Shadowheart lotr-2

by James Barclay

  'Hold on,' said Hirad. 'We're forgetting one thing on the magic front, before you go on.'

  'Which is?' asked The Unknown.

  'Sha-Kaan,' said Hirad. 'There's a casting to get him home. That has to happen before the battle. Denser?'

  Denser turned a carefully neutral face to him. 'Why must it be done before the battle?'

  'Because we can't take the risk of dying and leaving him stranded here. Not now we have the knowledge.'

  'Old friends dying is a risk of war, as you so ably pointed out yesterday morning,' said Denser. ‘Ineed my stamina to protect this college. He'll have to wait.'

  Hirad stood quietly for a moment, Izack watching his face. It betrayed no anger though his body had tensed.

  'That isn't acceptable,' said Hirad.

  'Rough justice,' said Denser. 'If he can wait six years, he can wait another few days.'

  Hirad thumped the table. 'No!' he shouted. 'He has to go now, today. I spoke to him last night. The flight nearly killed him. He has so little left that a few Xeteskian mages could take him down. Think, Denser. And do the right thing.'

  'Hark at you, Coldheart.' Denser shook his head. 'The right thing is what you think at the time, isn't it? Well, no dice. This time, I'm in the chair and I decide. And there's nothing you can do about it.'

  Hirad breathed in deeply. His shoulder muscles bunched then relaxed and he held up a hand. 'Denser, please. If there is one innocent in all this it is Sha-Kaan. Gods, he was trapped here saving us and now he has to go home. He's not a part of this war. If you want to take out your anger about what I did, then do it on me. Don't use him as a pawn. He deserves better than that from all of us. He deserves to live and if you don't send him back now, you might be condemning him to death. Please, Denser.'

  Denser looked at Hirad askance and then turned fully to face him. 'You know, Hirad, I'm genuinely impressed by that. And I'll not often say that after hearing you talk. Look, let's get this meeting over with and I'll go and check the texts I took from the catacombs. If I'm right, it shouldn't take too long. All he needs from me is a line to follow, after all.'

  Hirad beamed but then remembered himself and nodded solemnly.

  'Thank you, Denser.'

  Denser shrugged.

  'And I'm sorry, all right?'

  'Later, Hirad. Let's discuss it later.'

  Hirad slapped the table. 'So, General, what's the big idea?'

  Chapter 39

  Erienne listened to them for as long as she could. Men standing round maps discussing the futures of other men. Who lived and who died being tossed around like an orange stolen by children in a market. She wondered if they ever actually stopped to think about what they were doing. That positioning that man there and that man there actually condemned one man and saved the other.

  Probably, they didn't. And a part of her didn't blame them because they made the same decisions about themselves and lived or died by them. But the larger part thought of them as playing gods because they mentioned her name and assumed her compliance without knowing any longer what she was capable of doing. They remembered her Dordovan magical skills. She didn't think she could use them any more.

  She tried to tell them but they wouldn't listen. All they could find to say was that they would help her, that they would be there and that they were The Raven. So instead she walked out into the sunlight to watch the attempt to raise the Heart. She didn't feel much of the warmth of the sun and everything seemed a little detached. She knew why. The One was probing her senses, keeping her away from the people she needed in any way it could. It was trying to deprive her of her humanity. Her hearing, her sight and her touch all seemed to be under attack.

  Erienne watched the elven and Julatsan mages gather around the Heart. Almost two hundred of them in two concentric rings coming no nearer than forty feet. Though she might not be able to feel the warmth of the sun, she could certainly sense the atmosphere. She had never known one so tense around a casting. They should all have been confident. Instead, they feared a dropout of the mana focus, a darkening of the shadow. It would be catastrophic.

  Pheone stood next to Dila'heth, the elf relaying the human's instructions. A thought clear as spring water came to Erienne's mind. She probed the Heart of Julatsa. The sight jerked her back to herself. She should not have been able to view the mana with such clarity, almost as if she were Julatsan herself. Another thought. Of course, she was every mage now. Magic was just one element. For her it was no longer split along the lines of college and lore.

  Feeling an almost voyeuristic excitement, Erienne tuned back into the Julatsan mana spectrum and watched, expanding her viewpoint to take in the mages congregated around the Heart pit.

  The Heart itself exhibited all the signs of a mortally sick organ. It pulsed rather than flowed at its deepest level, sending vibrations into the flow around it. Its energy was low, constricted by the shadow that sought to crush the life from it altogether..

  What should have been a brilliant yellow oval, imbuing every Julatsan mage, was in reality a stuttering tarnished teardrop. The desperation to raise the Heart was all too easy to understand. It had to be returned to its exact previous position to stop it deteriorating further. Like a sundial partially hidden in shadow, it had to be moved to where its effect could be maximised. And then enough Julatsan mages had to be trained to build its strength. Pheone had asked her opinion on Geren's theory. She had thought him almost certainly right. That meant raising the Heart was only one step on a long trail back to strength.

  Erienne noted with great interest, the effect of the mana flow on the elemental power streams about it. The pure magical force dragged them into similar shapes, upsetting their own rhythm. The free energy of the air and earth around the Heart were weak in its presence and she could feel the solidity of the buildings surrounding the courtyard.

  The combination of the elements was so potent. Beguiling almost. She knew she could draw on any of it, all of it. That the failure of all the colleges would not stop her practising magic. She could be the only mage, giving true title to the name of her magic. One.

  Erienne clamped down on the thought and felt the pressure of the One entity ease. She fought her breathing back to near normal and refocused, seeing the structure for the raise begin to form.

  Like so many core castings, the structure was inherently simple.

  To Erienne, it looked like nothing more than an eight-sided splint. Each panel of the splint was linked to those adjacent by cords of pulsating mana and inside it, there were as many links into the Heart itself as there were mages to cast the spell.

  All of these links were mirrored by poles of mana on the outside of the splint, one representing each mind. The formation was quick and without error, each mage feeding in as much energy as the next to keep the balance perfect.

  When it was done, they paused. Erienne heard Pheone issue a series of quick commands, tidying up a slightly tattered edge here, filling in a striation in one of the splint panels there. When Pheone was finished teasing at the few imperfections, they waited again, all watching the dull-coloured but powerful shape, making sure it was settled.

  Now it got tricky. Slowly, on a single command, all the mages tensed their minds in unison, clenching their fists for emphasis and raising their arms gradually as their minds gripped, dragging the Heart upwards, agonisingly slowly. But move it did. Inching upwards, the mages taking the strain.

  Erienne sampled their minds, felt the draining effects of the expense of such levels of energy. So much poured in to keep the shape true through the shadow that covered everything they did. She could see the delicacy of their operation. Every mage had to push at precisely the same rate, the balance had to remain perfect. Each was responsible for making sure their rate of input placed no lateral strain on the structure. And where they did, Pheone linked in, cajoling or smoothing, evening the flow. She was a natural.

  Erienne felt a twinge in the elemental forces surrounding the Heart and focused in. There, buri
ed deep within the stone of the building that housed the Heart, and that they raised along with this most vital of mana structures, was a mote of darkness.

  She could see the mass of the energy from the earth, air and stone spiralling in support, dragged upwards by the intensity of the mana and mimicking the shape of the sheath. But there was a blemish and it was fast infecting the point at the base of the Heart.

  She couldn't tell whether it was a coincidence or a direct result of the casting but it was happening all the same. The swallowhole in the elemental energy expanded quickly, soaking up into the Heart, distending its shape fractionally at first but then faster and faster. It was enough to begin a chain reaction, the Heart darkening, deep shadow consuming its already dull colour. And all the time around Erienne, the mages continued to inch the Heart and its surrounds towards the surface.

  They seemed oblivious, they were oblivious. The focus was failing and none of them had noticed. For a heartbeat, panic gripped Erienne and she considered trying to absorb die black hole in the elemental energies, cover the vortex that was destroying the focus. But a beat later, she knew she could not. Dark lines pulled and shadows thickened over the surface of Julatsa's Heart.

  And still they lifted it, their minds so concentrated on the splint and its coherence, and on the stamina they were having to feed in that the drain on them was escaping their attention. Their minds were linked as one to the construct, their combined force stopping them sensing what any one individual would see instandy.

  There was nothing Erienne could do to slow the rate of the shadow's advance. At the base of the Heart, yellow was gone, replaced by grey and darkening every moment.

  'Pheone,' she said, her voice loud, pitched to penetrate. 'Release the structure now. The focus is failing.'

  'So close,' moaned the mage. 'We can do it.'

  The spell had her, like it had them all.

  'No,' barked Erienne. 'Trust me, listen to me. Abort the attempt now.'

  'Nearly there, we have momentum.'

  'Dammit!' spat Erienne. Without thinking, she reached out, harnessing the elemental energies surrounding the splint. They coalesced immediately into a hard edge. In the centre of the splint, darkness was flying along the length of the Heart. When it eclipsed it entirely, the splint would collapse violendy, reversing its energy through every Julatsan mage mind. It would mean the end of the college.

  Erienne had no time to think of the short-term pain she was about to cause. She forced her mind to firm the edge still more, feeling the One entity surge painfully within her. Trying so hard to keep the stopper in its power, she whipped the edge through the poles of mana spiking the outside of the splint, releasing mage after mage as she sheered through them.

  It was so easy, Julatsan magic so weak and unable to resist. The One edge flashed bright, sucking in the raw mana it freed, Erienne fighting to keep it sharp, imagining with increasing desperation a knife carving through water, up and down.

  Quickly, with fewer and fewer mages feeding power into the splint, it began to sag, the Heart falling back down. From its apex, the raising construct unravelled, Erienne scything through the poles while the blackness gorged on the Heart. Abruptly, the spell collapsed and Erienne shut off the edge with the last of her energy. She opened her eyes and tried to pick out Pheone who was standing close by. The mage was blurred to her sight as she swayed on her feet.

  Somewhere she could here people running. Elsewhere, shouts of anger and gasps of pain.

  'What did you do?' demanded a voice. Pheone, she thought. Yes, definitely Pheone. ‘Ifelt you. It had to be you. We were so close. What have you done?'

  'Done?' she repeated, feeling her strength give way. 'Not much. Saved your college and the lot of you. That's all.'

  She tottered and crumpled.

  'How is she?' asked The Unknown.

  Denser turned from Erienne's bed in the infirmary and shrugged.

  'Hard to tell,' he said. 'She's not as bad as before. I think it's just the exertion but there's no sense from her yet.'

  Denser stood and looked towards the doors. They were open, letting the mid-afternoon light and breeze into the spodessly clean building. The warmth touched the four occupied beds of the fifty in the infirmary. Three elven mages had been injured when Erienne disrupted the Heart-raise attempt. Their damage was, like hers, difficult to assess, though for different reasons. Mind-damage from the backwash of a spell was always so.

  'Come on,' he said, beginning to walk. ‘Idon't want to stay in here right now.'

  'Stay with her, Denser,' said The Unknown. 'We can prepare without you.'

  'It's all right,' he said. 'This place is just too full of memories. I'm having her moved to our rooms.'

  The Unknown nodded. He felt it too. In fact he felt it all over the college. A battle site revisited. So much had been rebuilt since the Wesmen invasion and not a speck of blood remained. But the memories were still fresh. The infirmary had seen the results of the suffering on the walls and gates. And it was where Will Begman of The Raven had lost his fight for life. Thraun wouldn't go near the place. Not even for Erienne.

  'She did save them, didn't she?' asked The Unknown.

  'All of them,' said Denser. 'The mana-focus failure followed the same path as all the others, according to Pheone. They were lucky Erienne was watching.'

  'And is the focus still gone?'

  'Apparently not but it makes little difference. Every Julatsan and elven mage has gone to rest. None will cast again before tomorrow.'

  'That could prove costly. We're liable to face familiars.'

  Outside, the waiting was beginning to tell. The TaiGethen, Claw-Bound and Izack were all hidden around the city and the Mayor and entire city council were being watched. Darrick wasn't risking what he'd heard of their actions becoming outright betrayal. The gates of the college were closed and the dust cloud signifying the approaching Xeteskian army was almost at the city borders.

  Lookouts were spread around the college walls, with a heavy presence at the gatehouse where Darrick, Hirad and Thraun stood with the impressively determined Commander Vale. The Unknown and Denser headed in their direction, feeling the mood. The optimism of the morning was gone, replaced by a sombre introspection. Their best chance was already gone and the enemy was not even at their gates. The Heart remained buried and without spell protection they faced a force they could not stop with swords and arrows alone for long. A force that would be on them within the hour. And it wasn't the men that worried them the most. Enough familiars could make the difference if they were employed in the right way.

  And as he walked up the steps of the gatehouse tower, a thought struck The Unknown hard.

  'Are you feeling strong, Denser?'

  Denser managed a smile. 'That thought has occurred to you too, has it?'

  'Only just now.'

  'Do you think Darrick overlooked it?'

  'You'd think not, but even great generals are fallible.'

  Not this one, though, Denser thought a short while later. At least, not this time.

  'It isn't the plan I would have chosen,' Darrick said, 'but we have no choice. We do have some protection here. We can keep them on their toes for as long as we have arrows but that's as far as it goes. After all, there will be magical shielding though soldiers might not enjoy the same protection as the mages. It depends how many mages they have and how many the Xeteskian commander thinks he needs to knock over the walls. Everyone here is briefed to watch and move in the case of spell attack. Izack and Auum both have their targets. I had to leave the cavalry mages with Izack. He represents our best chance of winning this so long as he can deal with the Xeteskian horsemen.'

  'And meanwhile, we just stand here as targets?' said Hirad.

  'No, Hirad, you stand here and don't turn away. Strength for us, anxiety for those attacking us. That is why all The Raven are here. To be seen. Anyway, the more spells they waste on the walls, the better I like it for the time being. Assuming Pheone's assessment of the
shielding is not too generous.'

  'What about the ClawBound?' asked The Unknown.

  'Well they're out there,' said Darrick. 'But since they don't really even like to speak to the TaiGethen, you can imagine how far I got. Anything they do is a bonus.'

  'You know what the Xeteskians will do once they realise we have no spells, don't you?' said Denser.

  Darrick nodded. 'It had not escaped my attention. I have grouped the Al-Arynaar archers and they are fast around the walls. Pius, Izack knows what to look for. Any conventionally shielded concentration of mages is a prime target.'

  'And what if they make, say, four groups?' asked Hirad.

  'They'll need twenty at least in any group-casting to do breaching damage,' said Darrick. ‘Idon't think they have enough strength to make four such groups.'

  'Or you hope they don't.'

  'Hirad, if there is only one variable in this battle, I will be very happy.'

  'Whatever you say.'

  'We're standing above the weak point now, where we need to be. This is where they will come.'

  And they did, widiin the hour as predicted. Marching through the streets, cavalry outriders keeping them ordered. The noise of their approach wasn't triumphal. None of the few citizens who looked on from upper windows waved, cheered or quailed. There were no songs, no taunts, no jeers. Every side had lost too much to make any assumptions. But there was purpose and there was belief. The Unknown worried about that. The moments to come would be critical.

  The college of Julatsa was an island surrounded by a sea of cobbles. Heading off the square were roads to the central market, the grain store, the merchant quarter arid the north tenements. Without a fuss, the Xeteskians surrounded their goal under the watchful eyes of The Raven, Commander Vale and his small but loyal guard, a handful of volunteers. The Al-Arynaar looked on with blank contempt.

  The Unknown saw Darrick stiffen as the enemy general rode up to the gate house, flanked by two riders carrying flags of parley in white and deep blue quarters. A shield mage rode behind him. He led a disciplined force. There was no talking in the ranks, they just stared, their confidence in their numbers obvious.