David Gemmell - Knights of Dark Renown

‘Back!’ he yelled. ‘Retreat!’ But there was nowhere to go. An arrow glanced from his breastplate and tore up into his cheek.

He had to get away! He dragged at the reins and found himself facing the six Knights, who had turned and were once more moving in for the attack. Bavis kicked his horse into a run and swerved from the trail; an archer loomed up before him, but he lashed his sword across the man’s face.

Now he was clear and racing for the safety of the open ground beyond. He glanced back to see a single Knight following him. His horse stumbled, righted itself and ran on; the beast was sweating heavily, and foam showed on its neck; the charge uphill had drained its strength. Bavis looked back once more… the Knight was gaining.

‘Dear Gods of Heaven, save me!’ he pleaded as his stallion cleared a fallen tree and galloped out into the open. Far now from the screams, Bavis steered his mount towards a stream at the foot of the valley. If he could just make the stream, he could lose the Knight in the thick undergrowth beyond.

Another look behind him showed that the Knight had not closed the distance between them — but he was still there, grim and deadly.

Bavis’ stallion splashed into the stream and stumbled up the bank beyond. The Knight was closer now. Bavis ducked low over the saddle as branches tore at him. The trail narrowed, cutting left and right. He dragged the stallion to a halt and leapt from the saddle, then slapped his hand against the beast’s rump. It took off at a run and the general hurled himself into the undergrowth. He heard the Knight canter past, then rose and began to make his way deeper into the trees. The ambush had been terrible and he began to realize the awesome implications for his own career. H$s thirty Turmae had been destroyed utterly, of that he was in no doubt. The King would not take it kindly that the pick of his lancers had been wiped out by a band of peasant rebels. Bavis sat down on a large rock. He might have won his way clear of the enemy, but his life would be forfeit upon his return to Mactha.

It was all so galling. The success of his foray into the forest had lulled him into a sense of false security. He was convinced there was no rebel army; why in the devil’s name had he charged up that hill?

His thoughts were interrupted as a young woman stepped into the glade. She was extraordinarily beautiful, with long golden hair curiously streaked with silver.

‘Are you lost?’ she asked, moving towards him. He was struck by the sensual grace of her movements.

‘Yes. Where are you from?’

She came close and reached up to touch his bare arm. A shiver of pure pleasure came to him as her fingers stroked his flesh. His mouth was dry — the Knight forgotten.

His hands fumbled at her tunic.

How strange, he thought, that arousal could come at such a time.

Morrigan’s arm circled his neck and drew him down towards her.

Elodan turned away as Groundsel cut the throat of a wounded soldier.

‘Squeamish, Lord Knight?’ asked the outlaw leader.

‘Yes,’ answered Elodan. ‘I was not trained for butchery.’

Groundsel laughed. ‘You would never guess it! Your strategy was perfect — only one escaped.’

Everywhere the rebels were stripping the dead, gaining armour and swords. Thirty horses had survived the massacre, and these were loaded with weapons and armour and led away, back towards the camp in the high meadow. Elodan walked from the bodies to where Llaw, Errin and Ubadai were sitting in a sheltered glade by a tiny stream.

Errin looked up. ‘Unbelievable,’ he said. ‘You planned it well, Elodan.’

‘I feel no pride in it,’ owned the Lord Knight. ‘So many dead.’

‘All enemies,’ declared Ubadai. ‘I shed no tears.’

‘No,’ whispered Elodan, ‘nor does Groundsel. He’ll be searching the corpses for gold teeth next.’

Errin grinned. ‘Not an easy man to like, our Groundsel. But he fights well.’

‘There is more to being a Knight than that!’ snapped Elodan. ‘You should know that, Lord Errin. I am ashamed to wear this armour.’

‘Do not say that!’ stormed Llaw Gyffes. ‘Not ever! I know how you feel — but put yourself in my place. I am a blacksmith and an outlaw. As far as history is concerned, I am also a wife killer, t do not know how to be a Knight — but I will do my best not to dishonour the armour. That is all any man can do. Content yourself with this victory; it will give heart to the men.’

‘I hope Morrigan is all right,’ remarked Errin, as the silence grew. ‘One of us should have gone with her.’

‘I think you will find she is capable,’ said Elodan. ‘I watched her during the first encounter. She uses a sword like a veteran and her size belies her strength.’

‘Even so, she is a woman,’ said Errin.

Llaw chuckled. ‘Do not confuse women like Morrigan with the wasp-waisted courtesans you have known, Errin. No — nor Arian nor Sheera. They are women to walk the mountains with. Strong.’

‘I am no expert on mountain women, Llaw. I bow to your knowledge.’

Groundsel joined them, removing his helm and rubbing at his sweat-drenched hair. ‘When do we eat?’ he asked.

‘How can you think of food with the stench of death in the air?’ responded Errin.

‘I think of food because I am hungry. What has the smell to do with it?’

‘There is the woman,’ said Ubadai, pointing to the hillside. Morrigan rode into the glade and dismounted and Elodan rose and strode to meet her. She raised her hand arid lowered the helm visor masking her face.

‘Did you catch him?’

‘Yes, he is dead.’

‘Are you well, Morrigan?’ asked the Lord Knight.

‘I am fine. The sun is bright on my eyes, that is all. When do we leave?’

‘Most of the men are returning to the camp, but I would like you and Groundsel to head west. I am told there is a large settlement there, on a mountainside. It can only be reached by a bridge of chains. Some of the men have been there and they claim that the leader, Bucklar, has more than two hundred warriors. It would be good for us if he could spare a hundred for our cause.’

‘West?’ she queried. ‘That will bring us close to Pertia Port. I thought the enemy was there in force.’

‘So I understand. Take what supplies you will need.’

‘Does it have to be Groundsel? Why not Errin or Llaw — or even the Nomad?’

Elodan grinned. ‘Being the Lord Knight has certain advantages, Morrigan. I do not want him around me, so you have the pleasure of his company.’

‘He may not survive the journey,’ she said.

The Duke dismounted by the cave and stared long and hard at the blond youth waiting for them. ‘What do you want of me?’ he asked.

The youth smiled. ‘I want nothing, my Lord. All I ask is that you step into the cave and make a choice.’

‘No.’ The Duke turned to Manannan. ‘What is in there?’

‘A suit of armour,’ said the Once-Knight.

‘And I am to wear it? I am expected to fight alongside peasants and outlaws?’

‘More than that,’ Lamfhada told him. ‘You will be expected to die for them, if necessary.’

‘What madness! I am grateful that you saved my life — but I did not ask for your help and therefore feel no obligation to you. Why should I fight for your cause?’

Lamfhada stepped forward. ‘There is no reason why you should,’ he said. ‘If you desire to ride on, then you may. We will even give you supplies for the journey.’

‘And if I fight for you, what do you offer me?’

‘Nothing at all,’ came the answer.

‘You amaze me, boy. Tell me, Manannan, this suit of armour, is it silver like your own?’

‘Yes.’

‘You are asking me to become a Knight of the Gabala? It is beyond belief. Ask any man who ever served me and he will tell you I ani a hard man, maybe even a cruel one. I have lied and I have cheated and I have killed. All these things I have done to maintain my position — and had Okessa not turned on me I would still be serving the King. Is that the sort of man you wish to wear the silver helm? I think not.’