Knights of Dark Renown

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 action? 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.’

Lamfhada fell silent. A chill breeze blew across the hillside and he shivered. Finally he spoke. ‘But if Samildanach believes that all he desires is good for the Realm, how could he help Elodan, whom he must see as a traitor?’

‘I cannot answer that, Lamfhada, save with a hope. Samildanach was the finest of men — just and righteous, noble of spirit and bearing. In any age he would have been numbered among the greatest of knights. I do not believe even the dark power of the Ambria could completely destroy such a man. Aiding Elodan was a fine deed. I hope it means that, deep within himself, Samildanach is searching for the wall — struggling to rebuild it.’

‘Then perhaps he will not fight against Elodan?’

‘He will fight,’ said Gwydion sadly. ‘With all the strength and skill he can muster.’

‘And Elodan will die,’ Lamftiada said.

‘Did you not tell me you had seen the future Lamfhada? Surely you already know the outcome?’

‘If only it were as simple as that, Gwydion. When I fly the Gold, I see so many possible futures, like ripples in a rushing river. But which will it be?’

‘Have you seen any in which Elodan conquers?’

‘No, but then I saw none in which I gave him back his hand.’

‘And now you do not wish to fly the Gold?’

‘No. I cannot… will not. I will watch tomorrow-’

‘Today,’ said Gwydion, pointing at the red streaks of dawn beyond the mountains.

Samildanach waited as the other Knights of the Crimson entered the tent. Edrin, Cantaray, Joanin, Keristae and Bodarch all seated themselves in a circle around him.

‘There is a girl being brought to you, Samildanach,’ said Keristae. ‘She is young and full of life.’

‘And shall remain so,’ declared the Lord Knight. ‘I have no need of Nourishment.’

‘With respect, Lord,’ said Edrin, ‘I think you are wrong.’

‘You think I need aid to kill a cripple?’

‘It is not that, Samildanach. It is just… you are behaving strangely. Indeed, there are similarities between your actions and those of our brother Cairbre. We fear for you.’

‘I will have you all with me,’ said Samildanach. ‘I will carry the strength of your souls.’

Joanin leaned forward. ‘Is all well with you? You have not seemed… at ease since you returned from the King?’

‘At ease? No. You are correct, Joanin. I think we all need to return to the Vyre. As soon as Elodan is dead and the rebels routed, we will go home. Now, I have need of your strength for the combat ahead.’

The Knights bowed their heads and Samildanach felt their souls flowing into his body. A long time ago the transfusion would have filled him with many emotions — now he felt only the rawness of power. Rising, he moved to the tent entrance. The sun was rising. He looked back at the silent, still figures; their lives depended now on his skill.

Across the valley Elodan sat with Llaw, Errin, Ubadai and Manannan. Lamfhada moved to join them.

‘I thank you for this miracle,’ said Elodan. ‘Even if I die today, it will be as a whole man.’

‘I am glad for you,’ said Lamfhada uneasily. ‘I hope it was the right deed.’

‘Why should it not be?’ Manannan asked. ‘It gives us hope in the battle with the demon.’ Lamfhada opened his mouth to speak, but the words would not come.

‘Tell us, Manannan,’ said Llaw. ‘What will Samildanach be doing now?’

‘He will be preparing, as we are preparing — and he will enter the field as The One.’ Glancing at the faces around him, he saw they did not understand him. ‘It is a mystic ritual. All his Knights give him their souls, their strengths, their beliefs; the very essence of themselves. If he dies, they all die.’

‘And this makes him stronger?’ asked Llaw.

‘Of course.’

‘Then should we not do the same?’ suggested Errin.

‘You do not know how, and I do not have the years to teach you,’ replied Manannan.

Lamfhada rose to his feet. ‘I can help you with that,’ he said softly. ‘I can join you. But the risks are very great.’

‘Do it,’ Manannan told him.

‘No!’ cried Elodan. ‘It is a burden I could not bear. To risk death myself is one matter, but to know that all of you could die? No, I will not agree.’

‘I am not a brave man,’ said Errin, ‘but the cause is more important than the lives of five men. And if we can give you strength, then let us do it.’

Elodan looked from one to another. ‘Only if all are agreed,’ he said, switching his gaze at last to Ubadai. ‘You speak, my friend. Always you are silent at our meetings. And yet, when Errin led his troop into the enemy camp, you insisted on going with him. You never shirk danger. I would value your counsel.’

Ubadai grinned. ‘I say no, and it is no?’

‘Exactly,’ said Elodan.

The Nomad turned to Errin. ‘You want this?’

‘I do.’

‘You too?’ Ubadai asked Llaw.

The warrior shrugged. ‘I don’t know what extra strength I can supply — but, yes, I am willing.’

‘All is madness,’ said the Nomad. ‘But I am mad too. Angry mad. Let us kill the whoreson together.’

Lamfhada walked to the centre of the circle and sat down. ‘I want you all to join hands,’ he said, ‘then close your eyes and picture Elodan in your minds.’ Lamfhada’s spirit rose from his body; he covered the circle in a glowing sphere of Gold and moved to Manannan, then to Llaw and Errin, and finally to Ubadai.

Elodan felt the influx of power from the Once-Knight in a surge of confidence that bordered on arrogance. The strength of a man who had never been bested in battle flowed through him. But he rode above it — for he had lost, and in that knowledge of despair lay strength. Llaw’s soul came next and with it the extraordinary endurance of the common man — born without wealth or privilege, yet possessing the ability to withstand the many and varied perils of this bloody time. Like an oak was Llaw, deep-rooted and enduring. Errin followed. Nobility of spirit and the courage to overcome his fears flowed with him. Lastly the Nomad Ubadai, fiercely loyal to the master he loved and ready to die to protect him.

Elodan’s eyes opened and he gazed at Lamfhada. ‘You did well, Armourer,’ he said. ‘I thank you.’ The other Knights were lying back on the grass, scarcely breathing.

Rising, Elodan said, ‘It is time, I think.’

‘The Source of All Life be with you, Elodan,’ said Lamfhada.

Elodan strode to his stallion and mounted. He saw Samildanach waiting, and behind him the army of the King stretching across the valley.

Touching spurs to his mount, the Lord Knight of the Gabala rode down the long hill.

Samildanach watched as the Lord Knight of the Gabala cantered his mount towards him. He had been prepared for combat, but had not anticipated the tremendous shock of seeing his own armour on another man. Worse, he had the impression that he was watching himself ride out to battle. He remembered the sense of pride he had experienced when first he donned the silver helm.

Images ripped through his mind: Morrigan in the garden, andj then dying on the floor of the King’s bedchamber; Cairbre lecturing him on points of duty and honour, Cairbre in the pale coffin; Manannan debating the chivalric code, Manannan calling him a demon.

Somewhere deep inside him a chain snapped and he shook his head, fighting to force away the memories.

Ollathair, gentle Ollathair, smiling at the success of a golden bird as it soared under the sun; Ollathair sagging to the ground, Samildanach’s knife in his belly.

Stop it! Leave me alone!

Elodan dismounted and walked some yards to the left, drawing his sword and plunging it into the earth. From the forest all around them came the fighting men of the rebellion. Silently they marched down to sit facing the army of the King. Samildanach lifted his leg over the pommel of his saddle and slid to the ground. Kill him, he thought. Return to the Vyre. There they will tend your restless spirit.

The voice of the girl child as she was led into his chambers the first time he needed Nourishment came to him: ‘Please don’t hurt me! Please don’t hurt me.

‘Are you ready?’ Elodan asked.

‘Yes,’ Samildanach answered. ‘I am ready.’ Now Morrigan’s voice was echoing in his mind:

‘Can you not see what… we have become? Oh, Samildanach! We are corrupting everything we… touch… I loved you 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.’

‘What is wrong with you? Draw your sword,’ said Elodan.

The dark blade snaked into the air and Elodan blocked, but only just in time, and the combat commenced. He fought for his life against the greatest swordsman he had ever known. Cairbre had been more than talented, but Samildanach’s skill was astounding. Speed, balance and lightning reflexes confounded all Elodan’s attempts to attack. The dark sword crashed against his breastplate, smashing a hinge and severing the brass-edged leather straps. The armour sagged. Elodan ducked under a sweeping blow and thundered a stroke against Samildanach’s shoulder that ripped loose a crimson plate. Samildanach staggered back.

‘What happened to that glorious young knight?’ whispered Morrigan, from the caverns of his soul.

The dark blade flashed forward, but Elodan blocked it with ease and sent a counter that tore through a curved hip-plate, sending it spinning to the grass. Samildanach returned to the attack with a riposte of blistering speed, his sword ripping into Elodan’s helm. Stars exploded before the Lord Knight’s eyes and his vision swam. He hurled himself back and — more by luck than skill — blocked a sweep that would have torn his head from his shoulders. Samildanach moved in for the kill — and stopped.

‘Please don’t hurt me!’ came the child’s voice from his memory.

‘Leave me alone!’ screamed Samildanach.

Elodan staggered and drew a deep, shuddering breath. His vision cleared and he saw his opponent staring at the sky: ‘Leave me alone!’

‘Samildanach!’

The Red Knight swung. ‘I’ll kill you,’ he shouted and once more the battle was joined. Elodan fought off the frenzied attack, landing counter-blow after counterblow against the crimson armour. A great crack appeared down the centre of Samildanach’s breastplate and his visor was hacked away. Yet still he came on. A second blow loosened Elodan’s helm, which twisted, partially blocking his vision. Samildanach ran in, holding his great blade doub|f-handed; Elodan ducked sharply, and the hissing sword swept over his head. Off balance for the first time, Samildanach stumbled to the earth. Elodan swiftly dropped his sword and lifted clear his damaged helm. Bareheaded, he gathered his blade as Samildanach regained his feet.

‘You are not me!’ screamed Samildanach. ‘You can never be me!’

‘I would not wish to be,’ replied Elodan, staring into the haunted eyes of the Red Knight.

‘None of us is what we would wish to be,’ said Samil-danach. ‘And now it is time for you to die.’ His sword hissed down with tremendous force and Elodan dropped to his knees, sweeping his blade above his head to block the killer blow. The swords clanged together… and Elodan’s silver blade snapped a foot above the hilt.

Samildanach’s sword swept up, his eyes gleaming with the joy of triumph.

‘What happened to that glorious young knight?’ Samil-danach froze… and swiftly Elodan rammed the broken sword through the crack in the Red Knight’s breastplate, plunging it deep into his chest. Blood welled from the wound, spilling over Elodan’s hand. Samildanach staggered, but the dark blade rose again above Elodan’s unprotected head.

Down it flashed — to stop an inch short of Elodan’s neck. The blade tapped gently on Elodan’s right shoulder, then crossed to touch lightly on the left. Samildanach dropped to his knees. Inside him all was turmoil, and he could feel the souls of his Knights struggling to be free of his dying body. But he held them trapped.

Elodan moved to him. ‘Why did you let me live?’ he asked. ‘Why?’

‘What happened to that glorious young knight?’

‘I died… a long… time ago,’ whispered Samildanach, falling forward into Elodan’s arms. The Lord Knight laid the corpse on the grass and rose to a roaring cheer from the rebels.

A stout middle-aged man walked out from the King’s army. He halted before Elodan and bowed.

‘My name is Kar-schen. The war is over, sir Knight. I offer myself — and my regiments — to your cause.’

‘I have no cause,’ said Elodan. ‘I am the Lord Knight of the Gabala.’

‘Welcome back,’ greeted Kar-schen.