Drenai 6 - The First Chronicles of Druss The Legend
Chapter Five
Word soon spread among the warriors and crew of the tragedy that had befallen the huge axeman. Many of the men could not understand the depth of his grief, knowing nothing of love, but all could see the change in him. He sat at the prow, staring out over the sea, the massive axe in his hands. Sieben alone could approach him, but even the poet did not remain with him for long.
There was little laughter for the remaining three days of the voyage, for Dross’s brooding presence seemed to fill the deck. The corsair giant, Patek, remained as far from the axeman as space would allow, spending his time on the tiller deck.
On the morning of the fourth day the distant towers of Capalis could be seen, white marble glinting in the sun.
Sieben approached Dross. “Milus Bar intends to pick up a cargo of spices and attempt the return journey. Shall we stay on board?”
“I’m not going back,” said Dross.
“There is nothing here for us now,” pointed out the poet.
“There is the enemy,” the axeman grunted.
“What enemy?”
“The Naashanites.”
Sieben shook his head. “I don’t understand you. We don’t even know a Naashanite!”
“They killed my Rowena. I’ll make them pay.” Sieben was about to debate the point, but he stopped himself. The Naashanites had bought the services of the corsairs and in Dross’s mind this made them guilty. Sieben wanted to argue, to hammer home to Dross that the real villain was Earin Shad, and that he was now dead. But what was the use? In the midst of his grief Dross would not listen. His eyes were cold, almost lifeless, and he clung to the axe as if it were his only friend.
“She must have been a very special woman,” observed Eskodas when he and Sieben stood by the port rail as The Thunderchild eased her way into the harbour. “I never met her. But he speaks of her with reverence.”
Eskodas nodded, then pointed to the quayside. “There are no dock-workers,” he said, “only soldiers. The city must be under siege.”
Sieben saw movement at the far end of the quay, a column of soldiers wearing black breastplates adorned with silver marching behind a tall, wide-shouldered nobleman. “That must be Gorben,” he said. “He walks as if he owns the world.”
Eskodas chuckled. “Not any more - but I’ll agree he is a remarkably handsome fellow.”
The Emperor wore a simple black cloak above an unadorned breastplate, yet he still - like a hero of legend - commanded attention. Men ceased in their work as he approached, and Bodasen leapt from the ship even before the mooring ropes were fastened, landing lightly and stepping into the other man’s embrace. The Emperor clapped him on the back, and kissed Bodasen on both cheeks.
“I’d say they were friends,” observed Eskodas dryly.
“Strange customs they have in foreign lands,” said Sieben, with a grin.
The gangplank was lowered and a squad of soldiers moved on board, vanishing below decks and reappearing bearing heavy chests of brass-bound oak.
“Gold, I’d say,” whispered Eskodas and Sieben nodded. Twenty chests in all were removed before the Drenai warriors were allowed to disembark. Sieben clambered down the gangplank just behind the bowman. As he stepped ashore he felt the ground move beneath him and he almost stumbled, then righted himself.
“Is it an earthquake?” he asked Eskodas.
“No, my friend, it is merely that you are so used to the pitching and rolling of the ship that your legs are unaccustomed to solid stone. It will pass very swiftly.”
Druss strode down to join them as Bodasen stepped forward, the Emperor beside him.
“And this, my Lord, is the warrior I spoke of - Druss the Axeman. Almost single-handedly he destroyed the corsairs.”
“I would like to have seen it,” said Gorben. “But there is time yet to admire your prowess. The enemy are camped around our city and the attacks have begun.”
Druss said nothing, but the Emperor seemed unconcerned. “May I see your axe?” he asked. Druss nodded and passed the weapon to the monarch. Gorben accepted it and lifted the blades to his face. “Remarkable workmanship. Not a nick or a rust mark - the surface is entirely unblemished. A rare kind of steel.” He examined the black haft and the silver runes. “This is an ancient weapon, and has seen much death.”
“It will see more,” said Druss, his voice low and rumbling. At the sound Sieben shivered.
Gorben smiled and handed back the axe, then turned to Bodasen. “When you have settled your men into their quarters you will find me at the Magisters’ Hall.” He strode away without another word.
Bodasen’s face was white with anger. “When you are in the presence of the Emperor you should bow deeply. He is a man to respect.”
“We Drenai are not well versed in subservient behaviour,” Sieben pointed out.
“In Ventria such disrespect is punishable by disembowelling,” said Bodasen.
“But I think we can learn,” Sieben told him cheerfully.
