LEGEND by David A. Gemmell

His blue eyes scanned the circle, then he snorted with contempt. ‘You dregs! Call yourselves soldiers? Finished after a few runs. How the hell do you think you’re going to feel after three days’ fighting, day and night, against a Nadir force that outnumbers you fifty to one? Eh?’

No one answered him. The question was all too obviously rhetorical. Indeed most of the men were delighted to be berated thus – it meant a further respite from the interminable training.

Druss pointed at Gilad. ‘You! Which four groups are represented here?’

Gilad swung round checking the faces. ‘Karnak, Bild, and Gorbadac . . . er . . . I don’t know the other one.’

‘Well!’ bellowed the old man. ‘Will not one of you beggars own up? Which is the other damned group?’

‘Falcon,’ piped a voice from the back.

‘Good! Group officers step forward,’ said Druss. “The rest of you, take a breather.’ He walked a little distance from the men, beckoning the officers to follow.

‘Right, before I tell you what I want, will the officer from Group Falcon make himself known?’

‘I am the officer, sir. Dun Hedes,’ said a young man who was short but well-built.

‘Then why did you not announce your group when I asked. Why was it some spotty farm boy?’

‘I am partially deaf, sir, and when I am tired and the blood is pounding I can hardly hear.’

‘Then, Dun Hedes, consider yourself relieved of Group Falcon.’

‘You can’t do that to me! I have always served well. You cannot disgrace me!’ said the young man, his voice rising.

‘Listen to me, you young fool. There is no disgrace in being deaf. And you can feel free to walk with me on the battlements if you will, when the Nadir arrive. But how well can you serve me as a leader if you can’t hear my damned instructions?’

‘I will manage,’ said Dun Hedes.

‘And how well will your men manage when .they try to ask for advice? What happens if we sound the retreat and you don’t hear it? No! The decision’s made. Stand down.’

‘I request the right to see Gan Orrin!’

‘As you will. But at the end of today I will have a new Dun for Falcon. Now to business. I want each of you – you included, Hedes – to pick your two strongest men. The best you have at hand-to-hand wrestling, bare-knuckle, whatever. They will have their chance to knock me from my feet. That should lighten the mood. Get to it!’

Dun Mendar called Gilad to him as he returned to his group, then squatted down among the men to outline Druss’s idea. Chuckles came from various soldiers as men volunteered swiftly. The noise grew as men clamoured for the right to down the old warrior, and Druss laughed aloud as he sat apart from the men, peeling an orange. At last the pairs were selected and he heaved himself to his feet.

‘There is an object to this little exercise, but I shall explain that later on. For now, look upon it as light entertainment,’ said Druss, hands on hips. ‘However, I find the audience is always more alert if there is something to be won, so I will offer a free afternoon to any group whose champions down me.’ A cheer greeted this and he went on, ‘Mind you, those that don’t down me will run an additional two miles,’ and grinned again as the groans erupted.

‘Don’t be such faint-hearts. What do you have before you? Here is one old, fat man. We will start with the Bild pair.’

The men could have been twins; both were huge, black-bearded, with massively muscled arms and shoulders. Stripped of their armour, they appeared as formidable a pair of warriors as could be seen among the groups.

‘Right, my lads,’ said Druss, ‘you can wrestle, or punch, or kick or gouge. Begin when you’re ready.’ The old man doffed his jerkin as he spoke and the Bild pair circled slowly, relaxed and smiling. Once on either side of the old man they lunged. Druss dropped to one knee, ducking under a round-house right, then slammed his hand up into the man’s groin, grabbing his shirt-front with the other hand and hurling him into his comrade. Both men col­lapsed to the ground, arms entwined.