The Legend Of Deathwalker By David Gemmell

‘Nonsense. They were . . .’

‘You don’t lie to me!’ she snapped. ‘I hear Talisman. He says that if you have the jewels he will take them, he says that they will kill Druss if he interferes. You give jewels to Talisman – then you are safe.’

Sieben sat down on the newly scrubbed table. ‘I can’t do that, my love. Druss made a promise to a dying man, and Druss is a man who lives by his word. You understand? But I won’t keep them, I promise you that. If we survive here – which is doubtful at best – I will take them to Gulgothir and heal Druss’s friend. Then I will return them to Talisman.’

‘He will not allow it. That is why he sent the woman; she will watch you like a snake. You heal no more dying men, po-et.’

‘I have to. That is what the power is for.’

‘This is no time to be weak. Men die in battle. They go to the earth, they feed the land. You understand?’ She looked deep into his blue eyes and knew she was not convincing him. ‘Fool! Fool!’ she said. ‘Very well. Keep them alive. But do not heal them so much that they walk from here. You hear what I say?’

‘I do, Niobe. And you are right. I can’t risk Druss being killed for them.’ He smiled and, reaching out, pushed his fingers through her dark hair. ‘I love you. You are the light in my life.’

‘And you are a trouble to me,’ she said. ‘You are no warrior, and you are soft like a puppy. I should have no feelings for a man like you.’

‘But you do, don’t you?’ he said, drawing her in to an embrace. ‘Tell me!’

‘No.’

‘You are still angry with me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then kiss me and feel it fade.’

‘I don’t want it to fade,’ she said, pulling away. Outside a battle horn sounded. ‘It begins again,’ sighed Sieben.

The Gothir infantry formed into three groups of about two hundred men. Druss watched them carefully. Only two of the groups contained ladder-bearers. ‘The third group is going for the gates,’ he said, to no-one in particular.

Behind the infantry more than five hundred Lancers waited on foot in two lines, their lances discarded and their sabres in their hands. A slow drumbeat sounded and the army moved forward, slowly. Druss could feel the fear in the men around him.

‘Don’t think of numbers,’ said Druss, ‘all that counts is the number of ladders — and they have fewer than thirty. Only thirty men can reach the wall at any time; the rest will be milling around below, useless. Never be cowed by numbers alone.’

‘Do you not know fear, axeman ?’ asked Nuang Xuan.

Druss turned and grinned. ‘What are you doing here, old man? You are wounded.’

‘I am as tough as a wolf, as strong as a bear. How close am I to my hundred?’

‘By my reckoning you need more than ninety more.’

‘Pah, you obviously miscounted.’

‘Stay close to me, Nuang,’ said Druss softly. ‘But not too close.’

‘I will be here at day’s end, and the Gothir dead will be a mountain,’ promised Nuang.

Archers ran through the enemy lines sending scores of shafts at the defenders, who ducked down below the battlements. No-one was struck. The drum-beat quickened, and Druss could hear the sound of running men drowning out the drums. Ladders clattered against the wall and a man to Druss’s left started to rise but Druss dragged him down. ‘Not yet, laddie. The archers are waiting.’

The warrior blinked nervously. Druss knelt for ten more heartbeats, then launched himself upright, the great axe shining in the sunlight. As he reared up, a Gothir warrior reached the top of the ladder and Snaga thundered down to smash the man’s skull.

‘Climb and die!’ roared Druss, sending a reverse cut into the bearded face of a second warrior.

All around him the Nadir were hacking and slashing at the attackers. Two Gothir soldiers reached the ramparts, but were cut down instantly. A Nadir warrior fell with an arrow jutting from his temple.