three hands wide."
"Try it and see," offered Druss.
The young outlaw shrugged, hefted his bow and drew a long arrow from his doeskin quiver. With a fluid motion his strong fingers drew back the string and released the shaft. As the outlaw's bow bent, Druss drew Snaga and the axe sang through the air in a glittering arc of white light as he sliced the blade to his right. The outlaw's shaft splintered as the axe struck. The young man blinked and swallowed. "I would have paid to have seen that," he said.
"You did!" said Druss. "Where is your purse?"
"Sadly," said the young man, pulling his pouch from his belt, "it is empty. But the purse is yours as we agreed. Where did you learn that trick?"
"In Ventria, years ago."
"I've seen some axe work in the past. But that bordered on the incredible. My name is Bowman."
"I am Druss."
"I know that, old horse. Actions speak louder than words."
8
Hogun swallowed back despair, his mind working furiously. He and 200 of his Legion Riders faced more than a thousand Nadir dog-soldiers, the cavalry wing of Ulric's forces.
Sent out to gauge the strength and disposition of the Nadir horde, Hogun was over 150 miles from Delnoch. He had all but pleaded with Orrin to forsake this plan, but the First Gan was not to be dissuaded.
"A refusal to obey a direct order is punishable by instant dismissal for any of Gan rank. Is that what you wish, Hogun?"
"You know that's not what I'm saying. What I am telling you is that this mission is futile. We know from our spies and countless refugees the strength of Ulric's forces. Sending 200 men into that wasteland is insane."
Orrin's brown eyes had blazed with anger, his fat chin trembling in a bid to suppress his fury. "Insane, is it? I wonder. Is it just that you don't like the plan, or is the famed Corteswain warrior afraid to meet the Nadir?"
"The Black Riders are the only seasoned troops of proven worth you have here, Orrin," he said, as persuasively as he could. "You could lose all 200 men with such a scheme, and learn from it no more than we already know. Ulric has 500,000 men, and more than twice that in camp followers, cooks, engineers and whores. He will be here within six weeks."
"Hearsay," muttered Orrin. "You leave at first light."
Hogun had come close to killing him then, close enough for Orrin to sense danger.
"I am your senior officer," he said, his voice close to a whine. "You will obey me."
And Hogun had. With 200 of his finest men, mounted on black horses - bred for generations as the finest war mounts on the continent - he had thundered his troop northwards as the dawn sun breasted the Delnoch mountains.
Out of sight of the Dros he had slowed the column and signalled the men to ride at ease, free to talk to their riding companions. Dun Elicas cantered alongside him, reining his horse to a walk.
"A bad business, sir."
Hogun smiled, but did not answer. He liked young Elicas. The man was a warrior born, and a fine lieutenant. He sat a horse as if he had been born on one, a true centaur. And a hellion in battle, with his custom-made silver steel sabre, two inches shorter than the standard version.
"What are we supposed to be finding out?" he asked.
"The size and disposition of the Nadir army," answered Hogun.
"We know that already," said Elicas. "What is the fat fool playing at?"
"Enough of that, Elicas," he said sternly. "He wants to be sure the spies were not... exaggerating."
"He's jealous of you, Hogun; he wants you dead. Face it, man. No one can hear us. You know what he is - a courtier. And he has no guts. The Dros won't last a day, he'll open the gates for sure."
"He's a man under terrible pressure. The whole of the Drenai cause rests on his shoulders," said Hogun. "Give him time."
"We don't have time. Look Hogun, send me to Woundweaver. Let me explain our situation. He could be replaced."
"No. Believe me, Elicas, it would achieve nothing. He's Abalayn's nephew."
"That old man has a lot to answer for," snarled
"Try it and see," offered Druss.
The young outlaw shrugged, hefted his bow and drew a long arrow from his doeskin quiver. With a fluid motion his strong fingers drew back the string and released the shaft. As the outlaw's bow bent, Druss drew Snaga and the axe sang through the air in a glittering arc of white light as he sliced the blade to his right. The outlaw's shaft splintered as the axe struck. The young man blinked and swallowed. "I would have paid to have seen that," he said.
"You did!" said Druss. "Where is your purse?"
"Sadly," said the young man, pulling his pouch from his belt, "it is empty. But the purse is yours as we agreed. Where did you learn that trick?"
"In Ventria, years ago."
"I've seen some axe work in the past. But that bordered on the incredible. My name is Bowman."
"I am Druss."
"I know that, old horse. Actions speak louder than words."
8
Hogun swallowed back despair, his mind working furiously. He and 200 of his Legion Riders faced more than a thousand Nadir dog-soldiers, the cavalry wing of Ulric's forces.
Sent out to gauge the strength and disposition of the Nadir horde, Hogun was over 150 miles from Delnoch. He had all but pleaded with Orrin to forsake this plan, but the First Gan was not to be dissuaded.
"A refusal to obey a direct order is punishable by instant dismissal for any of Gan rank. Is that what you wish, Hogun?"
"You know that's not what I'm saying. What I am telling you is that this mission is futile. We know from our spies and countless refugees the strength of Ulric's forces. Sending 200 men into that wasteland is insane."
Orrin's brown eyes had blazed with anger, his fat chin trembling in a bid to suppress his fury. "Insane, is it? I wonder. Is it just that you don't like the plan, or is the famed Corteswain warrior afraid to meet the Nadir?"
"The Black Riders are the only seasoned troops of proven worth you have here, Orrin," he said, as persuasively as he could. "You could lose all 200 men with such a scheme, and learn from it no more than we already know. Ulric has 500,000 men, and more than twice that in camp followers, cooks, engineers and whores. He will be here within six weeks."
"Hearsay," muttered Orrin. "You leave at first light."
Hogun had come close to killing him then, close enough for Orrin to sense danger.
"I am your senior officer," he said, his voice close to a whine. "You will obey me."
And Hogun had. With 200 of his finest men, mounted on black horses - bred for generations as the finest war mounts on the continent - he had thundered his troop northwards as the dawn sun breasted the Delnoch mountains.
Out of sight of the Dros he had slowed the column and signalled the men to ride at ease, free to talk to their riding companions. Dun Elicas cantered alongside him, reining his horse to a walk.
"A bad business, sir."
Hogun smiled, but did not answer. He liked young Elicas. The man was a warrior born, and a fine lieutenant. He sat a horse as if he had been born on one, a true centaur. And a hellion in battle, with his custom-made silver steel sabre, two inches shorter than the standard version.
"What are we supposed to be finding out?" he asked.
"The size and disposition of the Nadir army," answered Hogun.
"We know that already," said Elicas. "What is the fat fool playing at?"
"Enough of that, Elicas," he said sternly. "He wants to be sure the spies were not... exaggerating."
"He's jealous of you, Hogun; he wants you dead. Face it, man. No one can hear us. You know what he is - a courtier. And he has no guts. The Dros won't last a day, he'll open the gates for sure."
"He's a man under terrible pressure. The whole of the Drenai cause rests on his shoulders," said Hogun. "Give him time."
"We don't have time. Look Hogun, send me to Woundweaver. Let me explain our situation. He could be replaced."
"No. Believe me, Elicas, it would achieve nothing. He's Abalayn's nephew."
"That old man has a lot to answer for," snarled
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