‘How many here are veterans?’ asked Druss.
‘About half. I’ve placed them at the front.’
‘How long will it take a rider to reach Penrac?’
‘I’ve sent a man. The army should be back in about ten days.’
‘You think we’ve got ten days?’ asked Druss.
‘No. But, as you say, there aren’t too many choices. What do you think Gorben will do?’
‘First he’ll talk. He’ll ask you to surrender. You’d better request a few hours to make up your mind. Then he’ll send the Panthians in. They’re an undisciplined bunch but they fight like devils. We should see them off. Their wicker shields and stabbing spears are no match for Drenai armour. After that he’ll test all his troops on us . . .’
‘The Immortals?’
‘Not until the end, when we’re weary and finished.’
‘It’s a gloomy picture,’ said Delnar.
‘It’s a bitch,’ agreed Druss.
‘Will you stand with us, axeman?’
‘Did you expect me to leave?’
Delnar chuckled suddenly. ‘Why shouldn’t you? I wish I could.’
*
In the first Drenai line Diagoras sheathed his sword, wiping his sweating palm on his red cloak. “There are enough of them,’ he said.
Beside him Certak nodded. ‘Masterly understatement. They look like they could run right over us.’
‘We’ll have to surrender, won’t we?’ whispered Orases from behind them, blinking sweat from his eyes.
‘Somehow I don’t think that’s likely,’ said Certak. ‘Though I admit it’s a welcome thought.’
A rider on a black stallion forded the stream and galloped towards the Drenai line. Delnar walked through the ranks, Druss beside him, and waited.
The rider wore the black and silver armour of a general of the Immortals. Reining in before the two men, he leaned forward on the pommel of his saddle.
‘Druss?’ he said. ‘Is that you?’
Druss studied the gaunt features, the silver-streaked dark hair hanging in two braids.
‘Welcome to Skeln, Bodasen,’ answered the axeman.
‘I’m sorry to find you here. I was meaning to ride for Skoda as soon as we took Drenan. Is Rowena well?’
‘Yes. And you?’
‘As you see me. Fit and well. Yourself?’
‘I’m not complaining.’
‘And Sieben?’
‘He’s asleep in a tent.’
‘He always knew when to avoid battles,’ said Bodasen, forcing a smile. ‘And that’s what this is looking like unless commonsense prevails. Are you the leader?’ he asked Delnar.
‘I am. What message do you bring?’
‘Merely this. Tomorrow morning my Emperor will ride through this pass. He would consider it a courtesy if you could remove your men from his path.’
‘We will think on it,’ said Delnar.
‘I would advise you to think well,’ said Bodasen, turning his mount. ‘I’ll be seeing you, Druss. Take care!’
‘You too.’
Bodasen spurred the stallion back towards the stream and on through the Panthian ranks.
Druss beckoned Delnar aside, away from the men. ‘It’s pointless standing here all day staring at them,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you order them to stand down and we’ll send half of them back to bring up some blankets and fuel?’
‘You don’t think they’ll attack today?’
‘No. Why should they? They know we’ll not be reinforced tonight. Tomorrow will come soon enough.’ Druss tramped back to the camp, stopping in to see the poet. Sieben was asleep. Druss pulled up a chair and stared down at the poet’s lined face. Uncharacteristically he stroked the balding head. Sieben opened his eyes.
‘Oh it’s you,’ he said. ‘What’s all the fuss about?’
‘The Ventrians tricked us. They’re on the other side of the mountain.’
Sieben swore softly. Druss chuckled. ‘You just lie here, poet, and I’ll tell you all about it once we’ve sent them running.’
‘The Immortals are here too?’ asked Sieben.
‘Of course.’
‘Wonderful. A nice little outing you promised me. A few speeches. And what do we get? Another War.’
‘I saw Bodasen. He’s looking well.’
‘Marvellous. Maybe after he’s killed us we can have a drink together and chat about old times.’
‘You take things too seriously, poet. Rest now, and later I’ll have some men carry you up to the pass. You’d hate to miss the action, now, wouldn’t you?’
‘Couldn’t you get them to carry me all the way back to Skoda?’