David Gemmell - Legend

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.

Druss pointed at Gilad. "You! Which four groups are represented here?"

Gilad swung round checking the faces. "Karnak, Bild, and Gorbadac… er… I don't know the other one."

"Well!" bellowed the old man. "Will not one of you beggars own up? Which is the other damned group?"

"Falcon," piped a voice from the back.

"Good! Group officers step forward," said Druss. "The rest of you, take a breather." He walked a little distance from the men, beckoning the officers to follow.

"Right, before I tell you what I want, will the officer from Group Falcon make himself known?"

"I am the officer, sir. Dun Hedes," said a young man who was short but well-built.

"Then why did you not announce your group when I asked. Why was it some spotty farm boy?"

"I am partially deaf, sir, and when I am tired and the blood is pounding I can hardly hear."

"Then, Dun Hedes, consider yourself relieved of Group Falcon."

"You can't do that to me! I have always served well. You cannot disgrace me!" said the young man, his voice rising.

"Listen to me, you young fool. There is no disgrace in being deaf. And you can feel free to walk with me on the battlements if you will, when the Nadir arrive. But how well can you serve me as a leader if you can't hear my damned instructions?"