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

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

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

LEGEND

THE KING BEYOND THE GATE

WAYLANDER

QUEST FOR LOST HEROES

WAYLANDER II

THE FIRST CHRONICLES OF DRUSS THE LEGEND

WOLF IN SHADOW

THE LAST GUARDIAN

BLOODSTONE

GHOST KING

LAST SWORD OF POWER

LION OF MACEDON

DARK PRINCE

IRONHAND’S DAUGHTER

THE HAWK ETERNAL

KNIGHTS OF DARK RENOWN

MORNINGSTAR

The First Chronicles of

druss the legend

David A. Gemmell

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgments

BOOK ONE: Birth of a Legend

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

BOOK TWO: The Demon in the Axe

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

BOOK THREE: The Chaos Warrior

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

BOOK FOUR: Druss the Legend

Prologue

The Battle of Skeln Pass

Dedication

Druss the Legend is dedicated with great love and affection to memory of Mick Jeffrey, a quiet Christian of infinite patience and kindness. Those privileged to know him were blessed indeed. Goodnight and God bless, Mick!

Acknowledgments

My thanks to my editor John Jarrold, copy editor Jean Maund, and test readers Val Gemmell, Stella Graham, Edith Graham, Tom Taylor, and Vikki Lee France. Thanks also to Stan Nicholls and Chris Baker for bringing Druss to life in a new way.

BOOK ONE: Birth of a Legend

Prologue

Screened by the undergrowth he knelt by the trail, dark eyes scanning the boulders ahead of him and the trees beyond. Dressed as he was in a shirt of fringed buckskin, and brown leather leggings and boots, the tall man was virtually invisible, kneeling in the shadows of the trees.

The sun was high in a cloudless summer sky, and the spoor was more than three hours old. Insects had criss-crossed the hoof-marks, but the edges of the prints were still firm.

Forty horsemen, laden with plunder . . .

Shadak faded back through the undergrowth to where his horse was tethered. He stroked the beast’s long neck and lifted his swordbelt from the back of the saddle. Strapping it to his waist he drew the two short swords; they were of the finest Vagrian steel, and double edged. He thought for a moment, then sheathed the blades and reached for the bow and quiver strapped to the saddle pommel. The bow was of Vagrian horn, a hunting weapon capable of launching a two-foot-long arrow across a killing space of sixty paces. The doeskin quiver held twenty shafts that Shadak had crafted himself: the flights of goose feather, stained red and yellow, the heads of pointed iron, not barbed, and easily withdrawn from the bodies of the slain. Swiftly he strung the bow and notched an arrow to the string. Then looping the quiver over his shoulder, he made his way carefully back to the trail.

Would they have left a rearguard? It was unlikely, for there were no Drenai soldiers within fifty miles.

But Shadak was a cautious man. And he knew Collan. Tension rose in him as he pictured the smiling face and the cruel, mocking eyes. ‘No anger,’ he told himself. But it was hard, bitterly hard. Angry men make mistakes, he reminded himself. The hunter must be cold as iron.

Silently he edged his way forward. A towering boulder jutted from the earth some twenty paces ahead and to his left; to the right was a cluster of smaller rocks, no more than four feet high. Shadak took a deep breath and rose from his hiding-place.

From behind the large boulder a man stepped into sight, bowstring bent. Shadak dropped to his knee, the attacker’s arrow slashing through the air above his head. The bowman tried to leap back behind the shelter of the boulder, but even as he was dropping Shadak loosed a shaft which plunged into the bowman’s throat, punching through the skin at the back of his neck.

Another attacker ran forward, this time from Shadak’s right. With no time to notch a second arrow Shadak swung the bow, lashing it across the man’s face. As the attacker stumbled, Shadak dropped the bow and drew his two short swords; with one sweeping blow he cut through the neck of the fallen man. Two more attackers ran into view and he leapt to meet them. Both men wore iron breastplates, their necks and heads protected by chain mail, and they carried sabres.