David Gemmell - Legend

"Yes. Then you must see the albino. He has something for you."

Serbitar was waiting at the bottom of the stairs as Rek slowly descended to the main Hall. The albino wore full armour and helm topped with white horsehair. The visor was down, shielding his eyes. He looked, Rek thought, like a silver statue. Only his hands were bare and these were white as polished ivory.

"You wanted me?" said Rek.

"Follow me," said Serbitar. Turning on his heel, he strode from the Hall towards the spiral stone stairwell leading to the dungeons below the Keep. Rek had been ready to refuse any request, but now he was forced to follow and his anger grew. The albino stopped at the top of the stairs and removed a flaming torch from a copper wall bracket.

"Where are we going?" asked Rek.

"Follow me," repeated Serbitar.

Slowly and carefully the two men descended the cracked, worn steps until at last they reached the first level of dungeons. Long disused, the hallway glittered with water-sodden cobwebs and wet moss-covered arches. Serbitar moved on until they reached an oak door, a rust bolt holding it fast. He struggled with the bolt for some moments, finally working it free, then both men had to haul on the door before it creaked and groaned and opened. Another stairwell beyond yawned dark before them.

Once again Serbitar started down. The steps ended in a long corridor, ankle-deep in water. They waded through to a final door, shaped like an oak-leaf and bearing a gold plaque with inscribed lettering in the Elder tongue.

"What does it say?" asked Rek.

"It says: "To the worthy — welcome. Herein lies Egel's secret, and the soul of the Earl of Bronze"."

"What does it mean?"

Serbitar tried the door handle but the door was locked, seemingly from within since no bolt, chain, or keyhole could be seen.

"Do we break it down?" said Rek.

"No. You open it."

"It is locked. Is this a game?"

"Try it."

Rek turned the handle gently and the door swung open without a sound. Soft lights sprang up within the room, glowing globes of glass set in the recesses of the walls. The room was dry, though now the water from the corridor outside flowed in and spread across the richly carpeted floor.

At the centre of the room, on a wooden stand, was a suit of armour unlike anything Rek had ever seen. It was wonderfully crafted in bronze, the overlapping scales of metal glittering in the light. The breastplate carried a bronze eagle, with wings flaring out over the chest and up to the shoulders. Atop this was a helmet, winged and crested with an eagle's head. Gauntlets there were, scaled and hinged, and greaves. Upon the table before the armour lay a bronze-ringed mail-shirt lined with softest leather, and mail leggings with bronze hinged kneecaps. But above all, Rek was drawn to the sword encased in a block of solid crystal. The blade was golden and over two feet in length; the hilt double-handed, the guard a pair of flaring wings.

"It is the armour of Egel, the first Earl of Bronze," said Serbitar.

"Why was it allowed to lie here?"

"No one could open the door," answered the albino.

"It was not locked," said Rek.

"Not to you."

"What does that mean?"

"The meaning is clear: you and no other were meant to open the door."

"I can't believe that."

"Shall I fetch you the sword?" asked Serbitar.

"If you wish."

Serbitar walked to the crystal cube, drew his own sword and hammered at the block. Nothing happened. His blade clanged back into the air, leaving no mark upon the crystal.

"You try," said Serbitar.

"May I borrow your sword?"

"Just reach for the hilt."

Rek moved forward and lowered his hand to the crystal, waiting for the cold touch of glass which never came. His hand sank into the block, his fingers curling round the hilt. Effortlessly he drew the blade forth.

"Is it a trick?" he asked.

"Probably. But it is none of mine. Look!" The albino put his hands on the now empty crystal and heaved himself up upon it. "Pass your hands below me," he said.

Rek obeyed — for him the crystal did not exist.

"What does it mean?"

"I do not know, my friend. Truly I do not."

"Then how did you know it was here?"

"That is even more difficult to explain. Do you remember that day in the grove when I could not be awakened?"

"Yes."

"Well, I travelled far across the planet, and even beyond, but in my travels I breasted the currents of time and I visited Delnoch. It was night and I saw myself leading you through the hall and down to this room. I saw you take the sword and I heard you ask the question you have just asked. And then I heard my answer."

"So, at this moment you are hovering above us listening?"

"Yes."

"I know you well enough to believe you, but answer me this: that may explain how you are here now with me, but how did the first Serbitar know, the armour was here?"

"I genuinely cannot explain it, Rek. It is like looking into the reflection of a mirror, and watching it go on and on into infinity. But I have found in my studies that often there is more to this life than we reckon with."

"Meaning?"

"There is the power of the Source."

"I am in no mood for religion."

"Then let us instead say that all those centuries ago, Egel looked into the future and saw this invasion, so he left his armour here, guarded by magic which only you — as the Earl — could break.

"Is your spirit image still observing us?"

"Yes."

"Does it know of my loss?"

"Yes."

"Then you knew she would die?"

"Yes."

"Why did you not tell me?"

"It would have been a waste of joy."

"What does that mean?" said Rek, anger building inside him and pushing away the grief.

"It means that were you a farmer anticipating long life, I might have warned you — to prepare you. But you are not; you are fighting a savage horde and your life is at risk every day. As was Virae's. You knew that she might die. Had I told you this was certain not only would it have gained you nothing, but also robbed you of the joy you had."

"I could have saved her."

"No, you could not."

"I don't believe that."

"Why would I lie? Why would I wish her dead?"

Rek did not answer. The word "dead" entered his heart and crushed his soul. Tears welled in him again and he fought them back, concentrating on the armour.

"I will wear that tomorrow," he said through gritted teeth. "I will wear it and die."

"Perhaps," answered the albino.

The dawn was clear, the air fresh and sweet as two thousand Drenai warriors prepared for the assault on Kania. Below them the Nadir shaman were moving through the ranks of tribesmen, sprinkling the blood of chickens and sheep on the bared blades which the warriors held before them.

Then the Nadir massed and a great swelling chant came from thousands of throats as the horde moved forward, bearing ladders, knotted ropes and grappling-irons. Rek watched from the centre of the line. He lifted the bronze helm and placed it over his head, buckling the chin-strap. To his left was Serbitar, to his right Menahem. Others of The Thirty were spread along the wall.

And the carnage began.

Three assaults were turned back before the Nadir gained a foothold on the battlements. And this was short-lived. Some two-score tribesmen breached the defence, only to find themselves faced with a madman in bronze and two silver ghosts who strode among them dealing death. There was no defence against these men, and the bronze devil's sword could cut through any shield or armour; men died under that terrible blade screaming as if their souls were ablaze. That night the Nadir captains carried their reports to the tent of Ulric and the talk was all of the new force upon the battlements. Even the legendary Druss seemed more human — laughing as he did in the face of Nadir swords — than this golden machine of destruction.