Druss took a deep breath. ‘Come on, little Caessa, let’s find your mother,’ he said. ‘But you will have to help me; I’m a little unsteady.’
The Nadir swept through the gates and on to the waiting blades of the Drenai. Above them, Rek received word of the calamity. For the moment the attack on the wall had ceased as men massed below in the gate tunnel.
‘Back!’ he shouted. ‘Get to Wall Five.’ Men began to run across the grass, through the deserted streets of outer Delnoch, streets which Druss had cleared of people so many days before. There would be no killing ground now between walls, for the buildings still stood, haunted and empty.
Warriors raced for the transient security of Wall Five, giving no thought to the rearguard at the broken gate. Gilad did not blame them and, strangely, had no wish to be with them.
Only Orrin, as he ran, noticed the rearguard. He turned to join them, but Serbitar was beside him, grasping his arm. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It would be useless’
They ran on. Behind them the Nadir breasted the wall and raced in pursuit.
In the gateway the carnage continued. Druss, fighting from memory, hacked and slashed at the advancing warriors. Togi died as a short lance hammered into his chest; Gilad did not see him fall. For Caessa the scene was different: there were ten raiders and Druss was battling against them all. Each time he killed a man she smiled. Eight . . . Nine . . .
The last of the raiders, a man she could never forget for he had killed her mother, came forward. He had a gold earring and a scar running from eyebrow to chin. Lifting her sword she hurled herself forward, ramming the blade into his belly. The squat Nadir toppled backwards, pulling the girl with him. A knife sliced between her shoulder blades. But she did not feel it. The raiders were all dead, and for the first time since childhood she was safe. Her mother would come out of the trees now and take her home, and Druss would be given a huge meal and they would laugh. And she would sing for him. She would . . .
Only seven men still stood around Druss and the Nadir surrounded them. A lance thrust out suddenly, crushing Druss’s ribs and piercing a lung. Snaga lashed back a murderous reply, cutting the lancer’s arm from his shoulder. As he fell Gilad sliced his throat. Then Gilad himself fell, pierced through the back, and Druss stood alone. The Nadir fell back as one of their captains moved forward.
‘Remember me, Deathwalker?’ he said.
Druss tore the lance from his side, hurling it away from him.
‘I remember you, lardbelly. The herald!’
‘You said you would have my soul, yet I stand here and you die. What think you of that?’
Suddenly Druss lifted his arm to fling Snaga forward and the blade split the herald’s head like a pumpkin.
‘I think you talk too much,’ said Druss. He toppled to his knees and looked down to see the lifeblood flowing from him. Beside him Gilad was dying, but his eyes were open. ‘It was good to be alive, wasn’t it, boy?’
Around them the Nadir stood, but no move was made against them. Druss looked up and pointed at a warrior.
‘You, boy,’ he said in guttural dialect, ‘fetch my axe.’ For a moment the warrior did not move, then he shrugged and pulled Snaga from the head of the herald. ‘Bring it here,’ ordered Druss. As the young soldier advanced, Druss could see that he intended to kill him with his own weapon, but a voice barked out a command and the warrior stiffened. He handed Druss the axe and moved back.
Druss’s eyes were misting now and he could not make out the figure looming before him.
‘You did well, Deathwalker,’ said Ulric. ‘Now you can rest.’
‘If I had just one more ounce of strength I would cat you down,’ muttered Druss, struggling with his axe. But the weight was too great.
‘I know that. I did not know Nogusha carried poison on his blade. Will you believe that?’