“She is not weak.”
“Of course she is. She is a victim of love - just as you are. And love is the ultimate downfall of Man. There is no abiding strength in love, Druss. It erodes the natural strength of man, it taints the heart of the hunter.”
“I do not believe that.”
She laughed, a dry sound like the rattling of bones.”Yes, you do,”‘ she said. “‘You are not a man of love, Druss. Or was it love that led you to leap upon the decks of the corsair ship, cutting and killing? Was it love that sent you over the battlements at Ectanis? Was it love that carried you through the battles in the sand circles of Mashrapur?” She halted in her stride and turned to face him.”Was it?”
“Yes. Everything was for Rowena - to help me find her. I love her.”
“It is not love, Druss; it is perceived need. You cannot bear what you are without her - a savage, a killer, a brute. But with her it is a different story. You can leach from her purity, suck it in like fine wine. And then you can see the beauty in a flower, smell the essence of life upon the summer breeze. Without her you see yourself as a creature without worth. And answer me this, axeman: If it was truly love, would you not wish for her happiness above all else?”
“Aye, I would. And I do!”
“Really? Then when you found that she was happy, living with a man who loved her, her life rich and secure, what did you do? Did you try to persuade Gorben to spare Michanek?”
“Where is this bridge?” he asked.
“It is not easy to face, is it?” she persisted.
“I am no debater, woman. I only know that I would die for her.”
“Yes, yes. Typical of the male - always look for the easy solutions, the simple answers.” She walked on, cresting the hill, and paused, resting on her staff. Druss gazed down into the chasm beyond. Far, far below a river of fire, at this distance a slender ribbon of flame, flowed through a black gorge. Across the gorge stretched a narrow bridge of black rope and grey timber. At the centre stood a warrior in black and silver with a huge axe in his hands.
“She is on the far side,” said the old woman. “But to reach her you must pass the guardian. Do you recognise him?”
“No.”
“You will.”
The bridge was secured by thick black ropes tied to two blocks of stone. The wooden slats that made up the main body of the structure were, Druss judged, around three feet long and an inch thick. He stepped out on to the bridge, which immediately began to sway. There were no guiding ropes attached by which a man could steady himself and, looking down, Druss felt a sick sense of vertigo.
Slowly he walked out over the chasm, his eyes fixed to the boards.He was half-way to the man in black and silver before he looked up. Then shock struck him like a blow.
The man smiled, bright teeth shining white against the black and silver beard. “I am not you, boy,” he said. “I am everything you could have been.”
Druss stared hard at the man. He was the very image of Druss himself, except that he was older and his eyes, cold and pale, seemed to hold many secrets.
“You are Bardan,” said Druss.
“And proud of it. I used my strength, Druss. I made men shake with fear. I took my pleasures where I wanted them. I am not like you, strong in body but weak in heart. You take after Bress.”
“I take that as a compliment,” said Druss. “For I would never have wanted to be like you - a slayer of babes, an abuser of women. There is no strength in that.”
“I fought men. No man could accuse Bardan of cowardice. Shemak’s balls, boy, I fought armies!”
“I say you were a coward,” said Druss. “The worst kind. What strength you had came from that,” he said, pointing to the axe. “Without it you were nothing. Without it you are nothing.”
Bardan’s face reddened, then grew pale. “1 don’t need this to deal with you, you weak-kneed whoreson. I could take you with my hands.”
“In your dreams,” mocked Druss.
Bardan made as if to lay down the axe, but then hesitated. “You can’t do it, can you?” taunted Druss. “The mighty Bardan! Gods, I spit on you!”
Bardan straightened, the axe still in his right hand. “Why should I lay aside my only friend? No one else stood by me all those lonely years. And here - even here he has been my constant aid.”
“Aid?” countered Druss. “He destroyed you, just as he destroyed Cajivak and all others who took him to their hearts. But I don’t need to convince you, Grandfather: You know it, but you are too weak to acknowledge it.”
“I’ll show you weakness!” roared Bardan, leaping forward with axe raised. The bridge swayed perilously, but Druss leapt in under the swinging axe, hammering a ferocious punch to Bardan’s chin. As the other man staggered, Druss took one running step and leapt feet first, his boots thudding into Bardan’s chest to hurl him back. Bardan lost his grip on the axe and teetered on the edge.
Druss rolled to his feet and dived at the man. Bardan, recovering his footing, snarled and met him head-on. Druss smashed a blow to the other man’s chin, but Bardan rolled with the punch, sending an uppercut which snapped the axeman’s head back. The power in the blow was immense and Druss reeled. A second blow caught him above the ear, smashing him to the boards. Rolling as a booted foot slashed past his ear, he grabbed Bardan’s leg and heaved. The warrior fell heavily. As Druss pushed himself upright, Bardan launched himself from the boards, his hands circling Druss’s throat. The bridge was swaying wildly now and both men fell and rolled towards the edge. Druss hooked his foot into the space between two boards, but he and Bardan were hanging now over the awesome drop.
