Gemmell, David – Drenai 06 – The First Chronicles of Druss the Legend

‘Earl Delnar asked me to conduct you to his tent. I am Archytas. And you?’

‘Druss. This is Sieben. Lead on.’

The officer set a fast pace which Druss made no effort to match on the last few hundred paces uphill. He walked slowly beside Sieben. The truth of it was that Druss himself was tired. They had walked most of the night, both trying to prove they still had a claim to youth.

Delnar dismissed Archytas and remained seated behind the small folding table on which were strewn papers and despatches. Sieben, oblivious of the tension, slumped to Delnar’s narrow bed. Druss lifted a flagon of wine to his lips, taking three great swallows.

‘He is not welcome here – and, therefore, neither are you,’ said Delnar, as Druss replaced the flagon.

The axeman wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Had I been sure you were here, I would not have brought him,’ he said. ‘I take it the army has moved on.’

‘Yes. They travelled south. Gorben has landed. You may borrow two horses, but I want you gone by sundown.’

‘I came to give the men something to think about besides waiting,’ said Druss. They won’t need me now. So I’ll just rest here for a couple of days then head back to Skoda.’

‘I said you’re not welcome here,’ said Delnar.

The axeman’s eyes grew cold as he stared at the Earl. ‘Listen to me,’ said Druss, as softly as he could. ‘I know why you feel as you do. In your place I would feel the same. But I am not in your place. I am Druss. And I walk where I will. If I say I will stay here then I shall. Now I like you, laddie. But cross me and I’ll kill you.’

Delnar nodded and rubbed his chin. The situation had gone as far as he could allow it. He had hoped Druss would leave, but he could not force him. What could be more ludicrous than the Earl of the North ordering Drenai warriors to attack Druss the Legend? Especially since the man had been invited to the camp by the Lord of Hosts. Delnar did not fear Druss, because he did not fear death. His life had been ended for him six years before. Since then his wife, Vashti, had shamed him with many more affairs. Three years ago she had delivered to him a daughter, a delightful child he adored, even if he doubted his part in her conception. Vashti had run away to the capital soon after, leaving the child at Delnoch. The Earl had heard his wife was now living with a Ventrian merchant in the rich western quarter. Taking a deep, calming breath, he met Druss’ eyes.

‘Stay then,’ he said. ‘But keep him from my sight.’

Druss nodded. He glanced down at Sieben. The poet was asleep.

‘This should never have come between us,’ said Delnar.

‘These things happen,’ said Druss. ‘Sieben always had a weakness for beautiful women.’

‘I shouldn’t hate him. But he was the first I knew about. He was the man who destroyed my dreams. You understand?’

‘We will leave tomorrow,’ said Druss wearily. ‘But for now let’s walk in the pass. I need some air in my lungs.’

The Earl rose and donned his helm and red cape, and together the two warriors walked through the camp and on up the steep rocky slope to the mouth of the pass. It ran for almost a mile, narrowing at the centre to less than fifty paces, where the ground dropped away gently in a rolling slope down to a stream that flowed across the valley floor, angling towards the sea some three miles distant. From the mouth of the pass, through the jagged peaks, the sea glittered in the fragmented sunlight, glowing gold and blue. A fresh easterly wind cooled Druss’s face.

‘Good place for a defensive battle,’ said the axeman, scanning the pass. ‘At the centre any attacking force would be funnelled in and numbers would be useless.’

‘And they would have to charge uphill,’ said Delnar. ‘I think Abalayn was hoping Gorben would land here. We could have sealed him in the bay. Left his army to starve, and brought the fleet round to harry his ships.’