Ravensoul

by James Barclay

  ‘It’s just a theory,’ said Sharyr. ‘Nothing is certain.’

  ‘And Auum, you cannot confirm absolutely that your dead travelled to a different place in your former home than they do now, am I right?’

  Auum inclined his head.

  Denser glared briefly at Ilkar. ‘Go on, Sharyr.’

  ‘Thank you. Now because for every soul there is no pause, the transit through Ulandeneth is brief indeed. Rumours of seeing light, sensing others around you, helping hands, fleeting fear just as you die . . . all these things make sense if you believe in Ulandeneth. It provides for them all. And it is a safe haven. The only trouble is, it appears the Garonin have learned how to stop there.

  ‘And not only that, they have begun to detect the lines that lead out to other dimensional clusters. I think they do this by following the souls of the dead because, as we know, the barrier between the dead and the living dimensions is actually very thin. It is a short step from communicating with the dead across the barrier to crossing it physically. All the Garonin had to do was rip open the dead dimension and then follow the dead to whichever home was theirs.

  ‘Simple, really.’

  Sharyr leaned back and took a long draught of water from a goblet held in a slightly shaking hand.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Hirad. ‘Really, really basic stuff. I just soak up dimensional theory, I do.’

  Denser was considering all that Sharyr had said. ‘So, in effect, you could argue that the dead have brought all this trouble on us.’

  Ilkar’s shoulders sagged. ‘Oh dear Gods falling, is that really the way your mind has started to work?’

  ‘Stands to reason. If you don’t come back, the Garonin don’t follow you,’ said Denser.

  ‘You really don’t see what a prat you’re making of yourself, do you?’ said Sirendor. ‘And to think I died to save you and they all spoke so highly of you. We didn’t have a damn choice, Denser. It wasn’t like we could drift in the void and decide whether to return here or whether to carry on drifting. If we felt the pull of Balaia, that’s where we went. I hate all this apportioning of blame shit. We’re in trouble. Let’s deal with it if we can, all right?’

  ‘I can’t help feeling that a solution is near but that a couple of crucial pieces are being left out, possibly deliberately,’ said Sol. ‘Because at the moment it is clear that the most sensible thing to do is to head west, get the Shamen to open the door and people like Hirad and the rest of The Raven dead go through and we wait for them to open the door to our new home while we fight off the Garonin if we can. So, where are the snags and why do I feel I am going to be directly affected?’

  There was silence for the first time since the meeting convened. Auum studied them all. None of the dead could face Sol. Denser looked perplexed now as well as angry and Sharyr, who had done his part, seemed lost in his own thoughts.

  ‘Anyone?’ Sol spread his hands. ‘Hirad, you’re looking embarrassed. What are you hiding?’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Unknown. When I came back, I did not know it would lead to this.’

  ‘To what? Come on, I’ve got an inn to run. Special ale to offer the Garonin when they come a-knocking.’

  ‘We’re here because we were attracted to your soul. You’re the reason we made it across the void. You and Denser, to be accurate, but you mainly. Fortunately. Anyway, without you we are just a loose collection of souls again. Without cohesion or direction. We’ll be lost.’

  ‘Fine, so I’ll take you to the doorway myself before I wave goodbye. So what?’

  ‘Don’t make me say it, Unknown, please.’

  ‘I’m afraid I must insist,’ said Sol.

  Hirad swallowed. ‘We need you with us all the way, Unknown. To Ulandeneth and beyond. The Garonin know your influence. Why do you think they took you? This cannot be done without you.’

  ‘Terrific,’ said Sol. ‘Fucking terrific. And how do I travel there with you alive?’

  ‘You do not,’ said Auum. ‘If my memory serves, the ritual to open the door to Ulandeneth requires the sacrifice of a man of free will because the soul must be pure in order to seek and to lead.’

  ‘I see,’ said Sol. ‘Does anyone here want to volunteer how I explain my imminent and voluntary demise to my wife?’

  Chapter 18

  ‘I should have beaten you with the cudgel while I had the chance,’ said Sol.

  ‘I’m sorry, Unknown. Truly. We all are.’

  Denser had largely cleared the room. Sharyr and Septern had returned to the catacombs. Auum had gone to rest. The Raven, such as they were, were alone in the dining chamber.

  ‘Why did I let you in and listen to you?’

  ‘Because it’s me!’ Hirad spread his arms and smiled.

  ‘It certainly was bloody you. Mayhem from beyond the grave. Who else could it be?’

  Sol slumped into an armchair. His body felt strange, like he was in the grip of a fever. He wanted to be furious. He wanted to shout and scream at them about the injustice of it all. That he had a wife and children and had sworn to protect them.

  ‘And that’s just it, though, isn’t it?’ he said.

  ‘Sorry, Unknown?’ said Sirendor. ‘I didn’t quite catch that.’

  ‘Just thinking aloud. Denser, pour some wine, would you? And let’s all sit. Like we used to do in the back room of The Rookery all those years ago.’

  He waited until they had all taken seats by the cold fireplace. Hirad’s feet were on the low table in front of them. Sirendor and Ilkar both leaned forward, forearms resting on their thighs. Denser sat upright, tense and uncomfortable. And Sol, well he sprawled like he always had.

  ‘Remember when we first met Denser? How we all felt it was a long, hard and probably fatal journey ahead even before we heard he was after Dawnthief? And how when he talked to us in the back room that sinking feeling took over for a while before we decided we just had to face what was coming? Sorry, Sirendor, I know you don’t.’

  ‘But you were there,’ said Hirad helpfully. ‘We put your body on the banquet table and covered it with a cloth.’

  ‘I am thus reassured,’ said Sirendor. ‘I trust I looked my best.’

  ‘Well there wasn’t much blood or anything, except what you coughed up when you were dying.’

  ‘Can we leave this until later?’ said Sol.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Hirad.

  ‘Me too,’ said Sirendor.

  ‘You’ve ruined my moment,’ said Sol. ‘Forget it.’

  ‘No,’ said Hirad. ‘Go on.’

  Denser leaned forward. ‘I do not believe you are seriously entertaining this prospect.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Because it is preposterous and the ultimate act of selfishness on the part of the dead to demand you kill yourself to save them.’

  ‘But if it is the only way to save the Balaian people? My people?’

  ‘If. Yes. If.’ Denser sipped at his wine. ‘And I say what I am about to say with due deference to all the quite unbelievable things I’ve seen and places I’ve been with The Raven. Isn’t this just a little bit far-fetched? ’

  ‘You’re joking, right?’ asked Hirad. ‘A load of dead people walking about and Calaius evacuated and destroyed being normal business, I suppose?’

  ‘No, Hirad, I’m not joking.’ Denser pulled his skullcap off his head and rubbed a hand through his close-cropped grey hair. ‘Look, I’m not playing down the threat we face. I’m not pretending the situation isn’t desperate. But you’re expecting Sol, The Unknown Warrior and King of Balaia, might I remind you, to follow you into the Wesman Heartlands and commit suicide to open a gate to somewhere so you can head somewhere else and open a gate back? It’s madness.’

  ‘It’s the only possible solution,’ said Ilkar.

  ‘It quite clearly is not,’ said Denser.

  ‘Your solution will lead to our annihilation,’ said Hirad sharply.

  ‘Big word, barbarian. Who taught you that one?’

  Sol was out of his cha
ir and between them before a blow could be landed. He felt a perverse sense of comfort and satisfaction.

  ‘That’s what I was thinking about. Real Rookery debate.’ He allowed the smile to leave his face. ‘Now sit down, both of you.’

  Denser threw up his hands and sat heavily. ‘It wouldn’t be so bad, Sol, but they are offering you no choice, no alternative. This is blind faith at best. It was never the way we did things.’

  ‘Oh, you misunderstand,’ said Sol. ‘It was always the way we did things. The Raven’s way was trust even in the face of ridicule. Nothing has changed bar the fact that there is no chance I will survive versus a very slim chance.’

  ‘But isn’t that it? We always believed that somehow we would escape and survive.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s true either,’ said Sol. ‘I had no thought that we would survive the demons. I was certain we’d be trapped there, weren’t you?’

  ‘But there was always the tiniest chance,’ said Denser.

  ‘All right, you’ve made your point. Now I want to speak. It is me after all who is being asked to die in this rather inglorious manner.’

  ‘Could be Denser,’ said Ilkar, his eyes twinkling. ‘Any man of free will can make the sacrifice.’

  Denser scoffed. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Neither did I,’ said Hirad.

  ‘The thing is, Denser,’ said Sol, beginning loudly before letting his voice drop a little. ‘The thing is, that there was never really any hope of surviving this one, was there? And so any chance to save Balaia’s living and dead must be taken. However small and however far-fetched it may appear.

  ‘When we were at our best, it was in pretending that the only option open was in any case the best one and that others would present themselves if needed. But we never had choice, not really. There was never the option to stand aside and let someone else do it because there was no one else. And it is the same now.

  ‘I am king, you are right. And as king I am responsible for all the people of Balaia. Right now they are being slaughtered, and I don’t see that we can defend against this enemy. That means we have to go elsewhere to live. It’s something you have to learn, Denser. Sometimes you cannot win. And you have to choose the next best option. In this case, survival.’

  Denser slapped his hands on the table. ‘But you won’t survive, Sol. Win or lose, you’ll already be dead.’

  ‘But if by my death others live, that is enough. If I can save my wife and sons by this action I will do it in a heartbeat, don’t you see that? Wouldn’t you do the same?’

  Denser’s shoulders sagged. ‘Well, yes. But I’d have to believe. Do you believe?’

  ‘When The Raven assure me that something must be done, I believe them. When that assertion is backed up by Auum, I believe them even more. But when I’ve been to the place where we must go, where we can fight the Garonin if we must, there is no room for doubt in my heart.’

  ‘Yes. You’ve been there. And come back. Alive. Why not again?’

  ‘Because the Garonin are not going to take me there again.’ Sol finally sat down again. ‘Denser, if I face the Garonin here again, I will die. If I am to fight them and help my people live, I need to take the chance to even the odds.

  ‘It just makes perfect sense. In Ulandeneth you can do anything you believe you can, I’m certain of it. And who else to travel with but those in whom I believe the most. The Raven. I wish you’d come but I understand if you feel you can’t. Decision’s made, my dear friend and Lord of the Mount. I will do this thing and we will prevail.

  ‘Denser. Denser, look at me. Thank you. I respect your objections. Gods drowning, I love you for your caution and your pragmatism. But the time for both has passed. And I need you to support us in what we are about to do. You may be Lord of the Mount now but you are still Raven. In spirit it may be but we need you with us. What say you?’

  Denser studied his wine goblet and sucked his bottom lip. When he looked up, he was shaking his head.

  ‘I cannot,’ he said. ‘I cannot because you are my friend and I think you’re making a colossal error. And because you are king and first warrior, and your people need you to stand with them, not disappear off to converse with Wesman Shamen. And because your head is turned by the thought of fighting with The Raven one more time. Only it won’t be how you remember. How does a soul fight, do you think? I’m sorry, Sol, but I can do nothing but repeat my strong objections. I can’t let you do this.’

  ‘Can’t?’ said Hirad. ‘Exactly how are you going to stop him?’

  Denser said nothing. He sipped at his wine and stared out of the window.

  The Raven quartet descended the long spiral stairway in silence. They found nothing to say as they walked across the floor of the tower complex and out into the warm of the morning sun.

  ‘Fancy a walk, anyone?’ asked Ilkar.

  ‘Not if it’s like the last one we took,’ said Hirad. ‘How is dear Selik, by the way?’

  ‘Raging in his cell. We’re wondering whether to put him out of his misery and let another soul take the body.’

  ‘Pointless now, I should think,’ said Ilkar. ‘No one else is going to make it here now. The void will have taken them all. We just can’t hang on to anything without a body and the dead dimension is utterly destroyed. We can feel it. Let him rot.’

  ‘I’ll put your opinion to the Circle Seven,’ said Sol. ‘Look, I really need to go and talk to my wife and children. Stop by later, why don’t you? Pick up the pieces of my teeth perhaps.’

  ‘She’ll understand, Unknown,’ said Hirad.

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Hirad. She will neither understand nor accept it. And neither should she.’ Sol tried a smile but it didn’t come off. ‘See you later. Don’t drift too far; I know how much it hurts.’

  Ilkar, Sirendor and Hirad watched him go before a shrug from the latter and a point towards the eastern quarter of the city sent them on their way. Just beyond the apron outside the gates of the college Ilkar saw, through the passing hubbub of a nervous day on The Thread, three figures detach themselves from the shadows ahead. He touched Hirad’s arm.

  ‘Seen them,’ said Hirad.

  The three old friends carried on walking across the stone of the apron and made their way across The Thread itself. The figures were waiting for them, watching. There was no point avoiding them. And no need. Hirad took his hand from his sword hilt.

  ‘I thought you’d gone for a lie-down,’ he said.

  ‘There are more pressing matters,’ said Auum. Ghaal and Miirt stood close behind him. ‘This city is on the verge of tearing itself apart.’

  Ilkar felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Not a pleasant experience in this body. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Come.’

  Auum didn’t wait to see if they were with him. He spun on his heel and trotted away into a wealthy residential area of Xetesk. Much of it was empty of its usual occupants. All senior mages and administrators had been closeted in the college for many days now. It gave the area an eerie feel.

  An angry shout rang out close by. Abruptly, Auum and his Tai broke into a run, leaving the Raven trio trailing in their wake. Ilkar recognised the tenor of the shouting. Violence hung in the air. Breaking out into a square bordered by tall houses and centred by a fenced garden, Ilkar saw a handful of figures in pursuit of something or someone with Auum’s Tai hard on their heels, eating up the distance between them.

  Ilkar, running a few paces behind Hirad, couldn’t quite see the head of the chase through the trees and hedges bordering the garden. He heard a scream and the sounds of combat. He upped his pace. Ahead of him, Hirad and Sirendor drew their swords. Ilkar began to prepare a HardShield, or whatever it was Denser called it these days.

  A mob of Xeteskians was attacking at least one poor unfortunate. Ilkar was in time to see Auum fly into the aggressors two-footed and at head height. One of them took the force full on the side of his skull. Auum dropped in amongst them. Ghaal and Miirt splitting lef
t and right behind him.

  The TaiGethen’s leader blurred. He flat-palmed a second in the chest, sending him sprawling. A third had his legs taken from under him, and before a fourth could react, Auum had bounced back to his feet and round-housed his target in the temple. He finished his move standing astride the single victim, both short swords drawn and ready.

  Ghaal and Miirt pulled others away but in truth they had lost all desire for a fight. Hirad and Sirendor trotted into the circle of angry locals and Ilkar joined them. It was the safest place he could think of.

  ‘Ilkar, see what you can do,’ said Auum, nodding down at the prone form.

  Ilkar knelt by the woman. Blood from repeated blows matted her head. Her arms were held up to shield her face and she had drawn herself into the foetal position. She was not breathing. Ilkar shook his head and stood. Auum looked up at the attackers. All of them just normal citizens of Xetesk. They held clubs, knives, axes and shovels. There were about twenty of them standing. Three others moved on the ground, groggy and moaning. The fourth was still and by the set of his head would remain so.

  ‘This is how you treat those who return among you, love having guided them here,’ said Auum.

  ‘Leave us to our business, elf,’ said one, a young man, face fired with rage and carrying an axe in a way that suggested he knew how to use it.

  ‘Which would be what, exactly?’ asked Hirad. ‘Beating innocent people to death?’

  The young man pointed at Hirad. ‘Only your sort. Dead men. Time you all went back where you came from. You’ve brought bad luck to Balaia.’

  ‘Simpleton,’ muttered Ilkar.

  ‘We brought you a message, idiot,’ said Hirad. ‘Pity you weren’t listening.’

  ‘You’ve stolen bodies. Now you sleep in our houses and eat our food. You have brought war to our doorsteps.’

  Ilkar rubbed his forehead, already tired despite the time of the day. He made to speak but Auum got there first.

  ‘You will disperse and take this body with you to be returned to her loved ones. Now you have rendered her unrecognisable, I am sure her family will be delighted by your efforts.’