Ahead of them lay the trees and the dark shadow-haunted entrance to the Tunnel of the Gate.
‘Why did you kill him?’ shouted Manannan.
‘Why did you not?’ she countered.
Kuan ran on, his pace constant. Arrows jutted from his dead flesh and Manannan felt a great sense of loss and a heavy sadness. They entered the tunnel at a full gallop and all light vanished, but when Manannan held up his sword and shouted ‘Ollathair!’, the blade blazed with a white light which reflected from scores of eyes to the left and right.
‘The beasts are coming,’ screamed Morrigan and Manannan glanced back to see a pack of huge, lumbering wolf creatures running along the trail behind them. He turned his gaze to the front — the tunnel was ending.
And still the Gate was shut.
‘Was that the enemy?’ asked Llaw, as the glowing golden window faded.
‘I hope not,’ answered Ruad. ‘That was Manannan. I sent him through the Black Gate in search of the Gabala Knights and I must bring him back.’
‘But you said that the evil beyond the Gate overcame them. How do you know it has not affected Manannan? This could be a trick.’
‘If it proves so, he — they — will rue it. I am not without power. I will return here by morning.’ As Ruad moved towards the doorway, Llaw called out to him.
‘Shall I send men with you?’
‘No. If it is a trap, they will not be able to aid me, and if it isn’t I will not need them.’
The sorcerer walked out into the snow, glad to be free of the cave and the hope in the eyes of Llaw Gyffes. How could the man understand the ways of magic? He was a blacksmith and a man of little learning. As far as he was concerned, the enemy were just men. The fact that they possessed enormous power from the Red did not concern him. After all, the great Ollathair was now with the rebels.
‘Find me a way to kill them.’
Did.he think it was so easy? Samildanach alone had almost been a match for Ruad Ro-fhessa — and that was before they passed through the Gate. Who knew of what terrible deeds he was now capable? Ruad trudged on, reaching a low hill above the cave. The wind howled around him and he walked on into a circle of trees. Selecting a shaded spot, he gathered wood, building a rough pyramid. He needed no tinder. Reaching into the Red, he ran his hand over a branch; flames sprang from within the wood and he thrust it into the pyramid.
For a little while he sat lost in thoughts of all that could have been. Then he straightened his back and reached for the calm of the White.
Soon he would open the Gate, but first he had to think, to plan. If Manannan had been changed, corrupted, then Ruad would kill him. Morrigan, too. If not, he would seek the Once-Knight’s counsel and plan — as Llaw urged him — a defence against Samildan-ach’s evil.
Evil? He rolled the word around in his mind. What did it mean? Samildanach had been a Knight, pledged to fight injustice. He had always hated evil. Yet now he was the man Ruad feared above all others. And how did Samildanach view him? As evil? Was it all relative? A mere matter of perception? The Gabala Knights had patrolled the Nine Duchies dispensing justice — but they were backed by their skills with lance and blade, which meant that their power was inspired by fear. And fear was a cousin to evil.
Ruad shook his head. This was not the time for such a debate.
He pictured again Manannan’s face and the shadowy background he had glimpsed through the window. There was something there, he recalled, that had caught his eye. He concentrated on the memory, trying to bring the image into sharp focus. Something had gleamed in the background. A mirror behind Manannan? No, not a mirror. A warrior in armour? No, not quite. It was inert… lifeless… and yet, curiously familiar.
Think, man!
He lifted himself once more into the White, cleansing his mind, freeing himself from fear and doubt. All that mattered was the gleaming object. All else faded.
And then it was there: the ornate shoulder-plate he had made for Edrin. It was resting on a wooden armour-tree, and with it was Edrin’s silver armour.
Ruad opened his eye — his mouth dry and his heart beginning to hammer. He tried again to find calm, but it was impossible. The original armour of the Gabala Knights was within his grasp, for if Edrin’s armour was there, why not the others?
He thought of Manannan. The Gate would need to be opened soon, but thefe was still time. He needed power and floated towards the Black, filling his body with strength, feeling his muscles swell. Then he sought the Red. Fear touched him as the Colour washed over him — such a powerful spell would radiate far. He must be swift, or Samildanach would locate him and travel the Mist to kill him. He pictured the arms he had made for the Gabala Knights — the ornate helms, habergeons, greaves and gauntlets, and the swords of silver steel that would never dull. He drew the memories to him and reached out. His mind swam. Waves of pain blanketed him.
He had tried this before — six years ago — and been repulsed by a wall of sorcery. But now the wall had disappeared. Sensing the closeness of his creations, he opened the eyes of his mind and saw Manannan and Morrigan racing towards the Gate. The woman was wearing Pateus’ armour.
Swiftly he reached out again. There! In a wide room, seven suits of armour and seven swords. He returned to his body, holding the place in his mind, and said aloud the Words of Calling. The air crackled and his head ached; he groaned and felt the wetness of blood flowing from his nose.
Too late now to halt the process. ‘Come to me!’ he shouted. ‘Come to Ollathair!’ A flash of light leapt from the ground before him, scattering his fire. He brushed the cinders from his lap and fought his way through the burning pain in his chest. His left arm was growing numb, and he could feel panic welling in him. If his heart gave out now, it would all be for nothing.
Calm! Be calm, he told himself. ‘Come to me!’ he whispered.
Glowing lights formed a circle around Ruad, shimmering in the moonlight, translucent and almost transparent. He watched as they formed, growing more solid. Slumping back to the ground, he sucked in a deep breath. Around him, like ghostly Knights, stood the armour of the Gabala — and with this, allied to Ruad’s own enormous powers, Llaw Gyffes might have a chance. He eased himself to his feet.
He must open the Gate for Manannan. He gathered his fading strength, took one last look at the eight silent statues and then began the Spell of Opening. Pain tore at his chest and the fingers of his left hand grew numb.
The Black Gate appeared. Ruad knew he was close to the limits of his strength, that he would only be able to hold the Spell for a few seconds once the Gate was open. It would be more than tragic if he opened it too soon… and yet, too late would be no better. He recalled the speed at which Manannan had been riding into the tunnel and reckoned he should be at the Gate soon — if not now. And that meant the Chaos Beasts would be closing on him. He groaned as his agony grew and clutched his chest. His breathing was ragged and sweat dripped into his eyes as he sank to his knees and fought to calm his erratic heart. The pain eased a litde. Ruad slowly began the completion of the Spell.
A creaking sound came from his right. He twisted and scanned the circle, blinking sweat from his eyes. All was now silent, the moonlight gleaming on the eight suits of armour. Eight? There should only be seven! A power like unseen hands dragged him to his feet and drew him towards the nearest armour. Ruad glanced up to see the visor slowly opening and struggled to hold his position, but he was too weak. Closer and closer he came, and now he could do nothing save stare at the moving visor. The pull on him ceased. He wanted to run, but could not take his eyes from the plumed helm and the blackness within.