MIDNIGHT FALCON by David Gemmell

Feeling the need to walk and think he tugged on his boots and draped his new fleece-lined cloak around his shoulders. Moving quietly downstairs and out into the snow he was surprised to see fresh footprints leading away towards the hills. He could still hear Telors snoring upstairs, and wondered why Rage should be walking out into the night.

The footsteps led him past the training area, and on into the hills, to a shallow cave, where Rage was sitting before a small fire. The old gladiator looked up as Bane approached. ‘Would you rather be alone?’ asked Bane.

‘I am alone, whether you are here or not.’ Rage gestured for Bane to sit alongside him on the fallen log.

‘You’d have been more comfortable in front of the fire in your own hearth,’ said Bane, sitting down and holding out his hands to the small blaze.

‘It is a stone-built house. It keeps the world out. I felt the need to be part of the hills, to see the stars above me. You ever feel that way?’

‘No.’

Rage sighed, and Bane smelled the uisge on his breath. ‘You Keltoi are supposed to be close to nature, to walk the path of spirit. But you don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Probably not. Did you enjoy today?’

‘Yes. I felt a surge of exultation as my enemy died. And the cheers of the crowd were like wine. I know it was not the same for you. Was it ever?’

Rage reached behind the log and produced a two-pint cask of uisge. Pulling the stopper he drank deeply, then passed the cask to Bane. ‘I shouldn’t have fought today,’ said Rage. ‘It was arrogant and wrong. I tried to tell myself I was doing it for the circus, for my comrades. Truth is I was . . . irritated. I once fought for Palantes. They earned a mountain of gold from my duels. Now here they were wanting a few coppers more from the old farmer’s death. I should have told them to . . . go away. That would have been manly. No amount of false pride is worth the pain I caused Cara.’

‘You hurt them, though,’ said Bane. ‘Killed their best prospect.’

‘Pah, it will mean nothing to them. They’ll find another. My pride wasn’t worth killing a man for. And it certainly wasn’t worth the deaths of five comrades.’ He drank again, then glanced up at the sky. He almost fell from the log, but Bane caught him. ‘That’s where we came from,’ he said, his voice slurring.

‘Where? The sky?’

‘Somewhere out there,’ said Rage, waving his hand high. ‘A wise woman – a seer – told me that. We are created from the dust of stars. A very wise woman, she was.’

‘She sounds like an idiot,’ said Bane. ‘I was created by a lustful man who forced himself upon my mother.’

‘The dust of stars,’ said Rage. He gazed blearily at Bane. ‘A long time ago – long, long time – a star exploded, and its dust was scattered across the heavens. This magical dust covered the earth, and from it all life was born. Fishes and . . . things. Trees. And when these living things die the magical dust is freed again, and makes new trees and . . . and . . .’

‘Fishes?’ offered Bane.

‘Yes. Fishes.’ He sighed. ‘I felt sorry for Vorkas today. He should not have lost, and he knew it in the moment of his death. He expected me to be defensive, to try to read his movements. As my sword opened his throat his eyes changed. He looked like a child then, lost and bewildered.’ Rage drank again, several deep, long swallows.

‘I thought you didn’t drink, old man.’

‘I don’t. Can’t abide the stuff. Have you ever seen a ghost?’

‘I think so. I had a dream when I was wounded. In it my grandfather came to me.’

‘Every now and again I see her ghost,’ said Rage. ‘Her dress is covered in blood and she is holding a knife in her hand. She was standing at the foot of my bed tonight. I saw her mouth move, but I couldn’t hear any words. Then she faded away.’ He shivered. ‘Getting cold,’ he said.

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