‘You are going to lose friends, comrades, brothers. You are going to lose sleep. You are going to lose blood. Nothing about the next few months will be easy.
‘I am not going to talk about patriotism, duty, liberty and the defence of freedom – because that’s all dung to a soldier.
‘I want you to think about survival. And the best way you can do that is to look down on the Nadir when they arrive and think to yourselves: “There are fifty men down there just for me. And one by one, by all the Gods, I’ll cut them down.”
‘As for me . . . well, I’m a seasoned campaigner. I’ll take a hundred.’ Druss took a deep breath, allowing time for his words to sink in.
‘Now,’ he said, at last, ‘you can get back to your duties – with the exception of Group Karnak.’ Turning, he saw Hogun and as the men hauled themselves to their feet, he walked back towards the mess hall of Wall One with the young general.
‘A nice speech,’ said Hogun. ‘It sounded very similar to the one you gave this morning at Wall Three.’
‘You haven’t been very attentive, laddie,’ said Druss. ‘I have given that speech six times since yesterday. And I’ve been knocked down three times. I’m as dry as a sand lizard’s belly.’
‘I will stand you a bottle of Vagrian in the mess hall,’ said Hogun. ‘They don’t serve Lentrian at this end of the Dros – it’s too pricey.’
‘It will do. I see you have regained your good humour.’
‘Aye. You were right about the Earl’s burial. Just too damned quick about being right, that’s all,’ said Hogun.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Just what it says. You have a way, Druss, of turning your emotions on and off. Most men lack that. It makes you seem what Mendar called you – cold-hearted.’
‘I don’t like the phrase – but it fits,’ said Druss, pushing open the door to the mess hall. ‘I mourned Delnar as he lay dying. But once dead, he’s gone. And I’m still here. And there’s a damned long way to go yet.’
The two men sat at a window table and ordered drinks from a steward. He returned with a large bottle and two goblets; both men sat silently for a while watching the training.
Druss was deep in thought. He had lost many friends in his life, but none more dear than Sieben and Rowena – the one his sword brother, the other his wife. Thoughts of them both were as tender as open wounds. When I die, he thought, everyone will mourn for Druss the Legend.
But who will mourn for me?
13
‘Tell us what you saw,’ said Rek, as he joined the four leaders of The Thirty in Serbitar’s cabin. He had been woken from a deep sleep by Menahem, who had swiftly explained the problems facing the Dros. Now alert, he listened as the blond warrior priest outlined the threat.
‘The Captain of the Axe is training the men. He has demolished all buildings from Wall Three and created killing ground. He has also blocked the gate tunnels back to Wall Four – he has done well.’
‘You mentioned traitors,’ said Rek.
Serbitar lifted a hand. ‘Patience!’ he said. ‘Go on, Arbedark.’
‘There is an innkeeper called Musar, originally from the Nadir Wolfshead tribe. He has been at Dros Delnoch for eleven years. He and a Drenai officer are planning to kill Druss. I think there may be others. Ulric has been told of the tunnel blocking.’
‘How?’ asked Rek. ‘Surely there is no travel to the north?’
‘He keeps pigeons,’ said Arbedark.
‘What can you do?’ Rek asked Serbitar, who shrugged and looked to Vintar for support. The Abbot spread his hands. ‘We tried to make contact with Druss, but he is not receptive and the distance is still very great. I do not see how we can help.’
‘What news of my father?’ asked Virae. The men looked at one another; ill at ease, Serbitar spoke at last.
‘He is dead. I am deeply sorry.’
Virae said nothing, her face showing no emotion. Rek put an arm on her shoulder, but she pushed it away and stood. ‘I’m going on deck,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll see you later, Rek.’