*
She found him on a grim mountainside where winter winds were howling through the peaks. He was frozen and weak, his limbs trembling, his eyes dull. 'What are you doing?' she asked.
'Waiting to die,' he told her.
'That is no way for you to behave. You are a warrior, and a warrior never gives up.'
'I have no strength left.'
Rowena sat beside him and he felt the warmth of her arms around his shoulders, smelt the sweetness of her breath. 'Be strong,' she said, stroking his hair. 'In despair there is only defeat.'
'I cannot overcome cold stone. I cannot shine a light through the darkness. My limbs are rotting, my teeth shake in their sockets.'
'Is there nothing you would live for?'
'Yes,' he said, reaching for her. I live for you! I always have. But I can't find you.'
*
He awoke in the darkness amidst the stench of the dungeon and crawled to the door-stone grille, finding it by touch. Cool air drifted down the corridor and he breathed deeply. Torchlight flickered, burning his eyes. He squinted against it and watched as the jailer tramped down the corridor. Then the darkness returned. Druss's stomach cramped and he groaned. Dizziness swamped him, and nausea rose in his throat.
A faint light showed and, rolling painfully to his knees, he pushed his face against the narrow opening. An old man with a wispy white beard knelt outside the dungeon stone. The light from the tiny clay oil lamp was torturously bright, and Druss's eyes stung.
'Ah, you are alive! Good,' whispered the old man. 'I have brought you this lamp and an old tinder-box. Use it carefully. It will help accustom your eyes to light. Also I have some food.' He thrust a linen package through the door-stone and Druss took it, his mouth too dry for speech. 'I'll come back when I can,' said the old man. 'Remember, only use the light once the jailer has gone.'
Druss listened to the man slowly make his way down the corridor. He thought he heard a door shut, but could not be sure. With unsteady hands he drew the lamp into the dungeon, placing it on the floor beside him. Then he hauled in the package and the small iron tinder-box.
Eyes streaming from the light, he opened the package to find there were two apples, a hunk of cheese and some dried meat. When he bit into one of the apples it was unbearably delicious, the juices stinging his bleeding gums. Swallowing was almost painful, but the minor irritation was swamped by the coolness. He almost vomited, but held it down, and slowly finished the fruit. His shrunken stomach rebelled after the second apple, and he sat holding the cheese and the meat as if they were treasures of gems and gold.
While waiting for his stomach to settle he stared around at his tiny cell, seeing the filth and decay for the first time. Looking at his hands, he saw the skin was split and ugly sores showed on his wrists and arms. His leather jerkin had been taken from him and the woollen shirt was alive with lice. He saw the small hole in the corner of the wall from which the rats emerged.
And despair was replaced by anger.
Unaccustomed to the light, his eyes continued to stream. Removing his shirt, he gazed down at his wasted body. The arms were no longer huge, the wrists and elbows jutting. But I am alive, he told himself. And I will survive.
He finished the cheese and half of the meat. Desperate as he was to consume it all, he did not know if the old man would come back, and he rewrapped the meat and pushed it into his belt. Examining the workings of the tinder-box he saw that it was an old design, a sharp piece of flint that could be struck against the serrated interior, igniting the powdered tinder in the well of the box. Satisfied he could use it in the dark, he reluctantly blew out the lamp.
The old man did return - but not for two days. This time he brought some dried peaches, a hunk of ham and a small sack of tinder. 'It is important that you keep supple,' he told Druss. 'Stretch out on the floor and exercise.'
'Why are you doing this for me?'
'I sat in that cell for years, I know what it is like. You must build your strength. There are two ways to do this, or so I found. Lie on your stomach with your hands beneath your shoulders and then, keeping the legs straight, push yourself up using only your arms. Repeat this as many times as you can manage. Keep count. Each day try for one more. Also you can lie on your back and raise your legs, keeping them straight. This will strengthen the belly.'
'How long have I been here?' asked Druss.
'It is best not to think of that,' the old man advised. 'Concentrate on building your body. I will bring some ointments next time for those sores, and some lice powder.'
'What is your name?'
'Best you don't know - in case they find the lamp.'
'I owe you a debt, my friend. And I always pay my debts.'
'You'll have no chance of that - unless you become strong again.'
'I shall,' promised Druss.
When the old man had gone Druss lit the lamp and lay down on his belly. With his hands beneath his shoulders he forced his body up. He managed eight before collapsing to the filthy floor.
A week later it was thirty. And by the end of a month he could manage one hundred.
Chapter Three
The guard at the main gate narrowed his eyes and stared at the three-riders. None was known to him, but they rode with casual confidence, chatting to one another and laughing. The guard stepped out to meet them. 'Who are you?' he asked.
The first of the men, a slim blond-haired warrior wearing a baldric from which hung four knives, dismounted from his bay mare. 'We are travellers seeking lodging for the night,' he said. 'Is there a problem? Is there plague in the city?'
'Plague? Of course there's no plague,' answered the guard, hastily making the sign of the Protective Horn. 'Where are you from?'
'We've ridden from Lania, and we're heading for Capalis and the coast. All we seek is an inn.'
'There are no inns here. This is the fortress of Lord Cajivak.'
The other two horsemen remained mounted. The guard looked up at them. One was slim and dark-haired, a bow slung across his shoulder and a quiver hanging from the pommel of his saddle. The third man wore a wide leather hat and sported no weapons save an enormous hunting-knife almost as long as a short sword.
'We can pay for our lodgings,' said the blond man with an easy smile. The guard licked his lips. The man dipped his hand into the pouch by his side and produced a thick silver coin which he dropped into the guard's hand.
'Well. . . it would be churlish to turn you away,' said the guard, pocketing the coin. 'All right. Ride through the main square, bearing left. You'll see a domed building, with a narrow lane running down its eastern side. There is a tavern there. It's a rough place, mind, with much fighting. But the keeper - Ackae - keeps rooms at the back. Tell him that Ratsin sent you.'
'You are most kind,' said the blond man, stepping back into the saddle.
As they rode in to the city the guard shook his head. Be unlikely to see them again, he thought, not with that much silver on them and not a sword between them.
*
The old man came almost every day, and Druss grew to treasure the moments. He never stayed long, but his conversation was brief, wise and to the point. 'The biggest danger when you get out is to the eyes, boy. They get too used to the dark, and the sun can blind them - permanently. I lost my sight for almost a month after they dragged me out. Stare into the lamp flame, close as you can, force the pupils to contract.'
Druss was now as strong as he would ever be in such a place, and last night he had told the man, 'Do not come tomorrow, or the next day.'
'Why?'
Tm thinking of leaving,' answered the Drenai. The old man had laughed. Tm serious, my friend. Don't come for two days.'
'There's no way out. The door-stone alone requires two men to move it, and there are two bolts holding it in place.'
'If you are correct,' Druss told him, 'then I will see you here in three days.'
Now he sat quietly in the dark. The ointments his friend had supplied had healed most of hi
s sores, and the lice powder - while itching like the devil's touch - had convinced all but the most hardy of the parasites to seek alternative accommodation. The food over the last months had rebuilt Druss's strength, and his teeth no longer rattled in their sockets. Now was the time, he thought. There'll never be a better.
Silently he waited through the long day.
At last he heard the jailer outside. A clay cup was pushed into the opening, with a hunk of stale bread by it. Druss sat in the dark, unmoving.
'Here is it, my black-bearded rat,' the jailer called.
Silence. 'Ah well, suit yourself. You'll change your mind before long.'
The hours drifted by. Torchlight flickered in the corridor and he heard the jailer halt. Then the man walked on. Druss waited for an hour, then he lit his lamp and chewed on the last of the meat the old man had left the night before. Lifting the lamp to his face he stared hard into the tiny flame, passing it back and forth before his eyes. The light didn't sting as once it had. Blowing out the light he turned over on to his stomach, pushing himself through one hundred and fifty press raises. He slept. . .
And awoke to the arrival of the jailer. The man knelt down at the narrow opening, but Druss knew he could not see more than a few inches into the dark. The food and water was untouched. The only question now was whether the jailer cared if his prisoner lived or died. Cajivak had threatened to have Druss dragged before him in order to plead for death. Would the Lord be pleased that his jailer had robbed him of such delights?
He heard the jailer curse, then move off back the way he had come. Druss's mouth was dry, and his heart pounded. Minutes passed - long, anxious minutes. Then the jailer returned; he was speaking to someone.
'It's not my fault,' he was saying. 'His rations were set by the Lord himself.'
'So it's his fault? Is that what you're saying?'
'No! No! It's nobody's fault. Maybe he had a weak heart or something. Maybe he's just sick. That's it, he's probably sick. We'll move him to a bigger cell for a while.'
'I hope you're right,' said a soft voice, 'otherwise you'll be wearing your own entrails for a necklace.'
A grating sound followed, then another, and Druss guessed the bolts were being drawn back. 'All right, together now,' came a voice. 'Heave!' The stone groaned as the men hauled it clear.
'Gods, but it stinks in there!' complained one of the guards as a torch was thrust inside. Druss grabbed the wielder by the throat, hauling him in, then he dived through the opening and rolled. He rose, but dizziness caused him to stagger and a guard laughed.
'There's your dead man,' he said, and Druss heard the rasp of a sword being drawn. It was so hard to see - there were at least three torches, and the light was blinding. A shape moved towards him.
'Back in your hole, rat!' said the guard. Druss leapt forward to smash a punch to the man's face. The guard's iron helm flew from his head as his body shot backwards, his head cannoning into the dungeon wall. A second guard ran in. Druss's vision was clearing now and he saw the man aim a blow at his head. He ducked and stepped inside the blow, thundering his fist in the man's belly. Instantly the guard folded, a great whoosh of air rushing from his lungs. Druss brought his clenched fist down on the man's neck, there was a sickening crack and the guard fell to his face.
The jailer was trying to wriggle clear of the dungeon opening as Druss turned on him. The man squealed in fright and elbowed his way back into the dungeon. Druss hauled the first guard to the entrance, thrusting the unconscious body through into the cell. The second guard was dead; his body followed the first. Breathing heavily Druss looked at the door-stone. Anger rose in him like a sudden fire. Squatting down, he took the stone in both hands and heaved it into place. Then he sat before it and pushed it home with his legs. For several minutes he sat exhausted, then he crawled to the door-stone and pushed the bolts home.
Lights danced before Druss's eyes, and his heart was hammering so fast he could not count the beats. Yet he forced himself upright and moved carefully to the door, which was partly open, and glanced into the corridor beyond. Sunlight was shining through a window, the beam highlighting dust motes in the air. It was indescribably beautiful.
The corridor was deserted. He could see two chairs and a table with two cups upon it. Moving into the corridor, he halted at the table and, seeing the cups contained watered wine, he drained them both. More dungeons lined the walls, but these all had doors of iron bars. He moved on to a second wooden door, beyond which was a stairwell, dark and unlit.
His strength was fading as he slowly climbed the stairs, but anger drove him on.
*
Sieben gazed down with undisguised horror at the small black insect upon the back of his hand. This,' he said, 'is insufferable.'
'What?' asked Varsava from his position at the narrow window.
'The room has fleas,' answered Sieben, taking the insect between thumb and forefinger and crushing it.
'They seem to prefer you, poet,' put in Eskodas with a boyish grin.
'The risk of death is one thing,' said Sieben icily. 'Fleas are quite another. I have not even inspected the bed, but I would imagine it is teeming with wild-life. I think we should make the rescue attempt at once.'
Varsava chuckled. 'After dark would probably be best,' he said. 'I was here three months ago when I took a child back out to his father. That's how I learned that Druss was here. The dungeons are - as you would expect - on the lowest level. Above them are the kitchens, and above them the main Hall. There is no exit from the dungeons save through the Hall, which means we must be inside the Keep by dusk. There is no night jailer; therefore, if we can hide within the Keep until around midnight, we should be able to find Druss and get him out. As to leaving the fortress, that is another matter. As you saw, the two gates are guarded by day and locked by night. There are sentries on the walls, and lookouts in the towers.'
'How many?' asked Eskodas.
'When I was here before, there were five near the main gate.'
'How did you get out with the child?'
'He was a small boy. I hid him in a sack and carried him out just after dawn, draped behind my saddle.'
'I can't see Druss fitting in a sack,' said Sieben.
Varsava moved to sit alongside the poet. 'Do not think of him as you knew him, poet. He has been over a year in a tiny, windowless cell. The food would be barely enough to keep him alive. He will not be the giant we all knew. And he's likely to be blind - or insane. Or both.'
Silence fell upon the room as each man remembered the axeman they had fought alongside. 'I wish I'd known sooner,' muttered Sieben.
'I did not know myself,' said Varsava. 'I thought they'd killed him.'
'It's strange,' put in Eskodas, 'I could never imagine Druss being beaten - even by an army. He was always so - so indomitable.'
Varsava chuckled. 'I know. I watched him walk unarmed into a hollow where a dozen or so warriors were torturing an old man. He went through them like a scythe through wheat. Impressive.'
'So, how shall we proceed?' Sieben asked.
'We will go to the main Hall to pay our respects to the Lord Cajivak. Perhaps he won't kill us outright!'
'Oh, that's a good plan,' said Sieben, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
'You have a better?'
'I believe that I have. One would imagine that a sordid place like this would be short of entertainment. I shall go alone and announce myself by name; I will offer to perform for my supper.'
'At the risk of being considered rude,' said Eskodas, 'I don't think your epic poems will be as well received as you think.'
'My dear boy, I am an entertainer. I can fashion a performance to suit any audience.'
'Well, this audience,' said Varsava, 'will be made up of the dregs of Ventria and Naashan and all points east and west. There will be Drenai renegades, Vagrian mercenaries and Ventrian criminals of all kinds.'
'I shall dazzle them,' promised Sieben. 'Give me half an hour to make my introductions, then
make your way into the Hall. I promise you no one will notice your entrance.'
'Where did you acquire such humility?' asked Eskodas.
'It's a gift,' replied Sieben, 'and I'm very proud of it.'
*
Druss reached the second level and paused at the top of the stairwell. He could hear the sounds of many people moving around, the scrape of pans being cleaned and of cutlery being prepared. He could smell fresh bread cooking, mixed with the savoury aroma of roasting beef. Leaning against the wall, he tried to think. There was no way through without being seen. His legs were tired, and he sank down to his haunches.
What to do? '
He heard footsteps approaching and pushed himself upright. An old man appeared, his back hideously bent, his legs bowed. He was carrying a bucket of water. His head came up as he approached Druss, his nostrils quivering. The eyes, Druss saw, were rheumy and covered with an opal film. The old man put down the bucket and reached out. 'Is it you?' he whispered.
'You are blind?'
'Almost. I told you I spent five years in that cell. Come, follow me.' Leaving the bucket, the old man retraced his steps, round a winding corridor and down a narrow stair. Pushing open a door, he led Druss inside. The room was small, but there was a slit window that allowed a shaft of sunshine. 'Wait here,' he said. 'I will bring you some food and drink.'
He returned within minutes with a half-loaf of fresh baked bread, a slab of cheese and a jug of water. Druss devoured the food and drank deeply, then leaned back on the cot-bed.
'I thank you for your kindness,' he said. 'Without it I would be worse than dead; I would have been lost.'
'I owed a debt,' said the cripple. 'Another man fed me, just as I fed you. They killed him for it - Cajivak had him impaled. But I would never have found the courage had the goddess not appeared to me in a dream. Was it she who brought you from the dungeon?'
'Goddess?'
'She told me of you,.and your suffering, and she filled me with shame at my cowardice. I swore to her that I would do all in my power to help you. And she touched my hand, and when I awoke all pain had gone from my back. Did she make the stone disappear?'