David Gemmell - Knights of Dark Renown

‘There was little I could do,’ said the burly, ageing general. ‘The Duke panicked and the men fled with him. But we still have an army — and we have been joined by two thousand Lancers. If we go in tomorrow, I believe we will rout them.’

‘I do not believe that will be necessary,’ Samildanach told him. ‘You did well, general; very well. I will see that the King rewards you.’

‘His Majesty is well?’

‘Yes, he is resting in Mactha.’

At dawn Samildanach rode into the valley, halted his horse and planted a white banner in the earth. Then he waited. It was more than an hour before a Knight in silver armour cantered down to him.

‘Welcome, Manannan. How are you faring?’

‘I do not wish to engage in idle conversation with you, demon. State your business.’

‘Once we were friends,’ said Samildanach.

‘That was another man. Speak, or I ride back.’

‘Very well. I have an offer for you. Tomorrow we can push back into the valley and engage our forces once more. Hundreds of lives will be lost — perhaps thousands. Why do we not settle this like Knights? In single combat?’

‘What do we fight for?’ asked Manannan. ‘What do you offer?’

‘If you win, the King’s army will return to Furbolg and the Forest of the Ocean will be safe. If I win, you disband your force and surrender Llaw Gyffes.’

‘No,’ said Manannan. ‘If we are to talk of surrender, then you can give us Ahak.’

‘Very well. No surrenders — merely disband your force.’

‘And how do I know that you will keep your part of the bargain?’

‘I give you my word as a Knight,’ said Samildanach, fighting to control his anger.

‘Once I would have walked into Hell on such a promise. But not now, Samildanach. Your word is worth less than pig-droppings. No. I think we will chance the battle.’

‘You then are the Lord Knight, Manannan? Or are you the Armourer? Strange — I heard it was the cripple, Elodan, and the boy, Lamfhada. Run to them and tell them of my offer. See what they have to say.’

Now it was Manannan’s turn to feel the cold bite of anger in his soul and he took a deep, slow breath. ‘You are right, of course. I shall do this. And if your challenge is accepted I will meet you here at dawn. Believe me, Samildanach, I will defeat you. I promise you that.’

‘Enough of your empty threats. Carry my message to your masters. I will wait here for their answer.’

Manannan rode back to where the other Knights waited with Lamfhada, seated around a breakfast fire. Ramath, Bucklar and the other leaders stood close by. Manannan outlined Samildanach’s offer and immediately stressed that he was against it.

Lamfhada stood. ‘We must not dismiss it lightly. It could save — as Samildanach says — many hundreds of lives. Can you beat him, Manannan?’

‘Yes, I believe that I can. But I cannot be sure.’

‘There is another point to be considered,’ put in Elodan. ‘If he loses and breaks his word, it will only strengthen our cause. If he wins, we can disband — and perhaps re-form at a later time.’

‘I think you are overlooking something of importance here,’ said Errin softly. ‘We are the Knights of the Gabala. We cannot refuse such a challenge and maintain any pretence to our title. Samildanach knows this. If we refuse we will be condemned as imposters, and then Nuada’s death, and the deaths of the others, will count for nothing. Whatever the risk, we must accept and trust in Manannan’s skill.’

Elodan nodded in agreement. ‘Thank you, Errin. You are correct, of course. It matters not whether Samildanach is sincere. I doubt that he is, but he must be fought. Lamfhada, you agree?’

‘Yes. Ride back to him, Manannan. Tell him that the combat will be fought tomorrow.’

Manannan sighed and shook his head. ‘As you say,’ he said. He mounted his stallion and returned to the valley and Samildanach.

‘Tomorrow, two hours after dawn,’ stated the Once-Knight.

‘Then the challenge is accepted?’

‘Yes. I will be here.’

‘You, Manannan?’ said Samildanach, smiling broadly. ‘But that is not how it will be done. I will follow Gabala rules. I am the Lord Knight of the Crimson therefore naturally I will fight the Lord Knight of the Gabala.’

‘What trickery is this?’ stormed Manannan. ‘Elodan is crippled — as well you know.’

‘It is not for me to criticize your choice of leader. But you know the Rule of the Sword: my challenge must be answered by my equal. Naturally, if you now wish to ask me to withdraw my challenge, I will consider your request.’

‘And then deny it?’

‘Of course. I challenged; it was accepted. It would be base of you to withdraw now.’

‘How can one such as you use the word base? You are a creature of the dark, a servant of demons. You have turned your back on all that is holy and decent.’

‘Do not preach, Manannan. Return to your… home in the mud, and tell Elodan I will meet him here two hours after dawn.’

Lamfhada sat apart from the Knights, watching the stars and feeling the breath of the night wind. Below him in a sheltered glade Elodan was preparing for the morning’s battle; he also sat alone, kneeling in prayer. Lamfhada’s heart was heavy and his thoughts filled with foreboding. They had been tricked and now must suffer the consequences. Elodan had taken the news well; he had stood and halted Manannan’s angry outburst with a raised hand.

‘Enough, Manannan, my friend. It does not become a Knight to give vent to such public rage. Samildanach is entirely correct; and I will be there to meet him.’

Lamfhada heard the rustle of bats’ wings and watched them circling in the night sky, seeking insects. He shivered and drew his cloak more closely about him. In the previous autumn he had been a slave, desperate to make a bird of metal fly. Now he was the Armourer and the Dagda, the Guardian of the Colours. It was all too much, and tonight he felt his youth keenly.

A shimmering glow began to appear ahead of him, and a shining figure emerged to stand before him. Lamfhada stood and watched as the vision became solid, not knowing whether to speak or to run. As the face materialized, Lamfhada cowered back; he tried to escape, but a powerful hand grabbed his arm.

‘Do not run from me, child,’ said Samildanach. ‘I wish only to speak with you.’

‘What do you want?’

‘When I almost trapped you, and my hands closed about you, I saw many things. I saw a dying stag made whole — and young. That is power of the greatest kind. Have you considered all its uses?’

‘I will not use that power for you, dark one.’

‘Not for me, fool! For him!’ said Samildanach, pointing to where Elodan knelt in the glade below. ‘Think on it.’

He stepped back — and disappeared.

For a long time Lamfhada sat and puzzled over the Red Knight’s words. Why would he seek to aid Elodan? What could he gain? Lamfhada closed his eyes and sought the Colours, rising swiftly to the Gold, floating above the forest and then dropping to hover behind the kneeling Knight. He lifted his hands, willing them to burn with all the power of the Gold, then thrust them into Elodan’s back. The Knight stiffened and groaned. Lamfhada could feel the heat in his hands spreading through the other’s body. Suddenly Elodan arched back, his right arm rising; he began to tear at the leather pad covering his stump, ripping it from his arm. The skin of the stump was pink and bruised, and it writhed and rippled. Elodan screamed and fainted, toppling sideways to the earth. Still Lamfhada poured his energy into the Knight and the stump swelled like a ball, flattening into a palm from which the beginning of new joints sprouted, stretching into fingers. At last Lamfhada drew back and Elodan stirred and pushed himself to his knees. He stared down at his new right hand, tentatively touching it with the fingers of his left.