'So do I,' he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
After a while the sobbing ceased and the boy drew himself up. 'I'm sorry, general. I won't let you down, you know.'
'I knew that anyway. I've watched you, and you're a brave lad: one of the best. Now eat your ration and get some sleep.'
Michanek rose and walked back to Shurpac. 'Let's go home,' he said. 'I'd like to sit in the garden with Pahtai and watch the stars.'
*
Druss lay still, his eyes closed, allowing the buzz of conversation to drift over him. He could not remember feeling so low - not even when Rowena was taken. On that dreadful day his anger had been all-consuming, and since then his desire to find her had fuelled his spirit, giving him a strength of purpose that bound his emotions in chains of steel. Even in the dungeon he had found a way to fend off despair. But now his stomach was knotted, his emotions unravelling.
She was in love with another man. He formed the words in his mind, and they ground into his heart like broken glass in a wound.
He tried to hate Michanek, but even that was denied him. Rowena would never love a worthless or an evil man. Druss sat up and stared down at his hands. He had crossed the ocean to find his love, and these hands had killed, and killed, and killed in order that Rowena could be his once more.
He closed his eyes. Where should I be? he asked himself. In the front rank as they storm the walls? On the walls defending Rowena's city? Or should I just walk away?
Walk away.
The tent entrance flapped as Sieben ducked under it. 'How are you faring, old horse?' asked the poet.
'She loves him,' said Druss, his voice thick, the words choking him.
Sieben sat alongside the axeman. He took a deep breath. 'If her memories were taken, then what she has done is no betrayal. She does not know you.'
'I understand that. I bear her no ill-will - how could I? She is the most . . . beautiful . . . I can't explain it, poet. She doesn't understand hatred, or greed, or envy. Soft but not weak, caring but not stupid.' He swore and shook his head. 'As I said, I can't explain it.'
'You're doing fine,' said Sieben softly.
'When I'm with her there is no . . . no fire in my mind. No anger. When I was a child I hated to be laughed at. I was big and clumsy - I'd knock over pots, trip over my own big feet. But when people laughed at my clumsiness I wanted to. . . I don't know. . . crush them. But I was with Rowena one day on the mountainside, and it had been raining. I lost my footing and fell headlong into a muddy pool. Her laughter was bright and fresh; I sat up, and I just laughed with her. And it was so good, poet, it was so good.'
'She's still there, Druss. Just across the wall.'
The axeman nodded. 'I know. What do I do - scale the wall, kill the man she loves and then march up to her and say, "Remember me?" I cannot win here.'
'One step at a time, my friend. Resha will fall. From what I gathered from Oliquar, Michanek will fight to the end, to the death. You don't have to kill him, his fate is already sealed. And then Rowena will need someone. I can't advise you, Druss, I have never truly been in love and I envy you that. But let us see what tomorrow brings, eh?'
Druss nodded and took a deep breath. 'Tomorrow,' he whispered.
'Gorben has asked to see you, Druss. Why not come with me? Bodasen is with him - and there'll be wine and good food.'
Druss stood and gathered Snaga to him. The blades guttered in the light from the brazier burning at the centre of the tent. 'A man's best friend is said to be a dog,' said Sieben, stepping back as Druss lifted the axe.
The axeman ignored him and stepped out into the night.
*
Rowena stood by with a long robe as Michanek stepped from the bath. Smiling, she brushed two rose petals from his shoulder, then held the robe open. Michanek slid his arms into the sleeves, then tied the satin belt and turned towards her. Taking her hand he led her into the garden. Rowena leaned in towards him and he stopped and took her into his arms, kissing the top of her head. His body was rich with the smell of rose oil and she put her arms around him, snuggling in to the soft robe. Tilting back her head, she looked up into his dark brown eyes. 'I love you,' she said.
Cupping her chin he kissed her, lingeringly. His mouth tasted of the peaches he had eaten while lazing in the bath. But there was no passion in the kiss and he drew away from her.
'What is wrong?' she asked. He shrugged and forced a smile.
'Nothing.'
'Why do you say that?' she chided. 'I hate it when you lie to me.'
'The siege is almost over,' he said, leading her to a small circular bench beneath a flowering tree.
'When will you surrender?' she asked.
He shrugged. 'When I receive orders to do so.'
'But the battle is unnecessary. The war is over. If you negotiate with Gorben he will allow us to leave. You can show me your home in Naashan. You always promised to take me to your estates near the Lakes; you said the gardens there would dazzle me with their beauty.'
'So they would,' he told her. Slipping his hands around her waist he stood and lifted her swiftly, lightly kissing her lips.
'Put me down. You'll tear the stitches - you know what the surgeon said.'
He chuckled. 'Aye, I listened to him. But the wound is almost healed.' Kissing her twice more, he lowered her to the ground and they walked on. 'There are matters we must discuss,' he said, but when she waited for him to continue he merely glanced up at the stars and the silence grew.
'What matters?'
'You,' he said at last. 'Your life.' Rowena looked at him, saw the lines of tension on his moonlit face, the tightening of the muscle in his jaw.
'My life is with you,' she said. 'That's all I want.'
'Sometimes we want more than we can have.'
'Don't say that!'
'You used to be a seer - a good one. Kabuchek charged two hundred silver pieces for a single reading from you. You were never wrong.'
'I know all this, you have told me before. What difference does it make now?'
'All the difference in the world. You were born in the lands of the Drenai, you were taken by slavers. But there was a man . . .'
'I don't want to hear this,' she said, pulling away from him and walking to the edge of the tiny lake. He did not follow, but his words did.
The man was your husband.' Rowena sat down by the water's edge, trailing her fingers across the surface, sending ripples through the moon's reflection.
'The man with the axe,' she said dully.
'You remember?' he asked, walking forward and sitting beside her.
'No. But I saw him once-at the house of Kabuchek. And also in a dream, when he lay in a dungeon.'
'Well, he is not in a dungeon now, Pahtai. He is outside the city. He is Druss the Axeman, Gorben's champion.'
'Why are you telling me this?' she asked him, turning to face him in the bright moonlight.
His white robe shimmered, and he looked ghostly, almost ethereal. 'Do you think I want to?' he countered. 'I'd sooner fight a lion with my hands than have this conversation. But I love you, Pahtai. I have loved you since our first meeting. You were standing with Pudri in the main corridor of Kabuchek's home, and you told my future.'
'What did I tell you?'
He smiled. 'You told me I would wed the woman I loved. But that is not important now. I think soon you will meet your. . . first . . . husband.'
'I don't want to.' Her heart was beating fast and she felt faint. Michanek put his arms around her.
'I don't know much about him, but I do know you,' he said. 'You are Drenai; your customs are different from ours. You were not high-born, therefore it is likely you married for love. And think on this: Druss has followed you across the world for seven years. He must love you deeply.'
'I don't want to talk about this!' she said, her voice rising as panic flooded her. She tried to rise, but he held her close.
'Neither do I,' he whispered, his voice hoarse. 'I wanted to sit here with yo
u and watch the stars. I wanted to kiss you, and to make love.' His head dropped, and she saw tears in his eyes.
Her panic disappeared and the cold touch of fear settled on her soul. She looked up-into his face. 'You talk as if you are going to die.'
'Oh, I will some day,' he said, with a smile. 'Now I must go. I am meeting Darishan and the other officers to discuss tomorrow's strategy. They should be in the house now.'
'Don't go!' she pleaded. 'Stay with me a little while . . . just a little while?'
'I'll always be with you,' he said softly.
'Darishan will die tomorrow. On the walls. I saw it; it was a vision. He was here today and I saw him die. My Talent is coming back. Give me your hand! Let me see our future.'
'No!' he said, rising and moving back from her. 'A man's fate is his own. You read my future once. Once was enough, Pahtai.'
'I predicted your death, didn't I?' she said, but it was not a question for she knew the answer even before he spoke.
'You told me about my dreams, and you mentioned my brother, Narin. I don't remember much of it now. We'll talk later.'
'Why did you mention Druss? You think that if you die I will just go to him, and take up a life I know nothing of? If you die, I will have nothing to live for.' Her eyes locked to his. 'And I will not live,' she said.
A figure moved out of the shadows. 'Michi, why are you keeping us all waiting?' Rowena saw her husband flinch and glanced up to see Narin striding towards them.
'I sent you away,' said Michanek.. 'What are you doing here?'
'I made it as far as the hills, but the Ventrians are everywhere. I came in through the sewers; the guards there recognised me, thank the gods. What is the matter with you? Are you not pleased to see me?'
Michanek did not answer. Turning to Rowena he smiled, but she saw the fear in his eyes. 'I'll not be long, my love. We'll talk again later.'
She remained on the seat as the two men walked away. Closing her eyes she thought of the axeman, picturing the pale grey eyes and the broad, flat face. But even as she pictured him, another image came to her:
The face of a terrible beast, with talons of steel and eyes of fire.
*
Gorben leaned back on his couch and watched with appreciation the sword jugglers before the huge fire, the five razor-sharp blades spinning in the air between the two men. It was a display of rare skill as the jugglers deftly caught the swords, before sending them soaring back across the open ground. The men were clad in loincloths, their skin shone red-gold in the firelight. Around them sat more than five hundred Immortals, enjoying the martial display.'
Beyond the dancing flames of the camp-fire Gorben could see the walls of Resha, and the few defenders there. It was all but over. Against all the odds he had won.
Yet there was no sense of joy in his heart. The years of battle, the stresses and the fears had taken their toll on the young Emperor. For every victory he had seen childhood friends cut down: Nebuchad at Ectanis, Jasua in the mountains above Porchia, Bodasen before the gates of Resha. He glanced to his right where Bodasen was lying on a raised bed, his face pale. The surgeons said he would live, and they had managed to re-inflate his collapsed lung. You are like my Empire, thought Gorben, wounded almost unto death. How long would it take to rebuild Ventria? Years? Decades?
A great roar went up from the watching men as the sword jugglers completed their performance. The men bowed to the Emperor. Gorben rose and tossed them a pouch full of gold pieces. There was great laughter when the first of the jugglers reached out and failed to catch the pouch.
'You are better with blades than coins,' said Gorben.
'Money has always slipped through his fingers, Lord,' said the second man.
Gorben returned to his seat and smiled down at Bodasen. 'How are you feeling, my friend?'
'My strength is returning, Lord.' The voice was weak, his breathing ragged as Gorben reached out and patted his shoulder. The heat of the skin and the sharpness of the bone beneath his hand almost made him recoil. Bodasen's eyes met his. 'Do not concern yourself about me, Lord. I'll not die on you.' The swordsman's eyes flickered to the left, and he smiled broadly. 'By the gods, there's a sight to gladden the eyes!'
Gorben turned to see Druss and Sieben walking towards them. The poet dropped to one knee, bowing his head. Druss gave a perfunctory bow.
'Well met, axeman,' said Gorben, stepping forward and embracing Druss. Turning, he took Sieben's arm and raised him to his feet. 'And I have missed your talents, saga-master. Come, join us.'
Servants brought two couches for the Emperor's guests, and golden goblets filled with fine wine. Druss moved to Bodasen. 'You look as weak as a three-day kitten,' he said. 'Are you going to live?'
'I'll do my best, axeman.'
'He cost me two hundred wagons of food,' said Gorben. 'I blame myself for believing him to be unbeatable.'
'How good is this Michanek?' asked Druss.
'Good enough to leave me lying here scarce able to breathe,' answered Bodasen. 'He's fast, and he's fearless. The best I ever met. I tell you truly, I wouldn't want to face him again.'
Druss turned to Gorben. 'You want me to take him?'
'No,' said Gorben. "The city will fall in the next day or two - there is no need for single combat to decide the issue. The walls are undermined. Tomorrow, if the wind is good, we will fire them. Then the city will be ours and this ghastly war will be over. Now, tell me about your adventures. I hear you were held captive?'
'I escaped,' Druss told him, then drained his goblet. A servant ran forward to refill it.
Sieben laughed. 'I will tell you, Lord,' he said, and launched into a richly embroidered account of Druss's time in the dungeons of Cajivak.
The huge camp-fire was burning low and several men moved forward to throw logs upon it. Suddenly the ground heaved beneath one of them, pitching him to the earth. Gorben looked up, and watched the man struggle to rise. All around the fire the seated men were scrambling back. 'What is happening?' asked Gorben, rising and striding forward. The ground lurched beneath him.
'Is it an earthquake?' he heard Sieben ask Druss.
Gorben stood still and gazed down. The earth was writhing. The camp-fire suddenly flared, sending bright sparks into the night sky. The heat was intense and Gorben moved back from it, staring into the flames. Logs exploded out from the blaze and a huge shape appeared within the fire, a beast with outspread arms. The flames died and Gorben found himself staring at a colossal bear, more than twelve feet tall.
Several soldiers carrying spears ran at the creature, plunging their weapons into the great belly. The first of the spears snapped on impact. The beast roared, a deafening sound like captured thunder. One of the mighty arms swept down, steel talons ripping through the first soldier, cutting him in half at the waist.
Surging from the fading fire, the beast leapt towards Gorben.
*
As the creature of fire appeared Sieben, who was sitting alongside Bodasen, found all sensation of time and reality slipping away from him. His eyes fastened on the beast, and an image flew from the halls of his memory, linking what he could see in terrifying life to a still, small moment three years ago in the main Library at Drenan. Researching for an epic poem, he had been scanning the ancient leather-bound books in the archives. The pages were dry and yellow, and much of the ink and paint had faded from them, but on one page the colours were still vibrant, fierce hues -glowing gold, savage crimsons, sun-bright yellows. The figure painted there was colossal, and flames sprouted like blooms from its eyes. Sieben could still picture the carefully painted letters above the painting . . .
The Kalith of Numar
Beneath the heading were the words:
The Chaos Beast, the Stalker, the Hound of the Invincible, whose skin no blade of man shall pierce. Where he walks, death follows.
As Sieben recalled the night of the monster in later days, he would wonder anew at the lack of fear he experienced. He watched men die horribly, saw a beas
t from the depths of Hell tear human limbs asunder, disembowelling warriors, ripping their lives from them. He heard the ghastly howling and smelt the stench of death on the night breeze. Yet there was no fear.
A dark legend had come to life and he, the saga-master, was on hand to witness it.
Gorben was standing stock-still, rooted to the spot. A soldier Sieben recognised as Oliquar threw himself at the beast, slashing at it with a sabre; but the blade clanged against the creature's side, and the sound that followed was like the dim tolling of a distant bell. A taloned paw swept down, and Oliquar's face and head disappeared in a bloody spray of shattered bone. Several archers shot arrows, but these either shattered on impact or ricocheted away. The creature advanced on Gorben.
Sieben saw the Emperor flinch, then hurl himself to his right, rolling to his feet smoothly. The enormous beast turned ponderously, the glowing coals of its eyes seeking out Gorben.
Loyal soldiers, showing incredible bravery, threw themselves into the path of the beast, stabbing at it ineffectually. Each time the talons slashed down, and blood sprayed across the camp-site. Within a few heartbeats there were at least twenty dead or maimed soldiers. The Chaos Beast's talons ripped into a soldier's chest, lifting him from his feet and hurling him across the dying fire. Sieben heard the man's ribs snap, and saw his entrails spill out like a tattered banner as the corpse sailed through the air.
Druss, axe in his hand, strode out towards the creature. Soldiers were falling back before it, but still they formed a wall between the beast and the Emperor. Looking tiny and insubstantial against the colossal frame of the Kalith, Druss stepped into its path. The moon was bright in the night sky, shining from his shoulder-guards and glinting on Snaga's terrible blades.
The Chaos Beast paused and seemed to stare down at the tiny man before it. Sieben's mouth was dry, and he could feel the hammering of his own heart.
And the Kalith spoke, voice deep and rumbling, words slurred by its foot-long tongue.
'Step aside, brother,' it said. 'I have not come for you.'
The axe began to glow as red as blood. Druss stood his ground, with Snaga held in both hands.