‘But did you slay the werebeast in the mountains of Pelucid?’ said Certak.
‘No. I just killed a lot of men in a lot of battles.’
‘Then why do you allow the poems to be sung?’ asked Archytas.
‘If I could have stopped them I would,’ Druss told him. ‘The first few years of my return were a nightmare. But I’ve got used to it since. People believe what they want to believe. The truth rarely makes a difference. People need heroes, and if they don’t have any, they invent them.’
Orases returned with a bowl of stew and a loaf of black bread. ‘Have I missed anything?’ he asked.
‘Not really,’ said Druss. ‘We were just chatting.’
‘Druss has been telling us that his legend is all lies,’ said Archytas. ‘It’s been most revealing.’
Druss chuckled with genuine humour and shook his head. ‘You see,’ he told Diagoras and Certak, ‘people believe what they want to believe, and hear only what they wish to hear.’ He glanced across at the tight-lipped Archytas. ‘Boy, there was a time when your blood would now be staining the walls of this tent. But I was younger then, and headstrong. Now I get no delight from killing puppies. But I am still Druss, so I tell you this, walk softly around me from now on.’
Archytas forced a laugh. ‘You cause me no concern, old man,’ he said. ‘I don’t think . . .’
Druss rose swiftly and backhanded, him across the face. Archytas hurtled backwards over his chair to lie groaning on the tent floor, his nose smashed and leaking blood.
‘No, you don’t think,’ said Druss. ‘Now give me that stew, Orases. It must be getting cold.’
‘Welcome to Skeln, Druss,’ said Diagoras, grinning.
*
For three days Druss remained at the camp. Sieben had woken in Delnar’s trent, complaining of chest pains. The regimental surgeon examined him and ordered him to rest, explaining to Druss and Delnar that the poet had suffered a serious spasm of the heart.
‘How bad is it?’ asked Druss.
The surgeon’s eyes were bleak. ‘If he rests for a week or two he could be fine. The danger is that the heart might cramp suddenly – and fail. He’s not a young man, and the journey here was hard for him.’
‘I see,’ said Druss. ‘Thank you.’ He turned to Delnar. ‘I am sorry, but we must stay.’
‘Do not concern yourself, my friend,’ responded the Earl, waving his hand. ‘Despite what I said when you arrived, you are welcome. But, tell me, what happened between you and Archytas? It looks like a mountain fell on his face.’
‘His nose tapped my hand,’ grunted Druss.
Delnar smiled. ‘He’s a somewhat loathsome character. But you had better watch out for him. He’s stupid enough to challenge you.’
‘No, he won’t,’ said Druss. ‘He may be foolish, but he’s not in love with death. Even a puppy knows to hide from a wolf.’
On the morning of the fourth day, as Druss sat with Sieben, one of the lookout sentries came running headlong into the camp. Within minutes chaos reigned as men raced for their armour. Hearing the commotion, Druss walked from the tent. A young soldier ran by. Druss’s arm snaked out, catching the man’s cloak and wrenching him to a stop.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Druss.
‘The Ventrians are here!’ shouted the soldier, tearing himself loose and running towards the pass. Druss swore and strode after him. At the mouth of the pass he halted, staring out over the stream.
Standing in armoured line upon line, their lances gleaming, were the warriors of Gorben, filling the valley from mountainside to mountainside. At the centre of the mass was the tent of the Emperor, and around it were massed the black and silver ranks of the Immortals.
Drenai warriors scurried past him as Druss made his slow way to Delnar’s side.
‘I told you he was cunning,’ said Druss. ‘He must have sent a token force to Penrac, knowing it would draw our army south.’
‘Yes. But what now?’
‘You’re not left with many choices,’ said Druss.
True.’
The Drenai warriors spread out across the narrow centre of the pass in three ranks, their round shields glinting in the morning sun, their white horsehair-crested helms flowing in the breeze.