Knights of Dark Renown

by David Gemmell

  The door opened and his manservant, Mahan, stepped inside and bowed. ‘My Lord, if it please you, there is a woman from the village who wishes to enjoy the pleasure of your company.’

  ‘Bring her in,’ said Ahak, sweeping his purple cloak over his shoulder and drawing himself up to his full height.

  Mahan stepped aside and ushered in the woman. She was tall and slender, yet full-breasted, her hips delightfully curved. As Ahak moved forward and took her hand, she averted her eyes from his gaze, looking down towards the floor.

  ‘Do not be shy, my dear,’ said Ahak. ‘I find it a delight to meet my subjects and listen to their cares and worries. It aids me in this lonely role.’ He lifted her chin and was rewarded by a soft smile. Dismissing Mahan, he led the woman to the window. ‘Will you join me in a drink?’

  ‘If it please you, my Lord.’ Her voice was soft and mellow and fired his passions but he fought them down, savouring the moment. Reaching out, he took her hand, lifting it to his lips. He pulled her close to him, his right arm circling her waist.

  ‘Would you do anything for your King?’ he whispered.

  ‘Yes, my Lord.’

  He released her hand and ran his fingers down her body, squeezing her breasts, stroking her belly. ‘You know what I desire?’

  ‘Yes, Lord,’ she said, loosening the ties on her dress. When he pushed it back from her shoulders, it fell to the floor and she stepped from it. He led her to the bed, unfastened his cloak and removed his clothing.

  For a moment he stared at her.

  ‘You have no idea of the pleasures in store,’ he said, sliding alongside her.

  ‘I think I have, my Lord,’ replied Morrigan.

  Samildanach dismounted and led his stallion to the stable. Then he mounted the steps and pushed open the main doors to the hall. Mahan moved to get him.

  ‘Where is the King?’ asked the Red Knight.

  ‘He is in the Duke’s upper bedchamber, Lord. He has a woman with him.’

  ‘I will wait,’ said Samildanach. ‘Bring me some wine.’

  ‘Yes, Lord. It may take longer than normal; the woman is exquisitely beautiful.’ Mahan grinned.

  ‘Exquisite? Here in Mactha? That is a surprise.’

  ‘Yes, Lord. I think the King’s luck has scarcely been better. I found her waiting outside the castle; she was just sitting by the roadside.’

  ‘Describe her,’ said Samildanach. ‘Tall, with the most beautiful golden hair. She is young and yet it is already streaked with silver...’

  ‘Dear Gods!’ shouted Samildanach and drawing his sword he raced for the stairs, taking them two at a time. He reached the upper corridor and ran to the bedchamber, but the door was locked. Leaning back, he crashed his foot against the brass key-plate and the door burst open. Samildanach leapt inside...

  The King’s hideously withered corpse lay on the bed. Morrigan was sitting naked on the floor, blood pooling at her feet from the deep slashes in her wrists.

  Samildanach dropped his sword and walked over to her. ‘Why?’ he whispered.

  Her eyes struggled to focus. ‘Why? Can you not see what... we have become? Oh, Samildanach! We are corrupting everything we... touch.’ She sagged sideways and he caught her, drawing her to him. Her head fell to his shoulder. ‘I loved you,’ she said, ‘more than life. And now... I don’t even know what it means.’

  ‘Don’t talk. Let me bind your wrists; we can save your life.’

  ‘There is nothing to save. I died back in the City of the Vyre when I became one of the Undead -just like you, my love.’

  ‘You don’t understand. We will build a new Gabala... New...’

  ‘Do you remember loving me?’

  ‘I remember,’ he said.

  ‘Not in the Vyre - but before. In the garden on the night you left. You remember?’

  ‘Yes. It was another age.’

  ‘What happened to that glorious young Knight?’

  ‘He is still here, Morrigan. He... Morrigan? Morrigan!’ He laid her gently to the floor and closed her eyes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  It was two full days before the King’s army was ready to march, the infantry pushing ahead down the long valley in phalanx formation with shields locked in four great squares.

  Manannan, Elodan and the other Knights sat their mounts to the north of the advancing army, and the mood was sombre. Llaw had sent scouts east and west to gauge the strength of the enemy cavalry and the first report had been swift. Nearly two thousand riders were pushing in from the west. From the east, there was no word.

  ‘We must pull back,’ said Manannan. ‘We do not have the numbers to break those squares.’

  Reluctantly Llaw agreed.

  A forester ran from the trees, his face red, his eyes bright with excitement.

  ‘Llaw! Llaw!’ he shouted. ‘The Lancers have been crushed!’

  ‘What? What’s that you say?’

  ‘There are five thousand rebels, led by a man named Ramath. They smashed the Lancers; they are on their way here now.’

  ‘Ramath? I’ve never heard of him.’

  ‘The whole forest north of us is ablaze with news of a miracle - something about Nuada and the Tree of Life. I don’t understand all of it - but they’re here!’

  ‘Where?’ asked Manannan and the man turned and gestured to the eastern hills where armed men poured out from the trees, racing down the slopes towards the enemy.

  ‘Damn!’ shouted Elodan. ‘They’ll be cut to pieces!’

  ‘Sound the advance!’ ordered Llaw. ‘We’ll hit them from all sides.’

  ‘If they hold formation, they will turn us back like water from a dam,’ said Manannan.

  ‘Then pray they don’t,’ Llaw told him. ‘Forward!’ He spurred his stallion into a run, the other Knights following, and behind them some eighty riders in stolen armour.

  At the centre of the first square, Okessa saw the attackers and blanched; there were thousands of them. ‘Back! Back!’ he screamed and the marching square faltered. They could hear the panic in the Duke’s voice and this, coupled with the wild screams of the charging horde, caused them to break and stream back down the valley. Two other squares sundered themselves but the third, under the general Kar-schen, held firm.

  Okessa spurred his mount towards the safety of the plain, outdistancing the running soldiers. He was almost clear when a slender figure loped down the hill and drew back on a bow. The arrow took his horse in the chest and the beast stumbled, hurling him over its head. He hit the ground hard, rolled and came to his knees to see that his attacker was a woman. He fumbled at his belt. ‘I have money here,’ he said. ‘Take it all.’

  ‘You killed my sister,’ said Sheera, notching another arrow. Okessa rose and began to run back the way he had come... the arrow took him to the left of his spine, cleaving through to his heart.

  Sheera turned and ran back up the hill, but none of the soldiers gave chase - they were too intent on escape. Kar-schen saved the day for the King’s army, fighting a steady retreat back down the valley. Hundreds of panicking soldiers, looking back, saw the general’s courageous rearguard and, finding their courage once more, joined him. The army suffered fearful losses, but was still intact when dusk gave way to darkness.

  Samildanach and the Red Knights arrived near midnight and Kar-schen gave his report.

  ‘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.

  ‘It is a dream,’ he whispered. ‘Dear Gods of Heaven, it is just a dream!’

  Lamfhada returned to his body and rose wearily as the dawn was breaking over the mountains. He walked down to Elodan and found the Knight on his knees, weeping piteously.

  Lamfhada sought out Gwydion in the hospital area behind the lines. Finding the old man resting on a hillside beneath the stars, he sat with him and outlined all that had happened since the appearance of the enemy Knight, Samildanach. Gwydion placed his hand on the youth’s shoulder. ‘And this deed surprised you?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course. The man is evil.’

  ‘Yes,’ Gwydion agreed, ‘he is evil. And what does that tell you?’

  ‘I don’t know, Gwydion. That is why I came to you. Is there some deep, cunning plan behind his actio
n? Did I do wrong to follow his bidding and restore Elodan’s hand?’

  The old man sat in silence for a moment, staring at a distant star. He stroked his white beard and then pointed to a wolf, silhouetted by moonlight on a distant hill. ‘Is he evil?’ he asked.

  ‘The wolf? No. He is an animal, he kills to live.’

  ‘And what makes a man evil?’

  ‘His deeds judge him,’ answered Lamfhada. ‘Cruelty, lust, greed — all these things signal what is in a man’s heart. Samildanach is a killer and a drinker of souls. His deeds show him to be vile.’

  ‘All this is true,’ agreed Gwydion. ‘And are you evil?’

  ‘I do not think so. I seek only to defend against them.’

  ‘But are you capable of evil deeds? Did you not once say - when Ruad was slain — that you wished you could wield a sword so that you could kill every King’s man?’

  ‘All men are capable of evil, Gwydion. We all have desires we must resist.’

  ‘And that is the point, my boy,’ explained Gwydion. ‘I spoke to Manannan about his journey to the Vyre; he was given a drink they called Ambria. Even in the few days he was among them, the drink had its effect. It erodes and destroys a man’s perception of right and wrong. As far as I can understand, it promotes the sense of Self. What is enjoyable becomes what is right, what is desired becomes what is needed. Can you understand that? It almost happened to Manannan -and he could not see it until Morrigan saved him. But make no mistake, Lamfhada, had Morrigan not warned him he would now be riding with Samildanach.’

  ‘What are you saying? That Samildanach is not evil?’

  ‘Of course I am not. By our perceptions - and those of all civilized men - he is a demon. But by his own perceptions, he is still Samildanach, Lord Knight of the Gabala, acting in what he sees as the best interests of the Realm. He is still a Knight; he will still retain something of his past.’

  ‘Then there is still some good in him, you think?’

  ‘Think of Groundsel: a killer, a rapist, a thief. Yet there was some good in him and Nuada found it. No man is entirely good - or bad. Ultimately most men act out of self-interest - and that is the breeding ground for all that is iniquitous. But most of us - happily -have an ability to judge ourselves and our deeds. We have a moral sense which stands like a wall between us and what is unjust. To commit an evil deed we have to climb that wall, knowingly. But for Samildanach and the others, the Ambria destroyed the wall, obliterating all knowledge of it. They are as much victims of the evil as we are.’