LEGEND by David A. Gemmell

‘Friend Rek, I am a man of my word. I promised never to use my gift to read your mind and I shall not. Nor will any of The Thirty. Do you think we would be priests, forsaking the world, if we wished harm to others? I am the son of an earl, but if I wished I could be a king, an emperor mightier than Ulric. Do not feel threatened. We must be at ease one with the other. More – we must be friends.’

‘Why?’ asked Rek.

‘Because we are about to share a moment which comes only once in a lifetime,’ said Serbitar. ‘We are going to die.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ said Rek. ‘I do not see that going to Dros Delnoch is just another way of committing suicide. It’s a battle, that’s all. No more, no less than that. A wall can be defended. A smaller force can hold a larger. History is full of examples: Skeln Pass, for example.’

‘True,’ said Serbitar. ‘But they are remembered because they are exceptions. Let us deal in facts. The Dros is defended by a force less than a third of full complement. Morale is low, fear is rife. Ulric has a force in excess of half a million warriors all willing – lusting even – to die for him in battle. I am a weaponmaster and a student of war. Dros Delnoch will fall. Clear your mind of any other conclusion.’

‘Then why come with us? What will you gain from it?’

‘We die,’ said Serbitar, ‘and then live. But I shall say no more of that at this time. I do not wish to depress you, Rek. If it would serve a purpose, I would fill you with hope. But my whole battle strat­egy will be built around delaying the inevitable. Only then can I function – and serve your cause.’

‘I hope you will keep that opinion to yourself,’ said Rek. ‘Virae believes we can hold. I know enough of warfare and morale to tell you plainly that if your theory were to spread among the men, there would be wholesale desertions; we would lose on the first day.’

‘I am not a fool, Rek. I say this to you because it needs to be said. I shall be your advisor at Delnoch and you will need me to speak the truth. I shall have no real dealings with the soldiers, neither will The Thirty. Men will avoid us anyway, once they know what we are.’

‘Perhaps. Why do you say you will be my advisor? Earl Delnar commands; I shall not even be an officer there.’

‘Let us say,’ said Serbitar, ‘that I will be the adviser to your cause. Time will explain all far better than I. Have I depressed you?’

‘Not at all. You have told me everything is hope­less, that we are all dead men and the Drenai are finished. Depressed? Not at all!’

Serbitar laughed and clapped his hands. ‘I like you, Rek,’ he said. ‘I think you will hold firm.’

‘I will hold firm all right,’ said Rek, smiling. ‘Because I will know that at the last wall I will have two horses waiting ready saddled. By the way, do you not have anything stronger than water to drink?’

‘Sadly, no,’ answered Serbitar. ‘Alcohol inhibits our strength. If you need spirits, however, there is a village nearby and I can have someone ride out for you to purchase some.’

‘You don’t drink. There are no women. You eat no meat. What do you do for recreation?’

‘We study,’ said Serbitar. ‘And we train, and we plant flowers and raise horses. Our time is well occu­pied, I can assure you.’

‘No wonder you want to go away and die some­where,’ said Rek, with feeling.

*

Virae sat with Vintar in a small sparsely furnished study, awash with manuscripts and leather-bound tomes. There was a small desk littered with broken quills and scrawled parchment. She held back a smile as the older man rumbled with his breastplate strap. He could not have looked less a warrior.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked, standing up and lean­ing over the desk.

‘Thank you, my dear,’ he said. ‘It weighs heavily.’