The moon came out from behind a cloud. Silver light washed over the figure and Ruad watched the armour darken until it was deep crimson.
Two blood-red eyes gazed down on him.
‘Time to die, traitor!’ said Samildanach. Too late Ruad saw the dagger in the gauntleted hand. It plunged into the sorcerer’s belly, ripping up through the lungs.
Ruad crumpled to the ground…
Samildanach stepped back — and vanished.
The sorcerer tried to roll to his belly, but the pain was colossal. Blood bubbled into his throat and he tried to swallow it back, but coughed, spraying bloody froth which stained his beard and tunic.
Knowing he had scant seconds to live, Ruad fell back and pointed his arm at the Gate.
‘Open!’ he hissed, completing the Spell. A great warmth flowed through him as he gazed up at the stars and all pain vanished. He saw again the day when he had become the Armourer, and recalled the joy on the faces of his Knights.
‘With you at our head we will change the world, my friend,’ Samildanach had told him.
‘You will not need me for that, Lord Knight,’ Ruad had replied.
The stars grew faint as the snow-clouds gathered and Ruad could hear a sound like a rushing sea. ‘I don’t want to die,’ he whispered. ‘I want to…’ A large snowflake touched his eye and melted to become a single tear that flowed down the dead man’s face.
Three of the beasts were down — one of them writhing across the path, clutching the stump of its severed arm. Manannan and Morrigan backed away to the Gate as a score more of the monsters advanced warily. The undead stallion, Kuan, stood by unmoving, ignored by the pack; they were interested only in living meat.
A huge creature, larger than a bear, dropped on all fours and rushed at Morrigan. She drove her silver sword into its mouth, plunging it deep down the beast’s throat. The impetus of its charge carried it forward, even in death, and it hammered her into the Gate.
Manannan had no time to help her. Cutting left and right, his silver sword held the other beasts at bay, but they were growing more daring — darting in and back, slashing at him with long, curved talons. A gigantic wolf slunk down on all fours, creeping into the shadows on Manannan’s left. The Once-Knight did not see the beast until it was too late, when suddenly it sprang and he was hurled from his feet, his sword spinning from his hand. Twisting under the wolf, he crashed a mailed fist into its face. Instantly the other creatures were on him, ripping at his armour, sinking talons into his helm, pulling and tearing, seeking the warm flesh beneath the silver steel.
‘Kuan!’ he yelled. ‘To me!’ The undead horse trembled. The shout came again and Kuan backed away, shaking his great head. Then the light of life stirred in his blank grey eyes.
‘Kuan!’
The stallion bunched its muscles and charged the pack — hooves hammering, hind legs kicking out with awesome force. They scattered before the horse and Manannan reached up and grasped the reins, hauling himself to his feet. He gathered his sword.
Morrigan eased herself from behind the enormous carcass of the bear-beast and advanced to stand beside him. At first the pack had been dismayed by the stallion’s sudden attack but now they were gathering themselves for another charge.
Manannan patted Kuan’s neck. ‘Welcome home, Greatheart,’ he said.
As the pack swept forward the stallion hurled himself into their midst. Manannan tried to stop him, and watched in horror as the dreadful talons tore into his body. A shaft of moonlight lit the scene. Manannan spun to see the Black Gate slowly opening, and beyond it the stars of his own world. ‘Back!’ he yelled to Morrigan; she needed no second bidding and leapt through the narrow opening.
‘Kuan!’ bellowed Manannan, but the stallion was beyond hearing. Still it lashed and kicked at the beasts, but grievous were the wounds… terrible tears and deep, deep cuts.
‘Manannan!’ yelled Morrigan. ‘The Gate is closing!’ For a moment more Manannan stood, watching the last moments of his stallion. Then he turned and ran for the Gate. It shimmered before his eyes and he hurled himself over the last few yards, hitting the snow-covered ground and rolling on his back. When at last he stood and looked back, the Gate had vanished.
Morrigan touched his arm. He swung to see the ghostly circle and the grimly silent Knights of the Gabala.
‘Sweet Heaven,’ he whispered. Then he saw the still figure of Ollathair and ran to him. Blood had drenched the man’s tunic and stained the snow around him.
‘Look,’ pointed Morrigan. The snow beside Ollathair’s corpse showed a set of footprints that seemed to appear from nowhere.
‘Samildanach,’ said Manannan. He pulled the gauntlet from his right hand and gently closed Ollathair’s eye.
‘What now?’ asked Morrigan. ‘Without him, what chance do we have?’
The Once-Knight could find no words. A long time ago, Ollathair had been his mentor and his friend. The Armourer had been almost a father to them all, and the Knights had adored him. He had been gentle and wise, and the Colours had brought him many gifts. Now he lay silent in the snow, killed by a friend.
‘Not a fitting end for such a man,’ Manannan whispered.
‘I have no sympathy for him,’ said Morrigan. ‘He fashioned his own doom when he sent the Knights through the Gate. Let us go from here. It is cold.’
Movement caught Manannan’s eye and he watched as a large group of men marched over the hill-top bearing torches. He waited until they approached the circle. A tall warrior with a red-gold beard stepped inside.
‘So, you bastard, it was a trap!’ said Llaw Gyffes, drawing his axe from his belt.
‘I did not kill him,’ answered the Once-Knight. ‘Look there at the footprints.’
‘Defend yourself!’ roared Llaw, rushing forward. Manannan ducked under a clumsy sweep and crashed a right hook to the warrior’s jaw. Llaw Gyffes hit the ground hard, but rolled to his feet.
‘Enough of this nonsense!’ said Manannan. ‘The man was my friend.’
Llaw gathered himself to attack again, but Lamfhada pushed through the crowd to kneel by Ruad’s corpse. As Llaw Gyffes advanced on Manannan, the boy called out to him.
‘Look at the wound,’ said Lamfhada. ‘It was not a sword, but a narrow blade like a dagger. And he has no knife.’
Llaw knelt and examined the wound, then looked up at Manannan.
‘I still don’t trust you,’ he declared, ‘but I suppose it matters little now. The enemy is gathering a great army, led by wizard Knights, and we have no sorcerer to defend us.’ He turned away and stared off into the distance.
The Once-Knight moved to stand beside him. ‘You will grow to trust me,’ he said, ‘for I do not lie and I am true to my friends.’
Llaw smiled. ‘A lot of good that will do us! I am trying to plan a war against an enemy I cannot defeat. I am no general.’ He swung to stare at the circle of faces lit by the flickering torches. ‘Look at them,’ he said. ‘Foresters, runaway farmers and clerics. There is not a mail-shirt among them. What do we do when the enemy arrives?’
‘Fight or run,’ replied Manannan. ‘They are the only two choices.’
‘We cannot run. A man came yesterday to tell us that the King’s fleet has docked at Cithaeron, bringing a thousand soldiers. There is no retreat now; they will hunt us down like wolves.’
Manannan remained silent for a moment. ‘Look around you,’ he said at last. ‘The forest is an awesome size — not the easiest place for an army to force a pitched battle. Do not let the evil deeds of tonight bring you to despair. Come, let us bury Ollathair and say a few words of farewell to his spirit.’