Free Drenai Series 07 - The Legend of Deathwalker by David Gemmell

set beneath a stone lintel, and the many windows were functional, displaying no coloured glass, no leaded figures, no ornamentation at all. Much to his own annoyance Druss found himself liking the man who owned the house, which was set amidst gardens boasting willow and beech.
    There was one gesture to the dramatic. A statue of the fighter, almost twice life-size, was set upon a pedestal at the centre of a well-tended lawn. Like the house it was of white stone, unpainted and unadorned, and showed Klay with his fists raised defiantly.
    For a while Druss stood on the broad avenue outside the gates. A movement in the shadows caught his eye and he saw a small boy crouched by the bole of an elm tree. Druss grinned at him. 'Waiting for a glimpse of the great man, are you?' he asked amiably. The boy nodded, but said nothing. He was painfully thin and scrawny, his eyes deep-set, his face pinched and tight. Druss fished in the small pouch at his belt, producing a silver coin which he tossed to the urchin. 'Go on with you. Buy yourself some food.'
    Catching the coin the child stowed it in his ragged tunic - but remained where he was.
    'You really want to see him, don't you? Even hunger can't draw you away? Come with me then, boy. I'll take you in.' The child's face brightened instantly and he scrambled forward. Standing he was even thinner than he had appeared, his elbows and knees seeming swollen larger than biceps or thighs. Beside the huge form of the Drenai fighter he appeared no more than a frail shadow.
    Together they walked to the gates, where the sentries stepped forward, blocking the way.
    'I am Druss. I have been invited here.'
    'The beggar boy hasn't been invited,' said one of the guards. Druss stepped in close, his cold gaze locking to the man's eyes, their faces only inches apart. The guard stepped back, trying to create space between himself and Druss, but the Drenai followed him and the man's breastplate clanged against the gate. 'I invited him, laddie. You have a problem with that?'
    'No. No problem.'
    The sentries stepped aside, pushing open the wrought-iron gates. Druss and the boy moved slowly on. The axeman paused to gaze at the statue, then once more scanned the house and the grounds. The statue was out of place here, at odds with the natural contours of the garden. As he approached the house an elderly servant opened the main door and bowed.
    'Welcome, Lord Druss,' he said.
    'I am no Lord - nor would ever wish to be. This child was waiting in the shadows for a glimpse of Klay. I promised him a closer look.'
    'Mmm,' said the old man. 'I think he could do with a meal first. I'll take him to the kitchen. My master is waiting for you, sir, in the training grounds at the rear of the house. Just follow the hallway; you cannot miss it.' Taking the boy by the hand the old man moved away.
    Druss strode on. In the grounds behind the house there were some twenty athletes engaged in training, or sparring. The area was well designed, with three sand circles, punching-bags, weights, massage tables, and two fountains supplying running water. At the far end was a deep pool where Druss could see several men swimming. The setting was simple and he warmed to it, feeling the tension drain from him. Two men were sparring in one of the sand circles while a third, the colossal Klay, stood close by watching intently. In the fading sunlight Klay's short-cropped blond hair shone like gold. His arms were folded and Druss noted the powerful muscles of his shoulders and back, and the way his body tapered to waist and hips. Built for speed and power, thought Druss.
    'Break away!' ordered Klay. As the fighters moved apart the Gothir Champion stepped into the circle. 'You are too stiff, Galas,' he said, 'and that left hand moves like a sick turtle. I think your training is out of harmony. You are building weight in your shoulders and arms, which is good for power, but you are ignoring the lower body. The most deadly punches are powered by the