‘So, should we sully their sacrifice by surrendering meekly now?’ asked Endorr.
Kard’s eyes flashed but Barras stared him out of his anger. The General’s voice remained calm.
‘It is too late to do anything for those lost in the DemonShroud. But it isn’t too late to save those still alive out there. Endorr, my naïve young mage, there is to be no meek surrender. Indeed, I expect you to play your full part in ensuring the Wesmen forever fear Julatsa. And if, in our battle, we all die but just one child from within these walls escapes the clutches of the Wesmen, I will deem it a victory worth the fight.
‘Do I have your permission to begin?’ Kard asked of the entire Council. One by one, its members nodded and said ‘aye’.
‘Then it is done,’ said Kard. ‘An hour before first light tomorrow, I will visit you here to request you disperse the DemonShroud. From that moment, I will command all forces of the Julatsan city and College, mage and soldier, man and woman. Do I have this authority?’
‘Yes, General Kard, you do,’ said Kerela. ‘And you have the backing, the blessing and the prayers of all of us. Save our College. Stop our people dying.’
Kard smiled. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Sha-Kaan’s entry into the Broodlands had none of the triumph of his previous return. He slipped through the mists all but unnoticed, announcing his arrival to a ministering Vestare only as he landed. Dispensing with the usual formalities of welcome, he enquired about the use of the Melde Hall, stilled his body and switched straight inside.
There, lying flat on his flank, neck and tail both stretched out, was Elu-Kaan, all manner of cuts and scores evident on his head and neck. One wing was unfurled, its membrane marked and dry but mercifully unbroken. But it was his breathing which worried Sha-Kaan. Rapid and ragged as if his lungs had lost capacity and his every inhalation dragged their surface over teeth of stone.
Though tired, stiff and in considerable pain after his battle and bone-wearying flight to Teras, he immediately ordered his ministering Vestare to tend to Elu-Kaan. He moved his great bulk out of their way, sat down and snaked his head to the ground by Elu-Kaan’s.
He hardly had to ask the question. The reason Elu was damaged had to be an encounter with the Arakhe and the reason he was not in the flow of interdimensional space was because he had clearly not found a way through to his Dragonene inside Julatsa.
Close to, Elu-Kaan’s muzzle was covered in myriad scratches from the claws and teeth of the Arakhe. All but impervious to Dragonfire, they were a dangerous foe but seldom ventured from their dimension to trouble the huge animals whose souls they dare not take. But this DemonShroud penetrated the sanctity of inter-dimensional space and Elu-Kaan had stumbled into their innate fury and had almost paid the ultimate price.
There was no formal contact between the two races. For all that dragons were hard to negotiate with, Arakhe would not talk at all. Theirs was a simple doctrine that assumed all other races in all other dimensions were inferior to them, to be used and destroyed as necessary. Sha-Kaan, who had only one encounter with them in his long history, would concede that in most cases, they had reason to believe so. But dragons and now humans and elves had learned to either use them or deal with them effectively and this made them more unpredictable still.
Elu-Kaan’s eyes flickered open as he felt Sha-Kaan’s breath on his face. A dark discharge ran from his nose but this was so far ignored by the Vestare who concentrated on his wing and the scales and skin that covered his chest cavity.
‘I am sorry, Sha-Kaan, I have failed you,’ he said, voice rasping and wheezing.
‘Speak with your mind, Elu, I am open to you. Rest your throat and your lungs.’
‘Thank you,’ said Elu-Kaan, a pulse of gratitude for the honour of mind speaking with the Great Kaan accompanying his words.
‘Soon you will be able to do so as of right,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘Now, tell me of your journey and your encounter with the Arakhe. And I will hear no talk of failure. Yours was a mission of risk and that you survived at all is testament to your ability and strength. If you should tire, tell me and we will talk at a later time.’
‘You are hurt, Sha-Kaan.’
‘Look to your own injuries, Elu. I need to take your information to my Dragonene. Speak while you are able.’
Elu-Kaan took as deep a breath as was possible for him. His body shuddered with the effort and the pain. Sha-Kaan again wondered what the damage could be but thought to ask a Vestare later.
‘It is hard to follow the corridor without a Dragonene as beacon but I could follow the streams and markers I knew, and the signature of Balaia is strong.’ Elu-Kaan’s eyes were closed once more and Sha could allow the frown of worry to spread across his features. Another breath, shorter this time, heaved across Elu’s body. His voice faded for a moment and then recovered. ‘I could feel the presence you call the Shroud as I approached Julatsa and the location of my Dragonene but behind it was silence like the void we felt when the Balaians cast their spell that tore our gateway.’
‘Calm yourself, Elu,’ said Sha-Kaan as he felt the increase in the younger dragon’s heart rate. He glanced across at the Vestare who worked feverishly on his chest with heated mud balms and scented steams. They would take some time to filter through the skin. One of the Vestare moved between the two dragon’s heads and rested a steaming pot beneath Elu-Kaan’s mouth and nostrils. His surprise at the new scent was followed swiftly by a relaxation of the muscles in his neck as the gentle fragrance of mist and leaf carried its healing properties to his lungs.
‘The Vestares’ skill is a blessing,’ said Sha-Kaan, nodding to the servants of the Kaan, who bowed in response to his notice though they could not hear the exchange between him and Elu. ‘Now, how did the Arakhe get close to you?’
‘I felt I could move through the Shroud but as I touched its presence, I could feel the magic was strong and a link between the Balaian and the Arakhe dimension, not of the Arakhe alone.
‘And it was full of Arakhe and they flooded my corridor, repulsing my fire and attacking me with their feet, their hands and their teeth. Those that bit inside my mouth hurt me. It was like ice and it quelled my fire and now it burns in my neck and deep within me . . .’ He trailed off again as a cough racked his body, causing his tail to reflex and slap the ground behind him and the Vestare near him to jump away sharply. New discharge shot from his nostrils and bowled over the pot whose contents drained into the hot moist earth of the Melde Hall. It was immediately replaced by another.
‘Enough, Elu-Kaan, you must rest.’
‘No, Great Kaan, there is one more thing,’ Elu’s mind voice was fading and Sha-Kaan guessed the balms and scents were designed to force sleep upon the wounded dragon. ‘The Shroud is full of Arakhe and they are baying for the souls of the Balaians. They think they have been given a way to breach the Balaian dimension that the Balaians cannot close. We must pray to the Skies that they are wrong because there is no way we can help them, the power is too great and we are too stretched.’
‘But what might it mean?’ asked Sha-Kaan, trying to close on the ramifications of the new threat. Elu-Kaan had the answer.
‘If they can beat the mages with whom they made the Shroud, they can expand its compass at will. It is another gateway, Great Kaan, and without Balaians to control it, could swallow our melde-dimension as easily as the gateway over Teras.’ Elu-Kaan’s mind contact slipped away and, for a moment, Sha-Kaan thought he had died. But a glance at the Vestare and their calm ministrations told him that Elu-Kaan was merely at healing rest.
He pulled his neck away from the ground and stood. There was no time to be lost and there was no time to rest and heal his own wounds. He had been right. Again, Balaians, trying to protect themselves, had set in train an event over which they no longer had any proper control. This time he could not talk just to Hirad Coldheart. This time, the entirety of The Raven had to hear him. Without another backward glance, he walked to his corridor and sought to tr
avel interdimensional space, Hirad Coldheart’s signature as his guiding beacon.
Chapter 20
Barras knocked quietly, hoping to find the General asleep but the order to come in was rasped out immediately. The old elf negotiator entered Kard’s rooms in the base of the Tower, to find the General sitting by a small fire, his chair pulled over to an open window. A steaming mug rested on the sill and Julatsa’s senior soldier was gazing out at the star-lit sky. Night was a release, if only because the Shroud was all but invisible in the dark and somehow less menacing, though its aura sent shudders down the spines of any within its influence. By the master sand-timers, it was about two hours before dawn.
There was nothing more any of them could do but wait until the first order came through and then the day would bring what it would bring. Throughout the College, an uneasy quiet held sway. There was not a man, woman or child that did not know their role. In dozens of meetings, all of which took place beyond the gaze of the guards in the Wesmen’s tower, Kard and his lieutenants had outlined their plans in great detail.
In addition to the fighting groups and mage defence and offence, Kard had organised every member of the civilian population into a group to tackle a specific task. From provisioning soldiers on the walls with everything from arrows to bread, through carpentry and stonemasonry teams to plug and strengthen defences, to medical, stretcher, and fire teams, everyone was assigned the task most suited to their abilities.
In separate meetings, Kerela had briefed all her mages to obey Kard until the battle was either won or lost. In that latter event, all knew what would happen and those who could not directly help in burying the Heart were expected to die defending those who could. And finally, with the College sleeping its last before battle was joined, Endorr and Seldane had, at Barras’ behest, moved hundreds of the College’s most critical texts into or just outside of the Heart. Now, when the Shroud was dispersed, the Heart would look more akin to a storeroom than the very centre of Julatsan magic.
Barras glanced around Kard’s sparse accommodation. A single bunk lay unused against the right-hand wall. Charts, parchments and quills littered a desk beneath the other, still closed, window and the desk chair was heaped with books and diaries. These, Kard moved when he saw it was his old friend that had entered.
‘Sit down, Barras, you need your rest,’ he said, a half smile playing over his cracked lips; his chin, newly shaved, glistening with the sweat of the fire in the warmth of the room. He removed a pot from a hook just inside the grate and filled a mug for Barras, which the elf took in both hands, nodding his thanks.
‘Are you sure this is right?’ asked Kard, pointing his chin in the direction of the Shroud. ‘Going back to battle, I mean.’
‘What other way is there?’
‘Well, we could restrain the people and exist within these walls for . . .’ He paused and dragged a sheet of paper from the desk, shaking off those that sat atop it. A couple fluttered to the floor where he left them. ‘. . . one hundred and seventeen days. If we ration hard and deal with our cess sensibly.’
‘And at the end of that time?’
Kard smiled again and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well, the world will have done a lot of turning. Perhaps we could be liberated.’
‘And Senedai will have run out of prisoners to slaughter and the mounds of disease-ridden corpses will be higher than the walls. What’s all this about?’ Barras frowned and sipped at his drink. It was a herbal leaf tea with a hint of peppermint and was most agreeable.
Kard’s smile faded and he shook his head, a finger on his lips.
‘Oh, nothing. I was just hoping you were coming here with another solution, I suppose, one that wouldn’t lead to so many of those people out there getting killed tomorrow and the next day and the next day after that.’
‘I didn’t think doubt ever entered your head, Kard.’
‘It doesn’t, as you well know, but, well I don’t know, I hoped for so much when the Shroud went up.’
‘Do you wish we’d never raised it?’ asked Barras.
‘No, no. Actually, last night, or was it the night before?’ Kard looked out over the courtyard. ‘Anyway, the other night, I lay there and wondered about the outcome had you not raised the Shroud.’
‘And?’ Barras raised his eyebrows.
‘You know as well as I do. The Wesmen would have been over these walls in no time. We had no mage strength, our army was routed and everyone was terrified. This way, we are rested, our morale is higher but we are still as scared, I think. At least we’ll give them a bloody nose.’
Barras said nothing, drinking his tea and watching the thoughts play over Kard’s face, seeing the ghosts of smiles, frowns and tears. He was sorry to have interrupted the General’s reverie. The old soldier was replaying his life, knowing he had little of it left. The doubts he expressed were just those of any hard-thinking man who had the sense to search for a better way out until time was up and he had to concede there wasn’t one. He decided to take his leave quickly but he had come here for a reason.
‘What are you doing here, anyway?’ said Kard realising the same thing.
‘We’ve been talking in the Council Room. We’re going to start the Summoning now. It could be sometime before Heila reveals himself and then we have to negotiate the removal of the Shroud. It’ll be difficult to guarantee it will be gone exactly an hour before dawn but it shouldn’t be any later. You need to have at least the tower attack mages ready fairly soon.’
‘And I’ll wake my soldiers too. Couldn’t you have mentioned this earlier?’
‘We needed to study some texts to be sure. We’ll be starting presently.’ Barras got up to leave, placing his empty mug on the desk where it left a ring on an organisation chart. ‘Sorry.’
Kard shrugged very slightly. ‘No matter. I think they’ve outlived their usefulness now.’ He shook hands with Barras, his grip strong and confident. ‘Good luck.’
Barras nodded. ‘I’ll see you upstairs later this morning. May the Gods be with you.’
‘If they aren’t, we’ll be with them soon enough.’
‘That’s a grim thought.’ Barras smiled.
‘But a realistic one.’
Barras walked away to the Heart of the Tower of Julatsa.
The Raven had stopped to rest in the lee of a small incline, sheltered from the prevailing wind. Above them, bracken and bush rustled further up the slope while, to either side, the land stretched away, full of stream, bog, marsh and scrub.
They had walked well into the evening, stopping only when Denser indicated that Erienne needed the rest. The Dordovan mage herself had said nothing but the lines on her face had deepened with the late afternoon gloom and, though outwardly irritated by the attention, was soon asleep, a reassured smile on her face.
Will and Thraun had left the camp once the stove was lit and returned a long while later, Will tight-lipped, Thraun padding to a quiet spot away from his companions before lying down, a brooding look across his lupine features.
First Denser and then The Unknown had taken watches and now, with the stars straining to touch the land with their radiance, Hirad sat awake, his back against the rise, gazing across his sleeping friends and back along their path of the previous day.
While the pace had been quick, it was still just a walk and Hirad fretted on the lack of any chance to secure even a pair of horses to carry baggage and give them a break in turn from the long foot slog. But far more pressing on Hirad, despite the time constraints he knew they faced, was how they might penetrate first the Wesmen army, whose number was not known but certainly high, and following that, the DemonShroud.
He had little understanding of what Ilkar talked about but it seemed to him that they could not break the thing, whatever it was. He found himself looking forward to Sha-Kaan’s next contact, hoping the mighty dragon had found a way for them to get through.
Hirad yawned, letting his jaws stretch. He shook his head and glanced around the sky. It was a coupl
e of hours until dawn, maybe a little more. The night was mild without the breeze to chill the skin and the gentle warmth of the stove blanketed the camp.
He levered himself to his feet and refilled his mug from the pot on the stove, adding more water and grounds from the skin and sack nearby. The supply of coffee was dwindling quickly and Hirad wrinkled his nose in distaste as he imagined a return to the leaf teas he knew Ilkar would make when the coffee sack was empty.
He made to sit back down but a growl had him spin on his heel. Coffee splashed over his gloved hand. Thraun was crouched, staring at him, his yellow eyes cold and malign. Hirad met the stare, forcing a smile on to his face.
‘Hey, Thraun, it’s me, remember?’
Thraun growled on, hackles rising. He shifted back, resting on the raw power of his hind quarters. Nearest to him, Will stirred and woke.
‘What’s up?’ he asked blearily.
‘I don’t know,’ said Hirad. ‘He—’
With a half-bark, the wolf sprang away into the darkness. And then the pain gripped Hirad. Brief and intense, it swamped his senses and brought him to his knees, contents of his mug draining into the dirt in front of him.
‘Hirad Coldheart, hear me.’ Hirad didn’t know why but the voice of Sha-Kaan was close this time. And it had a different quality. Not as strong and commanding. Pained.
‘I hear you, Sha-Kaan.’
‘I must open the portal. The Raven must hear me. Are you in a place of safety? Your rhythms and signature tell me you are at rest.’
‘Yes, Great Kaan.’
‘Excellent. It will be done.’ And the pain was gone.
A few paces directly in front of Hirad as he remained on his knees, and a short way down the shallow incline, a line of flickering light traced a rectangle from the ground up to a height of ten feet, across seven and back down. Inside the rectangle, all was black but to either side and above, the landscape stayed in view.
The Raven Collection Page 81