In panic, Yisselda and Oladahn, and later Count Brass and D’Averc watched Bowgentle work. And at last Hawkmoon stirred, opening his eyes.

“The jewel,” he said. “I dreamt it was eating my brain again…”

“So it will if we cannot find a way of blocking it soon,” murmured Bowgentle. “The power has gone for the moment, but we do not know when it will return again and in what force.”

Hawkmoon hauled himself to his feet. He was pale and could hardly stand. “We must press on, thento Londra while there is time. If there is time.”

“Aye, if there is time.”

Chapter Fifteen

The Gates of Londra

THE TROOPS WERE massed outside the gates of Londra as the six riders mounted the crest of the hill at the head of their cavalry.

Hawkmoon, ill with pain, fingered the Red Amulet. This alone was keeping him alive, helping him fight the power of the Black Jewel. Somewhere in the city Kalan was operating the machine that fed life to the jewel. To reach Kalan he had to take the city, had to beat the multitude of warriors that, with Meliadus at their had, now awaited them.

Hawkmoon did not hesitate. He knew he could not hesitate, for every second of his life was precious. He drew the rosy Sword of the Dawn and gave the order to charge.

Gradually the Kamargian cavalry topped the hill and began to thunder down on a force many times their number.

Flame lances spat from the Granbretanian ranks and were answered by the fire of the Kamargians. Hawkmoon judged the moment right and flung his swordarm skyward. “The Legion of the Dawn! I summon the Legion of the Dawn!” and then he groaned as the pain filled his skull and he felt the heat of the jewel in his forehead. Yisselda beside him had time to cry out, “Are you all right, my love?” but he could not give an answer.

And then they were in the thick of the battle. Hawkmoon’s eyes were so glazed with pain he could hardly see the enemy, could not tell at first if the Legion of the Dawn had materialised. But there they were now, their rosy auras lighting the sky. He felt the power of the Red Amulet fill him as it fought the power of the Black Jewel and he felt his strength gradually returning. But how long would it last?

Now he was in the middle of a mass of fear-crazed horses, striking about him at Vulture helmeted warriors who bore long-handled maces with heads like the stretched claws of hunting birds. He blocked a blow and struck back, his great sword cutting through the warrior’s armour and into his chest. He swung in the saddle to take another foe in the neck, ducked a whistling mace and stabbed its owner in the groin.