David Gemmell - Morningstar

I called to her again, but there was no response. And in that moment I knew. From the first day, when she had known my name and we sat talking about magick and life, I had yearned to know the mystery of Megan. Now it was all clear. Here she lay, weak and dying, yet even delirious she could still cast one of the Seven Great Spells. My mouth was dry, my heartbeat irregular with the shock.

And I called her name — her true name. ‘Horga!’

The word was a whisper but it flowed through her delirium. The spell of beauty faded and she blinked and returned to me.

‘I’m sorry, Owen, was I drifting?’

‘Yes.’

‘How did you know what to call me?’

I shrugged and smiled. ‘I also have Talent, lady. When first I created the image of Horga, I used the beauty that you showed me from your youth. It seemed right. And I have always known there was something special about you — from that first day. And when Cataplas admitted you were his teacher I knew you must have powers I could not even guess at. How have you lived so long? And why have you waited here, in this forest? Why? Did you know Golgoleth would come again?’

She nodded. ‘You will have all your answers, my boy. But not all of them now. I will set you a riddle, Owen. When did you first meet me?’

‘It was here by this lakeside in winter.’

‘Indeed it was, but I first met you in the springtime and you warned me not to read your mind, for there were memories there that were not for me.’

‘You have lost me, lady. We had no such conversation.’

‘Oh, Owen — that conversation is yet to be, and this meeting now is the memory from which you will protect me. The circle of time…’ She fell silent again, and I could only guess at the effort of will that kept her alive. I felt her fingers press against mine. ‘I wanted… needed to live for just a little while longer,’ she said. ‘One question has kept me alive. And the answer is but a few months away. Now I will never know.’

‘Who was the man you loved?’ I asked her, as her tears began to flow again.

‘Who do you think?

‘’Rabain.’

Very good, Owen. Yes, it was Rabain. He was a great King, loved — perhaps even adored. He slew the Vampyre Lords and created an order of knights pledged to combat evil. And he loved me. I know that he loved me! But he left me, Owen… he mounted his horse and rode from me. I have never forgotten that day. How could I? His armour was golden, and a white cloak was draped across his shoulders. He had no shield nor helm. The horse was a stallion — huge, maybe eighteen hands, white as a summer cloud. And that was my last sight of him. I had begged him to stay. I offered him immortality. Such was my power then that I thought I could keep us both young for ever. I even fell to my knees before him. Can you imagine that? I could have cast a spell to stop him, of course. I considered it, Owen. I could have made him love me more; I know I could. But that would not have been real. And it would have eaten away at me, as this poison is doing now. So I let him go.’

‘Why did he leave?’ I asked her.

She tried to smile. ‘An old man whom he loved came to him. A poet. He told him the future. Such a kind old man. But I think he was closer to Rabain than I could ever have been. And because Rabain needed him I journeyed to fetch him. It needed mighty spells and great concentration. I wish now that I had refused.’

‘What did he tell him?’

‘I don’t know, Owen. That’s what I have waited all these years to find out. All these years… lonely years.’

‘And you found no other lovers?’

A sound came from her then, a dry chuckle, and her eyes glinted. ‘Hundreds,’ she said. ‘As the centuries passed I whiled away many a year with handsome men. Some gave me real pleasure, some even happiness. But none was Rabain… none was Rabain.’

‘What happened to him?’

‘I don’t know. That’s what was… is… so painful. He knew he was riding into great danger, as did I. But neither of us spoke of death. He told me he would come back and I said I believed him. And I dressed him in his armour, fastening every hook, greasing the shoulder-plates. Every hook. And at last I stood before him and he leaned down and kissed me. And the armour was cold, so cold.’

‘How long were you together?’

‘Ten years. The merest fraction of my lifetime. I bore him a son — a fine boy, who became a good man. He in turn had many sons and the line grew. I tried to keep them all in my mind, but it was not possible — save for one line which held true: the Arkneys. They are of the blood of Rabain. When the Angostins first invaded the north the Earl of Arkney married a Highland princess and the line continued. That was what pleased me so much when Raul Raubert stood tall alongside the Morningstar. He is the last of that line, and the blood is still true.’

Once more she fell silent, then she smiled again, her eyes sorrowful. ‘But the line also produced Gilbaud Azrek.’ She sighed. ‘I have lived too long and seen-too much.’Her voice faded away and I called her name. Her eyes flickered and her voice whispered into my mind.

‘You will see me again, Owen, but I will not know you.’

And she died there, slipping away without pain.

I held her hand for a little while. Then I covered her face and left the cabin.

I found Mace sitting by the lakeside skimming flat pebbles across the surface of the water. I sat beside him, but he did not look at me.

‘Bastard life!’ he said, hurling yet another stone which bounced six times before disappearing below the water.

‘You liked the old woman, didn’t you?’

‘Don’t try to climb inside my head!’ he stormed.

‘I do not wish to be intrusive. But she is gone, Jarek; she passed away without pain.’

He said nothing, but turned his face from me.

‘How did you meet her?’ I asked him.

He shrugged. ‘I was sitting by a camp-fire when she just walked from the trees. She sat down as if I was an old friend and began to talk. You know? The weather, the crops, the fishing. Just talk. I shared my meal with her. It was cold, and around dusk she stood and said she had a spare bed in her cabin. So I went with her.’

‘Have you known her long?’

‘No — maybe a month before I saw you in the forest. But she was good to talk to. She didn’t ask for anything. And she liked me, Owen… for myself. You understand? Just for me — Jarek Mace.’

‘Like a mother?’

‘I told you not to get inside my head! She was just an old woman. But I was comfortable with her. I didn’t have to think about bedding her; I didn’t have to woo her. You can have no idea how good that is sometimes. Just to talk to a woman, and to listen. No seductive voice, no easy charm. And she was a good woman, Owen. Back there when she faced the Burning, I did want to help. I wanted…ah, what does it matter? Everything dies. Gods, you should know that by now.’

It was as if he had slapped me, for Ilka’s face flashed into my mind and I felt the weight of grief.

‘I’m sorry, Owen,’ he said swiftly, reaching out and gripping my arm. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. She was a good girl; she deserved more.’

‘Well,’ I said, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice, ‘she was bedded by the Morningstar, so her life wasn’t a complete waste.’

‘Don’t say that!’

‘What would you have me say? She was barely eighteen and she’s dead. I made love to her nine times; we had merely days.’

‘That’s all any of us has, Owen. Just days. A few moments in the sun. Yours were shorter than most — but you had them. My mother gave me very little, but she offered one piece of advice I have long treasured. She used to say, “What you have can be taken from you, but no one can take what you have already enjoyed.” You understand?’