Knights of Dark Renown Read Online Free PDF

turned away and remounted his mare. ‘Your father may be old, boy, but he was never stupid.’ He heeled his mount and set off for the mountains. The lad was gullible and deserved to be fooled. Even as a child Hyam would have known the difference between magic and trickery.
    All secrets become known.
    He calmed his mind and reached into the Colours. It took’him time to find the White and ease his fears. At the top of a rise he swung in the saddle to look back at Mactha. The sun was dropping behind the mountains and the town was bathed in crimson.
    Ruad shivered and, before he could steel himself, a vision shook him. Eight Knights in red armour, theft-faces ghostly white, their eyes filled with blood, were riding across the sky with dark swords in their hands.
    With a great effort Ruad tore himself clear of the vision. Rubbing the sweat from his face, he kicked the mare into a run.

CHAPTER TWO
    T he six soldiers lay sprawled in death near the carriage and the two women stood side by side facing the attackers. Groundsel waited with his men behind him, eyeing the women with deep appreciation.
    That they were sisters was as obvious as the fact that they were patricians. The taller of the two, dressed in a billowing skirt of green silk and a white blouse gathered at the throat, was holding a short sword she had swept up from the ground. The other was standing beside her, no sign of fear in her wide grey eyes. Both were beautiful. The girl with the sword had short curly hair, dark and glowing like a beaver pelt. Her sister wore her raven hair long, curling to her shoulders; she was dressed in a flowing robe of ash-grey silk, gathered at the waist with a belt braided with gold.
    Groundsel felt arousal washing over him. He had never enjoyed sisters before — and these would fight, scratch and claw. He swallowed hard. Which of them should be first? The tall, proud one or the smaller, well-rounded woman with the haughty grey eyes?
    One of his men darted forward and the taller woman’s sword snaked out in a fierce backhand cut. At the last second the man hurled himself aside, the blade slicing open his brown leather jerkin. He scrambled back on all fours, to the laughter of his comrades. Yes, thought Groundsel, the swordswoman would be first.
    The sound of a trotting horse came to him and Groundsel swung to see a rider entering the hollow. He was a tall man, riding a tall horse, and though he was dressed in tunic and trews he wore a silver helm with the visor raised. He halted his grey stallion some ten paces from the twelve outlaws.
    ‘Good morning, ladies,’ he said. ‘Are you in need of assistance?’
    Groundsel stepped forward. ‘Be on your way,’ he hissed, ‘or we’ll drag you from the saddle and leave you for the crows.’
    ‘I was not addressing you, peasant,’ said the rider softly. ‘Where are your manners?’
    Groundsel reddened and drew his two short swords, while the eleven outlaws spread themselves out in a circle. The rider slid from the saddle and drew a longsword that shimmered in the sunlight; he held it double-handed.
    Just then the thunder of hooves filled the clearing.
    ‘Back!’ yelled Groundsel and the outlaws sprinted away into the undergrowth as a troop of soldiers rode in.
    Manannan sheathed his sword and walked over to the women. He bowed.
    ‘Are you hurt?’ he asked.
    ‘No, sir,’ replied the smaller of the women. ‘Our thanks for your gallantry. I am Dianu; this is my younger sister, Sheera.’
    Manannan turned. ‘My compliments on your sword-skills, lady. You have a fine wrist.’
    A slender fair-haired man joined them; he was cleanshaven and wore no sword, but carried a fine bow of horn. His clothes were of the softest tan leather and, though unadorned, were cut to perfection. His eyes were brown, flecked with gold, making them tawny like those of a great cat. He took Dianu in his arms and kissed her cheek, then he turned to Manannan; his smile was warm and friendly, the eyes open