LEGEND by David A. Gemmell

And finally Geddon, the Wall of Death . . .

I shall not see Geddon, thought Antaheim.

And he slept.

*

‘Tests! All we keep hearing about is that the real test will come tomorrow. How many damn tests are there?’ stormed Elicas. Rek raised a hand, as the young warrior interrupted Serbitar.

‘Calm down!’ he said. ‘Let him finish. We have only a few moments before the City Elders arrive.’

Elicas glared at Rek, but was silent after looking at Hogun for support and seeing his almost imperceptible shake of the head. Druss rubbed his eyes and accepted a goblet of wine from Orrin.

‘I am sorry,’ said Serbitar, gently. ‘I know how irksome such talk is. For eight days now we have held the Nadir back, and it is true I continue to speak of fresh tests. But you see, Ulric is a master strategist. Look at his army – it is twenty thousand tribesmen. This first week has seen them blooded on our walls. They are not his finest troops. Even as we have trained our recruits, so does he. He is in no hurry; he has spent these days culling the weak from his ranks, for he knows there are more battles to come when, and if, he takes the Dros. We have done well – exceedingly well. But we have paid dearly. Fourteen hundred men have died and four hundred more will not fight again.

‘I tell you this. Tomorrow his veterans will come.’

‘And where do you gain this intelligence?’ snapped Elicas.

‘Enough, boy!’ roared Druss. ‘It is sufficient that he has been right till now. When he is wrong, you may have your say.’

‘What do you suggest, Serbitar?’ asked Rek.

‘Give them the wall,’ answered the albino.

‘What?’ said Virae. ‘After all the fighting and dying? That is madness.’

‘Not so, my lady,’ said Bowman, speaking for the first time. All eyes turned to the young archer, who had forsaken his usual uniform of green tunic and hose. Now he wore a splendid buckskin top-coat, heavy with fringed thongs, sporting an eagle crafted from small beads across the back. His long blond hair was held in place by a buckskin headband, and by his side hung a silver dagger with an ebony haft shaped like a falcon, whose spread wings made up the knuckle guard.

He stood. ‘It is sound good sense. We knew that walls would fall. Eldibar is the longest and therefore the most difficult to hold. We are stretched there. On Musif we would need fewer men, and therefore would lose fewer. And we have the killing ground between the walls. My archers could create an unholy massacre among Ulric’s veterans before even a blow is struck.’

‘There is another point,’ said Rek, ‘and one equal­ly important. Sooner or later we will be pushed back from the wall, and despite the fire gullies our losses will be enormous. If we retire during the night, we will save lives.’

‘And let us not forget morale,’ Hogun pointed out. ‘The loss of the wall will hit the Dros badly. If we give it up as a strategic withdrawal, however, we will turn the situation to our advantage.’

‘What of you, Orrin? How do you feel about this?’ asked Rek.

‘We have about five hours. Let’s get it started,’ answered the Gan.

Rek turned lastly to Druss. ‘And you?’

The old man shrugged. ‘Sounds good,’ he said.

‘It’s settled then,’ said Rek. ‘I leave you to begin the withdrawal. Now I must meet the Council.’

Throughout the long night the silent retreat con­tinued. Wounded men were carried on stretchers, medical supplies loaded on to hand-carts and per­sonal belongings packed hastily into kitbags. The more seriously injured had long since been removed to the Musif field hospital, and Eldibar barracks had been little used since the siege began.

By dawn’s first ghostly light the last of the men entered the postern gates at Musif and climbed the long winding stairways to the battlements. Then began the work of rolling boulders and rubble on to the stairs to block the entrances. Men heaved and toiled as the light grew stronger. Finally, sacks of mortar powder were poured onto the rubble and then packed solid into the gaps. Other men with buckets of water doused the mixtures.