‘Please don’t hurt me!’ came the child’s voice from his memory.
‘Leave me alone!’ screamed Samildanach.
Elodan staggered and drew a deep, shuddering breath. His vision cleared and he saw his opponent staring at the sky: ‘Leave me alone!’
‘Samildanach!’
The Red Knight swung. ‘I’ll kill you,’ he shouted and once more the battle was joined. Elodan fought off the frenzied attack, landing counter-blow after counterblow against the crimson armour. A great crack appeared down the centre of Samildanach’s breastplate and his visor was hacked away. Yet still he came on. A second blow loosened Elodan’s helm, which twisted, partially blocking his vision. Samildanach ran in, holding his great blade doub|f-handed; Elodan ducked sharply, and the hissing sword swept over his head. Off balance for the first time, Samildanach stumbled to the earth. Elodan swiftly dropped his sword and lifted clear his damaged helm. Bareheaded, he gathered his blade as Samildanach regained his feet.
‘You are not me!’ screamed Samildanach. ‘You can never be me!’
‘I would not wish to be,’ replied Elodan, staring into the haunted eyes of the Red Knight.
‘None of us is what we would wish to be,’ said Samil-danach. ‘And now it is time for you to die.’ His sword hissed down with tremendous force and Elodan dropped to his knees, sweeping his blade above his head to block the killer blow. The swords clanged together… and Elodan’s silver blade snapped a foot above the hilt.
Samildanach’s sword swept up, his eyes gleaming with the joy of triumph.
‘What happened to that glorious young knight?’ Samil-danach froze… and swiftly Elodan rammed the broken sword through the crack in the Red Knight’s breastplate, plunging it deep into his chest. Blood welled from the wound, spilling over Elodan’s hand. Samildanach staggered, but the dark blade rose again above Elodan’s unprotected head.
Down it flashed — to stop an inch short of Elodan’s neck. The blade tapped gently on Elodan’s right shoulder, then crossed to touch lightly on the left. Samildanach dropped to his knees. Inside him all was turmoil, and he could feel the souls of his Knights struggling to be free of his dying body. But he held them trapped.
Elodan moved to him. ‘Why did you let me live?’ he asked. ‘Why?’
‘What happened to that glorious young knight?’
‘I died… a long… time ago,’ whispered Samildanach, falling forward into Elodan’s arms. The Lord Knight laid the corpse on the grass and rose to a roaring cheer from the rebels.
A stout middle-aged man walked out from the King’s army. He halted before Elodan and bowed.
‘My name is Kar-schen. The war is over, sir Knight. I offer myself — and my regiments — to your cause.’
‘I have no cause,’ said Elodan. ‘I am the Lord Knight of the Gabala.’
‘Welcome back,’ greeted Kar-schen.
EPILOGUE
Llaw Gyffes refused the opportunity to march on Furbolg and seize the crown, and Kar-schen returned to the city and the Ebony Throne. Errin and Ubadai surrendered their armour and rode back to Errin’s estates. Kar-schen gave Errin the Duchy of Mactha and the new Duke asked Sheera to be his Duchess. She pondered the proposal for four months, and they were married in the temple of Furbolg on the last day of autumn.
Arian and Llaw were wed in a simple ceremony attended by Bucklar, Ramath and the other rebel leaders, after which they journeyed deep into the mountains to build a home where the air was clean, the rivers pure and the stars close.
Lamfhada renounced his role as Armourer and became the Dagda, the Guardian of the Colours. He roamed the Forest of the Ocean as a Healer and a Seer, and waited ninety-four years, eleven months and three days to pass on the mantle to a surprised youth who did not want it.
Elodan and Manannan rode through the Black Gate to aid the Nomads brought as victims for the Vyre.
They did not return.