LEGEND by David A. Gemmell

‘So who do you suggest to pick and train them?’

Hogun turned to Elicas, who shrugged.

‘You must be able to suggest someone,’ said Druss.

‘I don’t know the men of Dros Delnoch that well, sir,’ said Hogun, ‘and no one from the Legion would be appropriate.’

‘Why not?’

‘They are warriors. We shall need them on the wall.’

‘Who is your best ranker?’

‘Bar Britan. But he’s a formidable warrior, sir.’

‘That is why he is the man. Listen well: the stret­cher-bearers will be armed with daggers only, and they will risk their lives as much as the men battling on the walls. But it is not a glorious task, so the importance of it must be highlighted. When you name your best ranker as the man to train the bear­ers and work with them during the battle, this will come home to them. Bar Britan must also be given fifty men of his choice as a moving troop to protect the bearers as best he can.’

‘I bow to your logic, Druss,’ said Hogun.

‘Bow to nothing, son. I make mistakes as well as any man. If you think me wrong, be so good as to damn well say so.’

‘Put your mind at rest on that score, Axeman!’ snapped Hogun.

‘Good! Now, as to training. I want the men trained in groups of fifty. Each group is to have a name -choose them from legends, names of heroes, battle­fields, whatever, as long as the names stir the blood.

‘There will be one officer to each group and five rankers, each commanding ten men. These under-leaders will be chosen after the first three day’s train­ing. By then we should have taken their mark. Understood?’

‘Why names?’ asked Hogun. ‘Would it not be simpler if each group had a number? Gods, man, that’s 180 names to find!’

‘There is more to warfare, Hogun, than tactics and training. I want proud men on those walls. Men who know their comrades and can identify with them. “Group Karnak” will be representing Karnak the One-eyed, where “Group Six” would be merely identified.

‘Throughout the next few weeks we will set one group against another, in work, play and mock combat. We will weld them into units – proud units. We will mock and cajole them, sneer at them even. Then, slowly, when they hate us more than they do the Nadir, we will praise them. In as short a time as possible, we must make them think of themselves as an elite force. That’s half the battle. These are desperate, bloody days; days of death. I want men on those walls; strong men, fit men – but most of all, proud men.

‘Tomorrow you will choose the officers and allo­cate the groups. I want the groups running until they drop, and then running again. I want sword practice and wall scaling. I want demolition work done by day and night. After ten days we will move on to unit work. I want the stretcher-bearers running with loads of rock until their arms burn and their muscles tear.

‘I want every building from Wall Four to Wall Six razed to the ground and the tunnels blocked.

‘I want one thousand men at a time working on the demolition in three-hour shifts. That should straighten backs and strengthen sword arms.

‘Any questions?’

Hogun spoke: ‘No. Everything you wish for will be done. But I want to know this: do you believe the Dros can hold until the autumn?’

‘Of course I do, laddie,’ lied Druss easily. ‘Why else would I bother? The point is, do you believe it?’

‘Oh yes,’ lied Hogun, smoothly. ‘Without a doubt.’

The two men grinned.

‘Join me in a glass of Lentrian red,’ said Druss. ‘Thirsty work, this planning business!’

11

In a wooden loft, its window in the shadow of the great Keep, a man waited, drumming his fingers on the broad table. Behind him, pigeons ruffled their feathers within a wickerwork coop. The man was nervous. On edge.

Footsteps on the stairs made him reach for a slen­der dagger. He cursed and wiped his sweating palm on his woollen trousers.

A second man entered, pushed the door shut and sat opposite the first.