MIDNIGHT FALCON by David Gemmell

Connavar knelt and put on his bronze greaves. ‘The Morrigu took a great risk with us,’ he said. ‘She could have made it to the Gateway a week ago, as her energy was fading. Instead she stayed where she was, in the hope that we would come for her. I read it in her mind. She tried to close her thoughts to me, but by then she was too weak.’ He straightened. ‘I always thought of her as a malicious creature, but the depths of her love for this land and its people are beyond belief.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Bane impatiently. ‘She was a sweet and loving woman. But the beast . . . ?’

‘The creature no human could overcome? It was a lesson, Bane. A good man tried to teach it to me many years ago. You cannot overcome hatred with more hatred. Sometimes you have to surrender in order to win. There are only three possibilities when faced with an enemy: run from him, fight him, or make him your friend. The creature in the circle was created to respond. Attack it – and it will come back at you with twice your strength. I ignored it. And it, true to its nature, ignored me.’

‘You sound sad, my dear,’ said Vorna, moving to his side.

‘Oh that it were only sadness,’ said Connavar. Then he walked away from them.

Two days later, at the head of ten thousand Iron Wolves and three thousand Horse Archers, Wik among them, Connavar rode south. The main body of his footsoldiers – just over twenty-five thousand men – had already begun the march under the generalship of Govannan. Hundreds of baggage wagons followed the army, which stretched over nine miles of country. The folk of Three Streams watched them go.

Bane emerged from the Roundhouse as the king passed. Connavar saw him, and raised a hand in farewell. Bane acknowledged it with a brief wave. Then he mounted his horse and set off to the west, and his farm.

Vorna was standing by the forge as the army moved south. She watched Connavar until he was a distant, golden figure on the hilltop horizon, then she turned away and walked slowly to her house.

Meria was waiting for her there. ‘It is a fine army,’ said Meria. ‘They will prevail.’

Vorna saw the fear in her green eyes. ‘Let us hope so,’ she said.

‘It is Conn’s destiny to defeat them,’ said Meria. ‘All his life he has known it.’

Vorna had no desire for company, but she stood politely, waiting for Meria to come to the point of her visit. ‘Conn came to see you yesterday,’ said Meria. ‘How did he seem?’

‘He was . . . thoughtful,’ Vorna told her.

‘Ever since the night he spent at Bane’s farm he has been withdrawn. Did they argue? I see that Bane has not ridden south with the army.’

‘They did not argue,’ said Vorna, ‘and he did not spend the night at Bane’s farm. He and Bane came with me to the Wishing Tree woods.’

Meria sighed. ‘He did not tell me.’ She forced a smile. ‘But then he did not tell me the first time he ventured into those woods. Did he meet with the Seidh?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did they give him a talisman against the armies of Stone?’

‘In a way.’

‘It is foolish, I know, for me to worry so. Conn is forty years old. Not a child to be protected. It is just . . .’ Her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘It is just the way he said farewell to me.’ Meria looked into Vorna’s dark eyes. ‘Have you seen the future?’

‘No.’

‘But you think he will come back?’

Vorna turned away, and stared at the towering, distant slopes of Caer Druagh. There were storm clouds shrouding the white peaks. ‘I have not seen the future,’ she said. ‘But Conn has. He is a man of great courage and he will face his destiny as a king should.’

‘Did he tell you what is to be?’

‘You already know in your heart what is to be,’ said Vorna. Meria closed her eyes and tears fell to her cheeks. She let out a soft cry and sagged against the wall of the house. Vorna put her arms around her. ‘Come inside,’ she said.

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