‘You have done well, Rek,’ she said. ‘I am so proud of you.’
‘Without you it is meaningless,’ he said.
‘I wouldn’t change anything, Rek. If they told me that I could have my life again, but not meet you, I would refuse. What does it matter that we had only months? What months they were!’
‘I never loved anyone as I loved you,’ he said.
‘I know.’
They talked for hours, but the moon shone from the same place and the stars were static, the night eternal. Finally she kissed him to stem his words.
‘There are others you must see.’
He tried to argue, but she held her fingers to his mouth. ‘We will meet again, my love. For now, speak to the others.’
Around the walls was now a mist, swirling and thick. Overhead the moon shone in a cloudless sky. She walked into the mist and was gone. He waited and soon a figure in silver armour came towards him. As always he looked fresh and alert, his armour reflected the moonlight and his white cloak was spotless. He smiled.
‘Well met, Rek,’ said Serbitar. They clasped hands in the warrior’s grip.
‘The Sathuli came,’ said Rek. ‘You held the gate just long enough.’
‘I know. Tomorrow will be hard, and I will not lie to you. All futures have I seen, and in only one do you survive the day. But there are forces here which I cannot explain to you and even now their magic is at work. Fight well!’
‘Will Woundweaver arrive?’ asked Rek.
Serbitar shrugged. ‘Not tomorrow.’
‘Then we will fall?’
‘It is likely. But if you do not, I want you to do something for me.’
‘Name it,’ said Rek.
‘Go once more to Egel’s room where there is a last gift for you. The servant Arshin will explain.’
‘What is it? Is it a weapon. I could use it tomorrow.’
‘It is not a weapon. Go there tomorrow night.’
‘Serbitar?’
‘Yes, my friend.’
‘Was all as you dreamed it would be? The Source, I mean?’
‘Yes! And so much more. But I cannot speak of it now. Wait for a while longer. There is another who must speak with you.’
The mist deepened and Serbitar’s white form drew back until he merged and was gone.
And Druss was there. Mighty and strong, his black jerkin glistening, his axe at his side.
‘He gave me a fine send-off,’ said Druss. ‘How are you, boy? You look tired.’
‘I am tired, but all the better for seeing you.’
Druss clapped him on the shoulder and laughed.
‘That Nogusha used a poisoned blade on me. I tell you, laddie, it hurt like hell. Caessa dressed me. I don’t know how she got me to my feet. Still. . . she did.’
‘I saw it,’ said Rek.
‘Aye, a grand exit, was it not? That young lad Gilad fought well. I have not seen him yet, but I expect I shall. You’re a good boy, Rek. Worthy! It was good to know you.’
‘And you, Druss. I never met a better man.’
‘Of course you did, boy. Hundreds! But it’s nice of you to say it. However, I didn’t come here to exchange compliments. I know what you are facing and I know tomorrow will be hard – damned hard. But don’t give ground. Do not retreat to the Keep – whatever happens, hold the wall. Much rests on it. Keep Joachim beside you; if he dies, you are finished. I must go. But remember. Hold the wall. Do not retreat to the Keep.’
‘I will remember. Goodbye, Druss.’
‘Not goodbye. Not yet,’ said Druss. ‘Soon.’
The mist moved forward, enveloping the axeman and sweeping over Rek. Then the moonlight faded and dark descended on the Earl of Bronze.
Back in the Keep, Rek awoke. The fire still burned and he was hungry again.
In the kitchens Arshin was preparing breakfast.
The old man was tired, but he brightened when Rek walked in.
He liked the new Earl and remembered when Virae’s father, Delnar, had been a young man, proud and strong. There seemed a similarity, but perhaps – Arshin thought – the long years had distorted his memory.