Gemmell, David - The First Chronicles Of Druss The Legend

In the space of a few hours it had all changed. Reaching up, she touched the brooch at her breast…

And saw the Axeman her husband was becoming. Deathwalker!

Tears flowed then, silently coursing down her cheeks.

Shadak rode ahead, following the trail, while Druss and Tailia travelled side by side, the girl on a bay mare, the young man on a chestnut gelding. Tailia said little for the first hour, which suited Druss, but as they topped a rise before a long valley she leaned in close and touched his arm.

“What are you planning?” she asked. “Why are we following them?”

“What do you mean?” responded Druss, nonplussed.

“Well, you obviously can’t fight them all; you’ll be killed. Why don’t we just ride for the garrison at Padia? Send troops?” He swung to look at her. Her blue eyes were red-rimmed from crying.

“That’s a four-day walk. I don’t know how long it would take to ride - two days at the least, I would think. Then, if the troop was there - and they may not be - it would take them at least three days to find the raiders. By then they will be in Vagrian territory, and close to the borders of Mashrapur. Drenai soldiers have no jurisdiction there.”

“But you can’t do anything. There is no point to this pursuit.”

Druss took a deep breath. “They have Rowena,” he said. “And Shadak has a plan.”

“Ah, a plan,” she said derisively, her full-lipped mouth twisting in a sneer. “Two men with a plan. Then I suppose I am safe?”

“You are alive - and free,” Druss told her. “If you want to ride to Padia, then do so.”

Her expression softened and she reached out, laying her hand on Druss’s forearm. “I know you are brave, Druss; I saw you kill those raiders and you were magnificent. I don’t want to see you die in some meaningless battle. Rowena wouldn’t want it either. There are many of them, and they’re all killers.”

“So am I,” he said. “And there are fewer than there were.”

“Well, what happens to me when they cut you down?” she snapped. “What chance will I have?”

He looked at her for a moment, his eyes cold. “None,” he told her.

Tailia’s eyes widened. “You never liked me, did you?” she whispered. “You never liked any of us.”

“I have no time for this nonsense,” he said, touching heels to the gelding and moving ahead. He did not look back, and was not surprised when he heard the sound of her horse galloping off towards the north.

A few minutes later Shadak rode up from the south. “Where is she?” asked the hunter, letting go of the reins of the two horses he was leading and allowing them to wander close by, cropping the long grass.

“Riding for Padia,” answered Druss. The hunter said nothing for a moment, but he gazed towards the north where Tailia could be seen as a tiny figure in the distance. “You’ll not talk her out of it,” Druss said.

“Did you send her away?”

“No. She thinks we are both dead men, and she doesn’t want to risk being taken by the slavers.”

“That’s a hard point to argue with,” agreed Shadak. Then he shrugged. “Ah well, she chose her own road. Let us hope it was a wise one.”

“What of the raiders?” asked Druss, all thoughts of Tailia gone from his mind.

“They rode through the night, and are heading due south. I think they will make camp by the Tigren, some thirty miles from here. There is a narrow valley opening on to a bowl-shaped canyon. It’s been used by slavers for years - and horse thieves, cattle stealers and renegades. It is easily defendable.”

“How long until we reach them?”

“Some time after midnight. We’ll move on for two more hours, then we’ll rest and eat before switching horses.”

“I don’t need a rest.”

“The horses do,” said Shadak, “and so do I. Be patient. It will be a long night, and fraught with peril. And I have to tell you that our chances are not good. Tailia was right to be concerned for her safety; we will need more luck than any two men have a right to ask for.”

“Why are you doing this?” asked Druss. “The women are nothing to you.” Shadak did not reply and they rode in silence until the sun was almost at noon. The hunter spotted a small grove of trees to the east and turned his horse; the two men dismounted in the shade of several spreading elms beside a rock pool.

“How many did you kill back there?” he asked Druss as they sat in the shade.

“Six,” answered the axeman, taking a strip of dried beef from the pouch at his side and tearing off a chunk.

“You ever kill men before?”

“No.”

“Six is… impressive. What did you use?” Druss chewed for a moment, then swallowed. “Felling-axe and a hatchet. Oh… and one of their daggers,” he said at last. “And my hands.”

“And you have had no training in combat?”

“No.”

Shadak shook his head. “Talk me through the fights - everything you can remember.” Druss did so, Shadak listened in silence, and when the axeman had finished his tale the hunter smiled. “You are a rare young man. You positioned yourself well, in front of the fallen tree. That was a good move - the first of many, it seems. But the most impressive is the last. How did you know the swordsman would jump to your left?”

“He saw I had an axe and that I was right-handed. In normal circumstances the axe would have been raised over my left shoulder and pulled down towards the right. Therefore he moved to his right - my left.”

“That is cool thinking for a man in combat. I think there is a great deal of your grandfather in you.”

“Don’t say that!” growled Druss. “He was insane.”

“He was also a brilliant fighting man. Yes, he was evil. But that does not lessen his courage and his skills.”

“I am my own man,” said Druss. “What I have is mine.”

“I do not doubt it. But you have great strength, good timing and a warrior’s mind. These are gifts that pass from father to son, and on through the line. But know this, laddie, there are responsibilities that you must accept.”

“Like what?”

“Burdens that separate the hero from the rogue.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“It comes back to the question you asked me, about the women. The true warrior lives by a code. He has to. For each man there are different perspectives, but at the core they are the same: Never violate a woman, nor harm a child. Do not lie, cheat or steal. These things are for lesser men. Protect the weak against the evil strong. And never allow thoughts of gain to lead you into the pursuit of evil.”

“This is your code?” asked Druss.

“It is. And there is more, but I shall not bore you with it.”

“I am not bored. Why do you need such a code to live by?”

Shadak laughed. “You will understand, Druss, as the years go by.”

“I want to understand now,” said the younger man.

“Of course you do. That is the curse of the young, they want it all now. No. Rest a while. Even your prodigious strength will fail after a time. Sleep a little. And wake refreshed. It will be a long - and bloody - night.”

The moon was high, and a quarter full in a cloudless sky. Silver light bathed the mountains, rippling on the river below, making it seem of molten metal. Three camp-fires burned and Druss could just make out the movement of men in the flickering light. The women were huddled between two wagons; there was no fire near them, but guards patrolled close by. To the north of the wagons, around thirty paces from the women, was a large tent. It gleamed yellow-gold, like a great lantern, shimmering shadows being cast on the inside walls; there was obviously a brazier within, and several lamps.

Shadak moved silently alongside the axeman, beckoning him back. Druss edged from the slope, returning to the glade where the horses were tethered.