David Gemmell – Rigante 4 – Stormrider

Kaelin Ring pushed back his chair and stood. Having arrived only this morning he was still wearing his travelling clothes, a jerkin of gleaming black leather, buckskin trews and boots. He had shaved off his beard, and the sabre scar on his cheek showed clearly. His dark eyes scanned the men in the room, coming at last to Bael. ‘For years,’ he said, ‘the Wyrd – or as you call her, the Dweller – warned your father of a great evil coming from the south. Your father believed her. That is why we have spent four years training our men. Now the evil is upon us. I am not interested in ancient legends, and I have no time to debate the nature of evil, or the desires of dead gods. What I know is that an army will march on the north. Either we support the Moidart, or we do not. Either we fight as a clan, or we do not. I have spoken to the Wyrd, and I believe her. Therefore I will fight.’

‘You are not the clan leader,’ said Bael. ‘You cannot choose whether we fight or stand.’

‘I did not say we, Bael. I said I would fight. I will fight because it is right to do so. The Redeemers – or their minions – have killed Finbarr Ustal and his family. They cut down Senlic Carpenter. They have tried to kill my wife, and my child. They are my blood enemies now, regardless of any other consideration.’

They are not mine,’ said Bael.

They would have been your father’s,’ snapped Kaelin.

Bael lurched to his feet. ‘That is not true! My father also believed the Dweller. She told him the enemy was the Moidart. Now she tells us we should fight alongside the Moidart. What next, Ravenheart? I respect the Dweller. She has worked tirelessly for our clan, both here and in the south. But she is not infallible. She has already been proved wrong once. Why not twice?’

‘You are twisting the facts, Bael,’ retorted Kaelin. ‘The Dweller knew that evil was coming. She assumed it would emanate from the Moidart. That was a natural assumption. She was not wrong, though. That evil is upon us.’

Arik Ironlatch moved alongside Kaelin. ‘Sit down, lad. We are getting ahead of ourselves. Only one man can say whether the clan will go to war. That man is the elected clan chief. So let us do what we are here for and elect a leader.’ He swung towards the Dweller. ‘Lady, you have spoken your piece and we have listened to your words. It is time now for us to move on.’ He turned to Rayster. ‘And since we are to vote, and Rayster has no vote, he must also leave. I wish that it were not so. In fact, I repeat now my offer to formally adopt Rayster and give him my name. Should he accept then his vote will be cast with the other chieftains’ here.’

Rayster bowed to the old warrior. ‘You do me great honour, Arik. I would have been proud to be your son. I am not, though. So I will leave, and follow loyally whoever is elected. May I offer one thought before I go?’

‘You may,’ said Ironlatch.

Rayster looked at Kaelin and Bael. ‘There is anger now between you,’ he said softly. ‘This saddens me, for you are both fine men. I was there when you fought your duel, when Bael put that handsome scar upon your face, Kaelin. I was there when you later shook hands and became brothers. You are brothers. You care for one another, and for the clan. Do not let anything come between you. We are all Rigante, even when our views differ.’

With that he walked from the room. The Dweller followed him. Inside all was silent for a moment.

‘Four names have been put forward,’ said Arik Ironlatch. ‘Bael Jace, Kaelin Ring, Korrin Talis and myself. I withdraw on the grounds of age, though I thank those who considered me. Thirty men were entitled to vote. Twelve cast their vote for Kaelin Ring, twelve for Bael, four for myself, and two for Korrin. As is our way these votes were cast in secret. Now, however, we need a show of hands.’

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