The Raven Collection

by James Barclay

  ‘That is a particularly unhelpful answer.’ The Captain’s voice rose a notch, his face flushing slightly.

  ‘Well, it all depends on finding the way into Septern’s workshop. If they have the information, they could go on to recover the complete spell, I suppose. It’s all so much speculation.’

  ‘You still aren’t helping me,’ said the Captain.

  ‘I can help you best by reporting your concerns and information to Dordover. It would be the quickest way to stop them, or at least control them.’

  The Captain drank deeply and refilled his glass. He smiled. ‘Nice try, but I’m hardly going to let you take a report back to your elders merely to have both Colleges chasing the same prize, am I? And may I remind you that any attempt at communion would be most unwise. I have the ability to detect such a casting, and for your boys, I’m afraid it would be fatal.’

  Erienne’s jaw dropped. There was only one way he could do that.

  ‘You have mages working for you?’ Her tone was incredulous.

  ‘Not every mage believes me a menace to magic,’ said the Captain smoothly. ‘For many I am the only source of control.’ He smiled. ‘And now you are working for me too, in a way.’

  ‘As a slave,’ snapped Erienne. She was badly shaken but it all made sense. How else could he gather his information so quickly? They had to be from Lystern, possibly Julatsa. Mages from Xetesk and Dordover would not entertain the thought of working for him. She tried again. ‘You don’t understand. Dawnthief is too big to play games with. If Xetesk controls it, they control everything, including you. If you make public what you know, the three Colleges will stop them; surely your pet mages have told you that.’

  ‘No, indeed they have not,’ said the Captain, all hint of mirth gone from his hard, reddening face. ‘What they have told me is that this absolute power must be held by no mage or College and that the means to cast it must be destroyed or kept by a man who has the knowledge to hold it but not the ability to cast it. Should the spell be fully recovered, I will be its guardian.’

  Erienne found herself stunned for the second time in so many minutes. But this time her surprise was edged with real fear. If the Captain truly believed he could act as guardian for Dawnthief, he was even more deluded and dangerous than she thought. He clearly had no conception of its power, or the length to which some mages would go to own it.

  ‘Do you seriously think Xetesk, or Dordover for that matter, would agree to your holding the key to such power?’ asked Erienne, keeping her voice as neutral as possible.

  ‘They will have no choice when I control the players of the game,’ replied the Captain.

  Erienne frowned and shifted in her seat, a cold feeling creeping up her back. Just how much did this man know? ‘I’m sorry, I’m not with you,’ she offered.

  ‘Oh, come now, Erienne, do you think you were chosen at random? Do you think my knowledge is so limited? You are Dordover’s brightest lore mage and a known expert on the multi-lore nature of Dawnthief. I already control you.’ He shrugged. ‘All I need now is the man most capable of casting it.’

  ‘You’ll never take him. He is too well protected.’ Erienne was dismissive.

  ‘And there you are wrong. Again. Indeed, I almost succeeded in killing him very recently. In hindsight, a fortunate failure. Particularly for you.’

  ‘Why?’ But she already knew the answer.

  ‘Because yesterday, I had the mind to destroy the means to cast it. And you know rather too much than is good for you. When I have you both, I will also have the respect I deserve to see my work through.’

  ‘You know so little,’ grated Erienne. ‘We will not help you and you will not catch the Xeteskian.’

  ‘Really? I would advise caution before making such statements.’

  ‘He and I would both choose death over aiding you in your ridiculous scheme. Should your plan ever work, the walls of this castle would glow with the afterburn of so much destructive magic that they could be seen in Korina! You are not strong enough to hold such power.’

  The Captain was silent for a time. He swirled the remaining liquid in his glass and downed it, immediately picking up the bottle to refill.

  ‘Of course, death is an option you can choose,’ he said, pulling at an ear. ‘But it’s not a choice you should be making for your children, is it?’ He smiled. ‘You need to give this matter some proper consideration. Your family depends on you giving the right answer. Isman will see you to your room. Isman!’ The door opened.

  ‘I want to return to my children,’ said Erienne.

  With startling speed, the Captain reached across the table and grabbed Erienne’s chin and lower jaw, drawing her to him.

  ‘You are here at my pleasure. Perhaps some time alone might help you remember that, eh?’ He let her go. ‘When you have come to the right decision, please come and see me. Until then, enjoy the peace and quiet. Isman, the audience is over.’

  ‘Bastard,’ whispered Erienne. ‘Bastard.’

  ‘I need to protect the innocents of Balaia from the march of dark magic. I expect you to help me.’

  ‘I want to see my sons!’ she cried.

  ‘Then be of some use and stop telling me what a child could guess!’ The Captain’s face softened. ‘Until then, I don’t think I can oblige.’ He opened his book again and waved her away.

  Everyone was speaking at once. Ilkar was shouting at Denser, whose hands were held palms outwards in an attempt to calm him. The Unknown was trying to get the Xetesk mage’s attention, while Richmond and Talan merely exchanged confusion.

  Hirad floated above it all, his eyes once more fixed on the shrouded form of Sirendor Larn, the noise like the sound of the sea heard from a distance. Ten years. Ten years as founder partners of the most successful mercenary team ever formed. They’d fought together in battles they should have lost but had won. They’d walked away unscathed when blood ran thick in the battlefield massacre. They’d saved each other’s lives so many times it hardly warranted a nod of the head in thanks.

  And now Sirendor lay dead. On the very night he’d sheathed his sword for love, he had been murdered by an assassin who struck out at the wrong man. And for what? Because the man now invading The Raven’s space had stolen the key to a dead mage’s workshop and the Witch Hunters didn’t want him to have it.

  He seethed, his voice deadening the hubbub like cloud over the sun.

  ‘He died for a key you stole.’ The room fell silent. ‘That’s it, is it? Satisfied with your day’s work, are you?’ His voice cracked. ‘After all we survived, he died for a three-inch disc. For your sake, it’d better be unbelievably important.’ He sat back in his chair, all pretence at bravado gone, a knuckle rammed into his mouth and tears welling behind his eyes.

  ‘Oh, it’s important all right, Hirad,’ said Ilkar, the colour barely returned to his cheeks, his eyes narrow slits. ‘If he succeeds in recovering Dawnthief, Sirendor’s death could prove a mercy to him compared to what we’ll be facing.’

  ‘What the hell is this thing?’ demanded Talan.

  ‘Dawnthief is a spell. The spell, I think; and Septern is the mage credited with inventing it,’ said The Unknown. He looked to Denser for support.

  ‘Absolutely right, Unknown. The spell itself is very well known to all the Colleges of magic,’ said Denser. ‘Every magic-user knows of its power . . . its potential for catastrophe. Fortunately, although the words are common knowledge, Dawnthief will not work without three forms of catalyst, and no one has discovered what they are or even where to go to find out. That is, until now. This amulet will let us into Septern’s workshop and we are expecting to find the information there.’

  ‘You knew what you were looking for when we met you, right?’ asked Talan.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Denser. ‘Look, I’m not about to go into detail on Xetesk’s recent research but it led us to believe that Septern was a Dragonene mage—’

  ‘What’s a—’

  ‘Later, Talan,’ said The Unkn
own. ‘Carry on, Denser.’

  ‘There were many other pointers to this conclusion but the important fact was that it directed our search for Dawnthief in a new direction - other dimensions, to be exact. As I explained to Ilkar, we have developed a spell which can detect the mana movement and shape needed to open a dimension door. We’ve been through many in search of Dawnthief, all of which have been opened by Dragonene. This time we found what we were looking for.’

  ‘And my friends are already dying because of it,’ said Hirad.

  ‘You do not know how sorry I am that that is the case,’ returned Denser softly.

  ‘I don’t need your sympathy, Denser, I need to know why the Witch Hunters wanted to kill you.’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

  ‘No, it is not,’ said Hirad. ‘I asked you why my friend died in your place and you haven’t told me.’

  ‘Very well. To spell it out, they want me dead because of who I am and where I come from.’

  ‘Why should it make a difference who you are?’ asked Ilkar.

  ‘I’m Xetesk’s principal Dawnthief mage,’ said Denser simply.

  Ilkar’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, this just gets better and better,’ he muttered.

  ‘What—’ began Talan.

  ‘Hold on,’ said Ilkar. ‘Are you saying that you actually plan to cast it?’

  ‘It’s the only way to destroy the Wytch Lords, Ilkar, we both know that.’

  ‘Yes, but . . .’

  ‘They are coming back, and if we don’t find Dawnthief and use it on them as soon as we can, we will eventually be on the wrong end of it ourselves. Finding it and threatening them with it won’t be enough. They have to be destroyed or Balaia will be lost. There’s going to be an invasion, and this time we don’t have the strength to withstand the tide of Wesmen indefinitely. Not with the Wytch Lords backing them.’

  ‘The light-stealer. This is it.’ Ilkar’s words sat heavy in the air, his anxiety evident in the way he was poised, tense in his chair as if about to leap from it.

  ‘What is it, Ilkar?’ asked Talan.

  ‘You don’t know what he’s talking about, not really. I do,’ said Ilkar. ‘I’ve studied Dawnthief - it’s a required text. Put in simple terms, technically, depending on quality and length of preparation, it can destroy everything - and by that I mean the world.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s why it’s called Dawnthief. It means the “stealer of light” because it can take the sun from the sky.’

  ‘If it’s so important that you find and cast this spell, shouldn’t the Witch Hunters understand that?’

  ‘You think they’d believe us?’ Denser spread his hands wide. ‘Don’t be naïve, Richmond. All they know or care about is that I’m travelling, they don’t want Dawnthief found, and killing me seems the simple solution.’

  ‘So,’ said The Unknown. He drained his glass, refilled it and passed the bottle around the circle. ‘Now we’ve established that you are a marked and dangerous man we shouldn’t even be speaking to, why don’t you confirm what it is you are trying to hire us for?’

  The atmosphere in the room cooled. Denser looked around at the angry faces.

  ‘We have to recover the catalysts and I want you to help me.’

  ‘Why us in particular?’

  ‘Why does anyone hire The Raven?’

  ‘A few more details wouldn’t go amiss.’

  Denser drew breath, finding the questioning from The Raven suddenly intense. He pulled the amulet out again.

  ‘Assuming this works and we find information on the Dawnthief catalysts, we have to act to recover the catalysts themselves. I need protection plus fighting ability and defensive magical skills. I also need people who can be trusted completely. As far as Xetesk is concerned, The Raven is the only choice.’

  There was a short silence.

  ‘I’m not sure I’m getting this,’ said Hirad. ‘Why not just bring in a load of Protectors and Xetesk mages? Surely you can trust them?’

  ‘It’s not that simple, unfortunately,’ said Denser. ‘There are political issues to consider, and if Xetesk was seen to be mounting any kind of action, we’d have the agents of the Wytch Lords on to us straight away. This has to be a clandestine action as long as possible.’

  ‘And that’s not to mention the trouble it would cause in the College Cities,’ said Ilkar.

  ‘And the Witch Hunters,’ added The Unknown.

  ‘Bring them on,’ growled Hirad.

  ‘Oh, we’ll be going to them, don’t worry,’ said Denser.

  ‘So much the better.’

  ‘Seriously,’ continued Denser, ‘they have to be silenced. What they know, or even think they know, could prove disastrous for the whole of Balaia if the wrong ears hear it.’

  ‘Is it stupid of me to suggest a four-College alliance if this is really so critical?’ asked Richmond.

  ‘Not at all,’ said Denser. ‘In fact, a four-College meeting has been called, although it is to deal with the Wesmen threat, not the search for Dawnthief. We can’t afford for the other Colleges to know about our search, not yet. Ilkar will tell you, they would interfere in the search and place impossible conditions on the spell’s use. It must be kept quiet as long as possible.’ He paused. ‘Do you believe me, Ilkar?’

  The elf gazed at him coolly. ‘That’s not a question I’m ready to answer. This has severe implications for my relationship with Julatsa. I’m honour-bound to tell them everything. You know that.’

  There was another silence. Richmond added a log to the fire.

  ‘I know. And all I ask is that you give me time to prove my intentions. But I do need an answer,’ said Denser at length.

  ‘To which question?’ muttered Hirad.

  ‘Will you help us?’

  ‘How much?’ asked Talan.

  ‘Five per cent of the agreed value of each artefact, same idea as before.’

  ‘I cannot believe you just asked that,’ snapped Hirad. ‘What does it matter how much? We already have a job to do.’ Hirad indicated Sirendor’s shrouded body.

  ‘It always matters,’ replied Talan. ‘No decision will be made until all conditions are known. That’s how it’s always been.’

  ‘We’ve retired, Talan, remember?’

  ‘Balaia cannot afford for you to retire,’ said Denser.

  ‘Shut up, Xetesk man. This doesn’t concern you.’ Hirad didn’t look round.

  ‘Hirad, calm down,’ said The Unknown. ‘This is already difficult enough.’

  ‘Is it? We find the Witch Hunters, we kill them. What’s difficult about that?’

  The Unknown ignored him. ‘One more question, Denser. Assuming we recover the catalysts, what then?’

  ‘You help me take them into the Torn Wastes and cast Dawnthief against the Wytch Lords in Parve. That is, if you want to.’

  ‘Well, we aren’t about to just hand them over to Xetesk,’ said Ilkar.

  ‘I didn’t expect you would,’ countered Denser.

  ‘So has everyone heard enough?’ asked The Unknown.

  ‘Ages ago,’ said Hirad.

  ‘Right.’ The Unknown rose and opened the door. ‘Denser, it’s time you left. We need to talk, and we have a Vigil to observe.’

  ‘I need an answer,’ repeated Denser.

  ‘First light tomorrow,’ said The Unknown. ‘Please . . .’ He gestured through the door.

  Denser paused before leaving. ‘You can’t refuse,’ he said. ‘This means everything to all of us.’

  The Unknown closed the door behind Denser and refilled all the glasses before returning to his seat.

  ‘So, who wants to go first?’ he asked.

  ‘This is a nightmare,’ said Ilkar. ‘I’m not sure what to say.’

  ‘Sirendor Larn is dead because of him, it’s obvious that Ras’s death had nothing to do with our last contract, and yet we’re chatting about working for him!’ Hirad was shouting. ‘What are we debating this for?’ He got up and strode to the fireplace. ‘It’s quite simple. We go and k
ill the Witch Hunters. Denser can stick his spell up his arse, and this—’ he tore the code from its frame on the wall and ripped it in two - ‘this is gone.’

  They were all staring at him, or rather at the ruined parchment in his hands, eyes wide. He became very aware of his own quick breathing, the thudding of his heart and the sound of the fire behind him. He stared back, daring them to criticise or disagree.

  ‘Sit down, Hirad,’ said The Unknown quietly.

  ‘Why, so you can—’

  ‘I said sit down!’ thundered the big man.

  Hirad, still clutching the two pieces of the code, did so.

  ‘We all know how much this is hurting you,’ The Unknown’s voice was calm once more, ‘and we will deal with Sirendor’s murderers, believe me. But what we’ve just heard, which you didn’t seem to take in, has changed everything.’

  ‘Really?’ Hirad sighed.

  ‘Really,’ affirmed The Unknown. ‘I expect Ilkar can explain it better than me. Ilkar?

  The Julatsan raised his eyebrows. ‘Putting it bluntly, the two worst things I can imagine have both happened at the same time. Or so Denser claims. The Wytch Lords are free and Xetesk has found the link to Dawnthief.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Gods, Hirad, I wasn’t joking earlier. Dawnthief can destroy everything. Literally. In theory at least. What that means is that if Denser succeeds in destroying the Wytch Lords - and we must pray that he does - the ultimate weapon will be firmly in the hands of the Dark College. And what do you think that’ll mean for the rest of us?’

  ‘So we kill him and take the spell after he’s cast it.’

  ‘Yes, but we have to be standing next to him to do that.’

  ‘We could kill him now and take the amulet,’ said Hirad evenly.

  Silence. Richmond nodded.

  ‘It could certainly save time,’ he said.

  ‘And what if he’s right about the Wytch Lords?’ asked Ilkar.

  ‘Get somebody else to cast the spell,’ said Hirad.

  Ilkar snorted. ‘Of course. I’ll go and ask Tomas if he can spare us the time, shall I?’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘It’s not that simple, Hirad. Denser will have been training all his life in the theory of Dawnthief casting. And if he is Xetesk’s principal Dawnthief mage - and I have no reason to doubt that he is - then he is the man with the best and perhaps the only chance of casting it effectively.’