‘You! Where will I find the Earl?’
‘How should I know?’ answered the man, walking past the black-garbed axeman. A mighty hand curled round the folds of the red cloak and tugged, contemptuously. The officer checked in his stride, lost his footing and crashed back into the old man, who grabbed him by the belt and hoisted him from the floor. His breastplate clanged as his back hit the gateway.
‘Maybe you didn’t hear me, you son of a slut!’ hissed Druss. The young man swallowed hard.
‘I think he’s in the great hall,’ he said. ‘Sir!’ he added hurriedly. The officers had never seen battle nor any degree of violence, yet he knew instinctively the threat contained in the ice-cold eyes. He’s insane, he thought as the old man slowly lowered him to the ground.
‘Lead me to him and announce me. The name is Druss. Do you think you can remember it?’
The young man nodded so vigorously that his horse-hair crested helm slipped over his eyes.
Minutes later Druss paced in the great hall, his anger barely held in check. Was this how empires fell?
‘Druss, old friend, how you delight my eyes!’ If Druss had been surprised by the state of the fortress, he was doubly shocked by the appearance of Earl Delnar, Lord Warden of the North. Supported by the young officer, the man would not pass for the shadow he had cast at Skeln Pass a scant fifteen years before. His skin stretched like parchment over a skull-like countenance, yellow and dry, his eyes burning brightly – feverishly – in dark sockets. The young officer brought him close to the old warrior and the Earl extended a hand like a claw. Gods of Missael, thought Druss. He is five years younger than I!
‘I do not find you in good health, my lord,’ said Druss.
‘Still the blunt speaker, I see! No, you do not. I am dying, Druss.’ He patted the young soldier’s arm. ‘Ease me into that chair by the sunlight, Mendar.’ The young man pulled the chair into place. Once settled, the Earl smiled his thanks and dismissed him to fetch wine. ‘You frightened the boy, Druss. He was shaking more than I – and I have good reason.’ He stopped speaking and began to take deep, shuddering breaths. His arms trembled. Druss leaned forward, resting a huge hand on the frail shoulder, wishing he could pour strength into the man. ‘I will not last another week. But Vintar came to me in a dream yesterday. He rides with The Thirty and my Virae. They will be here within the month.’
‘So will the Nadir,’ said Druss, pulling up a high-backed chair to sit opposite the dying Earl.
‘True. In the interim I would like you to take over the Dros. Prepare the men. Desertions are high. Morale is low. You must. . . take over.’ Once more the Earl paused to breathe.
‘I cannot do that – even for you. I am no general, Delnar. A man must know his limitations. I am a warrior – sometimes a champion, but never a Gan. I understand little of the clerk’s work involved in running this city. No, I cannot do that. But I will stay and fight – that will have to be enough.’
The Earl’s fever-sick eyes focused on the ice-blue orbs of the axeman. ‘I know your limitations, Druss, and I understand your fears. But there is no one else. When The Thirty arrive they will plan and organise. Until then, it is as a warrior that you will be needed. Not to fight, although the gods know how well you do that, but to train: to pass on your years of experience. Think of the men here as a rusty weapon which needs a warrior’s firm hand. It needs to be sharpened, honed, prepared. It’s useless else.’
‘I may have to kill Gan Orrin,’ said Druss.
‘No! You must understand that he is not evil, nor even wilful. He is a man out of his depth, and struggling hard. I don’t think he lacks courage. See him and then judge for yourself.’
A racking cough burst from the old man’s lips, his body shuddering violently. Blood frothed at his mouth as Druss leapt to his side. The Earl’s hand fluttered towards his sleeve and the cloth held there. Druss pulled it clear and dabbed the Earl’s mouth, easing him forward and gently tapping his back. At last the fit subsided.