Ravensoul

by James Barclay

  ‘Ilkar is a fine healer. Watch and learn,’ said Sol. He caught Ilkar’s expression. ‘What’s up? A quick bit of wood extraction and some Healing Hands should do the trick. Easy for you.’

  ‘You don’t know, do you?’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘Julatsa has fallen. The Garonin have taken the Heart. Nothing I try is easy any more.’

  Sol sighed and moved a hand to squeeze Ilkar’s forearm. ‘It all starts to make sense, doesn’t it? Sorry, Ilkar. But we knew it was coming, didn’t we?’

  ‘I feel empty, Unknown,’ said Ilkar. ‘Hollow. And the void wind is stronger now. I’m not sure how much longer I can cling on to this body.’

  ‘Try and keep strong,’ said Sol. ‘Look, I’ll be fine. Just bandage me up or something.’

  Ilkar’s expression turned to one of slighted hurt. ‘I may have lost my college but I think I can do a little better than bandages, Unknown. Now try and relax and don’t say anything. I need to concentrate.’

  Sol winked at him and settled down onto his front to give Ilkar room to work.

  ‘Sha-Kaan, we need to get the dead that Denser rounded up away from here. All Xetesk’s returned dead. Hundreds of them. Just outside the walls of the city is far enough. They have to be close enough to feel the souls of those who brought them back. Can you do it?’

  Sha-Kaan grumbled in his throat. ‘Travel without the beacon of a Dragonene is difficult. Tiring.’

  ‘We can’t leave them. They’re trapped in the city and right in the path of the Garonin.’

  ‘I will not know when I have travelled far enough,’ said Sha-Kaan.

  ‘Oh you will,’ said Hirad. ‘Because every one of them will start to scream when the pain in their souls grows unbearable. Then it’s time to stop.’

  Sha-Kaan considered for a moment. ‘Bring them inside.’

  Hirad ran to the door. Sol could hear him shouting for the dead to come in, not to be afraid. The latter would be difficult for them.

  ‘And afterwards. After I have ferried them to safety. What must we do?’ asked Sha-Kaan.

  ‘Find a Wesman Shaman able to perform the ritual of opening,’ said Ilkar.

  Sol coughed. ‘No.’

  ‘What did I just say?’ said Ilkar. ‘Hold still and shut up. This is delicate, all right? Jonas, can you give me a hand? I need you to staunch the blood while I cast.’

  ‘Hold on,’ said Sol. ‘Hirad. I’m not leaving my wife and son in Xetesk to die.’

  ‘There’s no time, Unknown; you know that.’

  Sol tensed. ‘Then we have to make time. I’m not sacrificing my life until I know my family will be safe.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Father?’

  Sol closed his eyes, cursing himself for a fool.

  ‘Father?’

  ‘Do you trust me, Jonas?’

  ‘I love you, Father. I won’t let you die.’

  Sol blinked back his tears. ‘Trust me now. Help me. Be brave and be strong. We have a lot of work to do.’

  Jonas nodded but there was confusion in his face. ‘Tell me what to do.’

  Hirad was walking back into the Klene. The dead were following him, albeit rather reluctantly.

  ‘Sol.’ It was Auum.

  ‘Yes, my friend.’

  ‘I will find your wife and son. I will see them to safety. Don’t go back to the inn. Come east. Seek me.’

  Sol nodded, wincing as Ilkar probed his injury a little roughly.

  ‘I am in your debt.’

  Auum bowed. ‘Any debt was repaid a very long time ago.’

  The TaiGethen leader turned and trotted out of the Klene, hurrying the last of the dead inside, where they stood in fear, crowding as far from Sha-Kaan as they could. Behind them the Klene door clunked shut.

  ‘Hang on,’ said Hirad. ‘We’re going for a little ride.’

  ‘Now is the time of our greatest peril.’

  Denser’s voice boomed out from the top of his tower. The Intonation spells turned every flat surface into an amplifier for his words. His voice carried out over the college, across the apron and into the wider city beyond. He was a just a speck from Diera’s vantage point just inside the college gates. She hadn’t wanted to hear him but knew she had to. Young Hirad, holding her hand tight, was at her side, and she hadn’t missed the positioning of three college guards nearby. Life with Sol had taught her many and varied things.

  The crowd that had gathered after the entire college guard had walked every street, summoning the population to hear their Lord, was easily fifteen thousand strong, probably twenty thousand. Perhaps eight thousand were Xeteskian born and bred, survivors of the demon invasion and utterly loyal. The rest were refugees and migrants, curious and anxious.

  ‘But it is also the time of our greatest opportunity. Any of you who have come to our great city for protection will know first hand how dangerous and deadly our foe is. But their advance will break against the walls of Xetesk. We are prepared and we are strong. We will defeat them.

  ‘And from the ashes Balaia will grow again. Stronger and better than ever before. Under the leadership of Xetesk as the lone college of magic, there will be an end to magical conflict. There will be stability and there will be order. There will be growing wealth for all those who work with us.

  ‘We don’t want to rule this great country. We want to lead you forward to a brighter future where you can make every choice yourself. But for that to happen, I need your trust. And I make you this promise. Xetesk will protect you in the days to come. We will keep you safe and we will keep you from becoming hungry or thirsty. And when the battle is done, we further pledge to reward you for all that you do for Xetesk.

  ‘And now I ask you, Xetesk, my brothers and sisters, are you with us?’

  Diera had to admit the roar of approval was impressive. Hirad cheered too. She kept her mouth firmly closed.

  ‘Please, my people, enough,’ said Denser, and his voice cast a shroud over the noise. ‘Our time is short before the Garonin are at our gates. We must all pull together. Next follows instruction on how you can help and where you must go when the general alarm sounds. Listen closely because your lives truly are at stake.’

  Diera felt movement around her and she clutched Hirad in front of her. Gentle hands touched her arms.

  ‘My lady Diera, here is no longer safe for the wife and son of The Unknown Warrior.’ An elf stood in front of her. He seemed to have appeared from nowhere. ‘I am Auum. Do you remember me?’

  Relief cascaded through Diera’s body. ‘Yes, of course I do. Sol said you were in the city. Surely you are a divisive element under the new terms pushed under my door. Haven’t they arrested you?’

  Auum raised his eyebrows. ‘They have tried. Come with us; we will keep you safe.’

  They began to make their way back through the crowd to the gates of the college. Guards tracked them all the way. And others. Mages planted in the crowd. Auum’s hand moved minutely. His Tai disappeared.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Somewhere quiet,’ said Auum.

  ‘Sol will come back for me. I need to wait at the inn.’

  ‘No. The college is watching your home. Trust me. Your husband knows where to find you.’

  Auum led her quickly through the crowds massed around the gates and across the apron. Diera could see others moving in the periphery of her vision.

  ‘We’re being followed,’ she said.

  ‘Yes.’

  Auum headed for one of the east-facing alleys that snaked away from The Thread. Home to tenements and warehousing mainly, they were a quiet, narrow maze where only the unwary would tread after dark, even this close to the college itself. Auum upped his pace. Once inside the alley, the noise of the crowd diminished. Another voice was speaking from the tower. Diera caught snatches of it and didn’t much care for what she was hearing.

  ‘What’s going to happen to the city?’

  ‘Denser thinks to raze it to the ground in an effort to stop
the unstoppable,’ said Auum. ‘Stand over there, under that overhang.’

  Diera led Hirad to where she was directed. Despite the bright sunlight, the alley was gloomy and frightening. Buildings leaned across it from both sides. The ground was mainly mud with weeds and tufts of grass here and there. The overhang sheltered a pair of doors on runners that let into a warehouse. Diera backed into the shadows and pulled Hirad close to her. The little boy was too scared to utter a sound and clung on to her arms, digging his fingers into her flesh.

  ‘It’ll be all right,’ she said, though it looked anything but.

  Auum had stopped about ten yards from the entrance to the alley and had turned to face it. Diera heard careful footsteps. One by one, eight men appeared. Six guards and behind them two mages in skullcaps and long dark robes. Old Xetesk garb. She shuddered.

  ‘You have one chance to turn and go,’ said Auum. ‘You will not be harmed.’

  ‘A lone elf is in no position to make bargains,’ said one of the guards. He signalled behind him. ‘Cast at will.’

  ‘You are mistaken,’ said Auum. ‘A TaiGethen is never alone.’

  Two shapes dropped from the rooftops at the end of the alley. A blur of movement and both mages crumpled. Auum moved, his speed truly startling. The guard in front of him had no time even to raise his sword to his waist. Auum’s blade flickered in the mottled gloom and he buried it to the hilt in the guard’s neck. Diera covered Hirad’s eyes.

  ‘Every guard is to be valued and respected,’ came the voice from the tower. ‘No violence against them can be tolerated. Every mage is one who might just save your life.’

  Auum had not paused. He dragged his blade clear, dropped and swept the legs from under another guard. A second blade was in his other hand. He rose and stabbed down. The guard’s cry was cut off. He jerked and was still. Auum was still rising. He twisted in the air and kicked out straight, catapulting a third guard backwards. His Tai’s blades whispered. The guard was dead before he hit the ground.

  Three remained. Their confidence was gone. Two of them dropped their swords and held out their hands.

  ‘No prisoners,’ said Auum.

  His Tai brought each man down. Blades bit into throats. Blood surged out over the ground. One more. He clutched his blade in both hands and faced Auum. The elf nodded and brought his blades to the ready. The guard struck forward. Auum was not there. One of his blades knocked aside the powerful thrust. The other swept through the back of the man’s neck from close quarters. He fell without a sound.

  Diera mouthed silently. She had seen fighting before. She had seen Sol kill four men in a similar alley in the port town of Arlen years ago. That had been shocking in its brutality. But the speed of the violence she had just witnessed was terrifying. Sol had said the TaiGethen were the fastest he had ever seen. He had not done them justice.

  ‘I am sorry you had to see that but I could not have you any further from us. Enemies are all around.’ Auum cleaned and sheathed his blades. ‘Ghaal, Miirt. Ahead. Bring the cleaner team to clear this alley.’

  ‘Why did you have to do that? They had surrendered to you. That’s murder.’

  Auum’s face bore no guilt.

  ‘We cannot risk discovery.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Come,’ he said. ‘Trust me.’

  Auum trotted away down the alley. Diera shuddered as she turned her back on the bodies and followed him. Hirad seemed happy to run. It relieved the tension in both of them. The base of the alley opened out into a small square. Gated and fenced gardens were at its centre and it was ringed by the houses of the wealthy, all shuttered and dark. Shapes moved on the roofs. Like cats only much bigger.

  Auum crossed the cobbled street and into the gardens. Diera followed him. Through the trees was an ornamental lawn. She stumbled to a stop and once again clutched Hirad to her. The boy had started to cry and tried to crawl up her body. There were wolves. Lots of them. And a man in their centre with his hand ruffling the fur of a pair of them like they were nothing more than pet dogs. The man smiled at her.

  ‘Diera,’ he said.

  ‘Thraun?’ she said, fear turning to hope. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘Back and running with the pack.’

  Chapter 22

  It felt like slipping into the most exquisite tailored clothes. The enemy were on his doorstep, his oldest friends presumably wanted him dead and the fate of Balaia rested squarely on his shoulders. And it felt now as if not a single stitch were out of place. Birthright, Dystran had just called it.

  ‘Destiny,’ said Brynar, who had been given a chance to redeem himself.

  The word didn’t matter too much. The three of them clinked their cut crystal glasses, full of the finest Blackthorne red from the cellars, and drank.

  ‘You know the most amazing thing of all is the energy I feel. I really can do all that I have promised. I can rule here and make Xetesk a power to rival any other in any dimension, known or not. Birthright? More like reborn.’

  ‘But to be complete, to truly own Xetesk and by definition now, Balaia, to have the unwavering loyalty of the Circle Seven for long enough, there is one more thing you must do,’ said Dystran.

  ‘And what is that?’ asked Denser, mind bright with opportunity and hazy with authority. Damn it if he didn’t feel a little drunk.

  Dystran indicated the three huge and ancient leather- and brass-bound books he had brought with him from the catacombs.

  ‘You have always been something of a rebel. Accommodated by such lords as Styliann because of your rather unique aptitude for Dawnthief. But the time has come, my Lord Denser, to write your name indelibly into the lore of this college. You must take the “y” into your name. Let it speak for the power you wield as it has done throughout the generations of our great college. Become a true Lord of Xetesk.’

  He patted the book. Denser felt a frisson of discomfort. Ever since he could remember, he’d fought against this. Seen himself more as a fighter against the system. For a moment it was difficult to admit he now was the system.

  ‘It is not a big change,’ continued Dystran.

  ‘Wrong. It changes me forever.’

  ‘Surely that has already happened,’ said Dystran.

  Denser considered briefly and then nodded. Dystran opened the book to display a double spread of pages. On the left-hand page, wrapped in ornate decoration, was his own name and beneath it those of the Circle Seven and other named mages and officers of influence or particular bravery or commendation. The page opposite was blank. Brynar had inked a pen and he gave it to Denser. Dystran turned the book to face him and held the page flat.

  Denser bent to write then let the pen hover. He closed his eyes and fought his doubt. So many years about to be washed away. So much youthful anger and righteous thought. And it had brought him full circle. He suspected that Styliann, Nyer, Laryon - all of those who had nurtured and schooled him - had known all along. Presumably it was why they had tolerated him at all.

  Denser put the pen to the heavy parchment and wrote in careful, Xeteskian lore script:

  D-e-n-s-y-r

  He leaned back when it was done and looked. Fitting. Entirely fitting.

  ‘You are so named,’ said Dystran. ‘I, Dystran . . .’

  ‘And I, Brynar.’

  ‘. . . witness the taking of “y by the mage Denser, who shall now be remembered in perpetuity through the lore of our college.’ Dystran took the book back and blotted Denser’s work expertly.

  ‘The scribes will do the rest. I think a full ceremony is out of the question until we are safe from the Garonin. Do you agree?’

  Densyr nodded. ‘I do.’

  ‘And what are my Lord’s next wishes?’ asked Brynar.

  Densyr looked out on a quiet Xeteskian evening. His people scurried about, doing his bidding, securing his city and seeking out the few dissenters.

  ‘Where are we with our - ahem - high-profile handful of rebels?’

  Densyr had
taken the news that the dead had departed en masse inside a dragon’s Klene with some relief. He didn’t much care where they had gone though he presumed it would not be far from the city. But what it did mean was that the blood of the dead, and more importantly The Raven, was no longer on his hands. And it might still deflect a portion of the enemy’s attention from the college.

  ‘We are yet to find where they are hiding this time,’ said Brynar. ‘General Suarav is confident they are scattered about the city.’

  ‘That is no basis for confidence and you can tell Suarav from me that I believe he is wrong. Blackthorne, Gresse, our TaiGethen friends . . . scattered, no. They are together and plotting something stupid, I have no doubt. I want them caught and incarcerated. Killed if they resist. They are taking precious resource from the city’s defence. Tell me you still have Diera and young Hirad under close observation?’

  Brynar paused just a little too long. Densyr sighed.

  ‘My last report is of her in conversation with Auum of the TaiGethen. They were followed from the college but I have had no reports since.’

  ‘Terrific,’ said Densyr. ‘And you know why that is? It’s because anyone who followed them is undoubtedly dead. Did no one listen to me when I said the TaiGethen were dangerous? This isn’t steep-stairs dangerous. This is get-slaughtered-in-a-heartbeat-unless-you-are-unbelievably-careful dangerous. Am I clear?

  ‘And so Auum has Diera too. All I need now is Sol to come riding in on a white charger and my day will be complete.’

  ‘Um . . .’ began Brynar.

  ‘You’re about to tell me that’s already happened?’

  ‘No, but there were other reports following your speech and the instructions from General Suarav. Guards have reported people saying that there are wolves and panthers in the city.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Wol—’

  ‘I heard you. Go away. Dystran go with him. He clearly needs an older, wiser head to help him.’

  ‘Of course, my Lord Densyr,’ said Dystran. ‘Do you have any other requirements?’

  ‘I trust you, Dystran. Do what you consider needs doing. And send me Septern. I feel in need of good news. At least he won’t let me down.’