David Gemmell - Legend

Ogasi's hand strayed towards his sword once more. The Earl of Bronze did not move.

"If that sword is drawn," he said softly, "I will remove his head."

Ulric waved Ogasi back.

"Do you think to leave here alive?" he asked Rek.

"If I so choose — yes," replied the Earl.

"And I have no say in this matter?"

"None."

"Truly? Now you intrigue me. All around you are Nadir bowmen. At my signal, your bright armour will be hidden by black-shafted arrows. And you say I cannot?"

"If you can, then order it," demanded the Earl. Ulric moved his gaze to the archers. Arrows were ready and many bows were already bent, their iron points glittering in the firelight.

"Why can I not order it?" he asked.

"Why have you not?" countered the Earl.

"Curiosity. What is the real purpose of your visit? Have you come to slay me?"

"No. If I wished, I could have slain you as I killed your shaman: silently, invisibly. Your head would now be a worm-filled shell. There is no duplicity here — I came to honour my friend. Will you offer me hospitality or shall I return to my fortress?"

"Ogasi!" called Ulric.

"My Lord?"

"Fetch refreshments for the Earl and his followers. Order the archers back to their fires and let the entertainment continue."

"Yes, Lord," said Ogasi dubiously.

Ulric gestured the Earl to the throne at his side. Rek nodded and turned to Hogun: "Go and enjoy yourselves. Return for me in an hour."

Hogun saluted and Rek watched his small group wander off around the camp. He smiled as Bowman leaned over a seated Nadir and lifted a goblet of Lyrrd. The man stared when he saw his drink disappear, then laughed as Bowman drained it without a splutter.

"Damn good, hey?" said the warrior. "Better than that red vinegar from the south."

Bowman nodded and pulled a flask from his hip pouch, offering it to the man. Suspicion was evident in the hesitant way the Nadir accepted the flask, but his friends were watching.

Slowly he removed the top, then took a tentative sip, followed by a full-blown swallow.

"This is damn good too," said the man. "What is it?"

"They call it Lentrian Fire. Once tasted, never forgotten!"

The man nodded, then moved aside to make a place for Bowman.

"Join us, Longbow. Tonight no war. We talk, yes?"

"Decent of you, old horse. I think I will."

Seated on the throne, Rek lifted Druss's goblet of Lentrian Red and raised it towards the pyre. Ulric also raised his goblet and both men silently toasted the fallen axeman.

"He was a great man," said Ulric. "My father told me tales of him and his lady. Rowena, wasn't it?"

"Yes, he loved her greatly."

"It is fitting," said Ulric, "that such a man should know great love. I am sorry he is gone. It would be a fine thing if war could be conducted as a game where no lives were lost. At the end of a battle combatants could meet — even as we are doing — and drink and talk."

"Druss would not have had it so," said the Earl. "Were this a game where the odds mattered, Dros Delnoch would already be yours. But Druss was a man who could change the odds and make nonsense of logic."

"Up to a point — for he is dead. But what of you? What manner of man are you, Earl Regnak?"

"Just a man, Lord Ulric — even as you."

Ulric leaned closer, his chin resting on his hand. "But then I am not an ordinary man. I have never lost a battle."

"Nor yet have I."

"You intrigue me. You appear from nowhere, with no past, married to the dying Earl's daughter. No one has ever heard of you and no man can tell me of your deeds. Yet men die for you, as they would for a beloved king. Who are you?"

"I am the Earl of Bronze."

"No. That I will not accept."

"Then what would you have me say?"

"Very well, you are the Earl of Bronze. It matters not. Tomorrow you may return to your grave — you and all those who follow you. You began this battle with ten thousand men; you now boast perhaps seven hundred. You pin your faith on Magnus Woundweaver, but he cannot reach you in time — and even if he did, it would matter not. Look about you. This army is bred on victory. And it grows. I have four armies like this — can I be stopped?"

"Stopping you is not important," said the Earl. "It never was."

"Then what are you doing?"

"We are trying to stop you."

"Is this a riddle which I should understand?"

"Your understanding is not important. It may be that destiny intends you to succeed. It may be that a Nadir empire will prove vastly beneficial to the world. But ask yourself this: were there no army here when you arrived, save Druss alone, would he have opened the gate to you?"

"No. He would have fought and died," said Ulric.

"But he would not have expected to win. So why would he do it?"

"Now I understand your riddle, Earl. But it saddens me that so many men must die when it is futile to resist. Nevertheless I respect you. I will see that your pyre is as high as that of Druss."

"Thank you, no. If you do kill me, lay my body in a garden beyond the Keep. There is already a grave there, surrounded by flowers, within which lies my wife. Put my body beside it."

Ulric fell silent for several minutes, taking time to refill the goblets.

"It shall be as you wish, Earl of Bronze," he said at last. "Join me in my tent now. We shall eat a little meat, drink a little wine and be friends. I shall tell you of my life and my dreams, and you may talk of the past and your joys."

"Why only the past, Lord Ulric?"

"It is all you have left, my friend."

At midnight, as the flames from the funeral pyre blazed against the night sky, the Nadir horde drew their weapons, holding them aloft in silent tribute to the warrior whose soul, they believed, stood at the gates of Paradise.

Rek and the company of Drenai followed suit, then he turned and bowed to Ulric. Ulric returned the bow and the company set off to return to the postern gate of Wall Five. The return journey was made in silence, each man's thoughts his own.

Bowman thought of Caessa, and of her death at Druss's side. He had loved her in his way, though never spoke of it. To love her was to die.

Hogun's mind reeled with the awesome picture of the Nadir army seen from close range; numberless and mighty. Unstoppable!

Serbitar thought of the journey he would make with the remnants of The Thirty at dusk on the morrow. Only Arbedark would be missing, for they had convened the night before and declared him an Abbot. Now he would journey from Delnoch alone to found a new temple in Ventria.

Rek fought against despair. Ulric's last words echoed again and again in his mind:

"Tomorrow you will see the Nadir as never before. We have paid homage to your courage by attacking only in daylight, allowing you to rest at night. Now I need to take your Keep and there will be no rest until it falls, Day and night we will come at you until none are left alive to oppose us."

Silently the group mounted the postern steps, making their way to the mess hall. Rek knew sleep would not come to him this night. It was his last night upon the earth, and his tired body summoned fresh reserves so that he could taste life and know the sweetness of drawing breath.

The group sat around a trestle table and Rek poured wine. Of The Thirty, only Serbitar and Vintar remained. For many minutes the five men said little, until at last Hogun broke the uncomfortable silence.

"We knew it would come to this, did we not? There was no way to hold indefinitely."

"Very true, old horse," said Bowman. "Still, it is a trifle disappointing, don't you think? I must own that I always kept alive a small hope that we would succeed. Now that it is gone, I feel a tiny twinge of panic." He smiled gently, and finished his drink at a single swallow.