Ravenheart: A Novel Of The Rigante

  • ISBN: 9780552146753
  • Author: David Gemmell
  • Description:
    Eight hundred years have passed since King Connavar of the Rigante and his bastard son, Bane, defeated the invading army of Stone. In that time, Connavar has become a legend, and the Rigante have lost the freedom so many gave their lives to preserve. A conquered people, they live and die under the iron rule of the Varlish, their culture all but destroyed. One woman remains who follows the ancient paths once trod by the Rigante. She is the Wyrd of Wishing Tree Wood, and she alone knows the nature of the evil soon to be unleashed on a doomed and unsuspecting world. In a perilous land, facing an uncertain destiny, she pins her initial hopes on two men: Jaim Grymauch, the giant Rigante fighter, a man haunted by his failure to save the friend he loved from betrayal, and Kaelin Ring, a youth whose deadly talents will earn him the enmity of all Varlish. One will become the Ravenheart, an outlaw leader whose daring exploits will inspire the Rigante. The other will forge a legend and light the fires of rebellion. The Wyrd knows that ultimately all hopes will rest on a third man. Of the bloodline of Connavar the King, he will need to overcome generations of fear and hatred if he is to achieve his destiny. For he is a Varlish nobleman, and - worse - the son of the Rigante's greatest enemy... From the Back Cover It is eight hundred years since the legendary King Connavar defeated the army of Stone. The Rigante are now a conquered people, living under the iron rule of the Varlish, their customs despised, their culture all but destroyed. One woman remains who follows the ancient paths once trod by the Rigante. She is the Wyrd of Wishing Tree Wood, and she alone knows the nature of the evil soon to be unleashed on a doomed world. In a perilous land, her hopes are pinned on two men: Jaim Grymauch, the giant Rigante fighter, a man haunted by his failure to save the friend he loved from betrayal, and Kaelin Ring, a youth whose deadly talents will earn him the enmity of all Varlish. One will become the Ravenheart, an outlaw leader whose daring exploits will inspire the Rigante. The other will forge a legend and light the fires of rebellion. The third in the compelling Rigante series, Ravenheart has everything fans of heroic fantasy can wish for - and then some. About the Author David GemmellPublished in 1984, David A. Gemmell's first novel, Legend, has become a classic. His subsequent novels have included Bloodstone, Waylander and In the Realm of the Wolf. Gemmell's latest novels, The Legend of Deathwalker, Dark Moon, Winter Warriors, Echoes of the Great Song , Sword in the Storm and Midnight Falcon have all been published by Bantam Press. His most recent novel, Hero in the Shadows, was a Sunday Times bestseller. A full-time novelist since 1986, he lives in East Sussex. Excerpted from Ravenheart: a Novel of the Rigante by David Gemmell. Copyright © 2002. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. the thin cane slashed through the air. the fourteen-year-old youth winced, but uttered no cry. Blood seeped from a split in the skin of his right palm. The tall, bony schoolmaster loomed overthe black-haired boy. He was about to speak, but saw the bloodon the tip of his bamboo cane. Alterith Shaddler gazed on it with distaste, then laid the bamboo on the shoulder of the lad's grey shirt. Drawing the cane back and forth he cleaned it, leaving thin crimson streaks on the threadbare garment. 'There are those,' said Alterith Shaddler, his voice as cold as the air in the stone schoolroom, 'who doubt the wisdom of trying to teach the rudiments of civilized behaviour to highland brats. Since knowing you, boy, I am more inclined to count myself among their number.'Alterith placed the cane upon the desktop, straightened his threadbare white horsehair wig, and clasped his hands behindhis back. The youth remained where he was, his hands now at his sides. It was a shame that he'd been forced to draw blood, but these clan youngsters were not like Varlish boys. They were savages who did not feel pain in the same way. Not once did any of them make a sound while being thrashed. Alterith was of the opinion that the ability to feel pain was linked to intelligence - 'No sense no feeling', as his old tutor, Mr Brandryth, was apt to say regarding clanfolk.The schoolmaster looked into the youth's dark eyes. 'You understand why I punished you?''No, I do not.'Alterith's hand lashed out, slapping the boy hard upon the cheek. The sound hung in the air. 'You will call me sir when you respond to me. Do you understand that?''I do . . . sir,' answered the youth, his voice steady, but his eyes blazing with anger.Alterith was tempted to slap him again for the look alone - and would have, had the distant ringing of Dusk Bell not sounded from the St Persis Albitane School. Alterith glanced to his right, gazing through the open window and across the old parade square to the main school building. Already Varlish youngsters were emerging from the great doors, carrying their books. One of the masters came in sight, his midnight blue academic cape shimmering in the afternoon sunshine. Alterith looked with longing at the old building. Within it were libraries, filled with historical tomes, fine works of philosophy, diaries of famous Varlish soldiers and statesmen. There were three halls, and even a small theatre set aside for great plays. The teacher sighed, and returned his gaze to the cold stone walls of his own classroom. It was a former stable, the stalls ripped out and replaced with twenty ancient desks and chairs. Twenty chairs and fifty students, the unlucky ones sitting on the floor in ranks around the walls. There were no books here, the children using slate boards and chalk for their work. The walls were bare but for a single map of the Moidart's domain, and beside it the daily prayer for the Moidart's continued health.What a waste of my talents, he thought. 'We will recite the prayer,' he said, offering the customary short bow. The fifty pupils in the class rose, and - as they had been taught - returned the bow. Then the chant began.'May the Source bless the Moidart, and keep him in goodhealth. May his lands be fertile, his people fed, his honour magnified, his laws be known, his word be obeyed, for the good of the faithful.''Good day to you all,' said Alterith.'Good day, sir,' they chanted.Alterith looked down into the eyes of the black-haired youth. 'Begone, Master Ring. And bring a better attitude with you tomorrow.'The lad said nothing. He took one backward step then spun on his heel and walked away.One day, thought Alterith Shaddler, Kaelin Ring will hang. He has no respect for his betters.The master sighed again, then moved swiftly across the room, lifting his greatcoat from its hook on the wall and swinging it across his thin shoulders. Despite the promise of spring the highland air was still icy cold. Wrapping a long woollen scarf around his neck Alterith left the old stable and walked across the parade ground into the school proper, striding down the now silent corridor leading to the outer grounds. Several of the other teachers were sitting in the Academic Chamber as he passed. A fire was blazing in the hearth and Alterith could smell the spices used in the mulled wine. It would have been pleasant to sit in one of those deep armchairs, his feet extended towards the fire. But then, unlike the other members of staff at Persis Albitane, teaching was Alterith's only source of income, and he could not afford the Chamber membership fee. Pushing thoughts of mulled wine and warm fires from his mind he strode out into the cold air. The sun was shining in a clear, bright sky. Immediately his eyes began to water. Alterith squinted towards the road and the lake beyond. He could see the pony and open carriage already making their way slowly along the water's edge. Alterith's heart sank at the prospect of the four-mile journey to the Moidart's estate. He would be frozen and blue by the time they arrived, his teeth chattering, his mind unable to function properly. Alterith hoped the Moidart himself would not be present to witness his arrival. The last time they had met, Alterith, limbs trembling with the cold, had tried to bow - only to see his horsehair wig slide off and land on the marbled floor at the Moidart's feet. Alterith blushed at the memory.
  • Pages: 506
  • Format: Paperback
  • Genre: General
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