“Don't do it,” The Unknown warned the men, not Arlen guardsmen but townsmen high on alcohol and adrenalin.
“The Earl wants your type out of here,” slurred one.
“We can't do that right now,” said Hirad. “Just move on, or better still go home. It isn't safe here.”
“This is our town,” said another behind the front pair. “We say what goes, not you.” A murmur of assent was followed by a concerted move forward.
Hirad could count six, all big but none of them natural swordsmen. He regretted what was about to happen. The Unknown's sword still tapped its beat, the barbarian switched his grip twice for effect, but the aggressors were too far gone to notice the skill it demanded.
Behind them, Ilkar sighed.
“What is it?” Hirad didn't look round.
“I—” The elf broke off momentarily. “Gods. Just grab the two in front of you now. It's all you can do.”
The Raven never questioned Ilkar. Whatever he felt, it had to be big. Far too quickly for the men in front to react effectively. Hirad and The Unknown Warrior reached out and grabbed the collars of the men before them, hauling each off balance and dragging them under the shield, their blades flailing uselessly. Hirad jabbed the pommel of his sword into the jaw of his opponent to quiet him but his struggle was short-lived.
HellFire smashed into the inn, the columns of superheated flame seeking the souls of the living. But there were many columns and few still inside the building. And even as the fire gorged itself on souls and wood, blasting every window outward in a spray of glass shivers, those loose columns sought and found the nearest victims to their cast destination.
Flame raged over Ilkar's spell shield, turning Hirad's world into a dome of sheet orange, white and yellow while the Arlen townsmen screamed in terror. But beyond, the cries were of death as the HellFire plunged into defenceless bodies, seared flesh spattering the walls, burning corpses flying like dolls about the alley and beyond in the street.
At The Raven's side, the Lakehome Inn was ablaze, flame gouting from empty window frames and rents in the slate roof.
“Ilkar?” asked The Unknown.
“Yes. Go, go!”
The Unknown shook the man in his grasp.
“Go back to your homes and look to your families. This is too big for you.” He thrust the man away, Hirad doing likewise, the two stumbling off through the carnage.
“Raven! Raven with me!”
Thraun knew where she was and he called the pack to him, though he knew they were scared enough to flee. They ran through the prey, howling and nipping as they went, sending the scared animals jumping and turning against the wishes of their masters. The pack dodged the sharps in the hands of the humans easily, darting between the legs of the prey and beneath their sweating bodies.
But again, there would be no feasting. Because the air smelled bad and the flame around them made it worse. The answer to it was the woman with the mist around her soul, whom Thraun knew and had seen with the infant before his meeting with man-packbrother. She was on the floating land that moved with the wind and it was her name man-packbrother had spoken. Thraun could not reproduce the sound but inside he understood, and knew he had brought the pack close to the answers they sought.
Yet this close, they were to be cheated. At the edge of the land, there was a gap too large to leap and with every beat of his heart, it grew larger. The wind blew hard and strong and drove the floating land far from his grasp. He howled and barked for it to return, turning around and around in his frustration, but the wind only blew harder, the rain stinging his eyes and nose and soaking his fur. And more of the great white leaves blossomed on the trees of the floating land to catch the wind and the woman disappeared into the night.
He howled another time, called the pack to him and fled away, looking again for man-packbrother.
The Raven had no time to help Arlen. The Earl and his men had run into something way beyond their capacity to control. A glance down the street behind them showed the Ocean Elm deploying more sail as she cruised into the lake. And in the sky above, the circling Dordovan mages swept across the flame-filled night, one landing on her deck.
Sprinting up toward Centenary Square, Hirad could hear the detachment of Dordovan cavalry ahead of them, probably skirting the square itself to avoid contact before riding down past the jail and back to the dock. To their left, more hoofbeats and running feet.
Just to the south of the market and at the end of a row of offices, The Unknown stopped and held out an arm to stop Hirad and Ilkar running by him. He was facing better than seventy Protectors in a defensive ring around six horse-borne mages. It was clear the mages would have run him down but the Protectors had instantly slowed at the sight of The Unknown, and Hirad could feel the awe sweep out from them.
“I need forty Protectors and as many mages as you can spare from whatever plan you're operating,” said The Unknown. His sword was before him, point down and still.
“And who the hell do you think you are—Lord of the Mount?” demanded one mage, the irritation in his voice mixed with a certain respect.
“No, I think I'm the Unknown Warrior and that we are The Raven and we all want Lyanna saved from Dordover.”
The mage nodded. “In truth, I recognised you. You think you have a better chance of achieving our goal your way?” Now the respect overrode the ire.
“The Ocean Elm is gone. Our only chance is to get a ship ourselves. We know of one provisioned and ready but Dordovan cavalry are riding to it now. I need the Protectors to get aboard and to help in any future fight. And I need the rest of you to keep the main Dordovan and Lysternan forces busy. I need your answer now.”
The mage nodded again. “Take thirty. I can spare no mages. I am Sytkan. Have Denser signal me when you have the ship.”
The Unknown smiled. “Thank you, Sytkan. You might just have saved the One child.” He pointed. “Aeb. Bring our brothers.” He didn't wait for them but turned and, with Hirad and Ilkar, ran for the docks once again.
Erienne heard the sounds of battle but could see nothing, her tiny window looking backward into the night. She prayed her College had come for her. She prayed harder that the next time the door opened, Denser would be framed in it. She felt the bump as the stern of the Elm ground against the berth wall, the timbers protesting. She heard the orders shouted out by the captain, reluctance in every syllable, and she felt the rocking as the ship gained clear water and got underway. And finally, when the door opened and Selik entered, she wept.
“Well, well, well,” said Selik, ignoring her tears. “Such excitement, it seems a pity to leave it behind.”
“Get out, Selik. You are filth and I don't need to see you until you come to kill me.” She used the cuffs of her shirt to wipe at her eyes.
“Unfortunately for you, this is my ship and I go where I please,” said Selik before lightening his tone. “I spoke to your old friend General Darrick just now. It seems he's unhappy to see the forces of good in charge of this ship.”
Erienne was interested in spite of herself but didn't raise her head. “Well, he's not a murderer, is he?”
“No. But a man whose principles get in the way of expediency.”
“What do you mean?” Erienne felt confused and alone. They were sailing to Lyanna yet the journey only promised her death at the hands of her betrayers and she was exchanging irrelevancies with the Black Wing, Selik.
“He has deserted rather than help his Dordovan allies further.”
“Good for him. They've proved little better than you,” said Erienne, the taste of bile back in her throat. “Is there anything else?”
“Actually there is. I wanted to introduce you to those I promised would be arriving. And I do so like to make good on my promises.”
“You know something, Selik, you sound just like your dead friend Travers.”
“I'll take that as a compliment. He was a great man.”
“Don't.”
Selik's smile was forc
ed. “Don't forget to whom you belong. Now, I'm forgetting my manners.”
Erienne saw him come in and saw the smile on his face, the half-open arms and the benign expression. Then, the rushing in her head fogged her vision and she sat heavily on her bed, hands pressing on the blanket either side of her to keep her upright. She looked again, forcing herself to focus.
“You,” was all she could find to say.
The Raven ran ahead of him but Aeb's eyes never left the figure of Sol, The Unknown Warrior. The Protectors ran with him, and only him, and Aeb experienced a feeling of which he had only a vague recollection. It burned through him and in the tank, all the souls shared. But it was he and the brothers by him who felt it the most strongly and, though alien, it was most welcome.
Joy.
There were lanterns lit along the length of the ship Darrick indicated as the one provisioned and ready for boarding. It was called Calaian Sun and its deck was ringed with its crew, staring down the dock to where the standoff was being played out in front of the fierce fires now burning and hissing into the rain-drenched sky. Whipped up by the wind, great sheets of flame scoured the dark, threatening nearby buildings so far undamaged by spell attack.
HotRain fell in a steady stream over the dockside, cast by Lystern, Dordovan and Xeteskian alike and the flaring on the shields that now covered every horse and rider completed the magical tapestry.
As Darrick watched, HellFire struck the Lakehome Inn and in the screaming death that followed, men flooded out of a side road and threw themselves at the Lysternan cavalry. Surprised, the Lysternans responded, beating back the attack with a half charge before it became evident that spare mages had blocked the road with ForceCones.
“See what you can do with the crew. I've got to prepare,” said Denser.
“Certainly,” said Darrick.
“And Darrick.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
Darrick frowned. “What for?”
“For putting my family's lives above politics.”
“Eventually.” Darrick turned away.
Denser eyed the buildings opposite. There were three warehouses end on to the dock, each with a passage between, wide enough for four or five horses abreast. Knowing he couldn't hope to cast a ForceCone with anywhere near enough strength to cover the possible entry points, he opted for something more of a hindrance and prayed The Unknown brought the Protectors on very soon. He knelt to give himself balance against the wind, closed his eyes and, ignoring the rain that lashed into his face and the growing smell of burning wood and hot metal, began his preparation.
Ditching the shield for the run to the docks, Ilkar had paused to cast ShadowWings and was lost in the sky above Hirad, searching for the Dordovan cavalry. In the absence of information, The Unknown was leading them back past the timber yard, giving them quickest sight of the docks and the target ship.
The rain made the stone cobbles slick, water ran down the guttering in torrents and mud brought in by the rains and the hooves of every horse was sluicing down the streets, adding to the treachery underfoot. More than once, Hirad slipped on the surface, only to find the hand of a Protector steadying him almost before he realised he'd lost his balance. He wanted to be angry that they assumed he needed help to run in the rain but found himself instead amazed at their quickness of thought and action.
He glanced up into the fire-stained night to see Ilkar swooping toward them. He flew beside them as he spoke.
“Denser and Darrick are at the ship. Denser's preparing something. The Dordovans will be on them in a few moments, they're riding down the side of a warehouse a couple of streets from here. There's no movement from the ship but the crew's all on deck. This is going to be close.”
“We'll need a shield when we hit them,” said Hirad.
“With you all the way.” Ilkar flew ahead, landing fifty yards away to disperse the wings and prepare the shield.
The Unknown upped the pace, Hirad feeling the Protectors ease along while he suddenly felt every one of his thirty-nine years.
“I could do without this,” he said, gasping slightly.
“Too much good living with the Kaan,” said The Unknown.
“Let me do the jokes, all right?” said Hirad.
They rounded the corner, Ilkar now beside them, and in moments, the docks were awash with chaos.
For a few paces, it looked as if the impossible would happen and they'd beat the Dordovans to the ship but when they were seventy yards from Denser and Darrick, the General yelled something inaudible and the Xeteskian mage brought his fists together in front of his face before bringing them down in a punching motion.
The warehouses close to the berth shuddered, were still and then shuddered again. The stone of the docks rippled by the timbered buildings and loose wood tumbled off the roofs. There was another momentary pause, in which Hirad saw the first Dordovan horse gallop on to the dockside, before huge wedges of stone thrust out of the earth in a dozen and more places, cascading cobbles, flags, mud and water in all directions.
The centremost of the three warehouses buckled at its front as one of the rock wedges shattered supporting timbers. The wall bulged outward and the roof slipped sideways into the road, and above the sudden roar of noise, the sound of terrified horses rose briefly as riders tried to control bucking and twisting mounts desperate to avoid the avalanche of wood from above and the rock from below.
“Good old Denser,” said Hirad. But it was only a temporary hold. Already, horses were picking their way around the still shifting stone and splintered timbers, and though the EarthHammer would have caused casualties, the Dordovan cavalry came on.
“Let's go, let's go.” said Hirad, sprinting forward as the first horseman closed on Denser.
“Aeb!” called The Unknown. “Take left, Hirad takes right. I need an angled wedge.”
“Yes,” came the reply.
“And speak freely. Do what you have to do,” added The Unknown.
“Yes.”
The first horseman didn't even get close to Denser. The mage backed up in response to Darrick's shout and the General swept his sword high and fast into the rider's ribcage, clipping the horse's head on the way up and severing an ear. The rider collapsed out of the saddle, his mount whinnying in pain as it ran blindly past, a threat to no one but itself.
Hirad ran on. The main body of the Dordovan cavalry detachment was picking its way out on to the docks now, an initial move to the ship halted by an urgent shout. Quickly wheeling, the cavalry formed a line that moved toward the onrushing Protectors headed by The Raven. Over the heads of the horses came FlameOrbs, splashing off Ilkar's shield, the mage ensconced in the middle of a three-deep line.
The horses hadn't the space to make speed for a full charge and, as they closed, the animals faltered, shying away from the solid wall of men who showed them no fear.
The Unknown slowed a little, tapped his blade twice on the stone and smashed it through the neck of the first horse. It came down in a tumble of limbs and a spray of blood that was washed away by the rain. The sky was lit by lightning that flashed through the tumbling cloud, thunder rumbling and echoing as it fired.
Beside The Unknown, Aeb, his axe unhitched, sword still across his back, batted the cheek of a horse with a flat blade, sweeping up in the same movement to bury the edge in the stomach of the rider who was lifted bodily from the saddle and thrown backward under the hooves of the horse behind.
Hirad stepped smartly inside the flailing forehoofs of a rearing horse and ducked the sweep of a sword, placing his own above his head to catch any downward strike. He hated fighting cavalry. Space was tight, blows came from all angles and horses moved unpredictably in the press, making crushing a real risk. But after him came the Protectors and he knew that, for once, he could ignore the threat from behind, confident that Xetesk's killing machines would watch his back.
In between two tall horses, he jabbed right with an elbow and flashed his sword left, clashing w
ith the rider's axe. Moving to a one-handed grip, he glanced right and grabbed for that rider's jerkin, pulling him off balance and dragging his sword flat to catch the return blow from the axeman left.
Unexpectedly, the grabbed rider fell and Hirad ignored him as he hit the ground, snatching his sword back and hacking it into the axeman's unprotected leg before letting himself drop, his knees connecting with the chest of the man he'd pulled down. He heard and felt ribs snap and a blow to the throat with the pommel of his sword ended the enemy's struggles.
Around him was a mass of flailing legs. He moved to a crouch and then up, hearing the cries of a dying man behind him, and struck forward once more, seeing, to his, left, The Unknown's blade savage through the midriff of a Dordovan and Aeb's axe fall on another's neck.
The cavalry were losing their shape. Their commander yelled for a break and those that could wheeled and rode away from the fight, the Protectors letting them go, riderless horses following on. Fourteen Dordovans lay dead as did one Protector. The Unknown had a gash on his left arm.
“Unknown, all right?” asked Hirad as they reformed.
“Bloody sword. Terrible balance. No wonder Arlen was never good as a fighting town. Their weaponsmith needs stringing up.” He put a hand to the wound and looked at the slick of blood, quickly diluted by rain, that came away. “They've ruined my shirt, the bastards.”
Hirad smiled. “We need to focus on the next charge. I—” There was a roar from behind and the rush of hooves. Hirad looked back. Dordover and Lystern were coming. “Shit. Trouble.”
“Understatement,” said The Unknown. “Aeb! Rear defence. Tight form. We can't allow them amongst us this time.”
“It will be done.”
The Protectors moved immediately. From three ranks, they stepped up or back, each one hefting a single weapon, presenting a solid line to the Dordovan and Lysternan cavalries coming at them.
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