Gemmell, David – Morningstar

‘Yes, it is me,’ I said. ‘Wulf and Piercollo are waiting for you at the village.’You are just the man I wanted to see,’ he said. ‘Come up. There’s something I want to show you.’The greeting had been cheerful, and deeply irritating. Not, ‘How did you find me, Owen? By God, you must be a skilled magicker.’ No guilt over his shameful treatment of me during the winter. No apology for the slap, or the slights.

I mounted the stairs fighting to suppress a growing anger. The room he was in was a mess, littered with scrolls and manuscripts carelessly pulled from their protective leather sheaths. ‘I think I’ve found it,’ he said. ‘I am not a good reader, but I can make out the name Rabain.’

‘What on earth are you looking for?’The Bishop of Lowis told me that I was part of a prophecy. Can you imagine that? Someone, thousands of years ago, named me. Me! The whole story. So he said. Well, if that is true, we’ll be able to see the ending.’This is ridiculous.’You don’t believe in prophecies?’I shook my head. ‘How can any of us know the future? It hasn’t happened yet. And every man has a hundred choices to make every day. It was for this that you scared the wits out of Brackban?’What’s Brackban got to do with it?’You disappeared, Jarek. And without you there is no rebellion.’Well, if we find the right ending I’ll come back with you,’ he said, picking up an old scroll and passing it to me. ‘Read it!’Sitting down with my back to a lantern, I held up the scroll and unrolled it. The first line explained that it was the eighth copy and gave the name of the monk and the year the copy was made. I passed this on to Jarek – who was singularly unimpressed.

‘I don’t care who copied the damn thing! Just read the story.’I scanned the opening lines. ‘It is not about Rabain; he is just mentioned in it. The story is of a knight called Ashrael. . .’Clearly exasperated, Mace took a deep breath. ‘Read it aloud!’ he hissed.

‘These are the exploits, faithfully recorded, of the knight known as Ashrael. . .’ I stopped and glanced up. ‘If they were faithfully recorded, Jarek, then they have already happened. This is not a prophecy.’Then there must be another scroll!’ he stormed.

But I was reading on, idly skimming the fine, flowing script. ‘Wait!’ I said. ‘This is curious.’ I began to pick out phrases from the story, reading them aloud. ‘The Lady of the Dream told this tale, and bade me mark it for future times. The days of the Vampyre Kings will come again, and the knight Ashrael will find the Sword that was Lost. . . Great shall be the grief within the city . . . from the depths of the earth Ashrael will rise. . . mighty will be the King who strides the land. . . Ashrael will light the torch that guides the ancient hero home . . . Rabain shall appear at the last battle, his

armour gold, his stallion white, his cloak a cloud, his sword lightning.’It hasn’t got my name in it,’ snapped Mace.

‘But it has. Ashrael, the last star to fade as the sun rises. The Morning Star!’ I read on. ‘It is all here, Jarek: the invasion, the coming of the hero known as the Morningstar. Even the Burning of the Witch and the rescue . . . and the Vampyre Kings reborn, Ashrael coming up from the bowels of the earth. We entered through the sewers. Dear God, it’s uncanny.’But how does it end?’ he asked.

‘Mighty will be the King who strides the land, his hand a hammer, his dreams of blood . . . Edmund, the Hammer of the Highlands. Ravens will gather above the meadow, and from the past Rabain shall appear at the last battle, his armour gold, his . . .’Yes, yes,’ stormed Mace. ‘But what about me?’It doesn’t say. It just concludes that Rabain will appear and join the attack, and that Ashrael’s name will live on for as long as men revere heroes.’Well, that’s no damn good!’ He slumped down in a chair and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. ‘You were right. There’s no prophecy!’No, I was wrong, I never had a chance to talk of Megan’s last words, and who she was. Now listen to me.’ And I told him most of what Megan had said, word for word. His interest quickened when I came to describe her parting from Rabain, and his golden armour and white cloak. ‘That’s the answer she was waiting for, Jarek. She wanted to see Rabain one more time. She wanted to know why he had to ride to some battle in the future that should have meant nothing to him. He is coming! Just like the legends always promised. When the need is great, Rabain will live again! Think of it! The Morningstar and Rabain on the same battlefield. How can we lose?’Hold on, bard! Megan . . . Horga . . . said he came back. That doesn’t mean we are going to win, does it? I’m not going to face up to Edmund just in the hope of seeing a hero from the past and maybe watch him cut to pieces.’What will you do then?’I don’t know – but I’ll tell you this … I wish I had never met you. I would have been far happier, I know that.’

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