Drenai Saga 01 - Legend (48 page)

The burgher entered the hall, bowed briefly, and approached the table, laying before Rek several packages and a large sealed scroll. He seated himself opposite Rek and asked if he could pour himself a drink. Rek nodded as he opened the scroll. He read it once, smiled, then laid it aside and looked across at the burgher. He was thinner and perhaps even grayer than the first time Rek had seen him. He was still dressed in riding clothes, and his green cloak was dust-covered. Bricklyn drained the water in two swallows and refilled his cup; then he noticed Rek’s eyes upon him.

“You have seen the message from Abalayn?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you for bringing it. Will you stay?”

“But of course. Surrender arrangements must be made, and Ulric welcomed to the keep.”

“He has promised to spare no one,” said Rek softly.

Bricklyn waved his hand. “Nonsense! That was war talk. Now he will be magnanimous.”

“And what of Woundweaver?”

“He has been recalled to Drenan, and the army disbanded.”

“Are you pleased?”

“That the war is over? Of course. Though I am naturally saddened that so many had to die. I hear that Druss fell at Sumitos. A great shame. He was a fine man and a magnificent warrior. But it was as he would have wished to go, I am sure. When would you like me to see Lord Ulric?”

“As soon as you wish.”

“Will you accompany me?”

“No.”

“Then who will?” asked Bricklyn, noting with pleasure the resignation mirrored in Rek’s face.

“No one.”

“No one? But that would not be politic, my lord. There should be a deputation.”

“You will travel alone.”

“Very well. What terms shall I negotiate?”

“You will negotiate nothing. You will merely go to Ulric and say that I have sent you.”

“I do not understand, my lord. What would you have me say?”

“You will say that you have failed.”

“Failed? In what? You speak in riddles. Are you mad?”

“No. Just tired. You betrayed us, Bricklyn, but then, I expect nothing less from your breed. Therefore, I am not angry. Or vengeful. You have taken Ulric’s pay, and now you may go to him. The letter from Abalayn is a forgery, and Woundweaver will be here in five days with over fifty thousand men. Outside there are three thousand Sathuli, and we can hold the wall. Now be gone! Hogun knows that you are a traitor and has told me that he will kill you if he sees you. Go now.”

For several minutes Bricklyn sat stunned, then he shook his head. “This is madness! You cannot hold! It is Ulric’s day, can you not see it? The Drenai are finished, and Ulric’s star shines. What do you hope to achieve?”

Rek slowly drew a long, slender dagger and placed it on the table before him.

“Go now,” he repeated quietly.

Bricklyn rose and stormed to the door. He turned in the doorway.

“You fool!” he spit. “Use the dagger on yourself, for what the Nadir will do when they take you will make merry viewing.” Then he was gone.

Hogun stepped from behind a tapestry-covered alcove and moved to the table. His head was bandaged, and his face pale. In his hand he held his sword.

“How could you let him go, Rek? How?”

Rek smiled. “Because I couldn’t be bothered to kill him.”

30

T
he last candle
guttered and died as a light autumn wind billowed the curtains. Rek slept on, head resting on his arms at the table where only an hour before he had sent Bricklyn to the Nadir. His sleep was light but dreamless. He shivered as the room became cooler, then awoke with a start in the darkness. Fear touched him, and he reached for his dagger. He shivered again. It was cold … so cold. He glanced at the fire. It was blazing, but no heat reached him. He stood and walked toward it, squatting in front of it and opening his hands to the heat. Nothing. Confused, he stood once more and turned back to the table, and then the shock hit him.

Head resting on his arms, the figure of Earl Regnak still slept there. He fought down panic, watching his sleeping form, noting the weariness in the gaunt face, the dark-hollowed eyes, and the lines of strain about the mouth.

Then he noticed the silence. Even at this late hour of deepest darkness some sounds should be heard from sentries or servants or the few cooks preparing the morning’s breakfast. But there was nothing. He moved to the doorway and beyond into the darkened corridor, then beyond that into the shadow of the portcullis gate. He was alone. Beyond the gate were the walls, but no sentries paced them. He walked on in the darkness, and the clouds cleared and the moon shone brightly.

The fortress was deserted.

From the high walls of Geddon he looked to the north. The plain was empty. No Nadir tents were pitched there.

So he was truly alone. Panic left him, and a deep sense of peace covered his soul like a warm blanket. He sat on the ramparts, gazing back at the keep.

Was this a taste of death? he wondered. Or merely a dream? He cared not. Whether a foretaste of tomorrow’s reality or the result of a needed fantasy was immaterial. He was enjoying the moment.

And then, with a deep sense of warmth, he knew that he was not alone. His heart swelled, and tears came to his eyes. He turned, and she was there: Dressed as he had first seen her, with a bulky sheepskin jerkin and woolen trews, she opened her arms and walked into his embrace. He held her tightly to him, pressing his face into her hair. For a long time they stood thus while deep sobs racked his body. Finally the crying subsided, and he gently released her. She looked up at him and smiled.

“You have done well, Rek,” she said. “I am so proud of you.”

“Without you it is meaningless,” he said.

“I wouldn’t change anything, Rek. If they told me that I could have my life again but not meet you, I would refuse. What does it matter that we had only months? What months they were!”

“I never loved anyone as I loved you,” he said.

“I know.”

They talked for hours, but the moon shone from the same place and the stars were static, the night eternal. Finally she kissed him to stem his words.

“There are others you must see.”

He tried to argue, but she held her fingers to his mouth. “We will meet again, my love. For now, speak to the others.”

Around the walls was now a mist, swirling and thick. Overhead the moon shone in a cloudless sky. She walked into the mist and was gone. He waited, and soon a figure in silver armor came toward him. As always he looked fresh and alert, his armor reflected the moonlight, and his white cloak was spotless. He smiled.

“Well met, Rek,” said Serbitar. They clasped hands in the warrior’s grip.

“The Sathuli came,” said Rek. “You held the gate just long enough.”

“I know. Tomorrow will be hard, and I will not lie to you. All futures have I seen, and in only one do you survive the day. But there are forces here which I cannot explain to you, and even now their magic is at work. Fight well!”

“Will Woundweaver arrive?” asked Rek.

Serbitar shrugged. “Not tomorrow.”

“Then we will fall?”

“It is likely. But if you do not, I want you to do something for me.”

“Name it,” said Rek.

“Go once more to Egel’s room, where there is a last gift for you. The servant Arshin will explain.”

“What is it? Is it a weapon? I could use it tomorrow.”

“It is not a weapon. Go there tomorrow night.”

“Serbitar?”

“Yes, my friend.”

“Was all as you dreamed it would be? The Source, I mean?”

“Yes! And so much more. But I cannot speak of it now. Wait for a while longer. There is another who must speak with you.”

The mist deepened, and Serbitar’s white form drew back until he merged and was gone.

And Druss was there. Mighty and strong, his black jerkin glistening, his ax at his side.

“He gave me a fine send-off,” said Druss. “How are you, boy? You look tired.”

“I am tired but all the better for seeing you.”

Druss clapped him on the shoulder and laughed.

“That Nogusha used a poisoned blade on me. I tell you, laddie, it hurt like hell. Caessa dressed me. I don’t know how she got me to my feet. Still … she did.”

“I saw it,” said Rek.

“Aye, a grand exit, was it not? That young lad Gilad fought well. I have not seen him yet, but I expect I shall. You’re a good boy, Rek. Worthy! It was good to know you.”

“And you, Druss. I never met a better man.”

“Of course you did, boy. Hundreds! But it’s nice of you to say it. However, I didn’t come here to exchange compliments. I know what you are facing, and I know tomorrow will be hard—damned hard. But don’t give ground. Do not retreat to the keep. Whatever happens, hold the wall. Much rests on it. Keep Joachim beside you; if he dies, you are finished. I must go. But remember.
Hold the wall. Do not retreat to the keep.
”

“I will remember. Good-bye, Druss.”

“Not good-bye. Not yet,” said Druss. “Soon.”

The mist moved forward, enveloping the axman and sweeping over Rek. Then the moonlight faded, and dark descended on the Earl of Bronze.

Back in the keep Rek awoke. The fire still burned, and he was hungry again.

In the kitchens Arshin was preparing breakfast. The old man was tired, but he brightened when Rek walked in.

He liked the new earl and remembered when Virae’s father, Delnar, had been a young man, proud and strong. There seemed a similarity, but perhaps, Arshin thought, the long years had distorted his memory.

He handed the earl some toasted bread and honey, which he wolfed down, following it with watered wine.

Back in his quarters Rek buckled his armor into place and made his way to the battlements. Hogun and Orrin were already there, supervising the barricade within the gate tunnel.

“This is the weak spot,” said Orrin. “We should retire to the keep. At least the gates will hold for some hours.”

Rek shook his head. “We will stand on Geddon. There must be no retreat.”

“Then we shall die here,” said Hogun. “For that barricade will hold them not at all.”

“Perhaps,” said Rek. “We shall see. Good morning, Joachim Sathuli.”

The bearded warrior nodded and smiled. “You slept well, Earl of Bronze?”

“Well, indeed. I thank you for giving us this day of your time.”

“It is nothing. The payment of a small debt.”

“You owe me nothing. But I tell you this: If we survive this day, there shall be no more war between us. The rights to the high Delnoch passes are mine, though you dispute the rights of the Drenai to them. Therefore, before these witnesses, I give them to you.

“There is also a scroll bearing my seal at the keep. When you leave tonight, you shall have it. A copy will go to Abalayn in Drenan.

“I know that the gesture will have little meaning if the Nadir win through today, but it is all I can do.”

Joachim bowed. “The gesture is enough in itself.”

The talk ceased as the Nadir drums sounded and the warriors of Dros Delnoch spread out along the wall to receive the attackers. Rek lowered his helm visor and drew the sword of Egel. Below, in the barricaded gate tunnel, stood Orrin and one hundred warriors. The tunnel was only twenty feet wide at the center, and Orrin reckoned to hold it for the greater part of the morning. After that, with the barricades torn down, the sheer weight of the Nadir horde would push them back into the open ground behind the ramparts.

And so the last bloody day began at Dros Delnoch.

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