David Gemmell - Knights of Dark Renown

The other Knights moved forward, circling the coffin and observing the body, and Samildanach looked from face to face. All wore the same expression. A shiver passed through the Lord Knight.

‘We all know,’ declared Samildanach, ‘why our brother died. He had ceased to take the Nourishment his body desired; he was physically weak. I do not know why Cairbre acted as he did, but it should be a lesson to us all. Our crusade is a holy one. We must restore the civilization and the power of the Gabala, and introduce to it the wonders of the Vyre.’ His words seemed hollow and they echoed in the high arched tomb. He saw again Manannan riding on to the field, his silver armour ablaze.

They had been friends…

Friends? The concepts of friendship, of love, of brotherhood moved in his mind like wisps of smoke, close but unobtainable.

‘Are you well, Samildanach?’ Edrin asked.

‘Yes. I feel there should be words to say over our… friend. But I can think of none.’

‘Then let us cover him and be gone,’ said Bersis. ‘This place is cold and inhospitable.’

‘Yes,’ whispered Samildanach. ‘Cover him.’ He turned and strode for the stairs. The tallest of the Knights, he was wide-shouldered and narrow-hipped and his movements, even in armour, were smooth and sure. He led the Knights to the Upper Room, where they seated themselves around the oval oak table.

‘It is time,’ said Samildanach, ‘to gauge the strength of the enemy. The boy sorcerer has placed a barrier around the forest, and now is the moment to breach it. Give of your strength, my friends.’

The Knights bowed their heads and Samildanach felt the power soaking into his frame. Sta.iding, he thoved away from the table; lifting his arms, he called for the Red. His right hand sliced through the air, which parted like a torn silk screen. A cold breeze whispered into the room. Samildanach opened the curtain further and gazed on the night-shrouded Forest of the Ocean. Then he stepped through and sealed the opening behind him. He was in a glade by a rushing river. Silently he made his way to the nearest hilltop and gazed around him at the moonlit landscape. A mile to the north lay the village of Llaw Gyffes. Samildanach sat cross-legged on the grass and closed his eyes, his spirit soaring into the night sky. Picturing the silver armour of the Gabala Knights, he felt the pull of their magic. He found himself floating by a cave. Inside, a fire was burning low and he could see seven sleeping figures. He recognized the Duke of Mactha, and Manannan; the others he did not know. He left the scene and rose once more. This time the pull took him far to the west and he came to a Long Hall wherein stood a shining figure surrounded by scores of warriors. The Knight was telling the men of past glories and great heroes. His voice was compelling and Samildanach could see the Colours blossoming throughout the hall.

This one was a danger…

Rising again, he journeyed east and north. Here, in a hollow, he found Morrigan and a squat, ugly peasant. Samildanach recoiled from the man. This was the enemy, he thought? This was the kind of man who now wore the silver? Anger flared in him. His spirit eyes turned to Morrigan, whose beauty in the moonlight was beyond reason. He smiled as she made some cutting remark to the peasant. How could she be here, among these low-born outlaws?

For some time Samildanach roamed the forest, seeking signs of the rebel army. Nowhere could he find any evidence of large concentrations of troops. But he did not have time to search the entire forest, and returned to the cave. There he hovered at the entrance and fixed his concentration on the blond youth who slept beside three golden statues of hounds.

‘Come to me,’ he said softly. ‘Rise and come to me.’

Lamfhada stirred and rolled over. A shimmering light glowed around him and his spirit rose from his body. He blinked and saw Samildanach. The Knight moved back into the moonlight; Lamfhada followed and they floated high above the trees.

‘How did you come here?’ asked the youth.

‘How did you think to stop me?’ replied Samildanach. ‘Foolish child. It is time to die.’

Suddenly Samildanach’s form swelled to dwarf the terrified Lamfhada. Talons erupted from the Knight’s fingers and slashed at the boy’s chest. He hurled himself back and reached in terror for the Gold, but his mind was too full of fear and panic and it eluded him. He tried to escape, but Samildanach’s giant hand circled him and he was drawn ever closer to the huge face.

‘I expected at least a battle, child,’ said the Knight.

‘And you shall have one,’ came a voice from behind. Samildanach swung to see a familiar figure floating beside him.

‘Ollathair! What a pleasant surprise.’

‘Not for me. Release the boy.’

‘Why should I? A dead man cannot harm me.’

‘Indeed he cannot. But there is a live man standing beside your body, with a knife to its throat.’

The figure faded from sight and Samildanach smiled. ‘Well, boy, it seems you are to live — for now.’ He released Lamfhada and sped away.

Samildanach opened his eyes and rolled to his right, his dagger hissing from its scabbard. There was no one close, but beside his body were the marks of recent footprints.

‘You should have killed me, Ollathair — as I killed you.’ He opened the curtain of night and stepped back into the Upper Room.

Once seated at the table, he roused the Knights.

Swiftly he outlined all he had seen; then he turned to Edrin and Bersis. ‘I see no real danger to the King’s army,’ said Samildanach, ‘but there are two men who should be dealt with at haste. Edrin, you and Bersis will go to Pertia Port. There you will show the commander the King’s seal. Bersis will take command of five hundred men and lead an attack on the Citadel above the Bridge of Chains. Morrigan will be there; I do not want her harmed. But there is one with her who offends me. Kill him. You, Edrin, will take fifty men and move through to the west of the forest. Find a village nestling below the two highest peaks. There you will hear of one of these new Knights. He is a storyteller of great power and, given time, he could raise a force against us. Destroy him. Use any means. You understand?’

‘I will not fail you, Samildanach. Be assured, he will die.’

Lamfhada watched the Red Knight disappear into the distance. ‘Ruad,’ whispered the youth. ‘Are you still here?’

‘He never was here,’ came a voice in his mind. ‘Return to your body. I will come to you within a short time.’

Lamfhada did as he was bid; then he stood, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and silently moved past the sleeping Knights. Outside the cave, he sat on a rock and scanned the countryside. After a few minutes he saw a tall figure making his way up the rocky path. Dressed in long robes of faded blue and ancient leather sandals, the man was old, and completely bald; a forked white beard flowed to his chest and he was using a quarter-staff to aid him on his climb. The newcomer halted before Lamfhada.

‘I am the Dagda,’ he said, ‘and you were born under lucky omens.’

‘Thank you for your help. Why did you impersonate Ruad?’

The Dagda shrugged. ‘It was a necessary deceit which sowed the seed of fear in Samildanach’s mind. Also,’ he continued, sitting beside the youth, ‘I knew Ruad Ro-fhessa — and I think my deceit would have pleased him. How are you faring, Lamfhada?’

The Armourer shrugged. ‘I do my best. I can do no more. But I wish Ruad was here to guide me.’

‘That is understandable, but a man is strongest when he is alone. Remember that. You have the Knights, and I think the Source is with you. Even so, there is much you must suffer.’

‘I know all this. When I found the Gold I saw all that could be, all that should be, all that might be. What I could not discern was all that will be. Good men will die, I know that.’