David Gemmell – Rigante 3 – Ravenheart

‘Are you saying that Jaim is going to die?’

‘All that lives and breathes will someday die, Ravenheart. When Jaim’s time comes the magic will flow out from him like a flood and touch every heart. That is his geasa. And believe me, when that day comes, he will not travel to this river of despair. Not Jaim Grymauch. There will be no Ferryman.’

‘How do I get home?’ asked Kaelin.

‘Do you want to?’

‘I do, Wyrd.’

‘Then let it be so.’

Kaelin closed his eyes. Pain seared through his side, and he groaned and opened his eyes. Above him was a rough-plastered ceiling and two beams of dark oak. He felt a hand in his. Rolling his head upon the pillow he saw Chara Jace sitting by the bedside. There were tears upon her face. She squeezed his fingers.

‘It’s good to see you, boy,’ said Call Jace, leaning over the bed. ‘You had us scared for a while.’

‘Where … is the Wyrd?’ asked Kaelin.

‘The Dweller has gone back to Sorrow Bird Lake,’ said Chara. ‘But she was here through the night.’

‘I’ll leave you two to talk,’ said Call. ‘You rest, Kaelin. Let those wounds heal.’

Kaelin heard the door close, and looked into Chara’s green eyes. ‘I love you,’ he said.

‘I know.’

‘That’s what I wanted to say that day by the fire. I wish I had.’

‘Don’t talk now. Lie quiet, Ravenheart.’

‘Ranaud is dead.’

‘I know that too. You led us to a great victory. You are a hero among the Rigante. Men speak of you with awe.’ She smiled at him, and squeezed his hand. Seeing her smile filled him with a joy so great that his eyes misted, and he felt tears spilling to his cheeks. His throat tightened and he could say nothing, but he clung to her hand as if his life depended on it.

‘I love you too,’ she told him. Then she leaned down and kissed his cheek.

Galliott the Borderer had endured a troubled evening. This was unusual for the beetleback captain. Normally he fell asleep easily and slept soundly, dreamlessly, waking refreshed. Yet tonight he had twisted and turned in his bed, unable to close his mind to the events of the day.

The result of the trial had never been in doubt. Maev Ring would burn. Galliott tried to tell himself that this did not matter. The death of one highland woman would not shake the foundations of Varlish rule. He rolled his pillow, thumped it to make it more comfortable, lay on his back, then on his side. Finally – aware that his tossing and turning was disturbing Morain – he rose from his bed and walked downstairs to where the evening fire was burning low behind its screen of iron mesh.

Galliott’s house was small, the outer walls covered in ivy, the roof thatched. It was an old building, with beamed ceilings and a brick-built fireplace with recesses for logs. A brass bucket sat on the hearth, half full of coal. Galliott did not light a lantern, but sat in his favourite armchair. He added three log chunks to the dying blaze and poured himself a small glass of uisge.

Many highlanders had been executed in the last ten years on the orders of the Moidart. Some of them had been innocent. Yet it was more than innocence which worried him. He sensed it deep beneath his practised pragmatism. The uisge was warming, and he felt his muscles slowly relax.

Early that morning he had been surprised to see the schoolteacher, Alterith Shaddler, walking to the Holy Court flanked by a dozen highlanders. It was like an honour guard. Then one of Galliott’s informants came to him, telling him of the return of Jaim Grymauch. ‘Widow Barley says he downed two of the Sacrifice Knights last night, as they were setting upon the teacher.’ Galliott paid the man three daens for the information.

Within the hour Sir Gayan Kay came to his office, demanding that officers seek out and find the villain who had savagely assaulted two of his men the night before. Galliott sat quietly while the knight spoke. Gayan Kay was a tall man, broad-shouldered and lean of hip. Like all the Knights of the Sacrifice he was highly trained in all matters martial; an expert in the use of sword, axe, mace and dagger. Most knights, Galliott knew, were also highly proficient with musket and pistol. They made deadly enemies – and not merely as a result of their duelling skills. Enemies of the order always died, some by assassination, most by burning, and Galliott had no wish to be added to their death list. So he listened politely, determined not to offend his visitor. When Gayan Kay had concluded his report Galliott asked: ‘They were attacked by one man, you say? Do you have a description?’

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