"Well spoken," the voice approved. "Bow your head."
As Matt inclined his head, he saw Sir Guy step up to Hardishane and lug out the giant's great broadsword, staggering under the load. Then all Matt could see was the floor; but he felt the great sword lowering down, to rest on his shoulder.
"With this sword," the Emperor rumbled, "I dub you knight."
Matt froze.
Then, slowly, he lifted wide, incredulous eyes to the great, golden Emperor - and he began to curse himself for a fool, not to have realized what was going on, not to have been willing to admit it to himself when he'd begun to suspect.
"Rise, Sir Matthew," the Emperor commanded.
Matt rose, feeling totally humbled and amazingly exalted at the same time.
"Now I counsel you," Hardishane boomed, "beware of fell illusions and glamours; above all else, beware the works of Evil that manifest themselves in complaints of purposelessness; for we, have ever purpose, if 'tis only to abide, to wait, and to insure that one waits after us, against the day that Evil shall arise; for only by awaiting thus, in readiness, can we forestall it."
"I shall remember, Majesty," Matt mumbled, head bowed.
"And do not bow your head, not even to me," the Emperor rumbled. "Stand tall and proud, for you are a knight of Hardishane's."
Matt snapped to attention.
"Now go, with this command." The Emperor's voice hardened. "Destroy the-sorcerer Malingo; hale down his pawn, corrupted Astaulf. Restore this land to cleanliness and to God!"
"I shall so endeavor, Majesty."
Sir Guy turned back from sheathing Hardishane's sword and stepped up to Matt, muttering, "Turn and leave."
Matt stood a moment, startled. Turn his back on an Emperor? Then he shrugged-or tried to, in his steel weskit. He bowed, straightened, and turned away with Sir Guy.
As he did, his gaze swept across an empty chair at the Emperor's right, one only slightly smaller than Hardishane's throne, with gilded carvings traced over the surface. For whom was that? A knight who'd died in some way that left no remains, or one who was missing at the moment? He shivered at the thought of one of the bodies walking. about the land. Then he put the puzzle aside for later consideration.
He and Sir Guy marched between the files of dead knights, while Matt seemed to hear a faint, distant choir intoning a triumphant hymn. And as they passed each ancient warrior, a word of advice sounded in his ear-a one-sentence summary of the wisdom of a lifetime:
"Never fight until your right cannot be questioned; then delay not to strike."... "Never fear to claim a higher place, for when you've reached your proper height, you will know."... "Never be too far from arms, for all men have the blood of Cain."... "Never seek more power than God gives, for He will match it to your tasks." ... "Know yourself and always question what manner of man you have become..."
It continued until Matt's mind seemed to ring with the tambour of iron men's experience. Then they were entering the low tunnel that led to the outside cave. They turned the corner, and the misty cavern was lost to sight. Matt felt a pang of regret.
They came into the outer cave, and a humming spark of light dropped down from the ceiling. "I thought to warm the water for you, Wizard. But I forebore."
Matt nodded numbly. "You were right," he said. "Very."
Stegoman flew down from a nearby mountain peak at Matt's hail. Sir Guy was looking about as if searching for something. Then he put his fingers to his lips and gave a piercing whistle. A few minutes later, his horse came trotting up. Apparently the nuns had released the beast, and it had found its way here, as the knight had said it would.
They rode up further into the mountains in the golden light of early morning. Matt was silent, riding with his eyes on the sky, head filled with the glory of the pageant he'd just lived through, ears ringing with the distant echo of broadswords clashing in ancient, fabled battles.
Then the ground swung upward into his field of view, and he saw a great cut through the peaks in front of him. The sides were long, sloping mounds of loose rock, with a sheer basalt face here and there, and clean-cut cliffs towering up above them.
It brought him out of his daze. "Uh, Sir Guy-where are we?"
The Black Knight turned in his saddle to grin back at Matt. "Do you wake, then? Nay, we ride through the peaks, to the Plain of Grellig. 'Tis a high valley, a bowl amidst the peaks, a day's ride off."
"And this is the pass that leads to it." Matt looked around him at the sheer cliff faces and the long, clean angles of the talus slopes. There was a trail here, but a very faint one; apparently the route wasn't traveled too often. There were patches of grass, and low bushes here and there, but nothing more. Nonetheless, the place had a stark majesty to it-one of the most beautiful places he'd seen. "Sir Guy, something occurs to me."
..Aye?..
"This is an excellent passageway through these mountains. Why is it so poorly traveled?"
Suddenly a figure roared down on them like an avalanche, eight feet tall, pop-eyed, hairy as a bear, with huge eyeteeth jutting like tusks from its lower jaw. It wore breastplate, greaves, and a helmet that looked faintly Greek; it bore two great broadswords, which it whirled about like daggers.
Matt shrank back in his armor. "What the hell is that?"
"An ogre." Sir Guy's sword hissed out. "Defend yourself!"
A surge of courage came up from some unidentified place, and Matt whipped out his blade.
The ogre bounded down on them with a bellow. Stegoman answered with a blast that sent flame gouting out a dozen feet, but the ogre leaped aside, then jumped in with a savage sword cut at Matt's head.
He swung up his shield. Then a bomb seemed to explode against it, and he was somersaulting off Stegoman's back to crash into the talus slope. Through the ringing of his head, he heard Sir Guy shout and the ogre answer with a roar.
Matt staggered to his feet and turned toward the battle. He saw the ogre whacking at Sir Guy from both sides, while the knight tried to riposte and the war horse lashed out with its hooves. Stegoman hovered before them, neck weaving and head bobbing, trying to get a clear shot at the monster. But the monster pressed so closely on Sir Guy that the dragon couldn't burn the ogre without destroying the knight.
Matt gathered himself and charged in.
The ogre turned on him with a roar, swinging one sword toward him. Matt met it with the monofilament edge of his blade. His arm throbbed with the blow, but the ogre was left with only half a sword as the severed point struck the ground. Then the half blade swung back in a vicious swipe, and Matt rolled desperately with the blow. It rocked him, but he managed to stay on his feet, turning and slicing at the huge thigh nearest him. The ogre jerked back, but the blade sliced a sliver from the skin.
The monster howled, slammed a blow at Sir Guy's shield, then turned with a series of cuts at Matt, who retreated until his back was pressed against something hard. The cliff face was behind him, thrusting up twelve feet to a slope of loose talus.
Matt ducked his head and swung up his shield just in time to catch another clanging blow. He saw that Sir Guy's horse was also backed against the cliff face, a few feet to his left.
"Curses upon all cowards in shells!" the ogre roared. He bent down to scoop up a boulder the size of a basketball.
"'Ware!" Sir Guy shouted, snapping his shield up to guard his head as the monster swung the boulder in a long, overhand pitch that sent it hurtling at bullet speed. Matt flinched under his shield, but he heard the rock strike far above. A rumble began overhead.
He took one step forward, shouting, "Sir Guy! Out, fast!"
Then rubble and pebbles were raining down and glancing off his armor. He managed to get his shield up. Pain shot through his shoulders, but he held it while the avalanche seemed to go on forever. Finally, a few last bits of rock struck; then all was quiet.