David Gemmell – Rigante 4 – Stormrider

‘You are the best of the Rigante,’ she told him. ‘You make me proud.’

He smiled. ‘When I was young I used to think that you were my mother. You always seemed to care for me so. You always visited and spoke to me when you were in the north. I wish that it were so.’

Her eyes misted, and she took hold of his hand. ‘I wish that too. If ever I had a son I would want him to be just like you.’ She brushed away the tears forming and stood. ‘Now we must attend the Gathering.’

The thirty chieftains and sub-chieftains of the Black Rigante filed into the long room, moving to their places at the massive oval table. Arik Ironlatch stood behind the empty Leader’s Chair at the head of the table. Bael took his traditional seat to the right. Potter Highstone sat beside him. Arik called out to Kaelin Ring to take his seat to the left.

When all were seated Arik Ironlatch tilted the Leader’s Chair forward against the table and remained standing. Just as he was about to speak the door opened and the tall figure of Rayster entered, followed by the Dweller by the Lake. For a moment only, Arik looked embarrassed. But he said nothing. Rayster strolled over to the far wall and stood quietly, seemingly at ease.

‘You wish to address the gathering, Dweller?’ asked Ironlatch, after a pause.

‘Aye, clansman, I do,’ said the white-haired Wicca woman. ‘You need to know the enemy you face.’

‘I think we do,’ said Ironlatch. ‘Kaelin Ring tells us that Varlish from the south will soon invade our lands.’

‘Would that were the only truth,’ she told him. ‘Sit yourself, man. Your arthritic knee will not tolerate standing for so long. I saw you favouring it at the funeral.’

‘It would not be seemly to sit in Call’s chair. Not today,’ he said. ‘I’ll stand.’

‘Very well. I have invited Rayster to attend this Gathering. The clan denies a vote to a man with no name, but he needs to hear what is said, and offer his advice to the chieftains. Are there any here who wish to dispute my invitation?’

‘Rayster is welcome anywhere,’ said Korrin Talis. ‘He is my friend and a true clansman.’ Others murmured agreement.

‘That is good,’ said the Dweller. ‘They are, I fear, the only good words you will hear tonight. It is true that a southern Varlish army will be marching on the highlands. This in itself is grim news, for there are more attackers by far than defenders to face them. Even so, if this was merely an extension of the Varlish war I would advise the Rigante to stand back from it. Wars among the Varlish are not our concern.’

‘I agree with that,’ muttered Potter Highstone, leaning back in his chair.

‘I’m with you on that, Badger,’ agreed Korrin Talis.

‘Yet this is no longer a war among the Varlish,’ said the Dweller. ‘Something infinitely more powerful – more evil – is at work. Before I explain it further we need to look back on our own history. Our legends tell us that we are the Children of the Seidh, that the Rigante were blessed by the Old Ones, and named as Guardians of the Land. Older legends talk of wars among the Seidh. Some among the gods believed that mankind would prove the salvation of the universe, in that they alone of all the animals could create earth magic, which is at the heart of all life. Others believed mankind were a plague, that they devoured the magic faster than it could be created, and would ultimately destroy life itself. These opposing views led to conflict. The eldest and strongest of the Seidh, the great Lord Cernunnos, was chosen to test mankind. He took human form and became a king. A mighty king. A dread lord. The world was plunged into terrible wars, vast numbers of people perished. The excesses of Cernunnos were colossal. Human sacrifice, mass murder, the creation of were creatures, part man, part wolf or bear. You know the legends.’

‘We are not talking of legends, Dweller,’ said Arik Ironlatch. ‘We are talking of Varlish armies.’