Drenai Saga 01 - Legend by David Gemmell Read Free Book Online Page B

cowards and heroes?”
    “The prophet says, ‘By nature of definition only the coward is capable of the highest heroism.’”
    “You must convene the Thirty, Serbitar.”
    “I am to lead?”
    “Yes. You shall be the voice of the Thirty.”
    “But who shall my brothers be?”
    The abbot leaned back in his chair. “Arbedark will be the heart. He is strong, fearless, and true; there could be none other. Menahem shall be the eyes, for he is gifted. I shall be the soul.”
    “No!” said the albino. “It cannot be, master. I cannot lead you.”
    “But you must. You will decide the other numbers. I shall await your decision.”
    “Why me? Why must I lead? I should be the eyes. Arbedark should lead.”
    “Trust me. All will be revealed.”
    “I was raised at Dros Delnoch,” Virae told Rek as they lay before the blazing fire. His head rested on his rolled cloak, her head nestled on his chest. He stroked her hair, saying nothing. “It’s a majestic place. Have you ever been there?”
    “No. Tell me about it.” He did not really want to hear, but neither did he wish to speak.
    “It has six outer walls, each of them twenty feet thick. The first three were built by Egel, the Earl of Bronze. But then the town expanded, and gradually they built three more. The whole fortress spans the Delnoch Pass. With the exception of Dros Purdol to the west and Corteswain to the east, it is the only route for an army to pass through the mountains. My father converted the old keep and made it his home. The view is beautiful from the upper turrets. To the south in summer the whole of the Sentran Plain is golden with corn. And to the north you can see forever. Are you listening to me?”
    “Yes. Golden views. You can see forever,” he said softly.
    “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
    “Yes. Tell me about the walls again.”
    “What about them?”
    “How thick are they?”
    “They are also up to sixty feet high, with jutting towers every fifty paces. Any army attacking the Dros would suffer fearful losses.”
    “What about the gates?” he asked. “A wall is only as strong as the gate it shields.”
    “The Earl of Bronze thought of that. Each gate is set behind an iron portcullis and built of layered bronze, iron, and oak. Beyond the gates are tunnels which narrow at the center before opening out onto the level between walls. You could hold the tunnels against an enormous number of men. The whole of the Dros was beautifully designed; it’s only the town which spoils it.”
    “In what way?” he said.
    “Originally Egel designed the gap between the walls to be a killing ground with no cover. It was uphill to the next wall, which would slow down the enemy. With enough bowmen you could have a massacre. It was good psychologically, too: By the time they came to take the next wall—if they ever did—they’d know there was more killing ground to come.”
    “So how did the town spoil it?”
    “It just grew. Now we have buildings all the way to Wall Six. The killing ground’s gone. Quite the opposite, in fact—now there’s cover all the way.”
    He rolled over and kissed her brow.
    “What was that for?” she asked.
    “Does it have to be for something?”
    “There’s a reason for everything,” she said.
    He kissed her again. “That was for the Earl of Bronze,” he said. “Or the coming of spring. Or a vanished snowflake.”
    “You don’t make any sense,” she told him.
    “Why did you let me make love to you?” he asked.
    “What sort of a question is that?”
    “Why?”
    “None of your damned business!” she said.
    He laughed and kissed her again. “Yes, my lady. Quite right. None of my business.”
    “You’re mocking me,” she said, struggling to rise.
    “Nonsense,” he said, holding her down. “You’re beautiful.”
    “I’m not. I never have been. You
are
mocking me.”
    “I will never mock you. And you
are
beautiful. And the more I look at you, the more beautiful you are.”
    “You’re a