The Raven Collection

by James Barclay

  This is death, he thought.

  ‘No, Hirad Coldheart, not death.’ It was a voice he knew well and though it came to him from out of his nightmares, it brought strange comfort. ‘I am sorry for the inevitable unpleasantness. First contact over such a distance is difficult but it will ease. I will teach you.’

  ‘Sha-Kaan?’ Hirad was aware his mouth was moving but his confusion of thoughts found a focal point in his bruised brain, allowing him to communicate.

  ‘Excellent. There is no damage.’

  ‘It doesn’t feel that way and unpleasantness is hardly the word I would choose to describe what you have just caused.’

  Sha-Kaan chuckled, a gentle feeling which stroked Hirad’s aching mind.

  ‘You have the same fearlessness I found in Septern,’ he said. ‘It is a shame you are not a mage.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it would make our binding all the more powerful and complete.’

  ‘What binding?’ Hirad felt a flicker of worry. It hadn’t occurred why Sha-Kaan had chosen to contact him. He hadn’t even conceived the possibility unless the dragon was in Balaia. The fact that he was apparently speaking from great distance was a cause for concern.

  ‘There is something I must ask you to do that will help my Brood to survive. I am old, even by the standards of the Kaan, yet I have had no Dragonene since the death of Seran at Taranspike Castle. You are the only human with the strength of mind to answer my calls. I may have need of you in the time before you travel to my domain.’

  Hirad was stunned. He also felt a sense of overwhelming honour but curiously didn’t know why he should. He had precious little knowledge of the Dragonene save that all were mages.

  ‘But what can I do? I cannot cast a spell. Why me?’

  ‘There are others of The Raven to channel the energies of interdimensional space and to provide for my wounds and damages. But yours is a mind that burns bright for me as those of your friends do not. Even were I sorely wounded, I could find you and reach sanctuary. I ask that you agree. I will teach you what you need to know.’

  ‘And can I call on you?’

  ‘Should you need to, but I could not swear to answer you immediately, nor to be able to give you the help you desire, though I would expect nothing less from you.’

  ‘But what if I’m in the middle of battle?’ Hirad could imagine the pain felling him as surely as an enemy axe in the midst of mêlée. He could not allow that. The Raven were too important.

  ‘If your mind is open as it should be, I could detect whether you were at rest before contacting you.’

  ‘Then I accept,’ said Hirad before he knew quite what he was saying.

  ‘Excellent. Now tell me, how goes your search for a means to close the gateway?’

  Hirad quickly outlined his understanding of the DemonShroud, which was limited, and the distance they had to travel to Julatsa, which was far more complete.

  ‘I must know more about this Shroud. Is it pandimensional?’

  ‘I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about,’ said Hirad. ‘All I know is that nothing living can pass through it, that it stretches as high as heaven and as low as hell and all who attempt to cross it lose their souls to the demons.’

  Sha-Kaan was quiet for a moment but Hirad felt his presence, and his worry, no less keenly. He had a moment to reflect on the enormity of what he had done and found himself unperturbed by it. There was one thing, though.

  ‘Why did you choose me now?’ he asked.

  ‘Because I must attempt tasks that will provoke attack and damage. I must have a Dragonene. Now to this Shroud. Let me investigate. Your mages have dabbled again in something they do not fully understand or can control. I will contact the Brood and probe the space around the city you head for. There may be a way to get through. Be ready for my contact tomorrow as your sun passes its highest.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Thank you, Hirad Coldheart. You have taken a solemn oath but you are not alone. There are Dragonene everywhere there are mages. Until tomorrow.’

  And then he was gone and Hirad realised he had no idea how to contact the Great Kaan himself. He opened his eyes.

  ‘Gods in the ground, Hirad, what the hell happened to you?’ Ilkar’s face loomed over his, colour returning to his cheeks, frown relaxing.

  Hirad smiled, his head encased in sponge, his eyesight not quite sharp and the ache of Sha-Kaan’s presence a reminder it had not all been a dream. He was lying flat on his back, a cloak pillowing his head. A female hand reached across with a rag and wiped what had to be blood from his nose.

  ‘How long have I been out?’

  ‘A couple of minutes,’ said The Unknown.

  ‘Maybe less,’ added Ilkar. There was a low growl. Thraun’s muzzle appeared suddenly in his vision, the wolf’s yellow eyes searching his, heavy furred brows forced together, an almost comical frown rippling the skin above them. Apparently satisfied, his tongue whipped out to lick Hirad’s cheek then he moved away.

  ‘He’s happy anyway,’ said Hirad.

  ‘Yes, but he wasn’t. Not happy at all,’ said The Unknown.

  ‘Do you mind if I sit up?’ asked Hirad. They helped him to a sitting position. Denser sat cross-legged away from the group, his pipe newly lit, smoking into the afternoon sky. He wore a deeply troubled expression. Will stood nearby, stroking Thraun’s flank. Ilkar, The Unknown and Erienne crowded him, Ilkar handing him a mug of coffee.

  ‘You dropped your last one,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t remember.’ He was feeling more human now, the pulp encasing his brain fading, his thoughts sharper, as was his sight.

  ‘So what happened?’ asked Ilkar again.

  ‘It was Sha-Kaan; he spoke to me, from his own lands. From Wingspread.’

  ‘From where?’ The Unknown leaned back on his haunches. Hirad shrugged. He had no idea where the word came from. Sha-Kaan had not used it.

  ‘Wingspread. Sha-Kaan’s place, I suppose.’ Hirad scanned the faces of Ilkar and The Unknown. The former was thoughtful, the latter worried.

  ‘I presume it wasn’t good news,’ said Ilkar. ‘I mean, why is he contacting you?’

  ‘How, is more pertinent,’ added The Unknown. ‘Look at you. You’re paler than a two-day corpse.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Hirad. ‘Look. I’m not sure what the news was but he’s worried about getting hurt and needs a new Dragonene. Me, to be exact.’

  ‘What?’ chorused the trio of mages.

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I said. But apparently I can be the contact and you three can do whatever he needs you to do. He picked me because he’s familiar with my mind. It’s very strong, he said.’ Hirad sat up a little straighter.

  Ilkar chuckled. ‘Well, your head’s thick enough anyway.’

  ‘You didn’t agree, did you?’ asked Denser. It was more of a statement than a question.

  Hirad raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, yes, of course. I had to.’

  ‘Thanks very much,’ snapped the Xeteskian.

  ‘What’s your problem?’ Hirad felt the pricklings of anger. ‘Did I really have a choice?’

  ‘Yes, you did. You could have said no. Suppose I don’t want to be a Dragonene?’

  ‘You aren’t, Xetesk man, I am. You’re a . . . I don’t know, you’re a consort or something.’ It was the wrong word and Hirad knew it. He only half-regretted saying it. Denser rose.

  ‘You have got to be bloody joking, Hirad. If you think I’m going to agree to be a “consort” ’ - he ejected the word like a mouthful of rotten fruit - ‘you can stick it straight up your arse.’

  ‘Denser, sit down now and lower your voice,’ ordered The Unknown, making the ghost of a move when the mage threatened to speak again. ‘Your noise will bring the entire Wesmen nation down on our necks. All our noise for that matter. We are The Raven. Let’s try and remember that once in a while.’

  ‘You weren’t there,’ said Hirad.

  ‘Hirad,’ warned The Unknown.

>   ‘No, hear me out.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I could feel the waves of need in Sha-Kaan. He needs me, us, as much as we’ll need him. And in case you’d forgotten, Denser, if he and the Kaan die, so do we all. It is our duty to help protect him. And for that, I need your help. There was no time to consult you. I did what I had to do. What was right in here.’ He tapped his chest.

  Denser took his place by the fire, exchanging sharp glances with Erienne.

  ‘Well, you’re right about the time thing anyway.’

  The Raven looked at him with virgin interest. His Communion had been forgotten.

  Ilkar cleared his throat. ‘I ask this with all due dread, but why?’

  ‘Because we’ve only got eight days to close the rip.’

  Darrick’s heart was soaring. Eight days of exhilarating riding had brought the cavalry to within striking distance of the Bay of Gyernath staging post. His scouts reported a small force of Wesmen warriors and workers, perhaps as few as one hundred and fifty, and an intermittent stream of traffic moving in from the Heartlands trail which ran away to the west and the Southern Force, the river which ran from the Garan Mountains to the sea and guarded the eastern edge of the Wesmen’s ancestral home.

  It had been a ride of power and discipline, hard paced by day, resting by night. He knew the horses hadn’t much left but journey’s end was in sight and the destruction of the staging post would herald a short sea journey and perhaps a day’s rest.

  The four-College cavalry, one hundred and ninety swordsmen and archers and eighteen mages, was gathered an hour’s ride from the bayside encampment. The plans were laid. The most potent risk was from three watch-towers manned by three warriors each and to these Darrick detailed his full contingent of fourteen archers and enough mage support to provide HardShields. He would have preferred to launch a magical attack but the spells he needed were very hard to prepare and cast at a gallop. The main body of the camp, large store tents surrounded in a loose circle by billet canvas, was ripe for a cavalry charge with mage-fired torches as the first attack volley.

  Darrick, at the head of the cavalry astride his mount, gave his final address as the late afternoon sun began to wane.

  ‘These people have invaded our lands and killed our people. You all know some of those who have already died. All those lost in the defence of Understone Pass, all those lost so far in the siege of Julatsa. The Gods only can know the state of Blackthorne, Gyernath and Arlen. Erskan, Denebre and Eimot.

  ‘They have shown us no mercy. You must do the same. Kill them or they will kill you. I want this encampment burned to the ground and the charred earth left as memorial and warning. The East shall not bend the knee to the West. The Colleges shall thrive. The Wesmen shall be driven from our lands, our homes and yes, our beds.

  ‘Are you with me?’

  The chorus sent birds into the sky. Darrick nodded.

  ‘Then let’s ride.’ The cavalry galloped for the Bay.

  The camp had quietened, The Raven sitting around Will’s stove, each drawing on their own thoughts, dwelling on Denser’s words. Will himself had stretched out next to Thraun, an arm carelessly thrown over the wolf’s prone form. Thraun remained alert, head up, ears pricked, tongue licking his lips as he scanned his new territory.

  Erienne watched them both for a moment, seeing in them a closeness she no longer seemed to share with Denser. The Dark Mage was absently flicking at dried leaves on the ground while his pipe sat between his teeth, long since dead and ignored. She frowned and sent out a gentle probing in the mana but, as with so many times before, found only a blanket covering his mind. She wasn’t even sure if he was aware of his shield against her but then she wasn’t sure he was aware of much but his own memories of Dawnthief and what it had done to him.

  She rose and went to sit by him; he acknowledging her with the slightest of smiles. It set her body tingling.

  ‘Do you want to walk a little way?’ she asked. ‘Down to the water’s edge? It’s dark.’

  He looked her full in the face, forehead wrinkling, pupils dilated in the dim light. How she wished they were wide in longing for her.

  ‘What for?’ he asked.

  ‘I would have thought that was obvious,’ muttered Ilkar from nearby.

  ‘Keep out of this, Ilkar,’ said Erienne shortly. ‘Denser, please?’ Denser shrugged and dragged himself to his feet, a sigh escaping his lips.

  ‘Lead on,’ he said, his half gesture mirroring the lack of enthusiasm so plainly displayed on his face. She narrowed her eyes but said nothing, choosing instead to do as he asked.

  ‘Don’t stray too far,’ warned Hirad. ‘This area isn’t safe.’

  Erienne handed aside a low branch, ducked right and moved off towards the River Tri. Despite the night, the moon gave enough light to see by and she walked briskly between tree and bush down a shallow slope that led to the water’s edge.

  At the shore, a mixture of fine shingle, mud and overhanging plants, she turned left and, stepping over puddles and marshy ground, found her way to a flat patch of grass a couple of paces back from the river and covered by trees. She sat down on the slightly damp ground, looking out at the wide, sluggish course of the Tri as it drove inexorably to Triverne Inlet and then out to sea. In the dimness, it looked dark grey, like a slow-moving sludge, and did nothing to lighten her mood.

  After a few moments, Denser appeared, striking light to his pipe. He seemed unsure what to do.

  ‘Sit down,’ she said, patting the grass next to him. Another shrug and he complied, leaving a small distance between them and only half looking at her.

  ‘Why won’t you talk to me?’ she asked, not sure how to begin the conversation but knowing she had to get through to him for the sake not just of herself, but of The Raven too.

  ‘I do,’ he responded.

  ‘Oh yes, and I really enjoy our “how are you, fine” conversations. Very meaningful. Very fulfilling.’ A light breeze rustled the leaves at her back and blew hair across her face.

  ‘So, what do you want me to talk about?’

  ‘You! God’s sake, Denser, haven’t you seen what’s happened to you since you cast Dawnthief?’ She felt anger welling up at his surly, deliberate obstruction.

  ‘Nothing’s happened,’ he said defensively. ‘I’ve just gained a clear knowledge of the true working of magic.’

  ‘Yes, and look what it’s done to you. Taken you away from us, from me, and given you this damned superior air. Like we are beneath your level all of a sudden.’

  ‘That’s not what I think.’

  ‘Well, that’s how it appears. You snap at Ilkar, you wind up Hirad and you just ignore me most of the time.’ Her eyes were filling with tears. Only a few short days ago, she’d sat with him lying in her lap, so proud of him, so happy he was alive and simply staggered by his achievement. But her surge of feelings had struck a hard wall of hidden emotion and now she felt helpless. ‘What is going on in that head of yours?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Exactly,’ she snapped. ‘Ever since you regained your mana stamina it’s like you don’t care. Not for me, not for The Raven and not for our child.’

  ‘That’s not true.’ Denser still wouldn’t look at her. She wanted to reach out to touch him but her heart lurched as, in her mind’s eye, she saw him pulling away.

  ‘So talk to me,’ she urged. ‘Please.’

  He sighed and she almost slapped him. But then their eyes met and she saw him fighting for the words.

  ‘It’s difficult,’ he said, a slight shrug following.

  ‘We have all night.’

  ‘Hardly,’ he said, a smile touching his lips for the briefest of moments. ‘You understand magic. You understand the energy it takes to control mana and the depletion of your stamina whenever you cast. And you know that every mage searches for new ways to minimise that depletion. But I’ve just been given most of it on a plate. And that’s just the half of it.’

  Erienne was desperate to interrupt
but even more so not to disrupt his train of thought, such as it was. She wasn’t sure anything he was saying was relevant; she was just glad to hear him talk.

  ‘The thing is, we all have our life’s work and our life’s dream. I’ve discovered that the trick is never to achieve that dream.’ He looked away over the water.

  ‘You have lost me there,’ said Erienne. ‘Why would you chase after things you didn’t actually want to achieve?’

  ‘What do you do when you’ve achieved your life’s ultimate challenge?’ countered Denser.

  For a moment, Erienne had no response. ‘There must always be something,’ she said.

  ‘That’s what I thought. But what when there isn’t anything as big as what you’ve just done?’

  ‘I—’ she began, thinking she understood. For a heartbeat, the pieces began to fall into place. But she found they didn’t fit. ‘How can you have nothing?’ she asked. ‘We’re here because we have to close that rip, because no one else can. How can that not be important enough to you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘If we fail, you’ll die. We all will.’

  ‘But death no longer holds any fear for me. I have cast Dawnthief, I have achieved something I thought unattainable. The one thing I could go on dreaming about because I knew I would never succeed. But I have succeeded and now I am empty. If I died now, I would die complete.’

  Now she slapped him. Hard across the cheek, the sound ringing out on the still night air. The Raven would be on them shortly but she didn’t care. Every frustration, every cold look he’d given her and every little slight in his manner boiled out of her. It made her feel no better.

  ‘Then do it for someone else. What about me? What about your child?’ Her tears began to flow. ‘Selfish bastard.’

  He caught her arm. ‘I cast Dawnthief to save everyone.’

  ‘You did it for yourself,’ she snarled, sudden contempt flowing through her veins. ‘You have just made that very clear.’ She jerked her arm free. ‘I’m just surprised you didn’t go full force. I mean, why not perform the ultimate act of selfishness and take us all with you? At least that way you wouldn’t have to be so damned self-pitying now.’ She made to go but his words stopped her dead.