David Gemmell - Legend

To go where, pray? And with what monies?"

"Ye gods!" thundered Druss, surging to his feet. "What will you be wanting me to do next? Where they go, if they do, how they go — is their concern and yours. I am a soldier and my job is to fight and kill. And believe me, I do that very well. We have been ordered to fight to the last and that we will do. Now, I may not know very much about law and all the little niceties of city politics, but I do know this: Any man who speaks of surrender during the coming siege is a traitor. And I will see him hang."

"Well said, Druss," offered Beric, a tall middle-aged man with shoulder-length grey hair. "I couldn't have put it better myself. Very stirring." He smiled as Druss sank back to his seat. "There is one point, though. You say you have been asked to fight to the end. That order can always be changed; politics being what it is, the question of expediency comes into it. At the moment, it is expedient for Abalayn to ask us to prepare for war. He may feel it gives him greater bargaining power with Ulric. Ultimately, though, he must consider surrender. Facts are facts: the tribes have conquered every nation they have attacked and Ulric is a general above comparison. I suggest we write to Abalayn and urge him to reconsider this war."

Orrin shot Druss a warning glance.

"Very well put, Beric," he said. "Obviously Druss and I, as loyal military men, must vote against; however, feel free to write and I will see the petition is forwarded with the first available rider."

"Thank you, Orrin. That is very civilised of you," said Beric. "Now can we move on to the subject of the demolished homes?"

Ulric sat before the brazier, a sheepskin cloak draped over his naked torso. Before him squatted the skeletal figure of his shaman, Nosta Khan.

"What do you mean?" Ulric asked him.

"As I said, I can no longer travel over the fortress. There is a barrier to my power. Last night as I floated above Deathwalker I felt a force, like a storm wind. It pushed me back beyond the outer wall."

"And you saw nothing?"

"No. But I sensed… felt…"

"Speak!"

"It is difficult. In my mind I could feel the sea and a slender ship. It was a fragment only. Also there was a mystic with white hair. I have puzzled long over this. I believe Deathwalker has called upon a white temple."

"And their power is greater than yours?" said Ulric.

"Merely different," hedged the shaman.

"If they are coming by sea, then they will make for Dros Purdol," said Ulric, staring into the glimmering coals. "Seek them out."

The shaman closed his eyes, freed the chains of his spirit and soared free of his body. Formless he raced high above the plain, over hills and rivers, mountains and streams, skirting the Delnoch range until at last the sea lay below him, shimmering beneath the stars. Far he roved before sighting Wastrel, picking out the tiny glint of her aft lantern,

Swiftly he dropped from the sky to hover by the mast. By the port rail stood a man and a woman. Gently he probed their minds, then drifted down through the wooden deck, beyond the hold and on to the cabins. These he could not enter, however. As lightly as the whisper of a sea breeze, he touched the edge of the invisible barrier. It hardened before him, and he recoiled. He floated to the deck, closing on the mariner at the stern, smiled, then raced back towards the waiting Nadir warlord.

Nosta Khan's body trembled and his eyes opened.

"Well?" asked Ulric.

"I found them."

"Can you destroy them?"

"I believe so. I must gather my acolytes."

On Wastrel Vintar rose from his bed, his eyes troubled, his mind uneasy. He stretched.

"You felt it too," pulsed Serbitar, swinging his long legs clear of the second bed.

"Yes. We must be wary."

"He did not try to breach the shield," said Serbitar. "Was that a sign of weakness or confidence?"

"I don't know," answered the Abbot.

Above them at the stern the second mate rubbed his tired eyes, slipped a looped rope over the wheel and transferred his gaze to the stars. He had always been fascinated by these flickering, far-off candles. Tonight they were brighter than usual, like gems strewn on a velvet cloak. A priest had once told him they were holes in the universe, through which the bright eyes of the gods gazed down on the peoples of the earth. It was a pretty nonsense, but he had enjoyed listening.

Suddenly he shivered. Turning, he lifted his cloak from the aft rail and slung it about his shoulders. He rubbed his hands.

Floating behind him, the spirit of Nosta Khan lifted its hands, focusing power upon the long fingers. Talons grew, glinting like steel, serrated and sharp. Satisfied, he closed in on the mariner, plunging his hands into the man's head.

Searing agony blanketed the brain within as the man staggered and fell, blood pouring from his mouth and ears and seeping from his eyes. Without a sound he died. Nosta Khan loosened his grip. Drawing on the power of his acolytes, he willed the body to rise, whispering words of obscenity in a language long erased from the minds of ordinary men. Darkness swelled around the corpse, shifting like black smoke to be drawn in through the bloody mouth. The body shuddered.

And rose.

Unable to sleep Virae dressed silently, climbed to the deck and wandered to the port rail. The night was cool, the soft breeze soothing. She gazed out over the waves to the distant line of land silhouetted against the bright, moonlit sky.

The view always calmed her, the blending of land and sea. As a child at school in Dros Purdol she had delighted in sailing, especially at night when the land mass appeared to float like a sleeping monster of the deep, dark and mysterious and wonderfully compelling.

Suddenly she narrowed her eyes. Was the land moving? To her left the mountains seemed to be receding, while on the right the shoreline seemed closer. No, not seemed. Was. She glanced at the stars. The ship had veered north west; yet they were days from Purdol.

Puzzled, she walked aft towards the second mate as he stood with hands on the wheel.

"Where are we heading?" she asked him, mounting the four steps to the stern and leaning on the rail.

His head turned towards her. Blank, blood-red eyes locked on hers as his hands left the wheel and reached for her.

Fear entered her soul like a lance, only to be quelled by rising anger. She was not some Drenai milk-maid to be terrified thus — she was Virae, and she carried the blood of warriors in her veins.

Dropping her shoulder, she threw a right-hand punch to his jaw. His head snapped back but still he came on. Stepping inside the groping arms, she grabbed his hair and smashed a head butt into his face. He took it without a sound, his hands curling round her throat. Twisting desperately before the grip tightened, she threw him with a rolling hip lock and he hit the deck hard on his back. Virae staggered. He rose slowly and came for her again.

Running forward, she leapt into the air and twisted, hammering both feet into his face. He fell once more.

And rose.

Panicked now, Virae searched for a weapon but there was nothing. Smoothly she vaulted the wheel rail to land on the deck. He followed her.

"Move away from him!" screamed Serbitar, racing forward with sword drawn. Virae ran to him.

"Give me that!" she said, tearing the sword from his hand. Confidence surged in her as her hand gripped the ebony hilt. "Now, you son of a slut!" she shouted, striding towards the mariner.

He made no effort to avoid her, and the sword flashed in the moonlight slicing into his exposed neck. Twice more she struck, and the grinning head toppled from the body. But the corpse did not fall.

Oily smoke oozed from the severed neck to create a second head, formless and vague. Coal-red eyes glittered within the smoke.

"Get back!" shouted Serbitar. "Get away from him!"

This time she obeyed, backing towards the albino.

"Give me the sword."

Vintar and Rek had joined them.

"What on earth is it?" whispered Rek.

"Nothing on earth," replied Vintar.

The thing stood its ground, arms folded across its chest.

"The ship is heading for the rocks," said Virae and Serbitar nodded.

"It is keeping us from the wheel. What do you think, Father Abbot?"

"The spell was planted in the head, which must be thrown overboard. The beast will follow it," replied Vintar. "Attack it."

Serbitar moved forward, supported by Rek. The corpse bent its body, right hand closing on the hair of the severed head. Holding the head to its chest, it waited for the attack.

Rek leapt forward, slashing a cut at the arm. The corpse staggered. Serbitar ran in, slicing the tendons behind the knee. As it fell, Rek hammered the blade two-handed across its arm. The arm fell clear, the fingers releasing the head which rolled across the deck. Dropping his sword Rek dived at it. Swallowing his revulsion, he lifted it by the hair and hurled it over the side. As it hit the waves the corpse on the deck shuddered. As if torn by a great wind the smoke flowed from the neck to vanish beneath the rail and into the darkness of the deep.

The captain came forward from the shadows by the mast.

"What was it?" he asked.

Vintar joined him, placing a hand gently on the man's shoulder.

"We have many enemies," he said. "They have great powers. But fear not, we are not powerless and no harm will befall the ship again. I promise you."

"And what of his soul?" asked the captain, wandering to the rail. "Have they taken it?"

"It is free," said Vintar. "Believe me."

"We will all be free," said Rek, "if someone doesn't turn the ship away from those rocks."

In the darkened tent of Nosta Khan the acolytes silently backed out, leaving him sitting in the centre of the circle chalked on the dirt floor. Lost in thought, Nosta Khan ignored them — he was drained and angry.

For they had bested him and he was a man unused to defeat. It tasted bitter in his mouth.

He smiled.

There would be another time…

16

Blessed by a following wind, Wastrel sped north until at last the silver grey towers of Dros Purdol broke the line of the horizon. The ship entered the harbour a little before noon, piloting past the Drenai war triremes and the merchant vessels anchored in the bay.

On the milling docks street traders sold charms, ornaments, weapons and blankets to mariners, while burly dockers carried provisions up swaying gangplanks, stacking cargo and checking loads. All was noise and apparent confusion.

The harbour-side was rich in colour and the hectic pace of city life and Rek felt a pang of regret to be leaving the ship. As Serbitar led The Thirty ashore, Rek and Virae said their goodbyes to the captain.

"With one exception, it has been a more than pleasant voyage," Virae told him. "I thank you for your courtesy."

"I was glad to be of service, my lady. I will forward the marriage papers to Drenan on my return. It was a "first" for me. I have never taken part in the wedding of an earl's daughter — much less conducted one. I wish you well." Bending forward he kissed her hand. He wanted to add, "Long life and happiness," but he knew their destination.

Virae strode down the gangplank as Rek gripped the captain's hand. He was surprised when the man embraced him.

"May your sword arm be strong, your spirit lucky and your horse swift when the time comes," he said.

Rek grinned. "The first two I will need. As to the horse, do you believe that lady will consider flight?"

"No, she's a wonderful lass. Be lucky."

"I will try hard," said Rek.

At the quayside a young red-caped officer eased his way through the crowd to confront Serbitar.

"Your business in Dros Purdol?" he asked.

"We are travelling to Delnoch as soon as we can obtain horses," answered the albino.

"The fortress will soon be under siege, sir. Are you aware of the coming war?"

"We are. We travel with the Lady Virae, daughter of Earl Delnar, and her husband Regnak."

Seeing Virae, the officer bowed: "A pleasure, my lady. We met at your eighteenth birthday celebration last year. You probably won't remember me."

"On the contrary, Dun Degas! We danced and I trod on your foot. You were most kind and took the blame."

Degas smiled and bowed again. How she had changed, he thought! Where was the clumsy girl who had contrived to trip on the hem of her skirt? Who had blushed as red as the wine when, during a heated conversation, she had crushed a crystal goblet, drenching the woman to her right. What had changed? She was the same woman-girl he remembered — her hair mousy blonde, her mouth too wide, her brows thunder-dark over deep set eyes. He saw her smile as Rek stepped forward and his question was answered. She had become desirable.

"What are you thinking, Degas?" she asked. "You look far away."

"My apologies, my lady. I was thinking Earl Pindak will be delighted to receive you."

"You will have to convey my regrets," said Virae, "for we must leave as soon as possible. Where can we purchase mounts?"

"I am sure we can find you good horses," said Degas. "It is a shame you did not arrive sooner, since four days ago we sent three hundred men to Delnoch to aid the defence. You could have travelled with them — it would have been safer. The Sathuli have grown bold since the Nadir threat."

"We shall get there," said the tall man with Virae. Degas's eyes measured him: a soldier, he thought, or has been at some time. Carries himself well. Degas directed the party to a large inn, promising to supply the horses within two hours.

True to his word, he returned with a troop of Drenai cavalrymen riding thirty-two horses. They were not of the pedigree of the mounts left behind in Lentria, being mustangs bred for mountain work, but they were sturdy animals. When the horses had been allocated and the provisions packed, Degas approached Rek.

"There is no charge for these mounts, but I would be obliged if you could deliver these despatches to the Earl. They came by sea from Drenan yesterday and missed our force. The one with the red seal is from Abalayn."

"The Earl will receive them," said Rek. "Thank you for your help."

"It is nothing. Good luck!" The officer moved on to make his farewells to Virae. Pushing the letters into the saddle-bag of his roan mare, Rek mounted and led the party west from Purdol along the line of the Delnoch mountains. Serbitar cantered alongside him as they entered the first of the deep woods beyond the town.

"You look troubled," said Rek.

"Yes. There will be outlaws, renegades, perhaps deserters, and certainly Sathuli tribesmen along our route."

"But that is not what troubles you?"

"You are perceptive," said Serbitar.

"How true. But then I saw the corpse walk."

"Indeed you did," said Serbitar.

"You have hedged about that night for long enough," said Rek. "Now give me the truth of it. Do you know what it was?"