LEGEND by David A. Gemmell

‘You’ve lost me, damn you, with your pretty words. You’re like those politicians in Drenan, as full of wind as a sick cow. Don’t tell me my life has been wasted, I won’t have that! I loved a good woman and I’ve always been true to my principles. I never did a shameful thing, nor yet a cruel one.’

‘Ah, but Druss, not all men are you. I will not criticise your principles if you do not try to graft them on to me. I have no time for them. A pretty hypocrite I would be as a robber outlaw with principles.’

‘Then why did you not let Jorak shoot me down?’

‘As I said, it was unsporting. It lacked a sense of style. But on another day, when I was colder, or more bad-tempered . . .”

‘You are a nobleman, aren’t you?’ said Druss. ‘A rich boy playing at robbers. Why do I sit here and argue with you?’

‘Because you need my archers.’

‘No. I have given up on that thought,’ said Druss, offering his goblet to the green-garbed outlaw. Bowman filled it, a cynical smile once more upon his mouth.

‘Given up? Nonsense. I will tell you what you’re thinking. You will argue some more, offer me wages and a pardon for my crimes. If I refuse, you will kill me and take your chances with the same offer to my men.’

Druss was shaken, but his face showed nothing.

‘Do you also read palms?’ he asked, sipping his wine.

‘You’re too honest, Druss. And I like you. That’s why I would like to point out that Jorak is behind the bushes there with an arrow notched.’

“Then I have lost,’ said Druss. ‘You keep your archers.’

‘Tut, tut, dear man, I didn’t expect such defeatism from Druss the Legend. Put your offer.’

‘I’ve no time for your games. I had a friend like you, Sieben the Saga Master. He could talk all day and convince you the sea was sand. I never won an argument with him. He talked about having no principles – and like you, he lied.’

‘He was the poet who wrote the Legend. He made you immortal,’ said Bowman, softly.

‘Yes,’ said Druss, his mind drifting back over the long years.

‘Did you really hunt your woman across the world?’

‘That part at least was true. We were wed when we were very young. Then my village was attacked by a slaver called Harib Ka, who sold her to an eastern merchant. I missed the attack, as I was work­ing in the woods. But I followed them. In the end it took me seven years and when I found her, she was with another man.’

‘What happened to him?’ asked Bowman, softly.

‘He died.’

‘And she came back with you to Skoda.’

‘Aye. She loved me. She really did.’

‘An interesting addendum to your saga,’ said Bowman.

Druss chuckled. ‘I must be getting melancholy in my old age. I don’t usually prattle on about the past.’

‘What happened to Sieben?’ asked the outlaw.

‘He died at Skeln.’

‘You were close?’

‘We were like brothers.’

‘I can’t think why I remind you of him,’ said Bowman.

‘Maybe it is because you both hide a dark secret,’ said Druss.

‘Perhaps,’ admitted the outlaw. ‘However, make your offer.’

‘A pardon for every man, and five gold Raq a head.’

‘Not enough.’

‘It’s my best offer, I’ll go no further.’

‘Your offer must be this: A pardon, five gold Raq a head for all 620 men, and an agreement that when Wall Three falls we leave with our money and our pardons stamped with the Earl’s seal.’

‘Why Wall Three?’

‘Because that will be the beginning of the end.’

‘Something of a strategist, are you boy?’

‘You could say that. By the way, how do you feel about women warriors?’

‘I have known a few. Why do you ask?’

‘I shall be bringing one.’

‘So? What difference does it make as long as she can aim a bow?’

‘I didn’t say it made a difference. 1 just thought I ought to mention it.’

‘Is there something about this woman that I should know?’ asked Druss.

‘Only that she’s a killer,’ said Bowman.