with them, although he could not hear the cause of their good humour. At home he had a wife and seven children, and it made him feel good to watch, the young man and his woman. He waved as they went below deck, but they did not see him.
'Nice to be young and in love,' said the captain, moving silently from the shadows by his cabin door to stand beside the mate.
'Nice to be old and in love,' answered the mate, grinning.
'A calm night, but the breeze is picking up. I don't like the look of the clouds to the west.'
'They will pass us by,' said the mate. 'But we'll have bad weather, for sure. It will be behind us, pushing us on. We may pick up a couple of days. Did you know they are headed for Delnoch?'
'Yes,' said the captain, scratching his red beard and checking their course by the stars.
'Sad,' said the mate, with real feeling. 'They say Ulric has promised to raze it to the ground. You heard what he did at Gulgothir? Killed every second defender and a third of the women and children. Just lined them up and had his warriors cut them down.'
'I heard. It's not my business. We've traded with the Nadir for years; they're all right as people -much the same as anyone else.'
'I agree. I had a Nadir woman once. A real hellion - ran off with a tinker. Later I heard she cut his throat and stole his wagon.'
'Most likely she only wanted the horse,' said the captain. 'She could buy herself a real Nadir man for a good horse.' Both men chuckled, then stood in silence for a while enjoying the night air.
'Why are they going to Delnoch?' asked the mate.
'She's the Earl's daughter. I don't know about him. If she was my daughter I would have made sure she didn't come back. I'd have sent her to the farthest southern point of the empire.'
'The Nadir will reach there - and beyond - before long. It's only a matter of time.'
'Well, a lot can happen in that time. The Drenai are sure to surrender long before then. Look! That damned albino and his friend. They make my flesh creep.'
The mate glanced along the deck to where Serbitar and Vintar stood at the port rail.
'I know what you mean - they never say anything. I'll be glad to see the back of them,' said the mate, making the sign of the Claw above his heart.
'That won't ward off their kind of demons,' said the captain.
Serbitar smiled as Vintar pulsed: 'We are less than popular, my boy.'
'Yes. Always it is thus. It is hard to hold back contempt.'
'But you must.'
'I said hard, not impossible.'
'Word play. Even to notice that it is hard is an admission of defeat,' said Vintar.
'Always the scholar, Father Abbot.'
'As long as the world has pupils, master priest.'
Serbitar grinned, a rare sight. A gull wheeled and circled above, the ship; the albino casually mind-touched it as it arced above the mast.
Within its mind was nothing of joy or sorrow or hope. Only hunger and need. And frustration, that the ship offered no sustenance.
A feeling of fierce exultation suddenly swept over the young priest in a mind pulse of incredible power, a sense of ecstasy and fulfilment flooding his body. He gripped the rail hard and reached back along the path, shutting off his probe as it neared the door of Rek's cabin.
'Their emotions are very strong,', pulsed Vintar.
'It is unseemly to dwell on it,' replied Serbitar primly, a blush apparent even in the moonlight.
'Not so, Serbitar, my friend. This world has few redeeming features, and one is the capacity for the people upon it to love one another with great and enduring passion. I rejoice in their love-making. It is a beautiful thing for them.'
'You are a voyeur, Father Abbot,' said Serbitar, smiling now. Vintar laughed aloud.
'It is true. They have such energy, the young.'
Suddenly Arbedark's slim, serious face appeared in both men's minds, his features set hard.
'I am sorry,' he pulsed. 'There is grave news from Dros Delnoch.'
'Speak,' said Serbitar.
'The Earl is dead. And there are traitors within the Dros. Ulric has ordered Druss killed.'
*
'Form a circle round me,' shouted Druss, as the exhausted men staggered from the wall. 'Now sit down before you fall down.'
His blue eyes scanned the circle, then he snorted with contempt. 'You dregs! Call yourselves soldiers? Finished after a few runs. How the hell do you think you're going to feel after three days' fighting, day and night, against a Nadir force that outnumbers you fifty to one? Eh?'
No one answered him. The question was all too obviously rhetorical. Indeed most of the men were delighted to be berated thus - it meant a further respite from the interminable training.