Gemmell, David – Morningstar

‘Only as they did then,’ said Megan softly. ‘As Rabain did.’But he was an enchanted warrior,’ put in Astiana, ‘or a demon summoned from Hell. He fought them with their own powers.’He was no demon,’ said Megan. ‘He was a man – as were his companions. They did what true men always do: they stood against the dark and defied the might of Golgoleth.’She fell silent then and her eyes sought out Jarek Mace. She was not alone in this. Everyone in the room turned to look at the outlaw warrior.

‘I am not Rabain,’ he said, his jaw set, his expression grim.

‘You are the Morningstar,’ said Megan.

Mace did not reply. Pushing himself to his feet he left the cabin. I hurried after him, finding him at the lakeside leaning against the jetty rail. The sun was behind the mountains, the sky ablaze, great shafts of light piercing the clouds. The lake was the colour of blood.

‘What is happening to me?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ I answered truthfully.

‘I am going to leave. I’ll go south – right down to the coast. And I’ll take a ship across the sea, all the way to Ventria, where the

palaces are roofed with gold and the mountains sparkle with precious gems. That’s what I’ll do.’And what will happen to the people here?’He spun on me. ‘I am not responsible for them! I am not a king -nor would I want to be. For God’s sake, Owen! It was all a jest! They took my money. I went after them. I couldn’t go alone, so I talked the men of the village into fighting alongside me. And the name was yours, from that stupid conversation about heroes! And that is all it is – a name. I was prepared to lead a force against Azrek – you know that. But a city of Vampyres. Hell’s teeth, Owen!’A rather apt description, I would have said.’But he did not smile. He shook his head. ‘Last night I actually prayed. I felt such a fool sending my words up into the night sky. But there was no answer.’What did you ask?’I asked for a way out – and a castle by the sea. What do you think I asked for? I needed guidance. And what do I get? A city full of theUndead.’Corlan came to me earlier,’ I told him. ‘He asked to be released from the Soul Oath.’You see, he’s no fool! He knows when the game is over.’He told me he did not want any part in trickery or robbery or gain. He and his men have decided not to play the game, but to live it. He is fighting now for the people, for the land. For justice, if you will.’‘Then I take it back. He is a fool. God’s blood!’ Suddenly he smashed his fist down on the jetty rail, which shivered under the blow, the wood cracking. Then he sighed and glanced up at the sky. ‘He must be laughing now,’ he said.

‘Who?’God, the Devil, whoever was listening when Jarek Mace resorted to prayer. I feel like a pawn in someone else’s game. Whatever I do enhances the legend. If I was to piss in public, someone would swear a golden tree had grown from the spot.’And yet you survive, Jarek. Have you considered this? Gareth and the Ringwearers are dead. Demons have been sent against you, sorcerous beasts have hunted you, a host of the Dead have come for you. Yet you live! Have you thought of that? I am not a

religious man, Jarek. I don’t know if there is a God, or many gods. But I have seen the Halls of Hell, and I know there is a power granted to those who wish to do evil. Yet here in this land, because of you, a manlike Corlan Will forsake his outlaw ways and be prepared to die for the cause. All over the forest men have been lifted by your deeds.’My deeds?’ he stormed. ‘What have I done, save try to stay alive? You know I was merely trying to recover my money in that first attack. And you know also that I had no part in trying to save Megan. And as for Piercollo … I wanted the tax money. You think they would sing about me if they knew?’You still don’t see it, do you?’ I told him. ‘There is a power granted to the evil. But in balance there must also be powers given to the good. My father used to study history. He sat us down one evening and told us many stories. But each had a common theme. In the darkest hour of any nation there will always come a man to fit the moment. Here and now, you are that man.’I don’t want to be. Have I no say in it?’I do not believe that you have.’I am heading south in the morning. You can believe that!’We stood then in the gathering darkness, but there was no comfort in the silence. I could feel the tension radiating from him, the bitterness and the frustration. But I knew that he would not leave. He was chained to a destiny he did not desire, and though he would rail against it he was powerless to change it. On my travels I have met many actors and performers. There was a man once called Habkins, who played out the great dramas- the Fall of the King, Caracaun, the Dream of Lances. One evening before a performance I saw him, sitting ashen-faced in the wings. We spoke at some length and he explained that he hated performing, that it always made him nauseous. ‘Why then do you do it?’ I asked him. He looked at me as if I had asked the most ludicrous question. ‘The applause,’ he answered.

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