Shadowheart lotr-2

by James Barclay

  'We will not repeat ourselves,' she said.

  Nyam looked at Leryn who nodded, his pained expression a picture of shock and humiliation. The three mages left the room in silence.

  It is dangerous to stoke their anger, said Cleress, still choosing to speak mind to mind.

  It is time they knew their place, countered Myriell. When we were protecting poor Lyanna we had no strength to protect ourselves. Now it is different, if only by a small degree but they will not know that. We are the Al-Drechar. I will not have them think we are helpless.

  Well, you've certainly achieved that.

  Myriell relaxed further back into her chair, feeling a little tired. Her arthritis was flaring badly. But they will guess soon enough and it will make them desperate. Let's not forget that friends and loved ones of The Raven are our guests here. I think we should have a quiet word with Diera.

  Devun didn't have Selik's courage and belief. That fact had hit him hard as he rode through the damp chill of Understone Pass. He'd sent three of his men back to the righteous army to urge patience and begin to explain why they must seek the aid of the Wesmen, leaving a guard of six making the journey to the sworn enemy of Eastern Balaia.

  None of them had travelled the Pass before. None had experienced its oppressive closeness, its deep darkness and its extraordinary majesty. To think it was only part natural. That so many had struggled and died for its construction only to unleash a conflict that had rumbled on for hundreds of years, occasionally exploding into bloody and destructive life.

  It was an incredible feature that demanded respect but that wasn't why Devun and his men took so long to travel a distance which would take a galloping rider a little over four hours. He knew that it was because he was scared. That he had no idea how he would approach the Wesmen they would encounter at the western end of the pass. And so he and his men moved with exaggerated care, and stopped more and more frequendy the nearer they came. Their lanterns threw shadows in front of them that made their already nervous horses unwilling to move and they needed no second bidding to halt. Though who it was that needed calming more was open to debate.

  Devun lost all track of time but thought they must have travelled through the night, given the exhaustion that descended on them all. It did at least allow him to formulate some sort of plan but he couldn't shift the knowledge that Selik would have been far better equipped to face the Wesmen.

  All Devun could do was adopt the sort of confident air he knew Selik would have exuded and hope that whoever stopped them failed to see through to the frightened man behind it. Assuming, they weren't simply killed out of hand.

  The answers came very suddenly. They had been anticipating the end of the pass for some time. There was more movement in the air. It was less dank and every now and again, the faint smell of wood smoke added to the mix. Their pace had slowed still further and, riding abreast, all seven of them were squinting to the furthest extent of their lanterns' throw when a shout from ahead stopped them.

  In moments, dozens of torches were alight ahead of them, stretching from ground level to the natural vaulted roof of the pass above. They illuminated a gated wooden barricade, strengthened with iron strips and punctuated with slits through which Devun could well imagine arrows pointed.

  Immediately, he dropped his reins and raised his hands head high to signal peaceful intent, indicating his men should do the same.

  'No sudden moves,' he said, breathing deep and slow while his heart pounded in his chest. Seeing the structure ahead of him, he was acutely aware of the folly of their position. Just seven men who could so easily be snuffed out. And who would miss them? Few barring those trying to hold the army together near the walls of Xetesk. How in all the hells did he expect to persuade the Wesmen into alliance?

  'Tough it out,' said one of his men as if hearing his thoughts. 'Act like Selik would have done and we'll ride back heroes.'

  Just what he was thinking. Carrying it out, now that was something else.

  A crack appeared in the doors, and daylight flooded into the pass followed by the sweet smells of spring. Devun shielded his eyes. Three men stood silhouetted in the glare. They began walking when the gates had opened fully, revealing many more behind them. They walked with total confidence, one slightly ahead of the others who both carried unsheathed swords. Moving as slowly as he could, Devun dismounted to meet them.

  He faced a shortish man, heavy set, bearded and dressed in light furs. His small eyes scowled from his face and his voice carried no warmth.

  'Who are you?' he asked in heavily accented western Balaian.

  ‘Iam Devun, leader of the Black Wings. I would know your name.'

  'Lord Riasu. You are far from home,' he replied, struggling for the right words.

  ‘Ineed your help,' said Devun simply, trying to pick terms Riasu might know. ‘Icome to offer a deal to the Wesmen.'

  Riasu raised his eyebrows. 'A deal? We want nothing from you.'

  'You want what I can offer. But I must speak to Lord Tessaya. He is your leader still, is he not?'

  Riasu shrugged. 'Yes. But I can tell him what you tell me.'

  Devun shook his head. 'It must be face to face. Talk to him. Ask him. I will await your reply.'

  ‘Iwill think on it.'

  'Thank you,' said Devun.

  Another shrug from Riasu and he turned to go.

  'Lord Riasu,' said Devun, and waited until the Wesmen lord looked back at him. 'We are hungry and thirsty. Can you spare food and water?'

  Riasu barked out a laugh. 'You should be dead. This is our land. Be happy you still breathe.' He paused. ‘Iwill think on it.'

  Devun watched him go, seeing the gates close on him before blowing out his cheeks and turning to his men.

  'Well, what do you think?'

  ‘Ithink we're still alive and that's as much as we could hope for,' said one. 'What now?'

  Devun scratched at his head. 'We have no choice. We wait.'

  Pheone awoke with the sun streaming through her unshuttered window in the newly built room in the south of the college of Julatsa. If she chose to look out she could see much of the college spread out before her but the last thing on her mind was enjoying the view despite the brightness of the new day.

  She felt nauseated. Her head felt thick and heavy and her stomach churned like she'd eaten something bad the night before. She knew it wasn't food and a wry smile dragged briefly across her face. For the first time in her life, she was wishing sickness on herself because at least it would mean the problem wasn't infinitely more serious.

  Pheone tried to relax and focus inwardly, switching into the mana spectrum. That was where the source of her nausea was, she was sure of it. For one terrifying moment, she couldn't tune in at all but then there it was before her mind's eye. The gende flux of focused mana that was the signature of the spectrum at the core of a college.

  Yet it was far from right. The flux was weak. She could see that as clear as day. There was a random edge to the overall focus and that was indicative of the failing of the Heart. She frowned. They'd been seeing the slight breakdown for a while now and that wasn't why she was feeling off. There had to be more. She followed the flux focus into the deep core of concentrated mana that flowed around the Heart. The pulsing core of the college, the centre of its power. Buried from normal sight but visible on the mana spectrum.

  It was there as it had always been but displaced by its burial those few years before. Years that had seemed like an eternity. A displacement that had stopped the college in its tracks. Julatsans were no longer called to the college because the pulse was not loud enough. But those that remained had kept faith that the pulse still beat as strong. Not true. Not any more.

  Pheone searched harder, probed the core and soaked up the mana streams that to a mage were like standing in a warm spring breeze. She felt comforted for a moment but it was false.

  A chill shot through her body and her eyes snapped open. The Heart was losing its colour. Julatsan mana was a g
lorious warm yellow. Gold if you were romantic. It was the colour of life, of vibrant, exuberant pure magic.

  Or it should have been.

  What Pheone could see through her experienced attuned senses was dulled. Tarnished. Just slightly but there. If a shadow passed across the land it dulled the beauty of its colours. So it was with the Heart of Julatsa. A shadow was across it, dulling its beauty, hiding its power. It hadn't been there yesterday but it was there this morning. Hardly noticeable.

  But if it grew it would take their power from them. Hide it behind impenetrable shade. And then the college would surely die. She couldn't allow that. Not while she had breath in her body. Dammit, if only Ilkar were here. How she needed his strength right now. At least their message should reach the battle lines outside Xetesk soon. The Al-Arynaar would have to help them, surely they would. Their mages stood to lose just as much.

  She tuned back to normal light. The nausea was subsiding now she had its cause. She sat up and began to pull on her clothes, wondering if others had felt and seen what she had. She hadn't reached the door to pull it open before the first shout of alarm reached her ears.

  Chapter 8

  Hirad relaxed and let Sha-Kaan's dominating presence into his mind. He noted a resignation in the great old dragon's feelings. Acceptance of fate, perhaps. Weariness, certainly.

  'I am lonely, Hirad Coldheart,' he rumbled. 'Lonely, old and tired.'

  'I'm doing everything I can,' said Hirad, heart skipping a beat at die melancholy edge in Sha-Kaan's voice.

  'I need my own kind. I need the healing winds of inter-dimensional space. I need my home.'

  He sounded so old. The will was waning. Almost six years in exile since the violent realignment of dimensions following the closing of the Noonshade rip. Six years with his life energy ebbing away, day after tortuous day.

  'What's happened, Sha-Kaan?' There must be something to force this change for the worse.

  'The Kaan birthing season is now. Our greatest joy and our time of greatest risk. They have looked to me for so long to protect them.' Sha-Kaan grumbled deep in his throat. 'And this time I will not be there. If I was, I wonder if I would have the strength to truly help.'

  ‘Ifeel your loss,' said Hirad. 'But please have faith in us. I made you a promise and I will keep it.'

  Warmth flooded Hirad's mind. 'You are my friend, Hirad, and I trust you. But you are a rare breed of man, it seems to me. Most of your race are without honour or true soul.'

  'Lucky I'm on your side, then,' said Hirad, both moved and embarrassed by the unbidden compliment from the most unlikely source.

  'Listen to me, Hirad. There is danger here. Erienne has employed the One magic, has she not?'

  'Yes.'

  'Xetesk felt it. They have passed their knowledge here through the Protectors and their mages are pressing the Al-Drechar for answers. So far Erienne's identity remains a secret but these men are strong and I cannot stop them all, should they choose force to uncover it.'

  'Diera?'

  'Safe so far. She is the wife of Sol and the Protectors will not harm her or her son. It is the mages that concern me. Work fast, Hirad. Xetesk must be weakened and its attention drawn elsewhere. I must have my home and I can bring help. The One must survive to build a stronger world but I fear bloodshed.'

  Sha-Kaan left Hirad's mind abruptly, leaving the barbarian momentarily confused. He sat up gingerly and looked around the dilapidated barn to which Darrick had brought them. Its roof, such that remained, clung to damaged timbers and only one wall was anything more than glorified splinters. Still, it represented shelter and that was some comfort.

  The Raven were circled around a small fire. Erienne was asleep in Denser's arms, no doubt in contact with the Al-Drechar. Darrick too was sleeping, though his was an emotional tiredness. The Unknown was awake, lost in his thoughts and staring at the blaze. Thraun was outside. He would guard them while he prowled the overgrown fields and sniffed out scent-marked territories. Still so much the wolf. Still so much lost inside himself. Hirad doubted the Thraun he remembered would ever fully reappear.

  'How's my family?' asked The Unknown, seeing his eyes open.

  'Unharmed,' said Hirad evenly. 'I don't think you're going to like this much.'

  'He calls it administrative guidance,' explained Hirad to Darrick.

  It was an hour before dawn and The Unknown had urged them to be on their way, his face severe in the light of Hirad's report from Herendeneth. He had said little as he pushed them to clear the camp, saddle up and go but there was no doubting the fire within and his renewed desire to get inside Xetesk. And quickly.

  The city was two days' ride at best and their situation was far from ideal. Lysternan and Dordovan supply chains were everywhere on the principal routes, their security augmented by college horsemen and mercenaries not willing to fight for the besieged Xetesk despite the higher wages.

  Not so long ago, The Raven would have contracted themselves to Lystern or Dordover too. Their desire for balance in the colleges would have stopped them joining Denser's home college. That and Ilkar's determination never to work for Xetesk. How different it all was now. Once feted, The Raven were now effectively outlawed and hunted by all but Julatsa. And yet they were still Balaia's best chance of lasting peace if they lived long enough to make good on all their promises.

  'It's an interesting use of language,' said Darrick.

  'He used it first when threatening Styliann, would you believe. Funny how Xeteskians always seem to be on the receiving end.'

  'And who do you think will be getting the benefit of his advice this time?' asked Darrick.

  Hirad shrugged. 'Could be Dystran, though I don't think that particular Lord of the Mount will be available to us. Put it this way, anyone who can affect the safety of Diera and Jonas is in the target area.'

  'Got to get in first, though,' said Darrick.

  'The TaiGethen will help,' said Hirad. 'Should be fun.'

  Darrick eyed him oddly then and Hirad knew all over again why he would miss Ilkar so much. The Julatsan elf would have lost no time commenting on how only Hirad would describe invading the Dark College as 'fun'. Something to make him laugh and make him believe even more that they would succeed.

  No one could do that now. Denser tried but he had a lot to learn. Ilkar was irreplaceable. But at least Darrick could read Hirad's mood and thoughts right now.

  'That's why we're doing all this,' he said. 'To make Ilkar's sacrifice meaningful.'

  'Yeah,' said Hirad, voice gruff. 'Can we talk about something else?'

  The agreement to a daily Communion had seemed a small price to pay and a sensible measure in Lystern and Dordover's latest military alliance against Xetesk but there had been times when Heryst rued sense. Today was one of those days. He'd had no sleep since The Raven's audacious liberation of Darrick and he'd known that Vul-daroq, High Arch Mage of Dordover, would have questions, if not outright accusations. It didn't help that it was his, Heryst's, turn to seek Communion, so depleting his mana reserves further in a contact he had no wish to make.

  'At least you do me the honour of contact at the appointed time,' said Vuldaroq, his tone cold, saying everything about his assumed knowledge.

  'There is no reason why I would not,' said Heryst carefully, sensing already so many echoes of their past conversations.

  'Really? I had thought you might be engrossed in the search for a common enemy.'

  ‘Ihave people I can trust to conduct necessary investigations.'

  'Are they as good as your jailers?'

  'Vuldaroq, you will not tax me about events wholly within the legal compass of my college,' said Heryst. 'We have more pressing matters to discuss. Particularly the situation at Xetesk's east gate.'

  It was a deflection Heryst had assumed would fail but he had to try it anyway.

  'That situation, while unfortunate, is static and no more of our forces are currently at risk from further failures in the Julatsan magic system. What is surely a risk
to us all, however, is the use of the One magic within your college borders last night and the escape of the likely practitioner. An escape you did little to oppose.'

  'And this view was given to you by men watching from windows how far away… a hundred yards? Perhaps a little less if I'm generous.' Heryst felt ready for a fight. Dordover deserved nothing less.

  'Are you disputing The Raven escaped from your college around midnight last night?' asked Vuldaroq.

  'No.'

  'And Erienne was with them.*

  'She was one of The Raven last time I checked,' said Heryst.

  'Don't get clever, Heryst, it does not become you when you are on the defensive.' Vuldaroq's voice in his head was full of righteous indignation. ‘Iknow the One magic was cast in your college grounds around the time The Raven escaped. My analysts have pinpointed the area closely enough. Gods burning, man, it wasn't very difficult. I also know that The Raven were in your college and that Erienne is the only likely suspect as someone able to perform such a casting.'

  'And how do you work that out, Vuldaroq?' Heryst clamped down hard on his irritation. 'Recent history has informed us that the reason Erienne and Denser conceived the child was precisely because Erienne, in particular, had no way of casting such magic but wanted to produce an offspring that could. Perhaps you'd like to enlighten me as to how you know different. Is there something pertinent to our alliance that you have accidentally omitted to tell me?'

  Silence in Dordover. Vuldaroq considered his response. Had Heryst not seen Erienne's casting with his own eyes he would not have believed it possible she could harbour any knowledge of the One. But she did. The question was, given Vuldaroq had already guessed her to be the practitioner, as Heryst had thought he would, how would he back up his claim? What exactly did Dordover know that he was prepared to share?

  'It is the only logical explanation,' said Vuldaroq carefully. ‘Iwas on Herendeneth when the Nightchild died. Erienne was with her as were the Al-Drechar. Something must have been passed to her or else she has somehow been able to use some knowledge of the Al-Drechar's teachings. Heryst, I am not an expert. No one is. We have to work together.'