Saka Gerden charged like the fierce Bull of his Order and Count Brass sidestepped him, bringing his sword around in a swing to split Saka Gerden's helm down the middle and split Saka Gerden's skull, also. As the Baron fell, the Count smiled and a spear was driven completely through his neck by a Goat rider. Even then Count Brass turned, wrenching the spear from his assailant's grasp, and flung his broadsword to catch the Goat in the throat, thus giving as good as he had received. That was how Count Brass died.
Orland Fank saw it happen. He had left the party before the battle but had joined them later and had done considerable damage with his battle-axe. He saw how Count Brass died. It was at about the moment when the Dark Empire forces, lacking three of their leaders, began to regroup closer to the gates and were only stopped from retreating behind the gates by Baron Meliadus who was most fearsome in his black armour, his black Wolf helm and his great black broadsword.
But then even Baron Meliadus was pressed back as Hawkmoon, Yisselda, D'Averc, Bowgentle and Orland Fank led their few surviving Kamargians and the strange, dirge-calling Legion of the Dawn, against the beasts of Granbretan.
There was no time to close the gates before the heroes of the Kamarg had entered the city and Baron Meliadus realised he had always estimated Hawkmoon's power correctly and only now, over-confident, had under-estimated it. There was nothing for it but to bring up as many reinforcements as possible and get Kalan to increase the power of the Black Jewel.
Then his heart lifted. He saw Hawkmoon sway in his saddle, his hands going to the silver helm, saw the strange man in the bonnet and the chequered breeks, grasp him and then reach behind him for the roll of cloth attached to his saddle.
Fank murmured to Hawkmoon. "Try to listen, man, will you? It is time to use the Runestaff. Time to bring out our standard. Do it now, Hawkmoon, or you'll live less than a minute morel"
Hawkmoon felt the power gnawing at his brain like a rat in a cage, but he grasped the Runestaff as Fank handed it to him, raised it high in his left hand and saw the waves and rays begin to fill the air around him.
Fank yelled: "The Runestaff I The Runestaff! We fight for the Runestaff!" And Fank laughed and laughed as the Granbretanians fell back in fear, so demoralised now in spite of their numbers, that Hawkmoon already felt the victor.
But Baron Meliadus was not prepared to be the conquered. He screamed at his men. "That is nothing! It is only an object! It cannot harm you! You foolstake them."
Then the heroes of the Kamarg rode forward with Hawkmoon swaying in his saddle, managing to bear the Runestaff aloft, through the gates of Londra and into the city where still there were a million men to stop them.
Now, as if in a dream, Hawkmoon led his supernatural legion against the enemy, the Sword of the Dawn in one hand and the Runestaff in the other, guiding his horse with his knees.
The press was so solid, as Pig and Goat infantry tried to tear them from their saddles, they could hardly move at all. Hawkmoon saw one of the mirror-helmed figures fighting valiantly as a dozen beasts dragged it from its horse and he feared it was Yisselda. Energy flooded into him and he turned, trying to reach his comrade, but another mirror-helmed horseman was already there, hacking about it, and he realised it had not been Yisselda in peril but Bowgentle and that Yisselda had come to his rescue.
To no avail. Bowgentle disappeared and the weapons of the beasts, of the Coats and the Pigs and the Hounds, rose and fell above his body until eventually one held aloft a bloodied silver helmheld it aloft only for a moment, for then Yisselda's slim sword had sliced off the wrist so that blood fountained from the arm.
Another searing charge of pain. Kalan was increasing the power. Hawkmoon gasped and his vision dimmed, but he managed to protect himself from the weapons whistling around him, managed to hold up the Runestaff still.
As his vision cleared for the moment, he saw that D'Averc was leaping his horse through the Granbretanians, his sword whirling in all directions as he cut a road through them. Then Hawkmoon realised where D'Averc was going. To the palaceto reach the woman he loved, Queen Flana.
And this is how D'Averc died:
D'Averc managed somehow to reach the palace which was still in the half-ruined condition it had been in after Meliadus had taken it, so he was able to ride through the breach in the wall and dismount at the outer steps to run at the guards on the door. They had flame lances. He had only a sword. He flung himself flat as the flames shrieked past his head, rolled over to take cover in a ditch cut by the green fluid from one of Kalan's bubbles and found a flame lance there which he poked over the edge and used to cut down all the guards before they could know what had happened.
D'Averc sprang up. He began to run through the tall corridors, his boots echoing loudly. He ran until at last he came to the doors of the Throne Room where a score of guards saw him and turned their weapons upon him, but he used his own flame lance again and cut them down, being singed only slightly in his right shoulder. He pushed open the doors a crack and looked into the Throne Room. A mile away was the dais, but he could not see if Flana sat on it. Otherwise the hall was empty.
D'Averc began to run towards the distant throne.
And he shouted her name as he ran. "Flana! Flana!"
Flana had been day-dreaming on her throne and looked up to see the tiny figure advancing. She heard her name taken up by a thousand echoes in the huge hall. "Flana! Flana! Flana!"
And she recognised the voice but thought that she had probably not yet woken up.
The figure came closer and it had a helmet that shone like polished silver, like a mirror, But the bodywas the body not recognisable?
"Huillam?" she murmured uncertainly. "Huillam D'Averc."
"Flana!" The figure wrenched off its mask and flung it from him so that it clattered across the great marble floor. "Flana!"
"Huillam!" She stood up and began to descend the steps towards him.
He opened his arms, smiling with joy.
But they never touched in life again, for a flame beam descended like a stroke of lightning from a gallery high above and burned off his face so that he screamed in agony and fell to his knees; burned into his back so that he slumped forward and died at her feet while she sobbed great, strangled sobs that shook her body.
And a voice of a guard from the gallery called in great self-approval. "You are safe now, madam."
Chapter Sixteen
The Final Fight
THE DARK EMPIRE forces were still swarming from every rathole in their maze city and Hawkmoon noted with despair that the Legion of the Dawn was getting thinner. Now when a warrior was slain another did not always take his place. Around him the air was full of the bitter-sweet scent of the Runestaff and strange patterns in the air.
Then, as Hawkmoon saw Meliadus, a wave of pain gnawed again at his brain and he fell from his horse.
Meliadus dismounted from his black charger and walked slowly towards Hawkmoon. The Runestaff had fallen from his hand and the Sword of the Dawn was only loosely held.
Hawkmoon stirred, groaning. Around him the battle still raged, but it did not seem to be anything to do with him. He felt the energy leaving him, felt the pain increasing, opened his eyes and saw Meliadus approaching, the helm snarling as if in triumph. Hawkmoon's throat was dry and he tried to move, tried to reach the Runestaff which lay on the cobbles of the street.