David Gemmell - Morningstar

‘Cursed wasps!’ said the first.

‘Are we to stand here all night?’ asked Mace. The man swore, for the buzzing had sounded by his left ear now.

‘Take them up!’ he ordered the second man. Slowly we filed after the sentry, into the dining area where several soldiers were seated at a bench table, eating soup and bread, and on to a winding stone stair that led up through the sleeping quarters where around twenty warriors were lounging on their beds. Something about the scene aroused my fears, but there was nothing overtly threatening and I forced myself to stay calm.

At the next floor, to the right of the stair, was a door upon which the sentry rapped his knuckles.

‘Enter!’ came a muffled voice from within. Just as the soldier laid his hand on the catch, Jairn slid a short iron bar from his sleeve, cracking it down on the man’s neck. The soldier fell back without a sound and Jairn caught him, lowering him to the floor. Mace and the others drew the daggers they had hidden within the folds of their tunics and prepared to enter the room.

‘No!’ I whispered suddenly. Mace froze.

‘What is it?’My mouth was dry, and I knew with sick certainty that we had walked into a trap. But before I could explain I heard the stealthy sounds of footfalls on the stairs both above and below us. Mace heard them too. He cursed softly, then smiled. ‘It is not over yet,’ he said grimly.

And, hiding the dagger in his sleeve, he opened the door.

Slowly we filed inside. There were fifteen soldiers, armed with swords and shields, waiting for us. Lykos was standing at their centre, his arms folded across his chest.

‘Welcome, Morningstar,’ he said. ‘I shall do my best to make your stay as unpleasant as possible.’

‘You are too kind,’ Mace told him. Then, his voice calm, he spoke to me. ‘It is rather dark in here, Owen.’

The room was lit by several lanterns, casting dancing shadows to the walls, but I knew instantly what Mace wanted. Soldiers were crowding behind us on the stairs now, pushing their way into the room. The men with us did not attempt to resist, for they were in a hopeless position. I closed my eyes, let the power swell, then sent a blast of white light up to the ceiling, adding a thunderclap in the process.

In that moment Mace leapt at Lykos, the black dagger sliding into his right hand, his left arm circling the officer’s throat and dragging him back. The dagger-point pricked into the skin of Lykos’ neck.

‘Tell your men to lay down their weapons,’ hissed Mace.

‘No!’

‘Then die,’ Mace did not drive the dagger home, but slowly eased the point through the skin, slicing alongside the jugular. Blood spurted, but the wound was not yet lethal. The blade stopped. ‘Still just time to change your mind,’ said Mace, his voice pleasant, conversational, almost solicitous. It is one thing to face sudden death with courage, quite another to wait while a dagger slowly rips into your throat.

‘Lay down your weapons!’ ordered Lykos and one by one the soldiers obeyed him, their swords clattering to the floor.

‘Would someone be so kind as to free the prisoners from the dungeon?’ asked Mace. A tall warrior with a thin wedge-shaped face moved slowly towards the door. ‘Go with him, Jairn. You too. Owen. I’ll just stay here and become better acquainted with Captain Pig-breath.’

When the dungeon doors were opened we found Piercollo unconscious, his face bloody and bruised, his right eye swollen to the size of a small apple, blood seeping from below the lids.

Beside him the Pasel captain Brackban was chained to the wall. He was unhurt. ‘You are free, captain,’ I told him, ‘but I would appreciate your help in carrying our friend here.’

Brackban asked no questions and, when his chains were loosed, moved to kneel beside Piercollo.

‘They burned out his right eye with a hot poker,’ he said. ‘Lykos did it for pleasure, for he told us the Morningstar was sure to attempt a rescue, and he asked no questions of the big man.’

Gently he turned Piercollo to his back. The giant groaned in pain, then struggled to rise. Jairn and Brackban helped him to his feet.

We found Astiana in the next cell and she followed Brackban and Jairn out of the keep on to the hillside. I ran back up the stairs to where Mace still waited, his knife at Lykos’ throat.

‘They are clear,’ I told him. He nodded and backed towards the door, pulling the bleeding officer with him.

At the gates we gathered our weapons and ordered the soldiers to wait within the keep while we took Lykos out on to the moonlit hillside.

Wulf ran up to us, bow in hand. ‘What went wrong?’ he asked.

‘Everything,’ replied Mace.

We reached the safety of the tree-line where Brackban was sitting with the injured Piercollo. When Mace saw the blinded eye he dragged Lykos to a nearby tree, pushing him against the trunk. ‘Now you will die!’ he snarled.

‘Don’t do it, Jarek! He is a hostage!’ I shouted. ‘The rules of war state…’I do not play by their rules,’ said Mace. But the dagger did not plunge into Lykos’ heart; instead Mace lanced the point into the Angostin’s right eye, the blade twisting. The officer’s scream was awful to hear. Mace dragged the dagger back, then moved in close to the half-blinded man. ‘I’m going to let you live for a little while, you worm. So that you can suffer as he is going to suffer. But when you are healed I’ll come back for you. You hear me? The Morningstar will come back for you!’

Hurling the whimpering man from him, he stalked away into the forest.

I ran after him, grabbing his arm. ‘Why are you so angry?’ I asked him. ‘You won! You rescued Piercollo and the others.’

‘You fool, Owen! You heard Brackban back in the marketplace. They have all the tax money there in that damned keep. I could have been rich — and clear of this cursed forest. Now they’ll be hunting me even harder. A pox on your Morningstar!’

I felt confusion in my soul as we made our way deeper into the forest — in turns both elated and depressed. My elation came from recognizing the trap before it was sprung, the depression from walking into it in the first place. It made my plan seem naive and stupid, for I had been outthought by Lykos, and only Mace’s speed of action had saved us.

How had I known of the trap? I wondered at this for some time, and realized it was the soldiers in the sleeping area who had alerted my subconscious. As we walked into the keep, and up the long winding stair, I had seen soldiers lounging on their pallet beds. But the men had been wearing breastplates and boots. No warrior — save one expecting trouble — rests in this way. I should have seen it more swiftly, I know, but it was pleasing, even so, to realize that the weakest son of the great Aubertain could at times think like a fighter.

And was my plan so naive? No. What I had not considered was how the legend of the Morningstar would be interpreted by Lykos. Had he known the real Mace, Lykos would never have expected a rescue attempt. But he didn’t; he knew only the legend. And such a hero would surely die of shame were he not to attempt to aid his friends.

We made camp in a deep cave high up on the flanks of a tall mountain. From the entrance we could see the land around for miles, and there was no obvious possibility of a surprise attack.

On the walk to the mountain, each of the twenty-strong party — save Piercollo, who was in great pain — collected wood and tinder for the night fire. On Wulf s instruction I lit the fire close to the back wall of the cave. In this way the breeze from the entrance forced the smoke up against the rear wall and out of the cave overhead, leaving the air below pure and clean. The wood was dry for it had been gathered above ground, snapped from dead trees. Branches left on grass or moss or earth tend to soak in water and make poor fuel.