LEGEND by David A. Gemmell

‘Is that all?’

‘Yes. What is happening to me, Calvar? I’ve never had this before from a blow on the head.’

‘It could be the blow; concussion can cause some very strange effects – including seeing visions and hearing voices. But they rarely last. Take my advice, Druss. The worst thing you can do at the moment is get over-excited. You could black out . . . or worse. Blows to the head can be fatal, even after a period of several days. I want you to rest and relax, and if the voice comes again listen to it – even reply to it. But do not become alarmed. Understand?’

‘Of course I understand,’ said Druss. ‘I don’t nor­mally panic, doctor, but some things I do not like.’

‘I know that, Druss. Do you need something to help you sleep now?’

‘No. Wake me at noon. I have to judge a contest of swordsmanship. And don’t fret,’ he said, seeing the gleam of annoyance in the surgeon’s one good eye, ‘I shall not get excited, and I will come straight back to bed afterwards.’

Outside the room, Hogun and Orrin waited. Calvar Syn joined them, signalled for silence and beckoned them to a nearby office.

‘I’m not happy,’ he told them. ‘He’s hearing voices, and believe me, that is not a good sign. But he’s strong as a bull.’

‘Is he in any danger?’ asked Hogun.

‘It’s hard to say. This morning I didn’t think so. But he has been under a lot of strain recently and that may not help his condition. And, although it is easy to forget, he is no longer a young man.’

‘What about the voices?’ said Orrin. ‘Could he go mad?’

‘I think I would bet against that,’ replied Calvar. ‘He said it was a message from The Thirty. Earl Delnar told me he had sent Virae to them with a message and it could be that they have a Speaker among them. Or it could be someone of Ulric’s; he also has Speakers among his shaman. I have told Druss to relax and listen to any future voices, and report them to me.’

‘That one old man is vital to us,’ said Orrin, softly.

‘Do everything you can, Calvar. It would be a hammer blow to morale if anything happened to him.’

‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ snapped the surgeon.

*

The banquet to celebrate the Open Swords was a raucous affair. All who had reached the Last Hun­dred were invited; officers and enlisted men were seated side by side, swapping jests, tales and tall, tall, stories.

Gilad was seated between Bar Britan, who had beaten him soundly, and Dun Pinar who had in turn vanquished Britan. The black-bearded Bar was cursing Pinar good-humouredly, and complaining that the latter’s wooden sword lacked the balance of his own cavalry sabre.

‘I’m surprised you didn’t ask to be allowed to fight on horseback,’ said Pinar.

‘But I did,’ protested Britan, ‘and they offered me the target pony.’ The three men burst into laughter which others joined as the joke spread around the table. The target pony was a saddle, tied to a moving rail and pulled by ropes. It was used for archery practice and jousting.

As the wine flowed Gilad relaxed. He had seri­ously considered missing the banquet, fearing that his background would leave him ill at ease with the officer class. He had only agreed to come when the men of his group had lobbied him, pointing out that he was the only member of Karnak who had reached the Last Hundred. Now he was glad he had been persuaded. Bar Britan was a dry, witty companion, while Pinar, despite his breeding – or perhaps because of it – made Gilad feel among friends.

At the far end of the table sat Druss, flanked by Hogun and Orrin, while beside them sat the archer leader from Skultik. Gilad knew nothing about the man, save that he had brought 600 bowmen to the Dros.

Hogun, in full Legion dress armour of silver breastplate edged with ebony, and black and silver mail-shirt, stared at the silver sword lying on the table before Druss.

The final had been watched by more than five thousand soldiers as Hogun and Orrin took their places. The first strike had been Hogun’s, a neat parry and riposte after a four-minute duel. The second had been Orrin’s, following a feint to the head. Hogun had blocked swiftly, but a subtle twist of the wrist sent his opponent’s wooden blade down to touch Hogun’s side. After some twenty minutes Hogun led by two strikes to one – one strike from victory.