He handed the Earl some toasted bread and honey which he wolfed down, following it with watered wine.
Back in his quarters, Rek buckled his armour into place and made his way to the battlements. Hogun and Orrin were already there, supervising the barricade within the gate tunnel.
‘This is the weak spot,’ said Orrin. ‘We should retire to the Keep. At least the gates will hold for some hours.’
Rek shook his head. ‘We will stand on Geddon. There must be no retreat.’
‘Then we shall die here,’ said Hogun. ‘For that barricade will hold them not at all.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Rek. ‘We shall see. Good morning, Joachim Sathuli.’
The bearded warrior nodded and smiled. ‘You slept well, Earl of Bronze?’
‘Well indeed. I thank you for giving us this day of your time.’
‘It is nothing. The payment of a small debt.’
‘You owe me nothing. But I tell you this, if we survive this day there shall be no more war between us. The rights to the high Delnoch passes are mine, though you dispute the rights of the Drenai to them. Therefore, before these witnesses, I give them to you.
‘There is also a scroll bearing my seal at the Keep. When you leave tonight, you shall have it. A copy will go to Abalayn in Drenan.
‘I know that the gesture will have little meaning if the Nadir win through today – but it is all I can do.’
Joachim bowed. ‘The gesture is enough in itself.’
The talk ceased as the Nadir drums sounded and the warriors of Dros Delnoch spread out along the wall to receive the attackers. Rek lowered his helm visor and drew the sword of Egel. Below, in the barricaded gate tunnel, stood Orrin and one hundred warriors. The tunnel was only twenty feet wide at the centre and Orrin reckoned to hold it for the greater part of the morning. After that, with the barricades torn down, the sheer weight of the Nadir horde would push them back into the open ground behind the ramparts.
And so the last bloody day began at Dros Delnoch.
31
Wave after wave of screaming tribesmen scaled ropes and ladders throughout the morning, finding that only cold, terrible death awaited them under the slashing swords and tulwars of the defenders. Men fell screaming to the rocks below the walls, or died trampled beneath the feet of battling men on the ramparts. Side by side, Sathuli and Drenai brought death to the Nadir.
Rek cut and slashed two-handed, the sword of Egel cleaving the ranks of the Nadir like a scythe through wheat. Beside him Joachim fought with two short swords, whirling and killing.
Below, Orrin’s men were being pushed slowly back into the wider section of the tunnel, though the Nadir paid dearly for every inch of ground.
Blocking a thrusting lance, Orrin backhanded a slashing cut to a warrior’s face. The man disappeared in the milling mass and another attacker took his place.
‘We can’t hold!’ yelled a young officer to Orrin’s right.
Orrin had no time to answer.
Suddenly the leading Nadir warrior screamed in horror, pushing back into his comrades. Others followed his gaze, looking back beyond the Drenai at the tunnel mouth.
A gap opened between the Drenai and the Nadir, and widened as the tribesmen turned and fled down into the open grounds between Valteri and Geddon.
‘Great gods of Missael!’ said the officer. ‘What’s going on?’ Orrin turned and saw what had filled the Nadir with terror.
Behind them in the darkened tunnel stood Druss the Legend, Serbitar and The Thirty. With them were many departed warriors. Druss’s axe was in his hand and the joy of battle in his eyes. Orrin swallowed, then licked his lips. He replaced his sword in its scabbard at the third attempt.
‘I think we will leave them to hold the tunnel,’ he said. The remaining men bunched behind him as he walked towards Druss.
The ghostly defenders appeared not to notice them, their eyes fixed on the tunnel beyond. Orrin tried to speak to Druss, but the old man just stared ahead. When Orrin reached out a shaking hand and tried to touch the axeman, his hand met nothing – only cold, cold air.