MIDNIGHT FALCON by David Gemmell

‘Don’t kill him,’ pleaded Banouin.

‘I have no wish to kill anyone,’ said the Morrigu. ‘All I wish for is a walk across this field of the slain.’

‘I will come with you,’ he said. ‘Make the snake disappear.’

‘What snake?’ she asked. Banouin glanced down. Bane was sleeping peacefully. The serpent had gone.

The Morrigu trudged past Banouin, leaning heavily on her staff. The young man followed, and they walked out onto the battlefield. The struggle was titanic, with neither side giving ground. The army of Stone fought with discipline and courage, while the tribesmen battled with passion and desperate bravery. Time and again Banouin saw acts of individual heroism that went unnoticed by the participants: a slim Rigante, standing astride a fallen comrade, trying to protect him; a soldier of Stone, his sword broken, charging into the mass of tribesmen, slamming his shield at them, and trying to wrest a fresh blade from the hands of the enemy.

‘Why do they still fight?’ he asked the Morrigu.

‘They do not know they are dead,’ she answered.

‘How can they not know?’

‘The arrogance of man,’ she replied.

They walked on. Banouin saw a tall, handsome Stone officer, with close-cropped hair, waving his short sword above his head. Like a windblown echo he heard a thin, piping call to arms. ‘One more charge, lads! One more charge and we’ll have the day!’

‘Who is that?’ he asked.

‘That is Valanus – the most famous of all Stone generals.’

‘Famous?’ queried Banouin. ‘It is my understanding that to speak his name aloud in Stone is a criminal offence. He was the first Stone general to lose a major battle against barbarians.’

‘That is still fame,’ she said. ‘Every man knows of him and his deeds. It is what he wanted. Indeed, it is what he asked for.’

The ghostly fighting continued until not one of the combatants was still standing. Banouin and the Morrigu reached the top of the nearest Barrow and the young man looked down upon the field of the fallen. A cool breeze blew across the shimmering silvered grass and slowly the dead began to rise again, whole and mended. Then they trudged back to their battle lines and formed up once more.

And the battle began again.

‘Why does someone not tell them they are dead?’ said Banouin. ‘Then they could pass over the Dark Water and be free of this life.’

The Morrigu laughed. The sound made him shiver. ‘Come, then,’ she said. ‘You can tell Valanus.’

Banouin followed her back into the battle. As she reached the Stone general she tapped at his form with her staff. He turned and looked not at her, but directly at Banouin. ‘Who are you, spirit?’ he asked.

‘I am not a spirit, sir, but a man. You are the spirit. This battle was fought many years ago, and you died here. It is time to move on.’

‘Died?’ said Valanus, with a wide smile. ‘Do I look dead to you? Get thee gone, demon. This is my day. And when it is over I shall be lord of this land.’ Turning away he raised his sword. ‘One more charge, lads! One more and we will have the day!’

‘Well, you told him,’ said the Morrigu. ‘But it is in the nature of men never to listen. In death as well as in life.’

‘Why are you here?’ he whispered.

‘For reasons of my own. What is it you wish for?’

Banouin laughed. ‘Do you think me stupid enough to tell you? Like poor Valanus, whose name is now accursed?’

‘Would your request be as his, child? Would you want fame and glory? Would you want riches?’

Banouin turned his back on the ceaseless, silent warfare raging around him and walked back to the campsite. Bane was still sleeping, and the fire was burning low. The Morrigu moved alongside him. ‘Can you feel Caer Druagh calling you?’ she asked.

‘I find I miss the mountains,’ he admitted. ‘I had not thought I would.’

‘Do you know why the Seidh exist?’

‘No.’

‘One day you will. And on that day you will return to Caer Druagh.’

‘What is it that you want from me?’ he asked her. ‘I am not a warrior. I have no lust for battle and glory. My intention is to reside in Stone and study.’

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