Midnight Falcon

by David Gemmell

  The pimp shook his head.

  'Right,' said Oranus. 'Everyone out! And if I see you brought before me again, Roxy, I'll have you hanged.'

  The woman fled the room, as did the other men. Oranus unlocked the cell door, and removed the chains round the prisoner's wrists. 'Where are you from?' he asked the man.

  'North.'

  'Rigante?'

  'Aye.'

  'You are a long way from home.'

  'I like to travel.' The young man scooped up his pouch and tied it to his belt.

  'Why didn't you wish to see her flogged?' asked Oranus. 'She deserved it, you know.'

  'She was a very good companion,' said the man, with a wide smile. 'And it was my own fault for falling asleep. Am I free to go?'

  'That depends on where you are going. Do you have friends in Accia?'

  'I am staying with the general, Appius, while my friend recovers from a fever.'

  'Ah, Appius! I heard he had arrived. The gods alone know what he did to be consigned to this flea-infested cesspit.' Oranus took a deep breath. 'You'd better be leaving,' he said. 'It'll be dark soon, and tribesmen are not allowed out after curfew. And watch out on the way back. The pimp, Nestar, may lie in wait for you. That's a lot of gold to be carrying.'

  The man grinned widely. 'He won't be waiting for me.' Then he was gone. Oranus moved to the door and slid the bolt. Then he took off his breastplate and stretched out on the cell bed.

  Tomorrow he would call on Appius and pay his respects. He closed his eyes, remembering the bloody retreat from Cogden Field. With the memory came the awful fear that had dogged Oranus ever since, that had burned away his ambition, and corroded his courage.

  In his mind's eye he saw again the broken line, the slashing blades, heard the choking, bubbling screams of his comrades as their throats were slashed or their limbs hacked away. It was as if a host of devils in human form had materialized out of the mist, their bodies daubed with blue paint, their eyes gleaming with evil intent. Oranus shuddered. He had been lucky. He - and around forty other panic-stricken men - had managed to run to the safety of the rearguard, organized by Appius. They had then fought their way back to the previous night's fortified camp. Throughout the long night the enemy had attacked, but Appius, with great skill, had marshalled the defences. Then the enemy had withdrawn.

  Even then the terror did not stop.

  As they waited on the earth-built ramparts they saw the enemy pushing the three captured catapults towards the walls. There was no fear at first, for there were no stones for them. But the tribesmen did not hurl stones. They loaded the firing basins with severed heads, and rained these down on the camp. By morning the open ground within the walls was filled with them.

  As dawn came a rider on a grey horse approached the walls, reining in his mount just out of bowshot. Oranus, and all the other defenders, had stared at the man. This was Connavar, the Demon King. They had seen him fight the day before, cutting and killing like a man possessed. He sat now on his grey, his patchwork cloak billowing in the dawn breeze. Appius strode to the battlements, stood silently for a moment, then glanced at Oranus.

  'Follow me,' he said. To the horror of the terrified Oranus, he clambered over the battlements and climbed down into the trench and up the other side. Oranus scrambled down after him and the two men walked out onto open ground.

  Appius walked slowly, arms clasped behind his back, as if he was out for a morning stroll. Oranus looked at him, and saw no fear in the patrician features. They reached the horseman. Oranus looked up once. He was wearing a white-plumed, full-faced helm of gold-embossed iron. Only his baleful eyes showed through the curved slit. He seemed somehow inhuman. Oranus focused instead on the hilt of the sword in the scabbard at the king's side. He heard Appius speak.

  'Your men fought well, Connavar.'

  Connavar ignored the compliment, and when he spoke his voice, distorted by the helm, sounded metallic and cold. 'You have two choices, Appius. You can stay here and we will destroy you, or you can march your men back to the lands of the Genii. If you give me your word you will not stop until you reach the sea I will allow you to pass unhindered. And I will see that supplies are brought to you on your journey.'

  'Will you return to us the body of Valanus?'

  'I doubt I could gather all the pieces, or recognize them if I tried,' said the king.

  Oranus felt his legs begin to tremble, and he almost passed out with fear.

  'Then it shall be as you say, Connavar. But I have badly wounded men in the fort. I will need some wagons for them.'

  'You will have them. Be ready to leave in an hour.'

  'I'll need a little more time to bury the heads you . . . returned to us.'

  Two hours then,' agreed Connavar. The king swung the grey and cantered back to the waiting Keltoi army.

  Oranus turned to the general. 'If we leave the fort, sir, they will surely massacre us.'

  'Perhaps, though I doubt it. Connavar is a cunning strategist, but also a man of his word.'

  'But why should he allow us to leave?'

  'Because - although he has won the battle - his forces have taken huge casualties. Any full attack on us here would see him lose three men to our one. Yes, we would die, but it would achieve nothing. As it is, we will march away with our tails between our legs, and every surviving man will talk of the Demon King of the Rigante. We will carry his legend home, and it will spread like a plague. The next army to march here will march with fear in their hearts.'

  The long, slow march to the coast had been a painful one. Many of the wounded died on the way and were buried by the roadside. All along the way Keltoi tribesmen gathered to watch the defeated men of Stone trudge wearily back to the sea.

  For Oranus it was the end of a bright career. Throughout the years since he had rarely known a night pass without terrible dreams, where severed heads called out to him, where sharp swords were piercing his flesh.

  Had it not been for the skill of Appius he, would have died on Cogden Field.

  Oranus sighed. The best part of me did die there, he thought sadly.

  Banouin lay in his bed, his splinted arm throbbing, his head aching. But these discomforts were as nothing to the terror haunting him. He had believed he had known the nature of fear; being chased and tormented, being beaten and threatened. He knew now that his years among the Rigante had merely touched the surface. The fears he had lived with were caused by external forces, like Forvar and his friends. Nothing he had ever experienced could have prepared him for what he had now discovered.

  Banouin had always felt safe within his own mind, but now it was as if a gateway had opened inside his skull which, at any moment, he could fall through, and spin away into a bottomless pit of dread from which there would be no return. He could feel it pulling him even now, as if he were standing on the edge of an abyss, and losing all sense of balance. He shivered and sat up, drawing the blanket around his shoulders. I should never have ventured into the water, he told himself. That was my undoing.

  Vorna had always assured him that his Talent would one day flower, that he would develop skills beyond those of normal men. Banouin had eagerly looked forward to the day. But the skills had not manifested themselves, and he had spoken to Brother Solstice about the problem. The druid had been walking the high hills, and had stopped at the house for a cool drink. Banouin had approached him at the well, where Brother Solstice had splashed water onto his black and white beard, and run his large hands through his silver-streaked hair. A huge man, broad of shoulder and thick of waist, Brother Solstice looked more like the fighter he once was than the druid he had chosen to become.

  Banouin had asked him about developing his Talent. Brother Solstice had sat down on a bench seat beneath a spreading oak and gestured Banouin to sit beside him. 'Why is it that you want these powers?' he asked.

  'Why does anyone want power, Brother?' he countered.

  'You think they will make you special, and earn you respect among your peers.'
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br />   'Of course. And how wonderful it must be to see the future, or read a man's thoughts.'

  'Why would it be wonderful?' asked the druid.

  'I would know if a man intended me harm.'

  'I see. So you perceive these powers to be merely of use to you?'

  'Oh no, Brother, I would use them for good purposes.'

  'And people would be grateful to you, and shower you with praise. You would become, perhaps, a great and valued man.'

  'Yes. Is that wrong?'

  Brother Solstice shrugged. 'I try to avoid examining issues on the basis of right or wrong. It seems to me they always come down to perspectives. What is right for one man becomes wrong for another. The Talent you seek is a gift from the Source. And such gifts fall like seeds. In the right soil they prosper and grow. If they fall upon rock, they wither and die. Are you rock or soil, Banouin?'

  'How can I tell?'

  The druid smiled. 'Look to your actions, and how you live your life.' Then he had climbed to his feet, patted Banouin on the shoulder, and walked away.

  Now, a year later, Banouin knew the answer. He had been rock. He recalled Bane's words, just before they rescued Lia and her father from the river. 'You really don't see, do you? You have complained all your life about people disliking you. Yet when have you done anything for anyone else? Last year when Nian's barn caught fire, and everyone rushed there to try to save it, where were you? You stayed home. As we walked back through Three Streams, covered in soot and ash, you came walking by, clean and bright. You might just as well have been carrying a sign that said, "I care nothing for any of you, or your troubles." One day you will realize that you are what you are because you chose to be that way. It has little to do with your blood.'

  And that was the truth of it. When he had ventured into the torrent to save Lia and Appius he had risked his life to save others. It was that selfless act that had opened the gateway in his mind. Now he wished with all his heart that he had stayed on the river bank. For the gift was not wonderful at all. All he could see, when his frightened inner eyes peered beyond the gateway, was violence and death.

  And then he saw the face, flat and expressionless, pale eyes that knew no pity. The man was tall and wide-shouldered, wearing armour of black and silver, and he carried a shining sword that dripped with blood. No-one could stand against him, for he was the greatest killer, fast and deadly. Banouin could see crowds cheering him, thousands of people chanting his name. Then the man, with two others in similar armour, was on a ship, standing at the prow, staring out over the grey waves. He is coming here, thought Banouin. He is coming here to kill us all. Despair washed over him, and he began to weep.

  Bane had almost reached the house of Barus when he heard movement behind him. He spun and saw the two roughs previously hired by the pimp Nestar. Both of them were armed with knives.

  The first ran at him, and aimed a clumsy thrust at Bane's belly. Bane blocked it with his left arm, then hammered his right elbow into the man's face, spilling him to the ground. He fell directly in the path of his comrade, who tripped over him and stumbled. Bane kicked his legs away, and he too fell. Bane sat on a low wall and shook his head.

  'By Taranis, you are the clumsiest robbers I've ever seen. Are you intent on being killed?'

  'He broke by doze,' said the first, the words horribly mangled. He sat up and tried to stem the blood oozing from his nostrils.

  'I told you to go wide,' said the second man, rubbing a bruised knee. 'Didn't I say that? Go wide to the right, leave me a clear thrust?'

  'By doze!' moaned the first man.

  'Where did you learn this trade?' asked Bane.

  'It's not a trade,' said the second man. 'We've no money now. Nestar ordered us gone. We thought we'd try for your gold.'

  'Well, you tried,' said Bane. Opening his pouch he fished out two silver pieces and tossed one each to the two men. Startled, the first man dropped the coin, then scrabbled for it. The second caught his cleanly. 'Find yourselves an occupation,' advised Bane. 'What are you trained for?'

  'We worked a farm for our da,' said the second man. 'It was a small farm. When the Stone army came he was told to leave. He refused, so he was hanged. We signed on as sailors after that, but Durk spent three months being seasick, so we came ashore and worked for Nestar. It was all right till you came along.'

  'Never look at the dark side,' said Bane brightly. 'Think on this: someone would have come along some time, and he might not have been as easygoing as me. He might well have plunged a blade in your bellies.'

  'Thad's drue,' said the first man, his nose swelling badly.

  'Find work on a farm. A man should always do what he's best at. And trust me, lads, thievery is not a choice for you.'

  With that Bane stood and wandered along the lane. The side gate was locked, so he scaled it, dropping lightly to the garden beyond. Lia was sitting on a curved stone bench. Looking up she saw him and smiled. His breath caught in his throat and his pulse quickened as she did so. It surprised him.

  'Why didn't you call out?' she asked. 'I would have opened the gate.'

  He shrugged. 'It was easy to climb. How is Banouin?'

  The fever is gone, but he has a haunted look in his eyes. When I was sitting with him he put up his hand and pushed me away. Then he shuddered and began to weep. He says he must be gone tomorrow. My father has given him letters of reference, and has booked charter on a merchant vessel sailing to Goriasa. It leaves at dusk tomorrow.'

  'Not much time to get acquainted,' said Bane, sitting beside her. Her lips were moist and glistening in the moonlight.

  'You are staring,' she said.

  'I apologize. I am a mountain lad, and unused to such beauty.'

  She laughed gaily. 'That compliment rolled a little too smoothly from your tongue. I think you are a rogue, sir.'

  'A rogue would surely demand a kiss,' he said.

  'And are you a rogue?'

  'I am indeed.' He leaned in and lightly brushed his lips against hers. Then he drew back and took a deep breath. 'You should have slapped me,' he told her.

  'And why would I do that?'

  'For my impertinence.'

  'How do you know it was not what I desired? How do you know I have not been sitting here waiting for you to return?'

  'Have you?'

  'No,' she told him, with a smile, 'but I might have been.'

  Bane laughed with genuine good humour. 'I would have to be a rogue indeed to seduce the daughter of my host. So I shall content myself with the delights of your company.'

  'You'll have to make do with the delights of my company,' said Appius gruffly, emerging from a side door.

  'I'm sure that will be equally delightful,' said Bane. Lia rose from the bench, blew him a kiss, then walked away. He watched her, noting the sway of her hips beneath the cotton gown. 'She's very beautiful,' he said, as Appius settled down alongside him.

  'Aye, she is. My treasure, Bane. Lia is sweet, courageous and foolhardy. Like her mother.' Appius fell silent for a moment. 'She was burned in the arena with fifty other heretics. It was said that the smoke from the pyres made them unconscious before the flames ate into them. Even so, it was a savage death.'

  'What are heretics?' queried Bane.

  Appius waved his hand. 'Religion, boy. All nonsense. My wife became enamoured of the Tree Cult, a group outlawed in Stone. They talk of achieving harmony with the earth, and with all the peoples of the earth. They worship the Source of All Things - a being of such dazzling weakness that he cannot save a single one of his followers. I piss on him! Lia was to be arrested, like her mother. But I took her from Stone. Sadly I didn't remove her before she publicly insulted Nalademus, the Stone elder, called him a vain and stupid old man. I saw his eyes. Hatred burned there.'

  'And these elders can order deaths?' asked Bane.

  'Aye, they can. They employ killers - though they give them fine armour and a noble name. The Knights of Stone. Hard men and deadly. They make the arrests, drag people from their
homes to stand trial before the elders.'

  'And the emperor permits these actions?'

  'Why would he not? Most of those arrested are former supporters of the republic, and all have voiced their protests at the emperor's continued expansion of the empire through war. The Tree Cult believe that all war is evil.'

  'How foolish,' said Bane. 'Without war there would be no glory.'

  'Exactly! And what would I have been, eh? A cobbler? A blacksmith? But I have brought Lia here to see her safe, to wait until the Crimson Priests themselves fall. Then we can return to Stone.'

  'And who is it that these priests worship?' asked Bane.

  'Stone itself. They claim the city is a god, eternal and holy. All other gods are false, the creations of weaker peoples.' He looked Bane in the eyes. 'What do you worship, boy?'

  'Nothing. My own strength, perhaps. And you?'

  'I believe there is a greater power beyond that of man. I have to believe that. Or else we are all just parasites rushing hither and yon to no purpose. Anyway that is enough of my philosophy. I have booked you passage tomorrow. Banouin has offered to carry letters for me. If you like I will write some for you that will, at least, ensure you have somewhere to stay in Stone.'

  'I will find somewhere to stay, General. Do not concern yourself. And I will not be staying long. I promised Banouin's mother I would see him safely to the city. Then I shall view it, and return home. I miss the mountains already.'

  'I would like to have seen the Rigante mountains,' said Appius. 'They are said to be magnificent.' His expression changed, and sadness touched him. 'I rather fear that my successors will do just that when the Stone army finally marches north.'

  'You did not learn your lessons at Cogden Field?'

  'Stone does not learn lessons,' said Appius, with a sigh. 'We are a people afflicted with colossal arrogance. Jasaray had other matters on his mind after Cogden, and Connavar was clever enough to return the Panther Standards to him. Jasaray sold this act to the people as a gesture of contrition and managed to place the blame for the entire venture on the head of the dead Valanus. But Jasaray has not forgotten the Rigante, Bane. Of that you can be sure. At the moment he is fighting a war in the east, but when it is concluded he will march against Connavar.'