‘Who the hell do you think you are, old man?’ he said.
Druss ignored him, his eyes scanning the thirty or so men in the room. A hand grabbed his jerkin.
‘I said who . . .’ Druss backhanded the man across the room to crash into the wall and slither to the floor, half-stunned.
‘I am Druss. Sometimes called Captain of the Axe. In Ventria they call me Druss the Sender. In Vagria I am merely the Axeman. To the Nadir I am Death-walker. In Lentria I am the Silver Slayer.
‘But who are you? You dung eating lumps of offal! Who the hell are you?’ The old man drew Snaga from her sheath at his side. ‘I have a mind to set an example today. I have a mind to cut the fat from this ill-fated fortress. Where is Dun Pinar?’
The young man pushed himself from the back of the crowd, a half-smile on his face, a cool look in his dark eyes. ‘I am here, Druss.’
‘Gan Orrin has appointed me to take charge of the training and preparation of the defences. I want a meeting with all officers on the training ground in an hour. Pinar, you organise it. The rest of you, clear up this mess and get yourselves ready. The holiday is over. Any man who fails me will curse the day he was born.’ Beckoning Pinar to follow him, he walked outside. ‘Find Hogun,’ he said, ‘and bring him to me at once in the main hall of the Keep.’
‘Yes, sir! And sir . . .’
‘Out with it, lad.’
‘Welcome to Dros Delnoch.’
*
The news flashed through the town of Delnoch like a summer storm, from tavern to shop, to market stall. Druss was here! Women passed the message to their men, children chanted his name in the alleys. Tales of his exploits were retold, growing by the minute. A large crowd gathered before the barracks, watching the officers milling at the parade ground. Children were lifted high, perched on men’s shoulders to catch a glimpse of the greatest Drenai hero of all time.
When he appeared, a huge roar went up from the crowd and the old man paused and waved.
They couldn’t hear what he told the officers, but the men moved with a purpose as he dismissed them. Then, with a final wave he returned to the Keep.
Within the main hall once more, Druss removed his jerkin and relaxed in r high-backed chair. His knee was throbbing and his back ached like the devil. And still Hogun had not appeared.
He ordered a servant to prepare him a meal and enquired after the Earl. The servant told him the
Earl was sleeping peacefully. He returned with a huge steak, lightly done, which Druss wolfed down, following it with a bottle of finest Lentrian Red. He wiped the grease from his beard and rubbed his knee. After seeing Hogun, he would have a hot bath, ready for tomorrow. He knew his first day would tax him to his limits – and he mustn’t fail.
‘Gan Hogun, sir,’ announced the servant. ‘And Dun Elicas.’
The two men who entered lifted Druss’s heart. The first – it had to be Hogun – was broad-shouldered and tall, clear-eyed, with a square jaw.
And Elicas, though slimmer and shorter, had the look of eagles about him. Both men wore the black and silver of The Legion, without badges of rank. It was a long-standing custom, going back to the days when the Earl of Bronze had formed them for the Vagrian Wars.
‘Be seated, gentlemen,’ said Druss.
Hogun pulled up a chair, reversing it in order to lean on the back. Elicas perched himself on the edge of the table, arms folded across his chest.
Elicas watched the two men carefully. He had not known what to expect from Druss, but he had begged Hogun to allow him to be present at the meeting. He worshipped Hogun, but the grim old man seated before him had always been his idol.
‘Welcome to Delnoch, Druss,’ said Hogun. ‘You have lifted morale already. The men speak of nothing else. I am sorry to have missed you earlier, but I was at the first wall supervising an archery tourney.’