David Gemmell - Legend

Bowman ceased his explanation as the tall figure of Hogun entered the doorway and the Gan threaded his way through the tables towards them. It was Caessa's first sight of the Legion general and she was impressed. He moved with grace, one hand resting on his sword hilt. His eyes were clear, his jaw strong and his features fair — handsome almost. She disliked him instantly. Her view was strengthened when he pulled up a chair, reversed it and sat facing Bowman, ignoring her totally.

"Bowman, we must talk," he said.

"Go ahead. First, let me introduce Caessa. Caessa, my dear, this is Gan Hogun of the Legion." He turned and nodded once in her direction.

"Do you mind if we talk alone?" he asked Bowman. Caessa's green eyes blazed with anger but she kept silent and stood, desperate for a parting remark that would sting the man.

"I will see you later," said Bowman, as she opened her mouth. "Get yourself some food now." As she turned on her heel and left the room, Bowman watched her, delighting in the feline grace of her walk.

"You've upset her," he said.

"Me? I didn't even speak to her," said Hogun, removing his black and silver helm and placing it on the table. "Anyway, that's immaterial. I want you to speak to your men."

"What about?"

"They spend a lot of their time loafing around and jeering at the soldiers as they train. It's not good for morale."

"Why shouldn't they? They are civilian volunteers. It will all stop when the fighting starts."

"The point is, Bowman, that the fighting may start before the Nadir arrive. I have just stopped one of my men from gutting that black-beared giant, Jorak. Much more of this and we will have murder on our hands."

"I'll talk to them," said Bowman. "Calm yourself and have a drink. What did you think of my lady archer?"

"I really didn't look too closely. She seemed pretty."

"I think it must be true what they say about the cavalry," said Bowman. "You are all in love with your horses! Great gods, man, she's more than merely pretty!"

"Talk to your men now. I will feel a lot better then. Tensions are rising pretty badly and the Nadir are only two days away."

"I said I would. Now, have a drink and relax. You're getting as edgy as your men and that can't be good for morale."

Hogun grinned suddenly. "You're right. It's always like this before a fight. Druss is like a bear with a sore head."

"I hear you lost the Open Swords to the fat one," said Bowman, grinning. "Tut, tut, old horse! This is no time to be currying favour with the hierarchy."

"I didn't let him win, he's a fine swordsman. Don't judge him too harshly, my friend; he may yet surprise you. He certainly surprised me. What did you mean when you said I upset the girl?"

Bowman smiled, then laughed loudly. He shook his head and poured another glass of wine.

"My dear Hogun, when a woman is beautiful she comes to expect a certain… how shall I say?… a certain reverence from men. You should have had the good grace to be thunderstruck by her beauty. Stunned into silence, or better still into a babbling fool. Then she would have merely ignored you and answered your devotion with arrogant disdain. Now you have slighted her and she will hate you. Worse than this, she will do all in her power to win your heart."

"I don't think that makes a great deal of sense. Why should she try to win my heart if she hates me?"

"So that she can be in a position to treat you with disdain. Do you know nothing about women?"

"I know enough," said Hogun. "I also know that I don't have time for this foolishness. Should I apologise to her, do you think?"

"And let her know you know how slighted she was? My dear boy, your education has been sadly lacking!"

Druss welcomed the arrival of the Dros Purdol riders — not so much for their numbers, more for the fact that their arrival proved that the Dros had not been forgotten by the outside world.

Yet still, Druss knew, the defenders would be badly stretched. The first battle on Eldibar, Wall One, would either raise the men — or destroy them. The Delnoch fighting edge was sharp enough, but spirit was a different thing. You could fashion the finest steel into a sword blade of passing excellence, but occasionally the move from fire to water would cause it to crack where blades of lesser metal survived. An army was like that, Druss knew. He had seen highly trained men panic and run, and farmers stand their ground, armed with picks and hoes.

Bowman and his archers practiced daily now on Kania, Wall Three, which had the longest stretch of ground between the mountains. They were superb. The 600 archers could send 3,000 arrows arcing through the air every ten heartbeats. The first charge would bring the Nadir into range for nearly two minutes before the siege ladders could reach the walls. The attacking warriors would suffer terrible losses over the open ground. It would be bloody carnage. But would it be enough?

They were about to see the greatest army ever assembled, a horde that within twenty years had built an empire stretching across a dozen lands and five-score cities. Ulric was on the verge of creating the largest empire in known history, a mighty achievement for a man not yet out of his forties.

Druss walked the Eldibar battlements, chatting to individual soldiers, joking with them, laughing with them. Their hatred of him had vanished like dawn mist during these last days. They saw him now for what he was: an iron old man, a warrior from the past, a living echo of ancient glories.

They remembered then that he had chosen to stand with them. And they knew why. This was the only place in all the world for the last of the old heroes: Druss the Legend, standing with the last hopes of the Drenai on the battlements of the greatest fortress ever built, waiting for the largest army in the world. Where else would he be?

Slowly the crowds gathered about him, as more men made their way to Eldibar. Before long Druss was threading his way through massed ranks on the battlements, while even more soldiers gathered on the open ground behind them. He climbed to the crenellated battlement wall and turned to face them. His voice-boomed out, silencing the chatter.

"Look about you!" he called, the sun glinting from the silver shoulder guards on his black leather jerkin, his white beard glistening. "Look about you now. The men you see are your comrades — your brothers. They will live with you and die for you. They will protect you and bleed for you. Never in your lives will you know such comradeship again. And if you live to be as old as I am, you will always remember this day and the days to follow. You will remember them with a clearness you would never have believed. Each day will be like crystal, shining in your minds.

"Yes, there will be blood and havoc, torture and pain, and you will remember that too. But above all will be the sweet taste of life. And there is nothing like it, my lads.

"You can believe this old man when he says it. You may think life is sweet now, but when death is a heartbeat away then life becomes unbearably desirable. And when you survive, everything you do will be enhanced and filled with greater joy: the sunlight, the breeze, a good wine, a woman's lips, a child's laughter.

"Life is nothing unless death has been faced down.

"In times to come, men will say "I wish I had been there with them." By then the cause won't matter.

"You are standing at a frozen moment in history. The world will be changed when this battle is over — either the Drenai will rise again, or a new empire will dawn.

"You are now men of history." Druss was sweating now, and strangely tired, but he knew he had to go on. He was desperate to remember Sieben's saga of the elder days and the stirring words of an elder general. But he could not. He breathed in deeply, tasting the sweet mountain air.