Read Online Knights Of Dark Renown by David Gemmell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Gemmell
Tags: Fantasy
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like gods! And proud. Proud. Yes. All gone now. Gone away,’ he said, waving his hand in the air. ‘Off to fight the Demon Lord.’
‘But you don’t appear to have gone with them, sir?’
‘No. I was . . . frightened. The Black Gate. Ollathair conjured it and I would not pass it. I couldn’t, you see. Something inside just. . . snapped. We were all mounted and ready - and the Gate opened. The others, Edrin, Pateus . . . they all rode in. But not me. No. Not I. All gone!’
‘You are - and forgive the bluntness of my language, sir - a coward, then?’
‘Yes, yes. That is me: the coward-Knight. And yet the truth does not hurt the way it once did. Are you sure you will not share my jug?’
‘Thank you, but no. We will, however, relieve you of your horse and your purse.’
‘I do wish you would not attempt this,’ said the Once-Knight. ‘We have known each other but a short time and already I like you.’
‘Kill him,’ said the man and the other three drew their knives and rushed forward while the leader walked towards the stallion. The Once-Knight rolled his wrists and the longsword hissed as it swept up, sunlight flashing on the blade. The first man tried to halt his charge, but it was too late and the blade sang down to slice his jugular before smashing his collarbone and opening a great wound all the way to his lungs. He was dead before he hit the ground. The blade slid clear and slashed back in a reverse cut that opened the second man’s belly clean through to his backbone; he alone had time to scream. The youngster had circled behind the Knight and now he leapt forward with knife raised. Without turning the Once-Knight dropped to his knee, spinning his sword so that the blade was between his right arm and his side. The boy did not see the danger until he was almost upon the kneeling man and the sword clove into his chest, dissecting his heart.
The Once-Knight dragged his blade clear and stood. In the several seconds that the fight had lasted, the robbers’ leader had reached Kuan and grabbed for the reins. The stallion reared, his front hooves cracking into the thief s face so that he stumbled back and fell heavily. A shadow moved across him and he looked up.
‘It was a foolish move, and your friends have suffered for it.’ The man rolled to his knees, eyes wide in disbelief as he stared at the bodies.
‘My son!’ he screamed, scrambling to the boy. ‘You’ve killed my son.’ For some seconds he cradled the body, then stood and drew his own knife. The Once-Knight said nothing, for he knew no words could dissuade him. With a piercing scream the robber raced towards him.
The longsword sang out. . .
Sober now, the Once-Knight climbed into the saddle. ‘Come, Kuan, this place is no longer beautiful.’
Since that day he had avoided towns, settlements and even lonely cabins until he reached the Duchy of Mactha. If Ollathair was anywhere it would be here, in his homeland. The Once-Knight drew his sword and gazed into the ruby pommel. ‘Ollathair,’ he whispered. The jewel shimmered and darkened, an image forming at its heart; there, by a well, stood the Armourer.
And armed men were moving towards him, their swords bright in the moonlight. . .
‘No!’ shouted the Once-Knight. But the image faded.
Errin rose from his bath and stepped into the thick robe held out for him by Ubadai. His body glowing from the hot water, he moved to the window and felt the freshness of the night breeze. Ubadai poured a goblet of watered wine and carried it to his master, but Errin waved it away.
‘No drink tonight,’ he said.
‘Something troubles you, Lord?’
‘Why do you stay in my service, Ubadai? I freed you two years ago and you could go wherever you want -back to the Steppes; across the sea to Cithaeron, or into the east. Why do you stay?’
Ubadai shrugged, his dark, slanted eyes showing no emotion. ‘You should drink. Drink very much. Fall down, maybe.’
‘I do not think so. Go. Leave
‘But you don’t appear to have gone with them, sir?’
‘No. I was . . . frightened. The Black Gate. Ollathair conjured it and I would not pass it. I couldn’t, you see. Something inside just. . . snapped. We were all mounted and ready - and the Gate opened. The others, Edrin, Pateus . . . they all rode in. But not me. No. Not I. All gone!’
‘You are - and forgive the bluntness of my language, sir - a coward, then?’
‘Yes, yes. That is me: the coward-Knight. And yet the truth does not hurt the way it once did. Are you sure you will not share my jug?’
‘Thank you, but no. We will, however, relieve you of your horse and your purse.’
‘I do wish you would not attempt this,’ said the Once-Knight. ‘We have known each other but a short time and already I like you.’
‘Kill him,’ said the man and the other three drew their knives and rushed forward while the leader walked towards the stallion. The Once-Knight rolled his wrists and the longsword hissed as it swept up, sunlight flashing on the blade. The first man tried to halt his charge, but it was too late and the blade sang down to slice his jugular before smashing his collarbone and opening a great wound all the way to his lungs. He was dead before he hit the ground. The blade slid clear and slashed back in a reverse cut that opened the second man’s belly clean through to his backbone; he alone had time to scream. The youngster had circled behind the Knight and now he leapt forward with knife raised. Without turning the Once-Knight dropped to his knee, spinning his sword so that the blade was between his right arm and his side. The boy did not see the danger until he was almost upon the kneeling man and the sword clove into his chest, dissecting his heart.
The Once-Knight dragged his blade clear and stood. In the several seconds that the fight had lasted, the robbers’ leader had reached Kuan and grabbed for the reins. The stallion reared, his front hooves cracking into the thief s face so that he stumbled back and fell heavily. A shadow moved across him and he looked up.
‘It was a foolish move, and your friends have suffered for it.’ The man rolled to his knees, eyes wide in disbelief as he stared at the bodies.
‘My son!’ he screamed, scrambling to the boy. ‘You’ve killed my son.’ For some seconds he cradled the body, then stood and drew his own knife. The Once-Knight said nothing, for he knew no words could dissuade him. With a piercing scream the robber raced towards him.
The longsword sang out. . .
Sober now, the Once-Knight climbed into the saddle. ‘Come, Kuan, this place is no longer beautiful.’
Since that day he had avoided towns, settlements and even lonely cabins until he reached the Duchy of Mactha. If Ollathair was anywhere it would be here, in his homeland. The Once-Knight drew his sword and gazed into the ruby pommel. ‘Ollathair,’ he whispered. The jewel shimmered and darkened, an image forming at its heart; there, by a well, stood the Armourer.
And armed men were moving towards him, their swords bright in the moonlight. . .
‘No!’ shouted the Once-Knight. But the image faded.
Errin rose from his bath and stepped into the thick robe held out for him by Ubadai. His body glowing from the hot water, he moved to the window and felt the freshness of the night breeze. Ubadai poured a goblet of watered wine and carried it to his master, but Errin waved it away.
‘No drink tonight,’ he said.
‘Something troubles you, Lord?’
‘Why do you stay in my service, Ubadai? I freed you two years ago and you could go wherever you want -back to the Steppes; across the sea to Cithaeron, or into the east. Why do you stay?’
Ubadai shrugged, his dark, slanted eyes showing no emotion. ‘You should drink. Drink very much. Fall down, maybe.’
‘I do not think so. Go. Leave
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