David Gemmell – Rigante 4 – Stormrider

‘I wondered when you would come, priest,’ he said. ‘Are you ready yet?’

‘Ready for what?’ Ermal had asked.

‘Ready to let your talents grow. Ready to leave the prison of the flesh and soar through the sky. Ready to see the world with the eyes of spirit.’

‘What on earth are you talking about, sir?’

Tarn had peered at him, then grinned. ‘I know what you are,’ he said. ‘I know what you do. When you use the magic I feel it. You healed Bab Fast. Took away his cancer. You carried the vileness home with you and had to find a way to dispose of it. That was tough, was it not? But the old hound was dying anyway.’

Ermal had been shocked. Bab Fast had been dying of a tumour in his belly. Ermal had never dealt with such a serious illness. Normally when he drew out an infection he would feel it in his own system for some days before it dissipated, but with Bab it had been different. Ermal had felt the tumour begin to grow within his own body. It had frightened him badly. He had known it would kill him and had – with less reluctance than he would have hoped -transferred the cancer to the body of an elderly hound who used to wander around the village, picking up scraps of food where it could. The hound had died the following day. How could Tarn had known?

Ermal stood silently in the cottage doorway, unable to speak.

‘Do not worry, man. I have told no-one. Come inside. We will talk awhile.’

Ermal sighed at the memory. He had sat with Tarn for more than two hours. They had broken bread together, and Ermal learned that the old man was another who had been gifted by the Source. Tarn’s talent was of communication with the departed and – in a small way – prophecy. He also knew how to free himself from the confines of the flesh, allowing his spirit to soar free. In the months and years that followed Ermal too learned this skill. At first they would journey together, for, as Tarn pointed out, it was easy for a soul to be lost in the vastness. But soon Ermal had soared alone, his spirit floating beneath the stars over foreign lands and strange cities, drifting above alien mountains and crossing vast oceans.

He and Tarn had even witnessed the signing of the Covenant -the document that was supposed to end all fear of civil strife. The king had finally agreed to devolve some of his powers to a Great Council, the members of which would be elected from among the citizenry. It was a day of great jubilation across the realm. The king, dressed in a coat and leggings of magnificent blue satin, had entered the debating chamber, flanked by the Lords Buckman and Winterbourne. The four hundred councillors present all rose from their seats and bowed deeply. The king moved to a heavily gilded chair and sat down. Luden Macks brought the document and laid it before him.

‘This will end in blood,’ said Tam.

Something cold touched Ermal’s spirit, and he sensed a presence forming close by where they floated under the curved rafters of the chamber roof.

‘Flee!’ cried Tam.

Back in Tarn’s cottage Ermal had scrambled to his feet. ‘What happened there?’ he asked his friend.

‘We are not the only ones with talent, Ermal. Best to avoid those we do not know.’

The days that followed proved golden and liberating for Ermal Standfast. He had found a friend with whom he could speak freely, and a mentor who could – and did – teach him to develop his talents.

The old man never came to church. He rarely left his cottage. But people would come to him there, requesting small prophecies, or wishing to communicate with the recent dead. It was this that led to Tarn’s death – and showed Ermal Standfast what a wretched creature he really was.

Four years ago, with the king revoking the terms of the Covenant and the civil war just beginning, a troop of Redeemers had ridden into Shelding. Within days they had arrested four people – one of them Tam Farley. He was accused of witchcraft. Fearing for his own life Ermal had fled the town, riding to the market town of Ridsdale and renting a room at a local tavern. From here he had used his talent to observe the fate of his friend. Tam was tortured for two days, but gave the Redeemers no names. They broke his fingers and put a fire beneath his feet. Still he would not speak – though he did scream. The other three prisoners were local farm workers who had come to Tam for prophecies. They too underwent torture. All four were sentenced to burn at the stake.