‘I don’t understand you,’ said Pinar.
‘Set me a task. Something no man here can do. And we will see how “the old man” fares.’
‘I have no time for these games. I must return to the Dros.’ He turned to go, but Druss’s words hit him like a blow, chilling his blood.
‘You don’t understand, boy. If you do not set me that task, I will have to kill you. For I will not be shamed.’
The young man turned again. ‘As you say. Very well, shall we adjourn to the market-place?’
The inn emptied, the crowd forming a circle about the two men in the deserted village square. The sun beat down and Druss sucked in a deep breath, glorying in the warmth of spring.
‘It will be pointless giving you a test of strength,’ said Pinar, ‘for you are built like a bull. But war, as you know, is a test of stamina. Do you wrestle?’
‘I have been known to,’ said Druss, doffing his jerkin.
‘Good! Then you may test your skill, one at a time, against three men of my choice. Do you agree?’
‘All too simple against these soft, fat runners,’ said Druss. An angry murmur arose from the crowd but Pinar silenced them with a raised hand.
‘Dorian. Hagir. Somin. Will you give old father here a trial?’
The men were the first three Dross had met at the bar. Dorian removed his cloak and tied his shoulder-length hair behind his neck with a leather thong. Druss, unnoticed, tested his knee: it was not strong.
‘Are you ready?’ asked Pinar.
Both men nodded and immediately Dorian rushed the older man. Druss lashed out, grabbing the other’s throat, then stooped to push his right hand between the man’s legs and lifted. With a grunt and a heave, he hurled him ten feet through the air to land like a sack on the hard-packed earth. Dorian half rose, than sat back shaking his head. The crowd hooted with laughter.
‘Who’s next?’ asked Druss.
Pinar nodded to another youngster; then, observing the fear on the lad’s face, he stepped forward. ‘You have made your point, greybeard. You are strong and I am at fault. But Gan Orrin will not allow you to fight.’
‘Laddie, he will not stop me. If he tries, I will tie him to a fast horse and send him back to his uncle.’ All eyes turned as a hoarse cry split the air.
‘You old bastard!’ Dorian had gathered up his longsword and was advancing Towards Druss, who stood with arms folded, waiting.
‘No,’ said Pinar. ‘Put up your blade, Dorian.’
‘Back off or draw your sword,’ Dorian told him. ‘I have had enough of these games. You think you are a warrior, old man? Then let us see you use that axe. Because if you don’t, I will put some air in your belly.’
‘Boy,’ said Druss, his eyes cold, ‘think well about this venture. For make no mistake, you cannot stand before me and live. No man ever has.’ The words were spoken softly, yet no one disbelieved the old man.
Except Dorian.
‘Well, we shall see. Draw your blade!’
Druss slipped Snaga from its sheath, his broad hand curling round its black haft. Dorian attacked!
And died.
He lay on the ground, head half-severed from his neck. Druss hammered Snaga deep into the earth, cleansing the blade of blood, while Pinar stood in stunned silence. Dorian had not been a great swordsman, but he was certainly skilled. Yet the old man had batted aside the slashing sword and in one flowing motion had returned the attack – all without moving his feet. Pinar looked down at the body of his former companion. You should have stayed at the Dros, he thought.
‘I did not want that to happen,’ said Druss, ‘but I gave him fair warning. The choice was his.’
‘Yes,’ said Pinar. ‘My apologies for speaking the way I did. You will be a great help to us, I think. Excuse me, I must help them to remove the body. Will you join me for a drink?’
‘I will see you in the long bar,’ said Druss.
The tall dark-haired youngster whom Druss had been scheduled to wrestle approached him as he walked through the crowd.