"What do you wish of me, Cormac?" he asked, his voice resonant and deep.
"Only what you have always given me," said Cormac. "Nothing."
"I did not know of you, boy."
"But you would have, had you not hounded my mother into fleeing to the cave."
"The past is dead," said Uther wearily. "Your mother and I are reunited."
"I am happy for you."
"Why did you risk your life to save me?"
Cormac chuckled. "It was not for you, Uther; I was seeking the woman I love. But you were there and, perhaps, blood called me. I do not know. But I want nothing of you or your kingdom - what is left of it. I want only Anduine, and then you will hear from me no more."
"Harsh words, my son. But I will not argue with the judgement. I know the errors I have made, and no one can make the hurt less - or more. I would be glad if you would spend a little time with me, so that I can know you and be proud. But if you choose another path, so be it. Will you shake hands, man to man, and accept my thanks?"
"That I will do," said Cormac.
Cormac walked back down the hill to the group, more light of heart than when he had climbed the Tor.
Gwalchmai and Prasamaccus were the next to be summoned, and after them Severinus Albinus.
He bowed to the King. "I had thought to enjoy my retirement," he said accusingly.
"Then you should have refused the call," said the King.
Albinus shrugged. "Life was tedious without you," said the Roman.
Uther nodded and the two men smiled and gripped hands. "Would that I could rely on other men as I can on you," said the King.
"What now, Uther? I have three hundred old men guarding the causeway. The latest arrivals tell me there are more than twelve thousand Goths. Do we attack them? Do we wait?"
"We go to them with sword and fire."
"Fine. It should earn us a splendid page in history."
"Will you come with me this last time?"
Albinus grinned. "Why not? There is nowhere else to run."
"Then prepare the men, for we will travel as we did once before."
"There were almost five thousand of us then, Lord King. And we were young and reckless."
"You think twelve thousand Goths are a match for the legendary Ninth?" mocked Uther, grinning.
"I think I should have stayed in Calcaria."
"We will not be alone, old friend. I have journeyed far, and I can promise you a day of surprises."
"I do not doubt that, sire. And I am no fool; I know where you had to go, and I am surprised they let you walk away alive."
Uther chuckled. "Life is a grand game, Albinus, and should be treated as such." His smile faded and his eyes lost their humour. "But I have made promises other men may come to rue."
Albinus shrugged. "Whatever you have done, I am with you. But then I am old and ready for a tranquil life. I have a crooked servant in Calcaria who is even now praying for my death. I would like to disappoint him."
"Perhaps you will."
Galead was the last to be called, and the sun was setting as he found the King.
"You have changed, Ursus. Would you like your old face returned to you?"
"No, my lord. It would confuse Lekky and I am content as Galead."
"You found the Sword. How can I repay you?"
Galead smiled. "I seek no payment."
"Speaking of swords, I see that you are no longer carrying a weapon," said Uther.
"No, I shall never bear arms again. I had hoped to find a small farm and breed horses.
Lekky could have had a pony. But . . ." He spread his hands.
"Do not abandon that hope, Galead. We are not finished yet."
"Where will you raise an army?"
"Come with me and find out."
"I will be no use to you. I will never be a warrior again."
"Come anyway. The good Sisters will look after Lekky."
"I have lost my appet.i.te for blood and death. I do not hate the Goths, nor do I desire to see them slain."
"I need you, Galead. And leave your sword behind; another will take its place at the appointed time."
"You have spoken to Pendarric?"
"I do not need to. I am the King and I know what is to come."
"Lastly, Laitha came to him on the hill-top and they stood arm in arm, gazing out at the Sleeping Giants in the bright moonlight.
Tell me you will come back," she said.
"I will come back."
"Have you used the Sword to see Wotan"s power?"
"Yes - and I have seen the future. It is not all bad, though there will be hardship ahead.
Whatever may happen tomorrow, the realm is finished. We fought hard to keep it alive, like a candle in the storm. But no candle lasts for ever."
"Are you sad?"
"A little, for I have given my life to Britain. But the men who will come after I am gone are strong men, good men, caring men. The land will receive them, for they will love the land.
My realm will not be missed for long."
"And what of you, Uther? Where will you go?"
"I will be with you. Always."
"Oh, dear G.o.d! You are going . . ."
"Do not say it," he whispered, touching his finger to her lips. "I will come back to the Isle tomorrow. You will stand on this hillside and you will see my boat. And from that moment we will never be parted, though the world ends in fire and the stars vanish from memory."
"I will wait for you," she said, and tried to smile . . .
But the tears came anyway.
Wotan rode at the head of his army, ten thousand fighting men who had tasted only victory since he had first walked amongst them. The Saxons had deserted during the night, but they were not needed now. Ahead lay the Great Circle of Sorviodunum, and Wotan could remember the days of its construction and the Mystery contained in its measurements. "I am coming for you, Pendarric," he whispered into the breeze. And joy swept through him.
Slowly the army moved across the plain.
Suddenly there was a blaze of light from the Circle and Wotan reined in his horse. Sunlight gleamed from armour and he saw several hundred Roman soldiers ringing the stones.
Then a tall man strode from the Circle to stand before the Goths. On his head was a great winged helm and in his hands the Sword of Cun.o.belin.
Wotan touched his heels to his mount and cantered forward.
"You are a stronger man than I thought," he said. "My compliments on your escape." His pale eyes scanned the warriors. "I have always believed you cannot beat a veteran for experience and strength under siege. But this . . . ? This is almost comic."
"Look to your right, you arrogant son of a wh.o.r.e," said Uther, raising the Sword of Cun.o.belin and pointing it to the north. White lightning leapt from the highest hill, the air around it shimmering. From out of nowhere came Geminus Cato, leading his legion.
Behind the disciplined British ranks streamed thousands of Brigantes, riding war-chariots of bronze and iron.
"And to your left," hissed the King and Wotan swung in the saddle. Once more the air shimmered and parted and thirty thousand Saxon warriors, led by the forked-bearded Asta, marched to form a battle-line. Grim-eyed men bearing long-handled axes, they stood silently awaiting the order to take their revenge on the Goths.
"Where is your smile now?" asked the Blood King.
The Goths, outnumbered six to one, fell back into a huge shield-ring and Wotan shrugged.
"You think you have won? You believe those men are all I can call on?"
He removed his helm and Uther saw a glow begin beneath the skin of his brow, a pulsing red light that shone like a hidden crown.
The skies above darkened and in the clouds the King could see a demonic army of taloned creatures - wheeling and diving, tearing at some unseen barrier.
Without warning Wotan"s horse shied before the King - scales appearing on its flanks, its head becoming long and wedge-shaped, fire exploding from its mouth. Even as the beast reared Uther raised his Sword, deflecting the fire to scorch the gra.s.s at his feet. The blade hissed down through the scaled neck and the creature fell writhing to the gra.s.s. Wotan leapt clear, his sword snaking into his hands.
"As it should be," he said. Two kings deciding the fate of a world!"
Their swords clashed together. Wotan was a warrior of immense power and confidence, unbeaten in combat since his resurrection. But Uther was also a man of great strength and he had been trained by Culain lach Feragh, the greatest warrior of the age. The battle was evenly balanced; their swords hissed and sang and the watching men marvelled at the skill of the fighters. Time had no meaning, for neither man tired. Nor was there any evidence of supremacy as the battle continued. Only the demons moved, striving to break through the invisible barrier, while the warriors of all armies stood silently awaiting the outcome.
Uther"s blade cut into Wotan"s side, but a savage riposte sliced the flesh of the King"s thigh.
Now both men were bleeding from many cuts and the battle slowed. Uther staggered as Wotan"s blade clove beneath his ribs. For a moment only, Wotan"s eyes gleamed with triumph - but the King fell back and the great Sword of Cun.o.belin swung in a high, vicious arc. Wotan, his own blade trapped in Uther"s body, could only scream as the blade smashed into his. skull, slicing under the Sipstra.s.si crown and smashing the bone to crimson-streaked shards.
The Gothic King staggered back, calling on the power of Sipstra.s.si, but Uther rolled to his knees and hurled himself at the enemy, his sword ripping up through Wotan"s belly and splitting his heart in two. Wotan fell, his body twitching, and with one stroke Uther cut the head from the torso. But the Sipstra.s.si still glowed on the skull and above the heads of the army the barrier was giving way. Uther tried to raise the Sword but his strength was failing.
A shadow fell across him as he knelt in the gra.s.s.
"Give me your Sword, my king," said Galead.
Uther surrendered it and toppled forward to lie beside his enemy as Galead raised the blade over his head.
"Begone!" he called and a great wind grew, the clouds bunching in on themselves as lightning forked the sky. A beam of light shone from the Sword, cleaving the clouds.
The demons vanished.
High in the heavens a shining light appeared, like a silver coin trailing fire. Galead saw the Stone set in the sword shimmer and pale. This was the comet spoken of by Pendarric, the moving star that could draw Sipstra.s.si magic . . . and Galead knew then what to wish for.
"Take it all!" he screamed. "All."
The sky overhead tore like a curtain and the comet seemed to swell. Closer and closer it came, huge and round like the hammer of the G.o.ds descending to destroy the earth. Men flung themselves to the ground, covering their heads. Galead could feel the pull of the comet - dragging the power from the Sword, drawing the magic from the Stone and pulling the life from his own frame. His strength wilted, his arms becoming thin and scrawny; his knees gave way and he fell, but still he held the blade high above his head.
As suddenly as it had come the comet was gone, and a great silence settled on the field.
Cormac and Prasamaccus ran to the King, ignoring the broken, ancient man who lay on the gra.s.s with his bony hand still clutching the Sword of Cun.o.belin.
From the Great Circle there was a blaze of light and Pendarric stepped into sight. Kneeling beside Galead he touched a Stone to his brow, and youth flowed once more into his veins.
"You found the Words of Power," said Pendarric.
"Has the evil gone?"
"There is no more Sipstra.s.si on the face of your planet. Far below the sea perhaps, but none where men will find it for a thousand years. You achieved it, Galead. You have ended the reign of magic."
"But you still have a Stone."
"I have come from the Feragh, my friend. The comet was not seen there."
"The King!" said Galead, struggling to rise.
"Wait. Gather your strength." Pendarric moved to where Uther lay. The King"s wounds were grievous and blood was streaming from the injured side. Prasamaccus was doing his best to staunch the flow while Gwalchmai and Severinus Albinus supported the body and Cormac stood close by.