David Gemmell - Legend

"There is another point," said Rek, "and one equally important. Sooner or later we will be pushed back from the wall, and despite the fire gullies our losses will be enormous. If we retire during the night, we will save lives."

"And let us not forget morale," Hogun pointed out. "The loss of the wall will hit the Dros badly. If we give it up as a strategic withdrawal, however, we will turn the situation to our advantage."

"What of you, Orrin? How do you feel about this?" asked Rek.

"We have about five hours. Let's get it started," answered the Gan.

Rek turned lastly to Druss. "And you?"

The old man shrugged. "Sounds good," he said.

"It's settled then," said Rek. "I leave you to begin the withdrawal. Now I must meet the Council."

Throughout the long night the silent retreat continued. Wounded men were carried on stretchers, medical supplies loaded on to hand-carts and personal belongings packed hastily into kitbags. The more seriously injured had long since been removed to the Musif field hospital, and Eldibar barracks had been little used since the siege began.

By dawn's first ghostly light the last of the men entered the postern gates at Musif and climbed the long winding stairways to the battlements. Then began the work of rolling boulders and rubble on to the stairs to block the entrances. Men heaved and toiled as the light grew stronger. Finally, sacks of mortar powder were poured onto the rubble and then packed solid into the gaps. Other men with buckets of water doused the mixtures.

"Given a day," said Marie the Builder, "that mass will be almost immovable."

"Nothing is immovable," said his companion. "But it will take them weeks to make it passable, and even then the stairways were designed to be defensible."

"One way or the other, I shall not see it," said Marie. "I leave today."

"You are early, surely?" said his friend. "Marrissa and I also plan to leave. But not until the fourth wall falls."

"First wall, fourth wall, what is the difference? All the more time to put distance between myself and this war. Ventria has need of builders. And their army is strong enough to hold the Nadir for years."

"Perhaps. But I will wait."

"Don't wait too long, my friend," said Marie.

Back at the Keep, Rek lay staring at the ornate ceiling. The bed was comfortable and Virae's naked form nestled into him, her head resting on his shoulder. The meeting had finished two hours since and he could not sleep. His mind was alive with plans, counter-plans and all the myriad problems of a city under siege. The debate had been acrimonious, and pinning down any of those politicians was like threading a needle under water. The consensus opinion was that Delnoch should surrender.

Only the red-faced Lentrian, Malphar, had backed Rek. That oily serpent, Shinell, had offered to lead a "delegation to Ulric personally. And what of Beric, who felt himself tricked by fate in that his bloodline had been rulers of Delnoch for centuries, yet he had lost out by being a second son? Bitterness was deep within him. The lawyer, Backda, had said little, but his words were acid when they came.

"You seek to stop the sea with a leaking bucket."

Rek had struggled to hold his temper. He had not seen any of them standing on the battlements with sword in hand. Nor would they. Horeb had a saying that matched these men:

"In any broth, the scum always rises to the top."

He had thanked them for their counsel and agreed to meet in five days' time to answer their proposals.

Virae stirred beside him. Her arm moved the coverlet, exposing a rounded breast. Rek smiled, and for the first time in days thought about something other than war.

Bowman and a thousand archers stood on the ramparts of Eldibar watching the Nadir mass for the charge. Arrows were loosely notched to the string, hats tilted at a jaunty angle to keep the right eye in shadow against the rising sun.

The horde screamed their hatred and surged forward.

Bowman waited. He licked his dry lips.

"Now!" he yelled, smoothly drawing back the string to touch his right cheek. The arrow leapt free with a thousand others, to be lost within the surging mass below. Again and again they fired until their quivers were empty. Finally Caessa leapt to the battlements and fired her last arrow straight down at a man pushing a ladder against the wall. The shaft entered at the top of the shoulder and sheared through his leather jerkin, lancing through his lung and lodging in his belly. He dropped without a sound.

Grappling-irons clattered to the ramparts.

"Back!" yelled Bowman, and began to run across the open ground, across the fire-gully bridges and the trench of oil-soaked brush. Ropes were lowered and the archers swiftly scaled them. Back at Eldibar the first of the Nadir had gained the wall. For long moments they milled in confusion before they spotted the archers clambering to safety. Within minutes the tribesmen had gathered several thousand strong. They hauled their ladders over Eldibar and advanced on Musif. Then arrows of fire arced over the open ground to vanish within the oil-soaked brush. Instantly thick smoke welled from the gully, closely followed by roaring flames twice the height of a man.

The Nadir fell back. The Drenai cheered.

The brush blazed for over an hour, and the four thousand warriors manning Musif were stood down. Some lay in groups on the grass; others wandered to the three mess halls for a second breakfast. Many sat in the shade of the rampart towers.

Druss strolled among the men, swopping jests here and there; accepting a chunk of black bread from one man, an orange from another. He saw Rek and Virae sitting alone near the eastern cliff and wandered across to join them.

"So far, so good!" he said, easing his huge frame to the grass. "They're not sure what to do now. Their orders were to take the wall, and they've accomplished that."

"What next, do you think?" asked Rek.

"The old boy himself," answered Druss. "He will come. And he'll want to talk."

"Should I go down?" asked Rek.

"Better if I do. The Nadir know me. 'Death-walker.' I'm part of their legends. They think I'm an ancient god of death stalking the world."

"Are they wrong, I wonder?" said Rek, smiling.

"Maybe not. I never wanted it, you know. All I wanted was to get my wife back. Had slavers not taken her I would have been a farmer. Of that I am sure — though Rowena doubted it. There are times when I do not much like what I am."

"I'm sorry, Druss. It was a jest," said Rek. "I do not see you as a death-god. You are a man and a warrior. But most of all, a man."

"It's not you, boy; your words only echo what I already feel. I shall die soon… Here at this Dros. And what will I have achieved in my life? I have no sons nor daughters. No living kin… Few friends. They will say, "Here lies Druss. He killed many and birthed none." "

"They will say more than that," said Virae suddenly. "They'll say, 'Here lies Druss the Legend, who was never mean, petty, nor needlessly cruel. Here was a man who never gave in, never compromised his ideals, never betrayed a friend, never despoiled a woman and never used his strength against the weak.' They'll say 'He had no sons, but many a woman asleep with her babes slept more soundly for knowing Druss stood with the Drenai.' They'll say many things, whiteboard. Through many generations they will say them, and men with no strength will find strength when they hear them."

"That would be pleasant," said the old man, smiling.

The morning drifted by and the Dros shone in the warm sunlight. One of the soldiers produced a flute and began to play a lilting springtime melody that echoed down the valley, a song of joy in a time of death.

At midday Rek and Druss were summoned to the ramparts. The Nadir had fallen back to Eldibar, but at the centre of the killing ground was a man seated on a huge purple rug. He was eating a meal of dates and cheese, and sipping wine from a golden goblet. Thrust into the ground behind him was a standard sporting a wolfs head.