David Gemmell – Rigante 3 – Ravenheart
David Gemmell – Rigante 3 – Ravenheart
By David Gemmell
The Drenai books
Legend The King Beyond the Gate
Waylander
Quest for Lost Heroes
Waylander II: In the Realm of the Wolf
The First Chronicles of Druss the Legend
The Legend of Deathwalker
Winter Warriors Hero in the Shadows
The Jon Shannow books
Wolf in Shadow
The Last Guardian
Bloodstone
The Stones of Power books
Ghost King
Last Sword of Power
Lion of Macedon
Dark Prince
The Hawk Queen books
Ironhand’s Daughter
The Hawk Eternal
The Rigante books
Sword in the Storm
Midnight Falcon
Ravenheart
Stormrider
Individual titles
Knights of Dark Renown
Morning Star
Dark Moon
Echoes of the Great Song
RAVENHEART
CORGI BOOKS
RAVENHEART A CORGI BOOK : 0 552 14675 7
Originally published in Great Britain by Bantam Press, a division of Transworld Publishers
PRINTING HISTORY
Bantam Press edition published 2001 Corgi edition published 2002
13579108642
Copyright © David A. Gemmell 2001 Title page illustration by Fred Deelan
The right of David Gemmell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Condition of Sale
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Set in 10/12pt Sabon by Falcon Oast Graphic Art Ltd.
Corgi Books are published by Transworld Publishers,
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a division of The Random House Group Ltd,
in Australia by Random House Australia (Pty) Ltd,
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in New Zealand by Random House New Zealand Ltd,
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and in South Africa by Random House (Pty) Ltd, Endulini, 5a Jubilee Road, Parktown 2193, South Africa.
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Cox 8c Wyman Ltd, Reading, Berkshire.
Ravenheart is dedicated with love to the memory of Bill Woodford, a big, flawed, tough and kindly man. During the Second World War he fought with distinction at El Alamein, Anzio, Salerno and Monte Cassino, and was mentioned in despatches twice for gallant conduct. In 1954 he married a woman he adored, and raised her son as his own. As I said in the dedication to Legend, back in 1984, without him Druss the Legend would never have walked the walls of Dros Delnoch. He was at the heart of many of the heroes I have created over the years – none more so than Jaim Grymauch, whose story is told within these pages.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many people helped to make Ravenheart the joy it was to create. To my test readers, Jan Dunlop, Tony Evans, Alan Fisher, Stella Graham and Steve Hutt, many thanks. I am grateful also to editors Steve Saffel of Del Rey and Selina Walker of Transworld for their valuable input, and to Nancy Webber for copy-editing the manuscript and improving it.
Lastly my thanks to the guys from the good old days for fond memories of teamwork, rows, fun and occasional craziness – Tony Goring, Bunk Harffey, Peter Hart, Ray Hodd, Dave Lyons, Pete Robertson, ‘Shuffler’, Brian Smith, Pete Stevens, Tom Taylor and Glen Veness.
PROLOGUE
THE SUN WAS SETTING AND LANOVAR SAT SLUMPED AGAINST THE STONE, the last of the sunlight bathing him in gold. There was a little heat in this dying winter sun, and the brightness felt good against his closed lids. Lanovar sighed and opened his eyes. The huge figure of Jaim Grymauch stood close by, gazing down at him.
‘Let me carry you to the Wyrd, Lan,’ he said. ‘She’ll cast some ancient spell and heal you.’
‘In a while, my friend. I’ll just rest here and gather my strength.’
Grymauch swore and turned away. Loosening the strap at his shoulder he swung the massive broadsword clear of his back. The black hilt was almost a foot long, crowned with an iron globe pommel. The curved quillons were beautifully crafted to represent the flared wings of a hunting falcon. Drawing the fifty-two-inch blade from the scabbard, Grymauch examined the sword in the fading light. There were still bloodstains upon the blade and he wiped them away with the hem of his black cloak. Beside him Lanovar lifted clear the wedge of blood-soaked cloth he had been holding to the wound in his side. The bleeding had slowed, and the pain was almost gone. He glanced up at Grymauch.