David Gemmell - Legend

"Well met, Rek," said Serbitar. They clasped hands in the warrior's grip.

"The Sathuli came," said Rek. "You held the gate just long enough."

"I know. Tomorrow will be hard, and I will not lie to you. All futures have I seen, and in only one do you survive the day. But there are forces here which I cannot explain to you and even now their magic is at work. Fight well!"

"Will Woundweaver arrive?" asked Rek.

Serbitar shrugged. "Not tomorrow."

"Then we will fall?"

"It is likely. But if you do not, I want you to do something for me."

"Name it," said Rek.

"Go once more to Egel's room where there is a last gift for you. The servant Arshin will explain."

"What is it? Is it a weapon. I could use it tomorrow."

"It is not a weapon. Go there tomorrow night."

"Serbitar?"

"Yes, my friend."

"Was all as you dreamed it would be? The Source, I mean?"

"Yes! And so much more. But I cannot speak of it now. Wait for a while longer. There is another who must speak with you."

The mist deepened and Serbitar's white form drew back until he merged and was gone.

And Druss was there. Mighty and strong, his black jerkin glistening, his axe at his side.

"He gave me a fine send-off," said Druss. "How are you, boy? You look tired."

"I am tired, but all the better for seeing you."

Druss clapped him on the shoulder and laughed.

"That Nogusha used a poisoned blade on me. I tell you, laddie, it hurt like hell. Caessa dressed me. I don't know how she got me to my feet. Still… she did."

"I saw it," said Rek.

"Aye, a grand exit, was it not? That young lad Gilad fought well. I have not seen him yet, but I expect I shall. You're a good boy, Rek. Worthy! It was good to know you."

"And you, Druss. I never met a better man."

"Of course you did, boy. Hundreds! But it's nice of you to say it. However, I didn't come here to exchange compliments. I know what you are facing and I know tomorrow will be hard — damned hard. But don't give ground. Do not retreat to the Keep — whatever happens, hold the wall. Much rests on it. Keep Joachim beside you; if he dies, you are finished. I must go. But remember. Hold the wall. Do not retreat to the Keep."

"I will remember. Goodbye, Druss."

"Not goodbye. Not yet," said Druss. "Soon."

The mist moved forward, enveloping the axeman and sweeping over Rek. Then the moonlight faded and dark descended on the Earl of Bronze.

Back in the Keep, Rek awoke. The fire still burned and he was hungry again.

In the kitchens Arshin was preparing breakfast.

The old man was tired, but he brightened when Rek walked in.

He liked the new Earl and remembered when Virae's father, Delnar, had been a young man, proud and strong. There seemed a similarity, but perhaps — Arshin thought — the long years had distorted his memory.

He handed the Earl some toasted bread and honey which he wolfed down, following it with watered wine.

Back in his quarters, Rek buckled his armour into place and made his way to the battlements. Hogun and Orrin were already there, supervising the barricade within the gate tunnel.

"This is the weak spot," said Orrin. "We should retire to the Keep. At least the gates will hold for some hours."

Rek shook his head. "We will stand on Geddon. There must be no retreat."

"Then we shall die here," said Hogun. "For that barricade will hold them not at all."

"Perhaps," said Rek. "We shall see. Good morning, Joachim Sathuli."

The bearded warrior nodded and smiled. "You slept well, Earl of Bronze?"

"Well indeed. I thank you for giving us this day of your time."

"It is nothing. The payment of a small debt."

"You owe me nothing. But I tell you this, if we survive this day there shall be no more war between us. The rights to the high Delnoch passes are mine, though you dispute the rights of the Drenai to them. Therefore, before these witnesses, I give them to you.

"There is also a scroll bearing my seal at the Keep. When you leave tonight, you shall have it. A copy will go to Abalayn in Drenan.

"I know that the gesture will have little meaning if the Nadir win through today — but it is all I can do."

Joachim bowed. "The gesture is enough in itself."

The talk ceased as the Nadir drums sounded and the warriors of Dros Delnoch spread out along the wall to receive the attackers. Rek lowered his helm visor and drew the sword of Egel. Below, in the barricaded gate tunnel, stood Orrin and one hundred warriors. The tunnel was only twenty feet wide at the centre and Orrin reckoned to hold it for the greater part of the morning. After that, with the barricades torn down, the sheer weight of the Nadir horde would push them back into the open ground behind the ramparts.

And so the last bloody day began at Dros Delnoch.

Wave after wave of screaming tribesmen scaled ropes and ladders throughout the morning, finding that only cold, terrible death awaited them under the slashing swords and tulwars of the defenders. Men fell screaming to the rocks below the walls, or died trampled beneath the feet of battling men on the ramparts. Side by side, Sathuli and Drenai brought death to the Nadir.

Rek cut and slashed two-handed, the sword of Egel cleaving the ranks of the Nadir like a scythe through wheat. Beside him Joachim fought with two short swords, whirling and killing.

Below, Orrin's men were being pushed slowly back into the wider section of the tunnel, though the Nadir paid dearly for every inch of ground.

Blocking a thrusting lance, Orrin backhanded a slashing cut to a warrior's face. The man disappeared in the milling mass and another attacker took his place.

"We can't hold!" yelled a young officer to Orrin's right.

Orrin had no time to answer.

Suddenly the leading Nadir warrior screamed in horror, pushing back into his comrades. Others followed his gaze, looking back beyond the Drenai at the tunnel mouth.

A gap opened between the Drenai and the Nadir, and widened as the tribesmen turned and fled down into the open grounds between Valteri and Geddon.

"Great gods of Missael!" said the officer. "What's going on?" Orrin turned and saw what had filled the Nadir with terror.

Behind them in the darkened tunnel stood Druss the Legend, Serbitar and The Thirty. With them were many departed warriors. Druss's axe was in his hand and the joy of battle in his eyes. Orrin swallowed, then licked his lips. He replaced his sword in its scabbard at the third attempt.

"I think we will leave them to hold the tunnel," he said. The remaining men bunched behind him as he walked towards Druss.

The ghostly defenders appeared not to notice them, their eyes fixed on the tunnel beyond. Orrin tried to speak to Druss, but the old man just stared ahead. When Orrin reached out a shaking hand and tried to touch the axeman, his hand met nothing — only cold, cold air.

"Let us get back to the wall," he said. He closed his eyes and walked blindly through the ranks of the spirits. By the time he reached the tunnel mouth he was shivering. The other men with him said nothing.

No one looked back.

He joined Rek on the wall and the battle continued. Moments later, during a brief lull, Rek shouted: "What's happening in the tunnel?"

"Druss is there," replied Orrin. Rek merely nodded and turned again as fresh Nadir warriors breasted the ramparts.

Bowman, bearing short sword and buckler, fought beside Hogun. Though not as skilled with the blade as with the bow, he was no mean warrior.

Hogun blocked an axe blow — and his sword snapped. The axe head crushed his shoulder, burying itself in his chest. He hammered the broken sword into the belly of the axeman and fell with him to the ground.

A lance licked out, spearing the Legion general's back as he struggled to rise. Bowman's short sword disembowelled the lancer, but more Nadir pressed forward and Hogun's body was lost in the mêlée.