LEGEND by David A. Gemmell

On a shelf by the window stood a wooden platter bearing black bread and cheese. ‘I will have some of that, if I may?’ said Druss.

‘But of course.’ Orrin passed it to him. ‘How is the Earl? A bad business. Such a fine man. A friend of his, weren’t you? At Skeln together. Wonderful story. Inspiring.’

Druss ate slowly, enjoying the gritty bread. The cheese was good too, mellow and full-flavoured. He rethought his original plan toackle Orrin by point­ing out the shambles into which the Dros had fallen, the apathy and the ram-shackle organisation. A man must know his limitations, he thought. If he exceeds them, nature has a way of playing cruel tricks. Orrin should never have accepted Gan rank, but in peace­time he would be easily absorbed. Now he stood out like a wooden horse in a charge.

‘You must be exhausted,’ Druss said at last.

‘What?’

‘Exhausted. The workload here is enough to break a lesser man. Organisation of supplies, training, patrols, strategy, planning. You must be completely worn out.’

‘Yes, it is tiring,’ said Orrin, wiping the sweat from his brow, his relief evident. ‘Not many people realise the problems of command. It’s a nightmare. Can I offer you a drink?’

‘No, thank you. Would it help if I took some of the weight from your shoulders?’

‘In what way? You are not asking me to stand down, are you?’

‘Great Missael no,’ said Druss, with feeling. ‘I would be lost. No, I meant nothing of that kind.

‘But time is short and no one can expect you to bear this burden alone. I would suggest you turn over to me the training and all the responsibility for preparing the defence. We need to block those tunnels behind the gates, and set work parties to razing the buildings from Wall Four to Wall Six.’

‘Block the tunnels? Raze the buildings? I don’t understand you, Druss,’ said Orrin. They are all privately owned. There would be an uproar.’

‘Exactly!’ said the old warrior, gently. ‘And that is why you must appoint an outsider to take the responsibility. Those tunnels behind the gates were built so that a small rearguard could hold an enemy force long enough to allow the defenders to move back to the next wall. I propose to destroy the build­ings between Walls Four and Six and use the rubble to block the tunnels. Ulric will expend a lot of men in order to breach the gates. And it will avail him nothing.’

‘But why destroy the buildings?’ asked Orrin. ‘We can bring rubble in from the south of the pass.’

‘There is no killing ground,’ said the old warrior. ‘We must get back to the original plan of the Dros. When Ulric’s men breach the first wall, I want every archer in the Dros peppering them. Every yard of open ground will be littered with Nadir dead. We’re outnumbered five hundred to one and we have to level the odds somehow.’

Orrin bit his lip and rubbed his chin, his mind working furiously. He glanced at the white-bearded warrior seated calmly before him. As soon as he heard Druss had arrived, he had prepared for the certainty that he would be replaced – sent back to Drenan in disgrace. Now he was being offered a lifetime. He should have thought of razing the build­ings and blocking the tunnels; he knew it, just as he knew he was miscast as a Gan. It was a hard fact to accept.

Throughout the last five years, since his elevation, he had avoided self-examination. However, only days before he had sent Hogun and 200 of his Legion Lancers into the outlands. At first he had held to the belief that it was a sensible military decision. But as the days passed and no word came he had agonised over his orders. It had little to do with strategy, but everything to do with jealousy. Hogun, he had realised with sick horror, was the best soldier in the Dros. When he had returned and told Orrin that his decision had proved a wise one, far from bolstering Orrin it had finally opened his eyes to his own inadequacy. He had considered resigning, but could not face the disgrace. He had even contem­plated suicide, but could not bear the thought of the dishonour it would bring to his uncle, Abalayn. All he could do was to die on the first wall. And this he was prepared for. He had feared Druss would rob him even of that.