Knights of Dark Renown

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Outside the cave in the village beyond, the victorious rebel army had arrived safely home. Women and children streamed to meet them. Manannan sat down on a boulder and watched as Elodan, Llaw, Errin and Ubadai rode up to the cave.

‘It is good to see you safe,’ Elodan greeted them, stepping from the saddle. ‘Did your mission go well?’

‘He is in the cave,’ said Manannan.

‘What of Cairbre?’

‘I killed him. Let us talk no more of it.’

‘Who is in the cave?’ asked Llaw. ‘What was this mission?’

Lamfhada moved in front of Llaw. ‘The Duke of Mactha,’ he said softly.

All colour fled from Llaw’s face. ‘What mockery is this? The whoreson sentenced me to death for a crime he knew I did not commit. He is a King’s man!’

‘No,’ said Manannan. ‘He was on trial for his life; the King was to have him executed.’

‘Which just shows that even a bad King cannot be wrong all the time. This is a mistake, but I will put it-to rights. Get out of my way,’ said Llaw, drawing his sword.

‘Put it down!’ Elodan commanded. ‘This instant!’

Llaw swung on him. ‘So? You patricians want to stick together, do you? Fine. What else should I have expected?’

‘You are wrong, Llaw,’ said Elodan softly. ‘I am the man you asked to lead your army. Your army. But I am also the Lord Knight of the New Gabala. If the armour chooses him, then he is with us. If not?’ He shrugged. ‘Then he is yours. Does that suit you?’

Llaw backed away. ‘If the armour chooses? Had I known he would be among us, I would never have agreed to wear it myself.’ Slamming his sword in its scabbard, he stalked to his horse, mounted and rode for the village.

‘Thank you, Elodan,’ said the Duke, stepping out into the open, his armour blazing in the sunlight.

‘Lord Duke,’ said Elodan, ‘welcome to the Order.’

‘I am the Duke no longer. My name is Roem,’ he said, holding out his hand. Elodan shook it. Errin removed his helm and strolled forward.

‘I see we have a fine cook,’ commented Roem. ‘We must be a force to be reckoned with.’

Arian found Llaw Gyffes high on the south meadow in a grove of beech trees overlooking the forest. He was sitting by a small fire, staring into the flames, and did not hear her approach. She sat beside him and reached out to touch him, but stopped. Encased as he was in his armour, there was no point.

‘Llaw?’ she whispered but he did not turn his head. ‘Come, Llaw, speak to me.’

‘There is nothing to say. I am lost, Arian… lost.’ She moved closer to him.

‘No, you are not! You are Llaw Gyffes, the strongest man I have ever known. How can you be so downhearted? You have triumphed over your enemies and your army grows by the day.’

He shook his head. ‘None of it matters. My life was destroyed when Lydia died. And now I too must die — just as the Dagda said. And you know what will happen then? Nothing. If the King should prove victorious, the world will go on as before. If we should defeat him, then the Duke of Mactha — or someone like him — will rule and the world will go on as before. We change nothing by what we do.’

‘What were you expecting, Llaw? Back in the village, there are people who would now be dead but for you and Elodan, and the others. At Groundsel’s settlement there are Nomads who would have frozen to death but for you and Groundsel and Nuada. Ask them if you made a difference. Take your eyes from the stars, Llaw. Look to the earth.’

She rose to kneel by his side, her fingers pulling at the leather straps of his breastplate. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘Get out of this metal,’ she ordered. ‘Put it aside. Then we will walk for a while in the mountains and you will feel the air on your skin.’ He helped her, laid the armour beside the fire and stood. She moved to him and ran her hands along his arms.

‘I am tired of waiting for you,’ she said. ‘And don’t tell me you are not ready; I am sick of it. You are a man — so stop running from the past and fearing the future. All we have is the Now. All we will ever have is the Now.’

‘Does it not frighten you that I must die soon?’

‘Yes, it terrifies me,’ she told him. ‘But it will be the worse for me if you should be gone having never loved me.’

His arms circled her. ‘I love you,’ he said simply. ‘You are never far from my thoughts.’

She drew him down beside the fire and kissed him, but he groaned and weakly pulled away.

‘Forget the stars, Llaw,’ she whispered. ‘Forget the stars.’

Later, as they lay closely together, it seemed to Llaw that a burden had been taken from him. He could not recall the moment when it had passed, nor even what it was that had weighed him down. He could smell the newly growing grass and feel the wind of spring upon his face. He could hear the birds in the trees above and sense the joy of growth in the forest. The world of kings and knights and peasants seemed a fragile, insubstantial matter as Arian snuggled against him, her right leg curled over his thigh. Rising on his elbow, he looked down at her. She was sleeping. He touched her skin and kissed her hair and her eyes opened.

‘I was dreaming,’ she said.

‘Are you happy still?’

‘You fool,’ she answered. She rose swiftly and ran to the stream and he followed her, watching her bathe. ‘Come in,’ she called.

‘It looks cold.’

‘The great Llaw Gyffes fears a little cold water? Come in.’

He waded in alongside her and sat down. ‘Gods of Heaven!’ he exclaimed. She laughed and splashed his chest and face; he grabbed her and they rolled under the water.

‘I surrender,’ she shouted as they surfaced. ‘Truly.’

He said nothing and pulled her in to his embrace. ‘You should have come to me long ago,’ he whispered.

‘I did, Llaw, but you were not ready. Will you regret this day?’

‘Never.’

‘Good. Now get dressed and go back to your Knights — all of them.’

His face darkened. ‘I cannot face the man. I think if I did, I would kill him.’

‘You are too strong for that. Trust me, Llaw. In this, I think I know you better.’

He stood and shivered. Arian grasped his arm and hauled herself upright. Sensing his changing mood, she remained silent, following him back to the fire. He dressed swiftly and started to walk back to his horse which was tethered to the root of a nearby beech. But he stopped and looked back; then suddenly he grinned. ‘Will you ride with me, my lady?’

She pulled on her tunic and trews, gathered her boots and knife and ran to him.

He left her in the village and rode back for the cave. The other Knights were sitting with Elodan and Lamfhada. Llaw dismounted and tethered his horse. No one spoke as he joined the circle and looked across at the Duke of Mactha.

‘I am Llaw Gyffes,’ he said, extending his hand.

‘I am Roem. I am pleased to meet you,’ responded the other, taking his hand and gripping it firmly.

‘Now the new Order is complete,’ said Lamfhada, ‘and it is time to prepare for the Day of Blood. Nuada is carrying our banner to all the settlements of the forest. Morrigan and Groundsel are seeking allies close to Pertia Port. The King’s army is almost ready to move. They will be at our southern borders within ten days; we must be ready to oppose them.’

‘How many men do we have?’ Roem asked.

‘Close to two hundred now, but the numbers are swelling daily. Nuada’s prowess has rarely been put to better use.’

‘The King has ten thousand men,’ said Roem. ‘Two thousand lancers, six thousand foot-soldiers, fifteen hundred archers, and five hundred scouts, used to the ways of the forest. You cannot hold them with two hundred, nor a thousand.’

Elodan raised his hand. ‘It is not important that we have a large army, only that the King thinks we have. Now Lamfhada says he has placed a spell over the forest and the Seers of the King cannot breach it. That being the case, all the King has to go on is that his five hundred lancers have been wiped out. I do not think he will immediately venture into the forest in force. He will send in his scouts and then advance slowly. We must eliminate those scouts.’

‘That sounds plausible,’ said Errin, ‘but do we fight a holding action from now until the King dies of old age? Somewhere there must be a conclusive encounter.’

‘Indeed there must, and we must recognize the opportunity when it arises,’ answered Elodan. ‘But until then, as the weaker side, we must hit and run — strike them where we can — make them think they are facing a force ten… twenty times greater than we are. And all the time we will be growing.’

Llaw spoke. ‘There is something else to consider: supplies. We have the forest and the deer, and sheep are plentiful. The King has ten thousand men and they will need to be supplied from the south. We must have a raiding force behind their lines. Empty bellies make for discontent.’

‘I will lead that force,’ said Roem. ‘It is my Duchy and I know all the roads. Give me fifty men; we will live off the land and force them to send back troops.’

‘You will be alone,’ Lamfhada pointed out. ‘We cannot support you.’

‘Do not fear for me, Armourer. I am not ready to die yet.’

‘Very well,’ agreed Elodan. ‘Select your fifty men and train them; you have ten days.’

‘What of the rest of us?’ asked Manannan.

‘Your day is coming,’ said Lamfhada, looking away.

Morrigan sat under the stars, her memories vivid and painful. Her love for Samildanach seemed from another age, when the world was young and innocence a joy. Her six years in the City of the Vyre had drenched that innocence in blood and lust and depravity. She could no longer recall the numbers of men and women who had shared her bed, nor see all the faces. All she could remember clearly was the taste of the Ambria, and the surging strength it brought to her limbs. She had told Manannan that Samildanach had tired of her, but it was not strictly true. Faced with the myriad pleasures of the Vyre they had drifted apart — seeking new sensations, more pleasure and pain.

Now Manannan claimed to love her. But he did not know… he loved the woman who once had been. She shivered as the night wind rolled down from the snow-covered peaks.

The general had died swiftly, his body shrivelling as his life filled her. He had not even known he was dying. She had left the empty hide-covered sack of bones where they fell. How soon would she need to feed again? A day? Two days?

She could hear Groundsel snoring by the fire. Detestable little man! You will be next, she promised herself. But then what? Manannan? Llaw Gyffes? Or merely another innocent stranger, like the man with the injured knee?

Was life so enchanting that she could not bear to leave it?

She knew the answer. Of course it was. To see and hear, to breathe and feel — how could anyone bear to die?

‘Can’t you sleep?’ asked Groundsel, sitting up and running his fingers across his scalp. ‘Damned lice,’ he said. ‘Nothing shifts them.’

‘Try bathing once in a while.’

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘I am thinking.’

‘Do you never sleep? How do you manage to keep your strength?’

‘I draw it from the company of men, Groundsel. Strangely, I am feeling rather weak at the moment.’

He grinned at her. That’s the first time I’ve seen any sign of humour from you, Morrigan. Perhaps you are beginning to like me. Why don’t we start afresh? Come and join me; I’ll give you a little strength.’

‘Beware, Groundsel. I might just do that.’

He yawned and stood. She turned away as he urinated against a tree. ‘Who are we supposed to see?’ he asked.

‘The leader is a man called Bucklar. You should like him, Groundsel — he has built his kingdom the way you built yours, on blood and murder. I think that’s why Elodan thought you were the man to accompany me. You think Bucklar will send men to aid Llaw’s army?’

‘That depends. If he feels threatened by the King, then he will. If he thinks he’s safe, he’ll wait — and when the other forest leaders send men, he’ll attack their lands and extend his power.’

‘It is doubly important, then, that he helps us. For without him the other leaders will also hold back.’

‘True, lady.’ He began to climb into his leggings.

‘I thought you wanted me,’ said Morrigan, rising and striding towards him.

‘I did,’ Groundsel said, grinning. ‘But you didn’t say please. Dawn’s coming up; we should be moving.’

Samildanach walked to the coffin and gazed down on the face of his oldest friend. His anger had gone and he was aware of a terrible emptiness deep within him. He knew that he had loved Cairbre as a brother, but that had been so long ago — before the crusade, before the Vyre, before the dawning of the New Age. Now he searched for that love and could find nothing. All he could see was a pale corpse, hands folded across a crimson breastplate.

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.’

‘All men die, good or otherwise,’ said the Dagda. ‘And I know what you saw. I was with you when you flew.’

‘You were the one whose presence I felt? I hoped it was Ruad.’

‘Do not be disappointed. I have waited for you for a very long time.’ The Dagda chuckled. ‘Precisely one hundred and forty-two years! Does that seem a long time to you, child? I can see that it does. Well, we are here now and you have much to learn.’

‘What do you mean… waited for me?’

‘You — or one like you. Ruad would have told you, had he lived. You walk the Gold, Lamfhada, and that is rare. It is special. All the Colours are subject to the Gold, and it is part of the Great Harmony that when the Colours are threatened the Gold shines. The Red is swelling over the Realm, but its users do not understand the Harmony. They seek to make the Red preeminent, but no Colour exists of itself. If the Red is allowed to dominate, the other Colours will fade and die» Neither can the Red exist alone. So then, those who seek to promote the Red are actually destroying all magic. And without magic, the world would have only one colour: it would be Grey — the grey of the tombstone, the grey of ashes. You understand?’

‘No,’ said Lamfhada. ‘Magic is used by very few. How would the world be harmed if it failed? Trees would still grow, flowers would bloom. Babies would still be born?’

‘No, that is not the case. All life is magic, and all men feel it. They see the spectacle of the dawn and they are filled with a sense of wonder. That is magic. See the look in the mother’s eyes as she holds her firstborn and cuts its cord. She understands magic. In that moment, for that precious second, she understands. But when the Harmony is disrupted — as now in the Realm — and the magic is under threat, there is only cynicism and despair and Man’s more brutal emotions begin to surface. No, my friend, the world needs magic as it needs air and water.’

‘Who are you, Dagda? What are you?’ Lamfhada asked. ‘Are you some sort of god?’

The old man shook his head. ‘I am a man. N^o more, no less. A long time ago I was — in the world’s eyes — a great man. But I forsook my life and its riches, for I yearned to know all the world’s secrets. I came to this forest and met a man — a man who had waited for me for eighty-seven years. He was the Dagda. And though his story was different from mine — as indeed yours will be — we were the same. We were rings in a chain that began when Man first reared to his hind legs, and will end when the stars fall and the sun dies… and perhaps not even then.’

Lamfhada’s mouth was dry and he wished to be free of this strange old man. As if sensing his fear, the Dagda placed a bony hand upon his shoulder.

‘We — he and I, you and I — are the Enchanters. We watch the Colours, and we nurse them. We walk the land and we maintain the Balance. Where all is war, and plague and death, we seek to aid the White or the Green or the Blue. Where all is peace and tranquillity, we strengthen the Red and the Black. But mostly we guard the Yellow, for as you now know, Lamfhada, the Yellow is merely the Gold disguised. And it is the Gold that maintains the other Colours.’

‘Why is this not known?’ Lamfhada asked him.

‘Once it was, boy. And through such knowledge, men made themselves gods and brought calamity upon themselves. Now it survives in folk tales and legend. The Sun worshippers echo the Mystery; they worship the sphere of Gold that feeds the earth. Think of it. All that grows or lives or breathes depends upon the sun. And that is so with the Colours. The Yellow is born of innocence and the laughter of children, fed by the sense of wonder in the young. In its turn, it nourishes the others. But now the truth has become a Mystery, for it is safer that way. I guard that mystery. Now you will guard it.’

‘What do you require of me?’

‘I? I require nothing. I have completed my task, as the Guardian before me completed his. He was the Dagda… now you are the Dagda.’

‘I do not wish to be.’

‘No more did I. It is lonely, Lamfhada. And yet it is fulfilling — you will find it so.’

‘And what if I die? Do you tell me the world will end? I do not believe it.’

‘If you die, another will be chosen. And you are only one of many. But you will not die yet. You did not see your own death in any of the futures, only the deaths of your Knights. I know; for I too have seen the futures. I will leave you now — you will need time to think.’

‘When will you come back for my answer?’

The old man smiled. ‘I will not come back. I have done all that I was required to do. Now I will find a place. I will watch the stars, and I will die at peace and join the Colours.’ The Dagda pushed himself to his feet and looked into Lamfhada’s eyes. ‘You have changed, young man, since I first saw you on that hillside six years ago, when you watched the Gabala Knights ride to a doom they did not deserve. And you will change even more through the long, lonely years ahead. Count the days, and the months and the years. And one day you will look into the face of a newcomer and you will see what I see. Farewell.’

‘I don’t want it. You cannot do this to me,’ shouted Lamfhada, storming to his feet.

But the old man ignored him. He had heard those same words before. One hundred and forty-two years, three months and eight days before. But then it was he who had spoken them.