Ghost King (16 page)

'Did you hear the drums?'

'No. What drums?'

'I must have been dreaming. Come, we'll find some meat.' The two of them, both armed with bows, set off down the hill.

On this day Prasamaccus could do no wrong. He killed two deer and Laitha slew a big-horn sheep. Unable to carry the meat home, they quartered the beasts, hanging the carcases from three high tree branches.

With Prasamaccus carrying the succulent loin section of the deer, Laitha stopped to gather several pounds of mushrooms which she carried inside her tunic blouse; the two hunters were greeted with smiles on their return. After a fine breakfast Korrin sent Hogun, Rhiall and a man called Logay to scout for the soldiers, while Prasamaccus told them where he had hidden the rest of the meat. Somehow the terrifying events of yesterday seemed less hideous in the wake of Erulda delivering a fine baby son. His lusty cries were greeted with smiles among the women, and Prasamaccus marvelled anew at the ability of man to cope with terror. Even Korrin seemed less tense.

There was a stream at the bottom of the hill, near a basin of clay. The three remaining women spent the day creating pitchers and firing them in a kiln built some thirty feet from the stream. It made little smoke. Prasamaccus watched them work and thought of Helga back in Calcaria. Had the war reached her? How was she faring? Did she miss his presence as much as he missed hers, or had she even now found a fit husband with two good legs? He would not blame her if she had. She had given him a gift beyond price, and had he believed in benevolent Gods he would have prayed for her happiness.

He glanced down at his leather leggings. They were filthy and torn and several of the silver discs had come loose. His fine woollen tunic was grimy and the gold braid at the cuffs was frayed. He hobbled to the stream and removed his tunic, dipping it in the cool water and cleaning it against a rock. On impulse he stripped his troos and sat in the water, splashing it to his pale chest. The women nearby giggled and waved; he bowed gravely and continued to wash. Laitha wandered down the hill and one of the women approached her, offering her something Prasamaccus could not make out. The forest girl smiled her thanks and removed her boots, wading out to where Prasamaccus sat.

'What did she want?'

'She had a gift for the hunter,' answered Laitha, showing him a small phial stoppered with wax. 'It is a cleansing oil for the hair.' So saying she tugged him backwards, submerging him. He came up spluttering and she broke the wax seal, pouring half the contents over his head. Tucking the phial into her belt, she began to massage his hair, which was an experience to rival the ministrations of Victorinus' slaves. She spoiled it by ducking him again when she was done. He sat up to hear the chuckling of the working women and the rich, rolling laughter of the men who sat at the top of the hill.

The good humour lasted until Hogun and the others returned at dusk. Prasamaccus knew something was wrong, for they had not bothered to gather the meat. He limped across to Korrin and the dark huntsman looked up from his seat.

'The soldiers are coming,' he said simply.

The small amphitheatre was bare of spectators, bar the queen who sat at the centre on a fur-covered divan. Below her on the sand stood four warriors, their swords raised in salute. She leaned forward.

'You are each the finest gladiators of your lands. None of you has tasted defeat, and all have killed more than a score of opponents. Today you have the opportunity of carrying from Perdita your own weight in gems and gold. Does that excite you?' As she spoke her right hand caressed the skin of her throat and neck, enjoying the smooth silky feel of young flesh. Her blue eyes raked the warriors: strong men, lean and wolf-like, their eyes confident as they looked upon one another, each feeling he was destined to be the victor. Goroien smiled.

'Do not seek to gauge the men around you. Today you fight as a team, against the champion of my choosing. Kill him and all the rewards you have been promised will be yours.'

'We are all to fight one man, lady?' asked a tall warrior with jet-black beard.

'Just one,' she whispered, her voice growing hoarse with excitement. 'Behold!'

The men turned. At the far end of the arena stood a tall figure, a black helm covering his face. His shoulders were wide, his hips lean and supple. He wore a cut-away mailshirt and a loincloth and carried a shortsword and a dagger.

'Behold,' said the queen once more. 'This is the queen's champion, the greatest warrior of this or any age. He too has never known defeat. Tackle him singly, or all at once.'

The four men looked at one another. The riches were there, so why take risks? They advanced on the tall helmed warrior, forming a half-circle. As they approached he moved with dazzling swiftness, seeming to dance through them. But in his wake two men fell, disembowelled. The others circled warily. He dived forward, rolling on his shoulder, the dagger slicing the air to plunge home in Black-beard's throat. Continuing his roll he came alongside the last man, blocked his lunge and sent a dazzling riposte through his enemy's jugular. He walked forward and bowed to the queen.

'Always the best,' she said, the colour high on her cheeks. She held out her hand and he rose through the air to stand before her. She stood and ran her hands over his shoulders and down his glistening flanks.

'Do you love me?' she whispered.

'I love you. I have always loved you.' The voice was soft and distant.

'You do not hate me for bringing you back?'

'Not if you do as you promised, Goroien.' His hand circled her back, pulling her to him. 'Then I will love you until the stars die.'

'Why must you think of him?'

'I must be the Lord of Battle. I have nothing else. I never had. I am faster now - more deadly. And still he haunts me. Until I kill him I will never be that which I desire.'

'But he is no longer a match for you. He has chosen mortality and grows older. He is not what he was.'

'He must die, Goroien. You promised him to me.'

'What is the point? He could not have beaten you at his best. What will you prove by slaying a middle-aged man.'

'I will know that I am what I always was, that I am a warrior.' His hands roved her body: 'I will know that I am still a man.'

'You are, my love. The greatest warrior who ever lived.'

'You will bring him to me then?'

'I will. Truly I will.'

Slowly he removed the helm. She did not look at his eyes . . . could not. Ever since the day she had brought him back from the grave, they had defeated her.

Glazed as they had been in death, the eyes of Gilgamesh remained to torment her.

*

Uther and Baldric entered the forest of Mareen-sa just after dawn following a perilous journey from the Etrusces mountains. Three times they had hidden from soldiers, and once had been pursued by four mounted warriors, escaping by wading through a narrow stream and climbing an almost sheer rock-face. They were tired now, but Uther's spirits were high with the thought that they were almost home. He would lift the spell from the man-beast Pallin, and then continue his search for his father's sword.

He was mildly ashamed of himself as he contemplated the jubilant scenes when Pallin was restored, the cheers and the congratulations, and his modest reactions to their compliments on his heroism. He pictured Laitha, seeing the admiration in her eyes and her acceptance of his manhood. He grew almost dizzy with the fantasy and wrenched his thoughts back to the narrow trail they were following. As he did so, his eyes lit on a massive track beside the path. He stopped and stared; it was the pad of a giant cat.

Baldric, walking ahead, swung and saw the prince kneeling by the wayside. He strolled back, froze as he saw the print and pulled an arrow from his quiver.

The Vores are loose,' he whispered, his eyes scanning the trail.

Uther stood, his grey eyes narrowed in concentration. There was a stream nearby and the prince walked to it and began to dig a narrow channel in the bank.

'What are you doing?' asked Baldric but Uther ignored him. He widened the channel into a circle and watched as the water slowly filled it. When it was still, he lay full-length and stared into it, raising the Sipstrassi Stone above the water, whispering the words of power Culain had used. The surface shimmered and he saw the caves and the bodies. Two foxes were tugging at the flesh of a severed leg. He stood.

"They have attacked the camp. Many are dead, but there is no sign of Korrin, Prasamaccus or Laitha.'

'You think they have been taken?'

'I do not know, Baldric. Where else could they be?'

The man shrugged. 'We are lost.' He sat down and buried his face in his hands. Uther saw a shadow flash across the ground and glanced up to see a huge eagle circling high overhead. The prince gripped the Stone and focused on the bird. His head swam and his mind merged. The forest was far below him and he could see as he never had before: a rabbit in the long grass, a fawn hidden in the undergrowth. And soldiers moving towards a high hill, on which stood a circle of jutting black stones. There were some three hundred fighting men on foot, but walking ahead of them was a line of Vores, held in check by forty dark-garbed woodsmen. Uther returned to his body, stumbled and almost fell.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself he began to run, ignoring the slumped Baldric. Up over the narrow trail and down into a muddy glen he slipped and slithered.

A huge stag bounded into his path. He lifted the Stone and the creature froze. Swiftly Uther clambered to its back; the deer turned and ran towards the hill. Several times Uther was almost dislodged, but his legs gripped firmly on the barrel of the creature's body. It leapt into the open and raced up the flanks of the hill, swerving to stand before the Vores. Behind him Uther had seen Prasamaccus, Laitha and several others waiting with arrows ready. Ahead of him the soldiers came into view, dark-eyed men in helms of bronze, black cloaks billowing.

The stag stood statue-still.

'Withdraw or die!' called Uther. After the initial shock of seeing a blond youth riding a wild deer, there had been silence among the soldiers. Now laughter greeted his words. A command rang out and the dark-garbed woodsmen released the chains on the forty Vores. They leapt forward, their roars washing over Uther like thunder. He lifted the Stone, his grey eyes cold as Arctic ice.

The Vores stopped their charge and turned, raging down into the massed ranks of the soldiers. Claws raked flesh, fangs closed on skull and bone. Horses reared and whinnied in terror as the mighty beasts ripped into the startled fighting men. Within seconds the savage carnage gave way to a mass panic and the soldiers fled in ail directions as the Vores continued their destruction. Uther turned the stag and slowly rode up the hill. At the top he slid from the creature's back, patting its neck. The deer bounded away.

From the forest the awful screams of the dying filled the air. Korrin approached Uther.

'Are you a God?'

Uther glanced down at the Stone. It was no longer gold with black threads, but black with golden threads. There was little magic left.

'No, Korrin, I am not a God. I am just a man who arrived too late. Yesterday I could have saved Pallin and the others.'

'It is good to see you, Thuro,' said Prasamaccus.

'Not Thuro, my friend. The child is dead. The man walks. I am Uther Pendragon, son of Aurelius. And I am the king, by right and by destiny.'

Prasamaccus said nothing, but he bowed low. The other men, still shocked after their escape, followed suit. Uther accepted the honour without comment and walked away to sit alone on a broken rock overlooking the stream, where Prasamaccus joined him.

'May I sit with you, lord?' he asked, with no hint of sarcasm.

'Do not think me arrogant, Prasamaccus. I am not. But I have killed the Undead and flown on the wings of an eagle. I have ridden the forest prince and destroyed an army. I know who I am. More, I know what I am.'

'And what are you, Prince Uther?'

Uther turned and smiled softly. 'I am a young man, barely of age, who needs wise counsel from trusted friends. But I am also the King of all Britain, and I will reclaim my father's throne. No force of this world, or any other, will deter me.'

'It is said,' offered Prasamaccus, 'that blood runs true. I have seen the reverse at times - the sons of brave fathers becoming cowards. But in your case, Prince Uther, I think it is true. You have the blood of a great king in your veins, and also the spirit of the warrior Culain. I think I will follow you, though never blindly. And I will offer you counsel whenever you ask for it. Do I need to kneel?'

Uther chuckled. 'My first command to you is that you never kneel in my presence. My second is that you must always tell me when you feel that arrogance is surfacing in my nature. I have studied well, Prasamaccus, and I know that power has many counterpoints. My father had a tendency to believe himself right at all times, merely because he was the king. He dismissed from his service a warrior-friend who had grown up alongside him. The man disagreed with him on a matter of strategy and my father had him branded disloyal. Yet Aurelius was not a bad man. I have studied the lives of the great, and all become afflicted with pride. You are my champion against such excesses.'

'A heavy burden,' said Prasamaccus, 'but a burden for another day. Today you are not a king; you are a hunted man in the forest of another world. I take it from the manner of your arrival that you found the Dream Shaper?'

'I did. He was dead, but I have the source of his magic.'

'Is it strong enough to get us back home?'

'I do not think so. It is almost gone.'

'Then what do you plan?'

"The spirit of the Dream Shaper came to me, and told me to bring the Ghosts home. Baldric says the Ghosts are an army of the dead. I will try to raise them against the queen.'

The Brigante shivered. 'You will raise the dead?'

'I will if I can find Erin Plateau.'

Prasamaccus sighed. 'Well, that should not prove too arduous. You are sitting on Erin Plateau - and that is the sort of luck I have come to expect.'