Shuddering breaths filled Rek's lungs as he fought to control his grief. Blood dripped from a forgotten wound in his forearm. He rubbed his eyes and turned back to the bed; sitting beside her he lifted her arm and felt for a pulse, but there was nothing.
"Virae!" he said softly. "Come back. Come back. Listen. I love you! You're the one." He leaned over her, watching her face. A tear appeared there, then another… But they were his own. He lifted her head and cradled it in his arms. "Wait for me," he whispered. "I'm coming." He fumbled at his belt, pulling the Lentrian dagger from its sheath, and held it to his wrist.
"Put it down, boy," said Druss from the doorway. "It would be meaningless."
"Get out!" shouted Rek. "Leave me."
"She's gone, lad. Cover her."
"Cover her? Cover my Virae! No! No, I can't. Oh gods in Missael, I can't just cover her face."
"I had to once," said the old man as Rek slumped forward, tears stinging his eyes and silent sobs racking his frame. "My woman died. You are not the only one to face death."
For a long while Druss stood silently in the doorway, his heart aching. Then he pushed the door shut and walked into the room.
"Leave her for a while and talk to me, boy," he said, taking Rek by the arm. "Here by the window. Tell me again how you met."
And Rek told him of the attack in the forest, the killing of Reinard, the ride to the Temple and the journey to Delnoch.
"Druss!"
"Yes."
"I don't think I can live with this."
"I have known men who couldn't. But there is no need to cut your wrists. There's a horde of tribesmen out here who will do it for you gladly."
"I don't care about them any more — they can have the damned place. I wish I had never come here."
"I know," said Druss, gently. "I spoke to Virae yesterday in the hospital. She told me she loved you. She said…"
"I don't want to hear it."
"Yes you do, because it's a memory you can hold. And it keeps her alive in your mind. She said that if she died, it would be worth it just to have met you. She worshipped you, Rek. She told me of the day you stood by her against Reinard and all his men — she was so proud of you. I was too when I heard about it. You had something, boy, that few men ever possess."
"And now I've lost it."
"But you had it! That can never be taken away from you. Her only regret was she was never really able to tell you how she felt."
"Oh, she told me — it didn't need words. What happened to you when your wife died? How did it feel?"
"I don't think I need to tell you. You know how I felt. And don't think it's any easier after thirty years. If anything, it becomes harder. Now, Serbitar is waiting to see you in the Hall. He says it's important."
"Nothing is important any more. Druss, will you cover her face? I couldn't bear to do it."
"Yes. Then you must see the albino. He has something for you."
* * *
Serbitar was waiting at the bottom of the stairs as Rek slowly descended to the main Hall. The albino wore full armour and helm topped with white horsehair. The visor was down, shielding his eyes. He looked, Rek thought, like a silver statue. Only his hands were bare and these were white as polished ivory.
"You wanted me?" said Rek.
"Follow me," said Serbitar. Turning on his heel, he strode from the Hall towards the spiral stone stairwell leading to the dungeons below the Keep. Rek had been ready to refuse any request, but now he was forced to follow and his anger grew. The albino stopped at the top of the stairs and removed a flaming torch from a copper wall bracket.
"Where are we going?" asked Rek.
"Follow me," repeated Serbitar.
Slowly and carefully the two men descended the cracked, worn steps until at last they reached the first level of dungeons. Long disused, the hallway glittered with water-sodden cobwebs and wet moss-covered arches. Serbitar moved on until they reached an oak door, a rust bolt holding it fast. He struggled with the bolt for some moments, finally working it free, then both men had to haul on the door before it creaked and groaned and opened. Another stairwell beyond yawned dark before them.
Once again Serbitar started down. The steps ended in a long corridor, ankle-deep in water. They waded through to a final door, shaped like an oak-leaf and bearing a gold plaque with inscribed lettering in the Elder tongue.
"What does it say?" asked Rek.
"It says: "To the worthy — welcome. Herein lies Egel's secret, and the soul of the Earl of Bronze"."
"What does it mean?"
Serbitar tried the door handle but the door was locked, seemingly from within since no bolt, chain, or keyhole could be seen.
"Do we break it down?" said Rek.
"No. You open it."
"It is locked. Is this a game?"
"Try it."
Rek turned the handle gently and the door swung open without a sound. Soft lights sprang up within the room, glowing globes of glass set in the recesses of the walls. The room was dry, though now the water from the corridor outside flowed in and spread across the richly carpeted floor.
At the centre of the room, on a wooden stand, was a suit of armour unlike anything Rek had ever seen. It was wonderfully crafted in bronze, the overlapping scales of metal glittering in the light. The breastplate carried a bronze eagle, with wings flaring out over the chest and up to the shoulders. Atop this was a helmet, winged and crested with an eagle's head. Gauntlets there were, scaled and hinged, and greaves. Upon the table before the armour lay a bronze-ringed mail-shirt lined with softest leather, and mail leggings with bronze hinged kneecaps. But above all, Rek was drawn to the sword encased in a block of solid crystal. The blade was golden and over two feet in length; the hilt double-handed, the guard a pair of flaring wings.
"It is the armour of Egel, the first Earl of Bronze," said Serbitar.
"Why was it allowed to lie here?"
"No one could open the door," answered the albino.
"It was not locked," said Rek.
"Not to you."
"What does that mean?"
"The meaning is clear: you and no other were meant to open the door."
"I can't believe that."
"Shall I fetch you the sword?" asked Serbitar.
"If you wish."
Serbitar walked to the crystal cube, drew his own sword and hammered at the block. Nothing happened. His blade clanged back into the air, leaving no mark upon the crystal.
"You try," said Serbitar.
"May I borrow your sword?"
"Just reach for the hilt."
Rek moved forward and lowered his hand to the crystal, waiting for the cold touch of glass which never came. His hand sank into the block, his fingers curling round the hilt. Effortlessly he drew the blade forth.
"Is it a trick?" he asked.
"Probably. But it is none of mine. Look!" The albino put his hands on the now empty crystal and heaved himself up upon it. "Pass your hands below me," he said.
Rek obeyed — for him the crystal did not exist.
"What does it mean?"
"I do not know, my friend. Truly I do not."
"Then how did you know it was here?"
"That is even more difficult to explain. Do you remember that day in the grove when I could not be awakened?"
"Yes."
"Well, I travelled far across the planet, and even beyond, but in my travels I breasted the currents of time and I visited Delnoch. It was night and I saw myself leading you through the hall and down to this room. I saw you take the sword and I heard you ask the question you have just asked. And then I heard my answer."
"So, at this moment you are hovering above us listening?"
"Yes."
"I know you well enough to believe you, but answer me this: that may explain how you are here now with me, but how did the first Serbitar know, the armour was here?"
"I genuinely cannot explain it, Rek. It is like looking into the reflection of a mirror, and watching it go on and on into infinity. But I have found in my studies that often there is more to this life than we reckon with."
"Meaning?"
"There is the power of the Source."
"I am in no mood for religion."
"Then let us instead say that all those centuries ago, Egel looked into the future and saw this invasion, so he left his armour here, guarded by magic which only you — as the Earl — could break.
"Is your spirit image still observing us?"
"Yes."
"Does it know of my loss?"
"Yes."
"Then you knew she would die?"
"Yes."
"Why did you not tell me?"
"It would have been a waste of joy."
"What does that mean?" said Rek, anger building inside him and pushing away the grief.
"It means that were you a farmer anticipating long life, I might have warned you — to prepare you. But you are not; you are fighting a savage horde and your life is at risk every day. As was Virae's. You knew that she might die. Had I told you this was certain not only would it have gained you nothing, but also robbed you of the joy you had."
"I could have saved her."
"No, you could not."
"I don't believe that."
"Why would I lie? Why would I wish her dead?"
Rek did not answer. The word "dead" entered his heart and crushed his soul. Tears welled in him again and he fought them back, concentrating on the armour.
"I will wear that tomorrow," he said through gritted teeth. "I will wear it and die."
"Perhaps," answered the albino.
The dawn was clear, the air fresh and sweet as two thousand Drenai warriors prepared for the assault on Kania. Below them the Nadir shaman were moving through the ranks of tribesmen, sprinkling the blood of chickens and sheep on the bared blades which the warriors held before them.
Then the Nadir massed and a great swelling chant came from thousands of throats as the horde moved forward, bearing ladders, knotted ropes and grappling-irons. Rek watched from the centre of the line. He lifted the bronze helm and placed it over his head, buckling the chin-strap. To his left was Serbitar, to his right Menahem. Others of The Thirty were spread along the wall.
And the carnage began.
Three assaults were turned back before the Nadir gained a foothold on the battlements. And this was short-lived. Some two-score tribesmen breached the defence, only to find themselves faced with a madman in bronze and two silver ghosts who strode among them dealing death. There was no defence against these men, and the bronze devil's sword could cut through any shield or armour; men died under that terrible blade screaming as if their souls were ablaze. That night the Nadir captains carried their reports to the tent of Ulric and the talk was all of the new force upon the battlements. Even the legendary Druss seemed more human — laughing as he did in the face of Nadir swords — than this golden machine of destruction.
"We felt like dogs being beaten from his path with a stick," muttered one man. "Or weaponless children being thrust aside by an elder."
Ulric was troubled and, though he lifted their spirits at last by pointing out again and again that it was merely a man in bronze armour, after the captains had left he summoned the ancient shaman, Nosta Khan, to his tent. Squatting before a blazing brazier of coals the old man listened to his warlord, nodding the while. At last he bowed and closed his eyes.
* * *
Rek was asleep, exhausted by battle and sorrow. The nightmare came slowly, enveloping him like black smoke. His dream eyes opened and before him was a cave mouth, black and terrible. Fear emanated from it like a tangible force. Behind him was a pit, stretching down into the fiery bowels of the earth, from which came strange sounds, whimpers and screams. In his hand was no sword, upon his body no armour. A slithering sound came from the pit and Rek turned to see oozing up from it a gigantic worm, slime-covered and putrescent. The stench made him reel back. The mouth of the worm was huge and could swallow a man with ease; around it were triple rows of pointed fangs and lodged between one set was the arm of a man, bloody and broken. Rek backed towards the cave mouth, but a hissing made him spin round. From the blackness of the cave came a spider, its giant maw dripping poison. Within its mouth was a face, green and shimmering and from the mouth of the face flowed words of power. As each word sounded Rek grew weaker, until he could hardly stand.
"Are you just going to stand there all day?" said a voice.
Rek turned to see Virae. By his side, dressed in a flowing gown of white. She smiled at him.
"You're back!" he said, reaching out for her.
"No time for that, you fool! Here! Take your sword." Her arms reached towards him and the bronze sword of Egel appeared in her hands. A shadow fell across them as Rek snatched the sword, spinning round to face the worm which was towering above them. The blade swept through three feet of the creature's neck as the mouth descended and green gore spouted from the wound. Rek struck again and again until the creature, almost cut in two, flopped backwards into the pit.
"The spider!" yelled Virae and he spun once more. The beast was upon him, its huge mouth mere paces away. Rek hurled his sword into the gaping maw and it flew like an arrow to split the green face within like a melon. The spider reared into the air and toppled backwards. A breeze blew up, and the beast became black smoke which drifted into the air and then was gone.
"I suppose you would have gone on standing there if I hadn't come along?" said Virae.
"I think so," answered Rek.
"You fool," she said, smiling and he moved forward tentatively, holding out his arms.
"Can I touch you?" he asked.
"An odd request for a husband to make."
"You won't disappear?"
Her smile faded. "Not yet, my love."
His arms crushed her to him, tears spilling from his eyes. "I thought you were gone for ever. I thought I would never see you again."
For a while they said nothing, but merely stood together embracing. Finally she gently pushed him away. "You must go back," she said.
"Back?"
"To Delnoch. You are needed there."
"I need you more than I need Delnoch. Can we not stay here? Together?"
"No. There is no "here". It doesn't exist. Only you and I are real. Now you must return."
"I will see you again, won't I?"
"I love you, Rek. I will always love you."
He awoke with a start, eyes focusing on the stars outside his window. Her face could still be seen, fading against the midnight sky. "Virae!" he shouted. "Virae!" The door opened and Serbitar ran to the bedside.
"Rek, you're dreaming. Wake up!"
"I am awake. I saw her. She came to me in a dream and rescued me."
"All right, but she's gone now. Look at me." Rek gazed into Serbitar's green eyes. He saw concern there, but this soon faded and the albino smiled.
"You are all right," said Serbitar. "Tell me of the dream."
Afterwards Serbitar questioned him about the face. He wanted every detail that could be remembered. Finally he smiled.
