MIDNIGHT FALCON by David Gemmell

The trembling ceased and Braefar tottered forward. Connavar saw him, and his expression changed. Braefar had expected – desired – anger. But there was only sorrow in the king’s features.

‘Why, Wing?’ he asked.

‘Why? For all the hurts and humiliations you have piled upon me.’

‘What hurts? I love you, Wing. I always have.’

‘I know how you have laughed at me all these years. Don’t lie to me, Conn. I know.’

‘No-one laughed,’ said Connavar. ‘Not in my presence. Where did you hear such nonsense?’ He stepped in towards Braefar. ‘Let us put this behind us, Wing,’ he said. ‘There is a great battle coming . . .’ He reached out to his brother.

‘Don’t touch me!’ yelled Braefar, lashing out, the dagger in his hand almost forgotten. In that fraction of a heartbeat, with his anguish and anger paramount, Braefar tilted his fist. The blade slid between Connavar’s ribs. The king grunted and fell back, blood streaming from the wound.

‘No! I didn’t mean . . .’

Bane drew his sword and advanced on the slender figure. ‘Leave him! Don’t kill him!’ said the king, and then he slumped to the ground. Bane stood for a moment, his cold eyes locked to Braefar’s tortured face.

‘Get away from here, you snake!’ he hissed. ‘If I ever see you again I’ll kill you where you stand.’

For a moment Braefar didn’t move. Bane’s sword came up. Braefar turned and sprinted for the woods.

He ran and ran, legs pumping, heart racing.

Bane was stunned. He thought Riamfada’s prophecy had been proved wrong. He and Connavar had killed the rebels, and the king had but a few minor scratches and bruises. But now, as he looked down at the grey-faced man sitting quietly, his back to a column of stone, Bane knew he was dying. The dagger had plunged deep.

As the light faded Connavar began to shiver. Bane removed his own cloak and draped it around Connavar’s upper body. ‘Are you in pain?’ asked the younger man.

Connavar coughed and blood dribbled into his beard. ‘A little,’ he confessed. ‘Where is Wing?’

‘He ran into the woods. Why did you want him spared?’

Connavar leaned his head back against the stone. He smiled. ‘He’s my little brother,’ he said. ‘I’ve looked after him all my life.’

‘He’s a treacherous dog – and he’s killed you.’

‘I came . . . here to die,’ said Connavar. ‘That was the price the Morrigu wanted. I don’t know why. She always made it clear that the defeat of Stone was . . . important. Without me . . .’ He fell silent for a moment. ‘What are you doing here, Bane?’

‘A friend of yours asked me to come. Riamfada.’

‘The little fish,’ said Connavar.

‘Fish?’ queried Bane.

‘When he was . . . human . . . his legs were useless. Govannan and I used to carry him to the Riguan Falls. We . . . taught him to swim.’

Bane looked into the pale face of the dying man. ‘He was the boy you were carrying when the bear attacked?’

‘The same. The Seidh gave his spirit a home.’ Connavar groaned, his face contorting. ‘Damn, but this little wound is troublesome.’ He looked up into Bane’s face. ‘I am glad you’re here, Bane. It would have hurt my soul to die without . . .’ He winced again, his body spasming.

‘Don’t talk,’ said Bane. ‘Just rest easy.’

‘To what purpose?’ asked Connavar, forcing a smile. ‘When we lifted the Morrigu I saw many things, and I shared moments of your life. When you won that race, and came running towards me. . . You remember?’

‘Of course I remember. You turned your back on me.’

‘I am sorry for that, Bane. When I saw you running ahead of the others I was so proud I thought my heart would break. But I couldn’t stay. To have embraced you and acknowledged you as my son would have meant seeing your mother, and I had sworn never to cast eyes upon her again. If I had my life over I would do so many things differently.’

‘You blamed her for your own shortcomings,’ said Bane, without anger.

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