David Gemmell - Legend

And Joachim liked him.

He passed a Drenai sentry who saluted him and smiled. Joachim nodded, noting the uncertainty of the smile.

He had told the Earl of Bronze that he and his men would stay for one more day and then return to the mountains. He had expected a plea to remain — offers, promises, treaties. But Rek had merely smiled.

"It is more than I would have asked for," he said.

Joachim was stunned, but he could say nothing. He told Rek of the traitor and of the Nadir attempt to cross the mountains.

"Will you still bar the way?"

"Of course. That is Sathuli land."

"Good! Will you eat with me?"

"No, but I thank you for the offer."

No Sathuli could break bread with an unbeliever.

Rek nodded. "I think I will rest now," he said. "I will see you at dawn."

In his high room in the Keep Rek slept, dreaming of Virae, always of Virae. He awoke hours before dawn and reached out for her. But the sheets beside him were cold and, as always, he felt the loss anew. On this night he wept, long and soundlessly. Finally he rose, dressed and descended the stairs to the small hall. The manservant, Arshin, brought him a breakfast of cold ham and cheese, with a flagon of cold water, laced with honey mead. He ate mechanically until a young officer approached with the news that Bricklyn had returned with despatches from Drenan.

The burgher entered the hall, bowed briefly and approached the table, laying before Rek several packages and a large sealed scroll. He seated himself opposite Rek and asked if he could pour himself a drink. Rek nodded as he opened the scroll. He read it once, smiled, then laid it aside and looked across at the burgher. He was thinner and perhaps even greyer than the first time Rek had seen him. He was still dressed in riding clothes, and his green cloak was dust-covered. Bricklyn drained the water in two swallows and refilled his cup; then he noticed Rek's eyes upon him.

"You have seen the message from Abalayn?" he asked.

"Yes. Thank you for bringing it. Will you stay?"

"But of course. Surrender arrangements must be made and Ulric welcomed to the Keep."

"He has promised to spare no one," said Rek softly.

Bricklyn waved his hand. "Nonsense! That was war talk. Now he will be magnanimous."

"And what of Woundweaver?"

"He has been recalled to Drenan and the army disbanded."

"Are you pleased?"

"That the war is over? Of course. Though I am naturally saddened that so many had to die. I hear that Druss fell at Sumitos. A great shame. He was a fine man and a magnificent warrior. But it was as he would wish to go, I am sure. When would you like me to see Lord Ulric?"

"As soon as you wish."

"Will you accompany me?"

"No."

"Then who will?" asked Bricklyn, noting with pleasure the resignation mirrored in Rek's face.

"No one."

"No one? But that would not be politic, my lord. There should be a deputation."

"You will travel alone."

"Very well. What terms shall I negotiate?"

"You will negotiate nothing. You will merely go to Ulric and say that I have sent you."

"I do not understand, my lord. What would you have me say?"

"You will say that you have failed."

"Failed? In what? You speak in riddles. Are you mad?"

"No. Just tired. You betrayed us, Bricklyn, but then I expect nothing less from your breed. Therefore I am not angry. Or vengeful. You have taken Ulric's pay and now you may go to him. The letter from Abalayn is a forgery and Woundweaver will be here in five days with over fifty thousand men. Outside there are three thousand Sathuli and we can hold the wall. Now be gone! Hogun knows that you are a traitor and has told me that he will kill you if he sees you. Go now."

For several minutes Bricklyn sat stunned, then he shook his head. "This is madness! You cannot hold! It is Ulric's day, can you not see it? The Drenai are finished and Ulric's star shines. What do you hope to achieve?"

Rek slowly drew a long, slender dagger and placed it on the table before him.

"Go now," he repeated quietly.

Bricklyn rose and stormed to the door. He turned in the doorway.

"You fool!" he spat. "Use the dagger on yourself, for what the Nadir will do when they take you will make merry viewing." Then he was gone.

Hogun stepped from behind a tapestry-covered alcove and moved to the table. His head was bandaged and his face pale. In his hand he held his sword.

"How could you let him go, Rek? How?"

Rek smiled. "Because I couldn't be bothered to kill him."

The last candle guttered and died as a light autumn wind billowed the curtains. Rek slept on, head resting on his arms at the table where only an hour before he had sent Bricklyn to the Nadir. His sleep was light, but dreamless. He shivered as the room became cooler, then awoke with a start in the darkness. Fear touched him and he reached for his dagger. He shivered again: it was cold… so cold. He glanced at the fire. It was blazing, but no heat reached him. He stood and walked towards it, squatting in front of it and opening his hands to the heat. Nothing. Confused, he stood once more and turned back to the table, and then the shock hit him.

Head resting on his arms, the figure of Earl Regnak still slept there. He fought down panic, watching his sleeping form, noting the weariness in the gaunt face, the dark-hollowed eyes and the lines of strain about the mouth.

Then he noticed the silence. Even at this late hour of deepest darkness, some sounds should be heard from sentries, or servants or the few cooks preparing the morning's breakfast. But there was nothing. He moved to the doorway and beyond into the darkened corridor, then beyond that into the shadow of the portcullis gate. He was alone — beyond the gate were the walls, but no sentries paced them. He walked on in the darkness, and the clouds cleared and the moon shone brightly.

The fortress was deserted.

From the high walls of Geddon he looked to the north. The plain was empty. No Nadir tents were pitched there.

So he was truly alone. Panic left him and a deep sense of peace covered his soul like a-warm blanket. He sat on the ramparts, gazing back at the Keep.

Was this a taste of death, he wondered? Or merely a dream? He cared not. Whether a foretaste of tomorrow's reality or the result of a needed fantasy was immaterial. He was enjoying the moment.

And then, with a deep sense of warmth, he knew that he was not alone. His heart swelled and tears came to his eyes. He turned and she was there: dressed as he had first seen her, with a bulky sheepskin jerkin and woollen troos, she opened her arms and walked into his embrace. He held her tightly to him, pressing his face into her hair. For a long time they stood thus, while deep sobs racked his body. Finally the crying subsided and he gently released her. She looked up at him and smiled.

"You have done well, Rek," she said. "I am so proud of you."

"Without you it is meaningless," he said.

"I wouldn't change anything, Rek. If they told me that I could have my life again, but not meet you, I would refuse. What does it matter that we had only months? What months they were!"

"I never loved anyone as I loved you," he said.

"I know."

They talked for hours, but the moon shone from the same place and the stars were static, the night eternal. Finally she kissed him to stem his words.

"There are others you must see."

He tried to argue, but she held her fingers to his mouth. "We will meet again, my love. For now, speak to the others."

Around the walls was now a mist, swirling and thick. Overhead the moon shone in a cloudless sky. She walked into the mist and was gone. He waited and soon a figure in silver armour came towards him. As always he looked fresh and alert, his armour reflected the moonlight and his white cloak was spotless. He smiled.