‘Very much so,’ said The Unknown. ‘We should consider the possibility of attack.’ He tapped the as yet sheathed sword in his back-mounted scabbard.
‘Let me have a word with Jatha.’ Hirad moved forwards and tapped Jatha’s shoulder. The Kaan servant looked around and forced a smile though his eyes betrayed his worry.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Hirad. Jatha looked blank. ‘Danger?’ Hirad pointed to the sky and gestured around him before flapping his arms as Jatha had done to indicate a dragon.
Jatha nodded vigorously. ‘Sky battle coming,’ he said. ‘Careful.’ He pointed to his eyes and then to the area immediately surrounding them. ‘More battle.’ He shrugged. Hirad nodded.
‘All right Raven,’ he said, dropping back. ‘We might be getting company from the sky and the ground. Let’s get prepared. Thraun, Unknown, left and right flanking positions, Ilkar the shield, Denser and Erienne, offence, please.’ Up ahead, two pairs of Jatha’s men left the main group, disappearing into the grass to either side, swords drawn. Jatha himself continued onwards, upping the pace still further until he was almost at a trot. Hirad looked back briefly towards Styliann. ‘I presume I can leave it to you and yours to organise our rear defence?’
Styliann nodded. ‘Nothing will get through from behind,’ he said curtly.
Up in the sky, the defence of the rip had strengthened. Hirad estimated seventy Kaan dragons now flew, their patterns close, their calls echoing down over the plain. It was a haunting sound that set him on edge. The brackish barks and muted growls were alien in his ears and he shifted his shoulders as the back of his neck tingled. Involuntarily, he looked behind him and it was then that he saw the shapes.
At first they were a group of black dots, high in the sky, coming from beyond the forest valley they had travelled through the day before. But as they drew closer, he saw their shapes, long slim and fast. They numbered in excess of twenty and they flew in a single chevron, heading directly for the rip. The calls of the Kaan became more urgent and the defending dragons, half of them at least, switched from set patterns into attack groups of five or six, moving out to meet the enemy.
It was Jatha’s voice that made him realise that they had all stopped to look.
‘Go,’ he was saying. ‘Careful.’ He made to move off but a change in the movement in the sky caught his eye. Hirad followed his gaze to the attacking dragons. One had cut away from the main group and was angling downwards across the plain and coming straight for them.
‘Raven, put up your swords and forget the spells. We’re going to have to run. Protectors, likewise, believe me or die.’ He pointed up to the shape barrelling towards them. It would be on them in no time.
‘Hirad!’ Jatha was tugging at his arm, his voice distressed, his men agitated behind him. Hirad looked down to him. The little man spread the fingers of his hands wide then moved his arms apart. ‘Go,’ he said, repeating the gesture. He shouted an order to his men who instantly scattered away into the grass, no two in the same direction.
Hirad got the idea. ‘Raven!’ he shouted. ‘Line abreast, three yard spacing. Raven with me!’ Not waiting to see if Styliann was with them, Hirad ploughed off through the grass, sensing The Unknown and Ilkar flanking him. Glancing left and right, he could just about see them but couldn’t make out the rest as they stumbled and fought their way through the tall thick grass that impeded their every step.
They were running blind and it was all a game of chance. As he thrashed through the pliable stems, he imagined the dragon rushing down, laughing at the pitiable attempts to escape it could see as it chose its first victims. None of them had a chance. It could wield its fire at will and soon they would all be so much ash floating up into the sky.
He felt anger that Sha-Kaan could leave them so unprotected and he called the Great Dragon’s name in his mind, demanding assistance, pleading for rescue. Stumbling and almost falling, he choked back a cry, a stark realisation thumping through his skull. This was his nightmare made real. In Taranspike Castle he had dreamed that he was running on cracked earth and going nowhere but the result would be the same. He would be caught and the skin would be burned from his bones as he stood helpless.
A wave of heat washed across the plain from away to his right accompanied by red light as flame scoured into the grass. No one screamed but then they wouldn’t have had the time. Hirad prayed it wasn’t Jatha and increased his pace. Crackling noises filled the air and a dense smoke flooded into the sky as the dry grass was enveloped by fire. Through a swirl in the smoke the dragon, something like seventy feet long and no more than forty yards away, peeled back into the sky to prepare for another run, its sleek blue body slipping easily through the air, its wings beating in graceful time. Its shadow was black on the ground, those huge wings snapping like sails as they dug at the air, pushing it aside with great sweeps, the noise like wind howling around buildings. With cold certainty, Hirad knew it was coming for them next time.
He plunged on, shoulders hunched and arms up and protecting his face. No more than a dozen paces ahead, the ground fell away. It was their only chance.
‘Raven!’ he roared over the noise of the fire, the shouts of other men and the calls of a hundred dragons. ‘Slope dead ahead. Let’s get down it. Stay low!’ He could sense the dragon wheeling behind them. He ran on, took his last pace at a half dive and plunged to roll down the slope, turning over and over, grass, earth and loose stones filling his sight as he went.
It was a steeper slope than he had anticipated and he struggled to control his speed. A great scorch of flame lashed overhead, incinerating the grass at the top of the slope and sparking another fire that raged and consumed the vegetation all around. Heat washed down the slope, the shadow of the dragon passed over him, he splayed out his limbs to slow himself, hit the bottom of the slope and came to a sudden halt against The Unknown, dust filling the air and a run of dirt and broken stems sliding behind him.
The two men helped each other to their feet. Ilkar lay a few yards away, shaking his head as he dragged himself to a sitting position, dust clouding around him, smoke fogging the air above. An acrid, burning smell filtered down and the noise of the dragon-induced fire was close.
‘Raven!’ called Hirad. ‘Sound off if you can hear me. Be moving this way.’
Denser and Erienne both called that they were all right. Thraun appeared at Hirad’s side, nodding curtly.
‘Assessment,’ said Hirad.
‘The smoke in the sky will obscure us but the fire will kill us if we hang around,’ said The Unknown. ‘We need to move away and up the other side of this slope. The prevailing wind is blowing east to west, I suggest we push east.’
Denser and Erienne came into view, the Dark Mage with an arm around Erienne’s waist, she with blood running from a cut in her chin.
‘Not exactly the entrance recommended for a pregnant woman,’ she said. Hirad’s concern must have shown as she quickly smiled. ‘But it takes a lot more than a slide in the grass to hurt a mage child.’
‘Good,’ said Hirad. ‘Come on, let’s move away from the fire. Cover your mouths if you can.’ He moved off, fetching a cloth from his pocket and tying it over his mouth and feeling instant relief from the smoke that smothered the sky overhead and was moving to fill the shallow cleft in which they were hiding. The fire burned on two sides of them, making its way steadily down the slope behind them and to their right as they trotted quickly along the base of the cleft.
Angling slightly up-slope in the direction of their travel, Hirad strained to hear the attacking dragon or some sign of other life from the sundered travelling party but couldn’t. Worried by the sudden apparent withdrawal, he unsheathed his sword almost reflexively, turned to tell The Unknown to do the same, heard a whisper through the grass and was calling for Ilkar’s HardShield before the short arrow struck Thraun in the left shoulder.
‘Shield up,’ said Ilkar.
‘Raven, watch those flanks. Denser, I think your blade will be more use in h
ere. Thraun how are you?’ A second arrow bounced from the shield, then a third.
‘Flesh only. I’m bleeding but I can fight.’ His flat-toned voice held no hint of the pain he had to be feeling.
Hirad pushed onwards, The Unknown two paces to his right, Denser coming to his left, leaving Thraun as rear guard behind the casting mages. He could hear Erienne muttering as she built the mana shape for a spell he prayed held no fire. Another three arrows bounced before shouts from in front of them preceded the cracking of grass and the running of feet.
Hirad stopped and hacked the grass flat in front of him. ‘Here they come. Expect short swords; you know what Jatha was carrying.’
Three shaven-headed men burst forwards, all less than five feet tall and carrying stubby spiked clubs two-handed. As they charged, they shouted in a language Hirad couldn’t understand, their faces suffused with hatred. Behind them, others were coming.
Hirad swayed backwards and caught a surprisingly powerful blow on his blade, moving it left to right and down, exposing his enemy’s right side. He rebalanced swiftly and snapped his blade up to slice the ear of the man as he tried to dodge the blow. The man cried out in pain and Hirad brought his sword back down in a killing blow through his shoulder, crashing through bone.
He stepped back again and waited, seeing Denser stabbing his victim through the chest while The Unknown had made even shorter work of his opponent. The chasing pack faltered. Where their companions had run on in a hate-lust, they stopped to look at those they faced, taking in their height, strength and the size of the blades ranged against them.
‘Move up,’ said Hirad. ‘Keep an eye on those flanks. Erienne, I think another demonstration if you’re ready.’ The enemy, perhaps a dozen of them, were backing off, Hirad watching them every step. He could see movement either side. ‘They’re going to attack again. Not frontal. Erienne, ahead is yours.’
Erienne stepped up to Hirad’s shoulder, opened her palms and spoke a single command word. IceWind howled away into the grass, destroying man and vegetation over a twenty yard spread. The Raven warriors advanced quickly into the chill behind it. Shouts of pure terror erupted from all around and suddenly the sound was all of running feet as the enemy fighting men turned and fled.
‘Excellent,’ said Hirad. He pushed on, trotting through the dead zone Erienne had created, poles of grass shattering at his passing, the bodies of half a dozen men, forever frozen in fear, scattered about him. Moving on up the slope, he could see the ground levelling out again. To his right, a pall of smoke covered the plain. The question was, where were Jatha and Styliann?
He brought The Raven to a watchful halt. Immediately, Erienne turned to tend to Thraun’s shoulder. He scanned the sky. Around the rip, a furious battle was in progress. Flame lit up the sky which was full of dragons swooping, diving and climbing. As he watched, a pair of what he thought were Kaan by their size, chased down a lone enemy. One breathed a long gout of flame over its wings while the other dived down to grab its neck, twisting violently before dropping the victim who plummeted from the sky.
From three directions, more dragons were coming to join the fighting but of The Raven’s assailant there was no sign. For a time, they all stared up at the sky, taking in the immense and raw animal power clashing overhead. So much force, speed and agility. It was a sight quite without equal and to Hirad it was a stark reminder of their stature in the conflict. They’d been lucky so far but, for the first time since they had faced the Wytch Lords, he felt their destiny was not in their hands. If a dragon wanted them dead, they would die.
‘What now?’ asked Denser, his gaze turned to Erienne as she tended to Thraun.
‘We keep vigilant,’ said Hirad. ‘Above and around. We need Ilkar to maintain the shield for now. Erienne might have scared them off but they might come back. Meanwhile, we have to think how to find the others.’
‘Assuming they’re there to be found,’ said Erienne. She had placed a pad of cloth around Thraun’s wound. The shapechanger had grasped the shaft with his right hand and at her nod, tugged it once, hard. It came free. Thraun grunted his pain and blood spread over the cloth, running over Erienne’s hands. She quickly stemmed the flow, muttered a few words and pressed a little harder. ‘Keep pushing,’ she told Thraun, placing his hand on the pressure point. ‘I’ve knitted the wound inside but it’s still weak. Try not to use that arm for the rest of the day, all right?’
He nodded. ‘Thank you.’
She caressed his cheek with her bloodied hand. ‘Dear Thraun,’ she said, and her troubled face said everything her words did not.
The Raven had stopped just below the lip of the cleft. There were enemies in the grass and enemies in the sky above and they had no idea where they were.
‘Options?’ asked Hirad.
‘We need to push away from here,’ said The Unknown. ‘We know we have to head to the mountains. We can still do that.’
‘I’ll go up,’ said Denser. ‘Take a quick look around, try and spot the others and our erstwhile attackers. What do you think?’
‘Risky,’ said Ilkar, his voice faint with concentration on the HardShield.
‘No riskier than staying here blind,’ reasoned Denser. ‘And we need Styliann. He has the writings.’
‘Do it,’ said Hirad.
‘Be careful,’ said Erienne.
Denser nodded. ‘I won’t be long.’
With ShadowWings trimmed for speed, Denser shot into the air, aware immediately of how vulnerable he felt in a medium so totally dominated by dragons. Though they were far away, battling over the rip, with their cries, their flame and their power an incredibly alien backdrop to his flight, Denser felt all their eyes upon him. He shuddered and looked at the scene below him.
The area around The Raven’s position was clear, their attackers still moving off to the east, their progress marked by the erratic waving of the grass. He couldn’t tell how many there were but they represented no significant danger. The biggest risk he could see was from the fire which raged in three places, sending billows of smoke into the sky as it ravaged the plain unchecked. The blaze nearest to them had taken much of the cleft in which they had hidden and moved steadily in all directions, the breeze slowing but not stopping its progress towards them.
Two larger areas of fire burned fiercely away to his right and Denser could see so easily how the dragons had ruined their land. Nothing but torrential rain could stop this blaze completely engulfing the entire plain which had to cover hundreds of square miles and, looking about him, he saw nothing but blue sky and light cloud. No respite would come today.
He flew on beyond the flames, in the direction of the mountains, reasoning that any survivors would try to move onward. He was quickly rewarded by the sight of grass swaying and flattening in a careless swathe ahead.
‘Styliann,’ he breathed. He swept down over the grass, calling for them to stop. Close to, he could see three Protectors in a wide arc and, though they appeared to be shadowing no one, the movement of the stems ahead told him that Styliann was there but under a CloakedWalk. Not a bad idea when you didn’t care for the safety of your companions.
‘Styliann, stop. We need to regroup.’ He overflew and wheeled in the air.
‘No,’ came the disembodied voice, breathless with effort. ‘We need to get away. I’ve lost Jatha and three of my Protectors have been killed.’
‘Calm down, the dragon has gone.’
‘Don’t you believe it.’ And as if to give credence to his words, a roar from his right told Denser all was not good. Bursting through the smoke, the dragon pounced to the ground and grabbed one of Jatha’s men, or possibly Jatha himself, soaring back into the air and tearing the man in two with his front claws, feeding each piece into his mouth, blood spraying and scattering.
Denser’s heart hammered in his chest and he twitched reflexively away, fighting to hold on to his concentration, his breath ragged, his mouth dry. A shudder coursed through his body and his hand was shaking as he moved
it to wipe his sweating forehead.
‘Get out of the sky, Denser; you’re a sitting target. And get Hirad to call his bloody dragon friends in or we’re all dead. Understand? Now stop giving away my position.’ Styliann and his Protectors changed direction and Denser soared away, very aware of his total exposure. Hugging the top of the grass, he flew hard to The Raven’s position, surprised at how far he had come, and trimming his wings for more speed.
With a note of surprise in its tone, he heard the dragon bark. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw it bank and wheel, all the while its eye fixed on one thing.
‘Oh dear God,’ muttered Denser. He was closing on The Raven and he and they only had one chance. He could hear the dragon’s wing beats as it raced towards him, he dived deeper still, his body skimming the tall fronds of grass. He flew into the smoke of the fire ravaging the cleft, holding his breath and turning a sharp left, flying along the line of the fire. Arrowing back into fresh air, he saw that the dragon had carried straight on, missing The Raven in its search for him.
Seizing the only time he had left, Denser flew hard back to them, pulling up to land just as the dragon realised it had been fooled and turned again in the air. It wouldn’t be long in reaching them.
‘Quick,’ he said, talking as his feet hit the ground and he dismissed the wings. ‘Back down the slope. The dragon’s coming back. Erienne, we need anything that may keep off fire. More HardShield. I’ll try an IceWind defence. You never know.’ They cast as they scrambled down, keeping themselves in close formation, with Hirad cajoling them all the way.
As they descended, they knew it was hopeless. They were running back into the flames, the dragon’s shadow passed over them once more, the force of its wings loud and terrifying and, this time, they could all see it bank and turn to fly down the length of the gully, opening its mouth to breathe.
It never reached them. At the top of the gully a huge set of jaws clamped around its neck and drove it into the ground which shuddered violently underfoot. Flame lit up the sky, a dual roar split the air, one was abruptly silenced. There was the sound of wings in the air and the shadow of Sha-Kaan hung over them, huge and comforting. His mouth dripped blood and he heaved great lungfuls of air as he hovered. The Raven’s relief was palpable.
The Raven Collection Page 98