By this point in my journey through David Gemmell’s Drenai novels, I am beginning to realise that I could probably spend a very long time talking about Druss. He is one of those characters who has stayed with me for years, partly because he seems so impossibly straightforward. He has an enormous axe, a formidable reputation and a tendency to solve problems by hitting them very hard, but there is considerably more going on underneath all that muscle. Coming back to him now, I find myself enjoying that complexity far more than I did when I first discovered Gemmell.

The Legend of Deathwalker is another story from Druss’s past, set before the events of Legend, and it takes him into the lands of the Nadir and their struggle against Gothir oppression. Druss joins forces with the Nadir warrior Talisman in a quest for the Eyes of Alchazzar, mystical gems supposedly connected to the coming of the Uniter, the figure destined to unite the Nadir and free them from their oppressors. Naturally, things become considerably more complicated than simply finding a couple of magic stones.

And I have to admit, I really enjoyed this one.

What particularly grabbed me this time around is how much Gemmell is playing with the idea of cultural perspective.

The Gothir have conquered the Nadir and imposed their rule upon them. From the Gothir perspective, this is civilisation imposing order upon what they regard as lesser peoples. From the Nadir perspective, it is occupation, oppression and the systematic destruction of their independence. Gemmell does not spend the entire book waving a flag saying “this is colonialism”, but the parallels are difficult to miss.

That aspect landed rather differently with me now than it probably would have when I was younger. Back then, I would have been much more focused on Druss, the battles and the mythology. Now I find myself thinking about the assumptions behind the Gothir attitude towards the Nadir, particularly the way a conquering culture can convince itself that it is actually doing good by the people it has conquered.

The language used to describe the Nadir is part of that commentary. They are regarded as savages by the people who have conquered them, which conveniently makes their mistreatment easier to justify. It is an old and depressingly familiar trick. Reduce another culture to stereotypes, convince yourself that they are somehow less civilised, then use that belief to excuse whatever you decide to do to them.

I found myself appreciating that far more than I expected to.

What makes it particularly effective is that Gemmell does not turn the Nadir into some simplistic collection of noble victims either. They have their own rivalries, prejudices, ambitions and internal divisions. They are people, rather than a single political block, and that makes their struggle feel considerably more convincing.

The idea of the Uniter adds another layer.

The Nadir are waiting for a legendary figure who will unite them and throw off their oppressors. It is a classic fantasy idea, but Gemmell has always been rather more interested in what people do while waiting for destiny to arrive.

Talisman believes in the prophecy.

Druss is rather more pragmatic.

And that contrast really works for me.

Druss is never particularly comfortable with the idea that some great destiny is going to come along and sort everything out. He tends to believe that if something needs doing, someone has to get on with it. There is a wonderful practicality to his heroism. He does not need a prophecy to tell him that an injustice is wrong.

That is one of the reasons I have become so attached to the character.

There is something reassuring about Druss’s moral simplicity, particularly as I get older. The world around him is complicated, people have competing motives and nobody can be certain how things will turn out, but Druss can still look at a situation and say, essentially, “This is wrong, so I’m going to do something about it.”

It sounds simple.

It really isn’t.

Gemmell understands that doing the right thing can be extraordinarily expensive. Druss knows that better than most, and he is prepared to pay the price anyway. That is what makes his heroism work for me. It is not about being fearless. It is about being frightened, understanding the cost and going ahead regardless.

There is also a fascinating commentary on the way legends are created. The Nadir have their own heroes, myths and stories, just as the Drenai do. Druss himself has already become something of a legend by the time this story takes place, and watching him interact with people who have their own ideas about what a legendary warrior should be is great fun.

I particularly like the friendship that develops between Druss and Talisman. They are very different men, but both possess that stubborn determination that Gemmell seems to regard as an essential component of heroism. They do not always agree, and they certainly do not approach problems in the same way, but there is a genuine respect between them.

Then there is Sieben, because apparently no Gemmell story involving Druss is complete without somebody providing a rather different perspective on all this heroic nonsense. His presence adds humour and humanity to what could otherwise become an increasingly grim story, and I found myself particularly enjoying those lighter moments.

And, as always, Sean Barrett deserves considerable credit for making this work so well as an audiobook.

Barrett once again does a superb job of filling the world of the Drenai with life. He gives the various cultures and characters enough individuality to make the sizeable cast easy to follow, while keeping the narration grounded rather than turning every conversation into an exercise in theatrical voice acting. His Druss has the weight and authority you would expect, while the quieter characters are given plenty of personality.

There is something comforting about hearing Barrett narrate these books now. His voice has become part of my experience of Gemmell’s Drenai, and he makes the world feel lived in rather than simply narrated. I know where I am when I hear these stories, and that is not something every audiobook manages to achieve.

What I find increasingly enjoyable about returning to Gemmell now is that the books still deliver the things I wanted from them when I was younger. There are huge battles, impossible odds, magic, warriors and heroes who seem to have misplaced their common sense somewhere along the way.

But there is more there now.

I am noticing the politics. The ideas about power. The assumptions made by one culture about another. The burden of history. The choices people make when doing nothing would be considerably easier.

And perhaps that is the real pleasure of revisiting these books in my late fifties. I still get the same thrill from Druss walking into an impossible situation with Snaga in his hands, but I am now far more interested in why he does it.

The Legend of Deathwalker is ultimately a story about oppression, identity, friendship and the dangers of allowing someone else to define your worth. It is also a cracking bit of heroic fantasy, which is probably why Gemmell remains so readable after all these years.

Druss may be Deathwalker to the Nadir, a legend to the Drenai and a figure of prophecy to others.

But underneath all those names, he is still just a man who sees something that needs doing and decides to do it.

Usually while carrying a very large axe.

And honestly, I’m still rather fond of him for that.

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