Knights Of Dark Renown by David Gemmell Read Free Book Online Page A

stripped the liveried tunic from the body of the guard. At the man’s belt was a knife, its edge razor-sharp. Slowly and painfully Llaw scraped away his red-gold beard, leaving only his moustache. Then, donning the guard’s tunic, he moved back to the table. The corridor was some sixty feet long, with six barred doors on either side. Swiftly Llaw opened them all, freeing the prisoners and removing their manacles.
    They staggered into the corridor. All were covered in filth and many had weeping sores on their skeletal limbs.
    ‘You have a chance at freedom,’ whispered Llaw. ‘But stay silent and follow me.’
    He climbed the stairs at a run, not bothering to look back, while the prisoners shuffled after him. On the next level a guard sat at a table, idly rolling dice. Llaw waved the prisoners back and boldly approached the man, who glanced at a marked candle.
    ‘You’re early,’ said the guard, grinning, ‘but I’ll not complain.’ Scooping up his dice he rose - straight into a clubbing fist - and slumped back to his seat, his head dropping to thud against the table-top. Once again Llaw opened the cell doors, freeing the prisoners. He neither knew nor cared what crimes they had committed; all that mattered was his own escape.
    ‘Now you may do as you please,’ he told them.
    ‘But how do we get out?’ asked a thick-set bearded man, with a jagged scar on his cheek.
    ‘Take the stairs and free the others. There are two more levels,’ Llaw told him.
    ‘What about you?’
    ‘I have other business.’
    ‘Who are you?’ another man asked.
    ‘Llaw Gyffes,’ he told them.
    ‘Stronghand? I’ll remember it, my friend,’ the bearded man promised.
    Llaw nodded and moved away into the shadows, climbing a narrow stair-well which led to a carpeted hallway with curtained windows. Drawing back the hangings, he looked out over the courtyard less than ten feet below. The great gates were open and two sentries stood chatting in the shadows. On the walls he counted five bowmen. Beyond the gates he could see the lights of Mactha and the far mountains shining in the moonlight. Easing himself through the window, he silently dropped to the cobbles. A sudden shout froze him in his tracks, but it came from within the castle.
    ‘The prisoners are free!’ came the call as Llaw ran to the gates.
    ‘What’s happening?’ asked a sentry.
    ‘The prisoners have broken out,’ Llaw told him. ‘Quickly, get to the Hall and guard the stair-wells!’
    The two sentries raced towards the doors and Llaw glanced at the men on the battlements. ‘Help them,’ he shouted. ‘Guard the Hall!’
    The bowmen ran to join their comrades and Llaw slowly walked from the fortress, skirting Mactha and heading for the distant mountains.
    He learned later that the twenty-three men he had freed had opened the cell doors for forty more. Thirty of the prisoners died in the hand-to-hand fighting inside the castle, twenty-two more had been captured in the first three days, but eleven had escaped.
    Now, seven months later, as Llaw sat in his tree hideaway, the hunters were once more seeking a runaway.
    Llaw hoped they caught him.
    He didn’t want armed men riding through his forest, disturbing the deer and putting Llaw himself in peril.
    Lamfhada crouched behind two jagged boulders and watched the horsemen. The rain was lashing at their eyes, but still they came on, led by the tracker - a wizened Nomad with slanted eyes. Lamfhada was sure the Nomad was a man of magic. How else could he track him across rocks and scree?
    The youth glanced back at the mountains and the forest’s edge. There lay security - but it was at least a mile distant and uphill. He was chilled by the biting rain and his empty belly gnawed at him. Here in this desolate place he wondered at his decision to flee, cursing himself for his stupidity. Was the Duke’s service so bad, compared with this? It was ... he knew that well enough. The Duke often had his servants whipped and, at