A gap opened between the Drenai and the Nadir, and widened as the tribesmen turned and fled down into the open grounds between Valteri and Geddon.
"Great gods of Missael!" said the officer. "What's going on?" Orrin turned and saw what had filled the Nadir with terror.
Behind them in the darkened tunnel stood Druss the Legend, Serbitar and The Thirty. With them were many departed warriors. Druss's axe was in his hand and the joy of battle in his eyes. Orrin swallowed, then licked his lips. He replaced his sword in its scabbard at the third attempt.
"I think we will leave them to hold the tunnel," he said. The remaining men bunched behind him as he walked towards Druss.
The ghostly defenders appeared not to notice them, their eyes fixed on the tunnel beyond. Orrin tried to speak to Druss, but the old man just stared ahead. When Orrin reached out a shaking hand and tried to touch the axeman, his hand met nothing — only cold, cold air.
"Let us get back to the wall," he said. He closed his eyes and walked blindly through the ranks of the spirits. By the time he reached the tunnel mouth he was shivering. The other men with him said nothing.
No one looked back.
He joined Rek on the wall and the battle continued. Moments later, during a brief lull, Rek shouted: "What's happening in the tunnel?"
"Druss is there," replied Orrin. Rek merely nodded and turned again as fresh Nadir warriors breasted the ramparts.
Bowman, bearing short sword and buckler, fought beside Hogun. Though not as skilled with the blade as with the bow, he was no mean warrior.
Hogun blocked an axe blow — and his sword snapped. The axe head crushed his shoulder, burying itself in his chest. He hammered the broken sword into the belly of the axeman and fell with him to the ground.
A lance licked out, spearing the Legion general's back as he struggled to rise. Bowman's short sword disembowelled the lancer, but more Nadir pressed forward and Hogun's body was lost in the mêlée.
By the gate tower Joachim Sathuli fell, his side pierced by a thrown-spear. Rek half-carried him beyond the ramparts, but had to leave him, for the Nadir had almost broken through. Joachim gripped the spear with both hands, sweat breaking out on his forehead, and examined the wound. The point had passed through just above the right hip, and broken the skin of his back. The head, he knew, was barbed and there would be no drawing it out. He gripped the spear more firmly, rolled to his side then pushed it further into the wound until the whole of the spear-head cleared his back. He passed out for several minutes, but the gentle touch of a hand roused him. A Sathuli warrior named Andisim was beside him.
"Remove the head of the spear," Joachim hissed. "Quickly!"
Wordlessly the man took his dagger and as gently as possible levered the spear-head from the shaft. At last it was done. "Now," whispered Joachim "pull the shaft clear." Standing above him, the man slowly withdrew the spear as Joachim grunted against the agony. Blood gushed out, but Joachim ripped his robe and plugged the wound, allowing Andisim to do the same for the hole in his back.
"Get me to my feet," he ordered, "and fetch me a tulwar."
Beyond the walls of Eldibar, within his tent, Ulric watched the sands fall in the huge glass. Beside him was the scroll he had received that morning from the north.
His nephew Jahingir had declared himself Kan — overlord of the north. He had slain Ulric's brother, Tsubodi, and taken Ulric's mistress Hasita as hostage.
Ulric could not blame him and felt no anger. His family were born to lead and blood ran true among them.
But he could not dally here and so had set the glass. If the wall had not fallen by the time the sand ran out, he would lead his army north again, win back his kingdom and return to take Dros Delnoch on another day.
He had received the message about Druss holding the tunnel and had shrugged. Alone once more, he had smiled.
So, not even Paradise can keep you from the battle, old man!
Outside his tent stood three men bearing rams' horns, waiting for his signal. And the sands flowed on.
On the wall of Geddon the Nadir broke through to the right. Rek screamed for Orrin to follow him and cut a path along the ramparts. To the left more Nadir gained the ramparts and the Drenai fell back, leaping to the grass and re-forming. The Nadir swarmed forward.
The day was lost.
Sathuli and Drenai waited, swords ready, as the Nadir massed before them. Bowman and Orrin stood beside Rek, and Joachim Sathuli limped towards them.
"I'm glad we are only offering you one day," grunted Joachim, clutching the bloody bandage wedged into his side.
The Nadir spread out before them and charged.
Rek leaned on his sword blade, breathing deeply and saving what was left of his strength. There was no longer the energy inside him to promote a baresark rage, nor the will.
All his life he had feared this moment, and now that it was upon him it was as meaningless as dust upon the ocean. Wearily he focused his gaze on the charging warriors.
"I say, old horse," muttered Bowman, "do you think it's too late to surrender?"
Rek grinned. "Just a little," he said. His hands curled around the sword hilt, he twisted his wrist and the blade hissed into the air.
The front ranks of the Nadir were less than twenty paces from them when the sound of distant rams' horns echoed up from the valley.
The charge slowed…
And stopped. Less than ten paces apart, both sides stood listening to the insistent wailing.
Ogasi cursed and spat, sheathing his sword. He stared sullenly into the astonished eyes of the Earl of Bronze. Rek removed his helm and plunged his sword into the ground before him as Ogasi stepped forward.
"It is over!" he said. He lifted his arm, waving the Nadir back to the walls. Then he turned. "Know this, you round-eyed bastard, it was I, Ogasi, who slew your wife."
It took a few seconds for the words to register, then Rek took a deep breath and removed his gauntlets.
"Do you think it matters, amid all this," said Rek, "to know who fired one arrow? You want me to remember you? I shall. You want me to hate you? I cannot. Maybe tomorrow. Or next year. Maybe never."
For a moment Ogasi stood silent, then he shrugged.
"The arrow was meant for you," he said, weariness settling on him like a dark cloak. Turning on his heel, he followed the departing warriors. Silently they climbed down the ladders and ropes — none took the path through the gate tunnel.
Rek unbuckled his breastplate and walked slowly to the tunnel mouth. Coming towards him was Druss and The Thirty. Rek lifted a hand in greeting, but a wind blew and the warriors vanished into mist and were gone.
"Goodbye, Druss," he said softly.
Later that evening Rek bade farewell to the Sathuli and slept for several hours, hoping for another meeting with Virae. He awoke refreshed — but disappointed.
Arshin brought him food and he ate with Bowman and Orrin. They said little. Calvar Syn and his orderlies had found Hogun's body, and the surgeon was labouring to save the hundreds of wounded men now being carried to the Geddon hospital.
Rek made his way to his room around midnight and removed his armour; then he remembered Serbitar's gift. He was too tired to care, but sleep would not come so he rose and dressed, took a torch from a wall bracket and made his way slowly down into the bowels of the Keep. The door to Egel's room was closed once more, but it opened to him as before.
The lights blazed within as Rek placed his torch against the wall and stepped inside. His breath caught in his throat as he gazed on the crystal block. Within it lay Virae! Upon her body was no mark, no arrow wound; she lay naked and peaceful, seemingly asleep, floating within the transparent crystal. He walked to the block, reached inside and touched her. She did not stir and her body was cold. Stooping, he lifted her clear and placed her on a nearby table. Then he removed his cloak, wrapped it around her and lifted her again. Gathering up the torch he made his slow way back to his room above the Keep hall.