David Gemmell – Rigante 3 – Ravenheart

‘It will be safe conduct, you Rigante scum,’ said the Moidart. ‘Safe conduct to my castle. Safe conduct to the deepest dungeon within it. Then safe conduct up every step of the gallows.’

At that moment a bellowing war cry pierced the air. A massive figure rushed into sight, a huge broadsword raised high. His lower face was masked by a black scarf, and his dark clothes bore no clan markings. Lanovar’s spirits soared.

It was Grymauch!

The surprised soldiers swung towards the charging warrior. Several shots were fired, but not one ball struck him. The massive broadsword clove down, slicing a soldier from shoulder to belly before exiting in a bloody spray. In the panic that followed the clansman’s charge Lanovar leapt to his left, grabbed a musket by the barrel and dragged it from the hands of a startled soldier. As the man rushed in to retrieve the weapon Lanovar crashed the butt into his face, knocking him from his feet. A second musketeer ran in. The warhound Raven gave a savage growl then leapt, his great jaws closing on the man’s throat. Lanovar raised the musket to his shoulder and sought out the Moidart. The nobleman had ducked back into the undergrowth. More shots rang out. Smoke from the guns drifted like mist in the clearing, and the air stank of sulphur. Grymauch, slashing the great blade left and right, hurled himself at the musketeers. A swordsman ran in behind him. Raising the captured musket again Lanovar fired quickly. The shot struck the hilt of the swordsman’s upraised weapon and ricocheted back through the hapless man’s-right eye. Across the clearing three more musketeers came into view. Raven, his jaws drenched with blood, tore into them. One went down screaming. The others shot into the snarling hound. Raven slumped to the ground.

Lanovar threw aside the musket and ran towards Grymauch. The musketeers, their weapons empty, were backing away from the ferocious clansman. The swordsmen were either dead or fled into the woods. Lanovar moved alongside the blood-spattered warrior.

‘We leave! Now!’ he shouted.

As they swung away the Moidart stepped from behind a tree. Grymauch saw him – and the long-barrelled pistol in his hand. Vainly he tried to move across Lanovar, shielding him. But the shot tore through Grymauch’s black cloak, ripping into the outlaw leader’s side and out through his back. ‘That is for Rayena!’ shouted the Moidart.

Lanovar’s legs had given way instantly. Grymauch reached down, hauled him upright, and draped the paralysed man across his shoulder. Then he had run into the thickets beyond the trail. At first the pain had been incredible, but then Lanovar had passed out. When he awoke he was here on the mountainside, and the pain was all but gone.

‘How are you feeling?’ asked Grymauch.

‘Not so braw,’ admitted Lanovar. Grymauch had plugged the wound again and had settled him back against a rock face. Lanovar began to slide sideways. He tried to move his right arm to stop himself. The limb twitched, but did not respond. Grymauch caught him and held him close for a moment. ‘Just wedge me against the rock,’ whispered Lanovar. Grymauch did as he was bid.

‘Are you warm enough? You look cold, Lan. I’ll light a fire.’

‘And bring them down upon us? I think not.’ Reaching down, he pressed his left hand against the flesh of his left thigh. ‘I cannot feel my leg.’

‘I told you, man. Did I not tell you?’ stormed Grymauch. ‘The man is a serpent. There is no honour in him.’

‘Aye, you told me.’ Lanovar began to tremble. Grymauch moved in close, pulling off his own black cloak and wrapping it around the shoulders of his friend. He looked into Lanovar’s curiously coloured eyes, one green, one gold.

‘We’ll rest a little,’ said Grymauch. ‘Then I’ll find the Wyrd.’

Jaim Grymauch moved out along the ledge and stared down over the mountainside. There was no sign of pursuit now. But there would be. He glanced back at his wounded friend. Again and again he replayed the scene in his mind. He should have been there sooner. Instead, to avoid being seen by Lanovar, he had cut across the high trail, adding long minutes to the journey. As he crested the rise he had seen the soldiers crouched in hiding, and watched as his greatest friend walked into the ambush. Masking his face with his scarf Jaim had drawn his sword and rushed down to hurl himself at the enemy. He would willingly have sacrificed his own life to save Lanovar from harm.