LEGEND by David A. Gemmell

‘Then she’s perfect and I will welcome her with open arms.’

‘I wouldn’t recommend it,’ said Bowman, softly.

‘Be at Delnoch in fourteen days, and I’ll welcome you all with open arms.’

*

Rek awoke to see the new sun breasting the distant mountains. His body adjusted swiftly from dreamless sleep and he stretched and slid from the covers, then walked to the tower window of the bedroom. In the courtyard below The Thirty were assembling their mounts, great beasts with short cropped manes and braided tails. Apart from the sound of steel hooves on cobbles an eerie silence hung over the scene. None of the men spoke. Rek shivered.

Virae moaned in her sleep, her arm stretching across the wide bed.

Rek watched the men below check their armour and tighten saddle girths. Strange, he thought. Where are the jokes, the laughter, all the sounds soldiers usually make as they prepare for war? Jests to ease the fear, curses to ease the tension?

Serbitar appeared, a white cloak over his silver armour, his braided white hair covered by a silver helm. The Thirty saluted him. Rek shook his head. It was uncanny. Identical timing: like the same salute in.thirty mirrors.

Virae opened her eyes and yawned. She rolled over and saw Rek’s back silhouetted against the morning sun. She smiled.

‘Your belly is receding into memory,’ she said.

‘Mock not,’ he said, smiling. ‘Unless you are going to appear in front of thirty warriors in your skin, you need to hurry. They are already in the courtyard.’

‘It’s one way to find out if they’re human,’ she said, sitting up. Rek tore his eyes from her body.

‘You have the strangest effect on me,’ he said, gazing into her eyes. ‘You always make me think of love-making at the wrong times. Now get dressed.’

In the courtyard Serbitar led the men in prayer, a silent joining of minds. Vintar watched the young albino fondly, pleased with his swift adjustment to the responsibility of leadership.

Serbitar ended the prayer and returned to the tower. He was uneasy – out of harmony. He mounted the circular stone steps to the tower bed­room, smiling as he remembered his promise to the tall Drenai and his woman. It would have been so much easier to Speak than to mount these stairs to check if they were ready.

He knocked on the iron-studded door. Rek opened it, beckoning him in.

‘I see you are ready,’ he said. ‘We won’t be long.’

Serbitar nodded. ‘The Drenai have met the Nadir,’ he said.

‘They are already at Delnoch?’ asked Rek, alarmed.

‘No, no,’ answered Serbitar. “The Legion met them in the outlands. They did well. Their leader is called Hogun. He, at least, is quality.’

‘When was this?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘Your powers again?’

‘Yes. Does it distress you?’

‘It makes me uncomfortable. But only because I do not share the talent.’

‘A wise observation, Rek. It will come to be more acceptable, believe me.’ Serbitar bowed as Virae entered from the rear wash-room.

‘I am sorry to have kept you waiting,’ she said. Dressed in her armour, silver mail-shirt, with bronze shoulder pads, she now also sported a silver helm, raven-winged, and a white cloak – gifts from Vintar. Her fair hair was braided on either side of her face.

‘You look like a goddess,’ Rek told her.

They joined The Thirty in the courtyard, checked their mounts and rode alongside Serbitar and Men-ahem, heading for the Drum estuary.

‘Once there,’ Menahem told them, ‘we will book passage on a Lentrian ship to Dros Purdol. It will save two weeks of travel. From Purdol we travel by river and road and should reach Delnoch in four weeks at the outside. I fear battle will be joined before we arrive.’

As the hours passed the ride became a personal nightmare for Rek. His back was bruised and his buttocks numb before Serbitar called for a noon break. It was a short one, and the pain had become intense by dusk.

They camped in a small grove of trees near a stream. Virae almost fell from the saddle, fatigue -deep and numbing – showing in her every move­ment. But she was enough of a horsewoman to tend her mount before slumping to the ground, her back against a tree. Rek took more time wiping the lather from Lancer’s back and shoulders. He didn’t need to sit! He covered the horse with a blanket, then walked to the stream. Lancer was bearing up as well as the priests’ mounts, Rek thought with pride.