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MIDNIGHT FALCON by David Gemmell

‘We have to leave,’ said Banouin.

‘You miserable whoreson,’ hissed Bane. ‘They’ve come for Appius, haven’t they?’

‘Trust me! You can’t save them!’

‘Them? Oh, sweet heaven!’ Swinging the grey Bane raced back towards the town. He could not see the riders now and urged the grey into a gallop. A woman moved out onto the road, dragging a handcart, full of linen to be washed. Bane leapt his grey over it. Terror was upon him as he rode, and he prayed to Taranis that he would not be too late. In his mind he heard again Appius talking about the Knights of Stone, and how Lia had insulted their chieftain. And he remembered the kiss, and all that it promised for their future together.

He was close to panic as he reached the lane outside the garden gate. Bane leapt from the saddle. Three horses were tethered there, the riders nowhere to be seen.

The gate was open and, drawing his sword, Bane ran into the garden. The old servant who had brought the horses was lying on the path, his throat slashed open, blood pooling on the stone. Bane ran into the house. One of the warriors he had seen earlier was in the hallway, wiping his blood-drenched blade across the gown of the second servant, an old woman. He glanced up as Bane entered, and swung to face him. He was fast, but Bane was already moving, his sword slicing across the man’s throat and cleaving through his neck. Even before he fell Bane ran past him and on to the stairs.

The body of the general Appius was lying sprawled on its back at the foot of the stairs, a terrible open wound in the chest. Bane took the steps two at a time, emerging onto the upstairs corridor. Just as he reached it a second black-garbed warrior came into view. Bane ducked under a slashing sweep, then kicked out, catching the warrior on the knee. As the man fell Bane rammed his sword towards his throat. The blow was mistimed and went in through the man’s mouth, spearing up into the brain. Dragging the short sword clear Bane raced along the corridor to Lia’s room, throwing open the door and rushing inside.

The leader was there, holding Lia by the throat, a short sword in his hand, the blade pressed against Lia’s chest. He was taller than he had looked while riding, several inches over six feet, and the black and silver helm he wore accentuated the cold, pale eyes. Bane felt a moment of dread as he looked into those eyes, and his warrior’s heart sensed he was in the presence of a true killer. Lia was no longer struggling. She was looking directly at Bane, and there was hope in that gaze.

‘Let her go,’ ordered Bane, ‘or I’ll kill you as I killed your men.’

The man grinned – then rammed his blade into Lia’s body, wrenching it clear, and tossing her aside. Time froze in that moment. Lia’s body fell slowly, her wide-open eyes staring up at Bane. She struck the floor, and Bane saw her eyes close, blood staining her bright blue gown.

He looked up from the body into the cold eyes of her killer. ‘You were saying?’ said the man.

Bane gave a terrible cry and hurled himself forward. Their blades met. Bane hacked and slashed, thrust and cut. Every attempt was blocked with ease. Suddenly the man spun on his heel, turning full circle and crashing his elbow into Bane’s face. The young tribesman fell back, blood streaming from a cut to his cheekbone.

‘You could have had promise, boy,’ said the man. ‘You are fast and strong.’

Bane attacked again, seeking an opening. The man dropped his guard for a heartbeat. Bane lunged. It was a trick! His opponent swayed aside then slammed his blade into Bane’s body. The sword struck Bane’s hip then ripped up through his flesh. He lashed out, and the warrior leapt back, Bane’s sword opening a shallow cut in his upper arm.

‘Well, this has been enjoyable,’ said the warrior, ‘but sadly it is time for you to die.’

Bane leapt for him, but the man spun away. Bane’s charge carried him past his opponent. Terrible pain exploded in Bane’s back as the man’s iron sword plunged home. Bane dropped to his knees onto the balcony. A shadow fell across him, and he threw himself to his right. The warrior’s sword clanged against stone. Bane surged to his feet and once more lashed out. This time his blade nicked the skin of his opponent’s cheek.

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Categories: David Gemmell
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