Read Rigante Series 02 - Midnight Falcon for Free Online Page B

tears. She said he put his arm round her and asked if she would accept Midnight Falcon as my soul-name.' Bane sighed. 'It was the first act of tenderness she had experienced following my birth. It was said that Ruathain's wife was furious with him, and demanded he see no more of my mother. He refused, and often visited her, to see how we were faring. I wish I could remember him. He was a great man, by all accounts.'
    'Aye, he was,' said Banouin. 'My mother warned him not to go to that last battle. Told him he would die if he did. But he went anyway, to protect Connavar. Mother knew he would. Said it broke her heart.'
    'She was in love with him?'
    'I never asked her. Maybe she was. It's not something you think about with old people, is it?'
    Bane had laughed then, his good humour restored. 'My grandparents used to make their bed creak most nights.'
    'Oh, that's disgusting,' said Banouin. 'Thank you for putting that image in my mind before I sleep.'
    On the day they left the boat to continue their journey overland Banouin had seen genuine regret in the eyes of the crew. They wished Bane good luck on his travels, and made him promise to seek them out when he returned, so they could hear of his adventures. Not one of them bade farewell to Banouin.

    The journey south was slower now, as they entered the great Forest of Filair. Settlements were further apart, and the riders had to veer many miles east or west in order to purchase supplies and food. At each stop they enquired as to the location of the next village before moving on. Banouin purchased a pack pony in order to carry more supplies, and Bane traded in his old bronze sword to acquire a leaf-shaped iron blade and a short hunting bow with a quiver of twenty arrows.
    It was pouring with rain when the riders reached the forest's end. The plain of Cogden stretched out before them, flat and empty save for the four huge mounds erected above those fallen in the battle. Banouin shivered when he saw the Barrows. Twenty-eight thousand had died here on that terrible day. He had hoped to arrive at the battlefield much earlier in the day, so that they might ride through it in daylight. But Bane's horse had thrown a shoe, and they had been forced to detour to a settlement where a blacksmith forged and fitted a new one.
    Now, with dusk fast approaching, they would have to camp in this desolate place. It did not seem to worry Bane. As night fell the rain eased away. Somehow Bane managed to light a fire, which hissed and spluttered against the damp wood. Spreading his cloak on the wet ground Bane was soon asleep. Banouin sat alone, feeding branches to the flames.
    Fear touched him, and he glanced around. Nothing was to be seen, save for the four Barrows and the bright moon. The fear grew, unfocused and all-consuming. His mouth was dry, his heart beating wildly.
    Then he felt their presence . . .
    At first all he could see was the night mist, rolling across the field; then it changed, flowing and rising until Banouin could see grey forms, the figures of men, cold and silent. For a moment he thought the scene was born of his fear, unreal - invented. Then the figures took clearer shape, becoming ten ranks of fighting men moving slowly across Cogden Field. Clad in helms of ghostly iron with embossed ear-guards, they carried long, rectangular shields and short stabbing swords.
    This was the long-dead army of Stone. Banouin stared at them. Their forms were translucent, and shimmered in the moonlight. When they reached the Barrows, instead of climbing them, they passed right through. There was no sound. The advancing line broke into a run. Banouin glanced to his right. There, pale and spectral, was another line, this time of brightly armoured horsemen. Silently they charged at the enemy, swords as pale as moonlight slashing into them. Banouin saw a man stagger back, his arm hacked from his body. Then a spear ripped through his guts and he fell, the spear snapping in two. Horses fell, pitching their