David Gemmell - Legend

He became unconscious, but the pain followed him down into the depths of dreams where gaunt, shadow-haunted landscapes surrounded him and jagged mountains reared black against a grey, brooding sky. Druss lay on the mountain, unable to move against the pain, his eyes focused on a small grove of lightning-blasted trees some twenty paces from where he lay. Standing before them was a man dressed in black. He was lean, and his eyes were dark. He moved forward and sat on a boulder, gazing down at the axeman.

"So, it comes to this," he said. The voice had a hollow ring, like wind whistling through a cavern.

"I shall recover," hissed Druss, blinking away the sweat dripping into his eyes.

"Not from this," said the man. "You should be dead now."

"I have been cut before."

"Ah, but the blade was poisoned — green sap from the northern marches. Now you are riddled with gangrene."

"No! I will die with my axe in my hand."

"Think you so? I have waited for you, Druss, through these many years. I have watched the legions of travellers cross the dark river at your hands. And I have watched you. Your pride is colossal, your conceit immense. You have tasted glory and prized your strength above all else. Now you will die. No axe. No glory. Never to cross the dark river to the Forever Halls. There is satisfaction for me in this, can you understand that? Can you comprehend it?"

"No. Why do you hate me?"

"Why? Because you conquer fear. And because your life mocks me. It is not enough that you die. All men die, peasants and kings — all are mine, come the end. But you, Druss, you are special. Were you to die as you desire, you would mock me still. So for you, I have devised this exquisite torture.

"You should by now be dead from your wound. But I have not yet claimed you. And now the pain will grow more intense. You will writhe… You will scream… Finally your mind will snap and you will beg. Beg for me. And I shall come and take you by the hand and you will be mine. Men's last memories of you will be of a mewling, weeping wreck. They will despise you and your legend will be tainted at the last."

Druss forced his massive arms beneath him and struggled to rise. But the pain drove him down once more, forcing a groan through clenched teeth.

"That's it, axeman. Struggle on. Try harder. You should have stayed on your mountain and enjoyed your dotage. Vain man! You could not resist the call of blood. Suffer — and bring me joy."

In the makeshift hospital Calvar Syn lifted the hot towels from Druss's bare back, replacing them swiftly as the stench rilled the room. Serbitar stepped forward and also examined the wound.

"It is hopeless," said Calvar Syn, rubbing his hand over the polished dome of his skull. "Why is he still alive?"

"I don't know," said the albino softly. "Caessa, has he spoken?"

The girl glanced up from her bedside chair, her eyes dulled with fatigue. She shook her head. The door opened and Rek moved inside silently. He lifted his eyebrows in a question to the surgeon, but Calvar Syn shook his head.

"Why?" asked Rek. "The wound was no worse than he has had before."

"Gangrene. The wound will not close and the poison has spread through his body. He cannot be saved. All the experience I have gained in forty years says he should now be dead. His body is putrefying at an amazing rate."

"He is a tough old man. How long can he last?"

"He will not live to see tomorrow," answered the surgeon.

"How goes it on the wall?" asked Serbitar. Rek shrugged. His armour was bloody, his eyes tired.

"We are holding for the moment, but they are in the tunnel beneath us and the gate will not stand. It's a damned shame we had no time to fill the gate tunnel. I think they will be through before dusk. They have already burst a postern gate, but Hogun and a few others are holding the stairwell.

"That's why I came, doctor. I'm afraid you will have to prepare once more for evacuation. From now on the hospital will be at the Keep. How soon can you move?"

"How can I say? Men are being brought in all the time."

"Begin your preparations, anyway. Those who are too badly hurt to be moved must be despatched."

"What?" shouted the surgeon. "Murdered, you mean?"

"Exactly so. Move those who can move. The others… how do you think the Nadir will threat them?"

"I will move everyone, regardless. If they die during the evacuation, it will still be better than knifing them in their beds."

"Then begin now. We are wasting time." said Rek.

On the wall Gilad and Togi joined Hogun at the postern stair-well. The stairs were littered with corpses, but more Nadir warriors rounded the bend in the spiral and scrambled over the bodies. Hogun stepped forward, blocking a thrust, and disembowelled the leading man. He fell, tripping the warrior behind him. Togi slashed a two-handed stroke through the second man's neck as he fell in turn. Two more warriors advanced, holding round ox-hide shields before them. Behind, others pushed forward.

"It's like holding back the sea with a bucket," yelled Togi.

Above them the Nadir gained a foothold on the ramparts, driving a wedge into the Drenai formation. Orrin saw the danger and raced forward with fifty men of the new Group Karnak. Below them to the right the battering ram thundered against the giant gates of oak and bronze. So far the gates held, but ominous cracks had appeared beneath the crossed centre beams, and the wood groaned under the impact.

Orrin battled his way to the Nadir wedge, using his sword two-handed, cutting and slashing with no attempt at defence. Beside him a Drenai warrior fell, his throat gashed. Orrin back-handed a cut to the attacker's face, then blocked a blow from his left.

It was three hours to dusk.

Bowman knelt on the grass behind the battlements, three quivers of arrows before him on the ground. Coolly he notched shaft to his bow, drew and let fly. A man to the left of Orrin fell, the arrow piercing his temple. Then a second Nadir fell to Orrin's sword, before another arrow downed a third. The wedge was falling apart as the Drenai hacked their way forward.

At the stair-well Togi was bandaging a long gash in his forearm while a fresh squad of Legion warriors held the entrance. Gilad leaned against a boulder, wiping sweat from his brow.

"A long day," he said.

"It will be longer yet," muttered Togi. "They can sense how close they are to taking the wall."

"Yes. How is the arm?"

"All right," answered Togi. "Where now?"

"Hogun said to fill in where we're needed."

"That could be anywhere. I'm for the gate — coming?"

"Why not?" answered Gilad, smiling.

Rek and Serbitar cleared a section of battlements, then raced to join Orrin and his group. All along the wall the defensive line was bending. But it held.

"If we can hold out until they re-form for another charge, we may yet have time to get everyone back behind Valteri," yelled Orrin as Rek fought his way alongside.

For another hour the battle raged, then the huge bronze head of the battering ram breached the timbers of the gate. The great beam at the centre sagged as a crack appeared, then with a tearing groan it slid from its sockets. The ram was withdrawn slowly, to clear the way for the fighting men beyond.

Gilad sent a runner to the battlements to inform Rek, or either of the Gans, then he drew his sword and waited with fifty others to hold the entrance.

As he rocked his head from side to side to ease the aching muscles of his shoulders, he glanced at Togi. The man was smiling.

"What is so funny?"

"My own stupidity," answered Togi. "I suggested the gates to get a bit of rest. Now I'm going to encounter death."

Gilad said nothing. Death! His friend was right — there would be no escape to Wall Five for the men at the gate. He felt the urge to turn and run and suppressed it. What did it matter anyway? He'd seen enough of death in the last few weeks. And if he survived, what would he do, where would he go? Back to the farm and a dull wife? Grow old somewhere, toothless and senile, telling endlessly boring stories of his youth and courage.