He drew his blade, checked its edge and watched. Vuldaroq was talking to one of his mages, who turned and pointed down towards the beach. A birdcall sounded from the left, bow strings thrummed and two of the mages fell, arrows taking both in the eye.
Darrick ran out.
‘Vuldaroq!’ he shouted, deflecting attention for a vital moment.
He closed the gap quickly, watching the two soldiers move forward to block him while Vuldaroq and his surviving mage began casting. The bow strings sounded again. The fat Dordovan Tower Lord shouted in pain as an arrow burrowed into his right arm at the shoulder. His mage was not so fortunate.
Darrick ran on, aiming a blow at the first enemy who blocked clumsily and fell back a pace under the weight of the strike, sword jarring from his hand. A pace further on, the General clashed blades with the second soldier, a scared young man not ready for the fight. Darrick had no compassion. Able to keep an eye on the other soldier as he stooped to grab his blade, Darrick swung left to right, his opponent leaping back, hanging his sword out in a pathetic attempt at a block.
Darrick smashed it aside, stepped up and rammed his blade through the soldier’s stomach, pushing the body away with his foot, freeing his sword and reversing it across the chest of the second man whose guard wasn’t ready. He fell on to his back, clutching at his ribs, gasping. Darrick stood over him and rammed his blade through the man’s heart.
Looking up, he saw Vuldaroq already under the guard of Ren and Aronaar, Ren’s dagger to his neck and Aronaar’s bow sweeping the area, looking for threat.
‘Bring him,’ said Darrick.
The trio hurried Vuldaroq back to the house and into relative safety.
‘You’ll pay for this, Darrick. Desertion and now treachery against Lystern. You’ll hang. I’ll see to it personally.’
Darrick turned and grabbed Vuldaroq’s injured arm, bringing a whimper from the mage.
‘One more word and I’ll bleed you right here, fat man,’ he grated. ‘Your unholy alliance with the Black Wings has brought us to this and now you are going to do my bidding. Understand?’
Vuldaroq was scared, Darrick could see it. His face was white with the pain of his injury and the sweat was dripping from his brow. To exemplify his point, Darrick twisted the arrow. Vuldaroq squealed.
‘Understand?’
Vuldaroq nodded. They moved swiftly up the corridor, picking their way over bodies and rubble, the fighting getting nearer and louder with every pace. Darrick had his blade at Vuldaroq’s back now, Ren and Aronaar just ahead as they approached the ballroom.
Inside, Protector bodies lay still and Dordovan mages moaned.
‘Cover them, Aronaar,’ said Darrick. ‘Right, Ren, let’s stop this thing.’
Erienne flowed gently over Lyanna’s consciousness, feeling her tension and pain, and soothed them away. She burrowed deeper, finding the core of her magic, where the mana writhed and pulsated. She followed its tendrils to where they ate at her body, leaching her strength and destroying her. She reached out to ease the first ones from their hold but they lashed out and she felt a blow as if slapped that sent her mind reeling.
She gathered herself and came in again. Remembering the words of the prophecy. The mother shall stifle the destruction within, laying her mind bare to its power and accepting the death herself that was promised to the Innocent. For the Innocent to fail, surely so must the mother.
She moved in closer. At the centre of her child’s mind, a monster was suffocating her. It sucked on the mana and gorged on her life energy, drawing both to it to make itself stronger, a living force with one aim, the death of its host. Dordover had triggered it and Lyanna had fed it unwittingly, the Al-Drechar too frail at the last to protect her from herself. And Lyanna was fading fast. Her last burst had fed it such power and it pulled the spirit from the tiny girl.
Focusing her mind and her mana energy, she surged in, the monster opening its claws to greet her.
No, Mummy.
Lyanna?
You mustn’t go there. That’s a bad thing.
But it’s within you, my sweet, and it must be taken away or you will die.
But if you go there, it will kill you, too.
I know, darling. But I’ll always be here, inside you to help you as you grow.
You won’t. Erienne sensed crying. She crept further down. You’ll be dead. You can’t die.
There is another way.
Erienne halted. That had been another voice. Recognisable in an instant.
Ephemere, get out of my child’s mind.
Erienne, Erienne, haven’t you ever understood? This is not your child’s mind. It is the mind of the One. The mana construct of us all.
What do you mean? Erienne’s heart raced.
The One isn’t like a College magic. It has form. It is an entity that, once awakened, joins with a mage mind to bring a single harmony. And now it is awake but it can’t stay here.
Why not? Erienne felt a brief confusion before the import of Ephemere’s words sank in and she felt herself go cold. Don’t you dare hurt her, you old witch, or by the gods I’ll kill you myself.
Lyanna can’t feel pain any more. But her body is too young to contain what was awakened within her. We tried to teach her, to make her stronger. But she doesn’t have the physical maturity to contain the One mind.
I can save her, Ephemere. Tinjata was very specific. Get away and let me do it.
He was wrong. He didn’t read all the signs correctly. You are here because you are the mother of the child. Because you alone have the empathy the One mind requires to survive now the Innocent cannot. That is what you are laying open to the One. I thought you understood, Erienne.
Understood what?’
Oh, my dear Erienne, we aren’t letting you into her mind to save her.
Hirad barely blocked the blow, the sword point nicking his right cheek to give him a cut to mirror the one he already sported. He lunged forward, his speed surprising the Dordovan in front of him who leapt back, his blade coming across his body to knock Hirad’s aside.
Behind, they massed still and The Raven had nowhere to run any more. With Denser and Ilkar unable to cast, there was no backup and he felt himself tiring too quickly. Beside him, The Unknown grunted with every blow. One of the Protectors was down, another two plus Aeb were already carrying injuries, and the Dordovans were rotating their attackers where they could, keeping fresh while they wore their opponents down.
Hirad looked for a gap and hurried his sword in an upward arc, his enemy swaying back to dodge the blow. The man came in quickly and Hirad dropped to his haunches, the blade whipping over his head, coming up as he brought his own weapon down, clattering it through the back of the soldier. He dropped. Hirad backed up. He looked again over the heads of the enemy, trying to gauge their numbers. Too many. Too damn many.
‘Unknown?’ he said, using a two-handed grip to deflect a lunge to his head. He steered the enemy weapon aside and thrashed back quickly, his opponent stepping smartly back to evade.
‘Keep going,’ said The Unknown, though his breath was short and there was desperation in his voice. ‘Believe.’
Beside The Unknown, Aeb clattered his axe into the chest plate of a Dordovan and he crashed backwards into his companions. Hirad’s opponent was knocked off balance and the barbarian seized his chance, whipping his blade into the man’s throat, seeing it torn out to spray blood high. The victim fell choking, hands dragged him aside and yet another moved up to take his place.
Something had to give. Hirad, his arms aching and lungs burning, roared to clear his head again and swore that it wouldn’t be him.
Darrick was in no mood to wait. They were behind the fight, looking at the Dordovan forces pushing inexorably on. He could see Hirad’s sword rising and falling, blocking and sweeping. But he could also see the direction of the battle, and his friends would die.
‘Call them off,’ he said.
Vuldaroq said nothing.
‘Ren, I
think we should get their attention. Fire until they notice you.’
Ren sighed, stretched her bow and let go the arrow, seeing it slam into the back of a Dordovan neck. The man pitched forwards into those in front.
‘Call them off,’ repeated Darrick. His sword point dug a little deeper and his free hand rested on the arrow once more. ‘If my friends die, so do you. I promise you.’
Ren fired again, another soldier fell and those at the back of the line were turning quickly. Some of them advanced. Ren nocked another arrow and bent the bow. Darrick moved his blade to Vuldaroq’s neck and held up his free hand to keep the Dordovans back.
‘Your move, fat man,’ he whispered. ‘Either we all live or we all die. Choose.’
Hirad could see movement at the back of the Dordovan press but couldn’t see exactly what had caused it. Men were moving away and the shouts of encouragement had turned to those of warning. The pressure eased.
‘Come on Raven!’ he yelled, and though only The Unknown stood by him, the Protectors took up the invitation. They pushed.
Hirad thrashed his blade into the chest of his enemy, bending chain mail links in and winding him. The soldier couldn’t raise a block and Hirad slammed his sword right to left and down into his stomach. Beside him, The Unknown overheaded, his blade clanging into a helm and stunning his opponent while Aeb’s blade whispered through the air as it had all day, its point tearing the throat from an enemy.
There was shouting from ahead, urgent and quick. He thought he heard the order to disengage and the Dordovans paced back. He made to move in to keep up the attack but Darrick’s voice stopped him.
‘Hirad, hold!’
Confused, Hirad backed off.
‘Cease,’ said The Unknown. The Protectors stopped immediately.
The Dordovans retreated into the dining room. There were still twenty of them, maybe more. Hirad, breathing hard, sweating and glad for the break, saw them part and then, through them, came Vuldaroq, Darrick’s blade at his neck and Ren by him, bow flexed and ready.
Hirad smiled and was about to speak when Erienne came to, screaming.
She surged out of Lyanna’s mind, murder on her lips. She had to warn Denser, had to let him know somehow. But the tendrils were snatching at her and with every passing heartbeat the monster invaded her, leaving Lyanna to die. For even as it fed on her, it sustained her while she gave it strength, like a parasitic host. Keeping her alive it leached all it could from her before discarding her for another. And the Al-Drechar weren’t prepared to take the chance of losing what they had nurtured within her daughter and they were transferring it to another, more able host; and the match was perfect.
She clawed towards consciousness, fought the monster which locked on to her, suffusing her mind, showing her miracles, showing her power. She didn’t want any of it. She wanted her child alive.
Her eyes flashed open, her heart trip-hammering in her chest. She looked down at Lyanna. The child was still, so still. A scream erupted from her lips and she was massaging Lyanna’s arms, her chest, her back, urging her to breathe, for her pulse to beat and for her lips to move and her lungs to drag in air.
She could dimly sense Denser talking to her, calling, crying, shouting. There was a cacophony in her head. She put Lyanna on the ground, shaking off the hands that clawed at her, her mouth meeting her daughter’s, breathing into her again and again.
But there was nothing but the roaring in her own head and the whispering that she was too late. She raised her head slowly, wiped the stray hair from Lyanna’s beautiful face, saw her tears drip on those perfect cheeks and brushed her trembling fingers across her blueing lips.
‘My poor little girl. I’m so sorry.’
Denser’s arms were around her. Silence beat at her ears and the roaring died away.
‘Let me go,’ she said calmly.
He relaxed his hold. She shot to her feet, dragged the knife from her belt sheath and dived at Ephemere, plunging the blade over and over into the Al-Drechar’s chest.
‘Murderer!’ she cried. ‘Murderer!’
Strong arms pulled her away. She fought against them.
‘You killed her, you bastards!’ she raged. ‘Fucking bitches, you killed her!’
She almost broke free but more hands held her arms down and the dagger was prised from her grasp. Denser’s face came close to hers and he put a hand to the back of her neck and pulled her towards his heaving shoulders.
‘They killed my baby,’ she whispered. ‘They killed my baby.’
And then there was darkness.
Hirad was shaking. He didn’t understand. Lyanna was lying dead on the floor of the kitchen and Erienne had torn the chest from Ephemere while the other Al-Drechar looked on, too dazed or weak to do anything about it. The Unknown had dragged her away and Aeb had taken the dagger from her.
He turned, bloodied sword in hand. Ilkar was sitting slouched, semi-conscious. Darrick had marched Vuldaroq into the midst of them, the Dordovan soldiers falling back, looking to their wounded and casting wary eyes at the Protectors, the only men still ready and willing to fight.
Hirad heaved in a breath. Denser was crying, Erienne in his arms. He had retreated with her to a chair and sat there, oblivious to everyone around him. The barbarian turned to Darrick who was holding his sword still at Vuldaroq’s neck.
‘Thank you,’ he managed, though it felt like utter failure.
Darrick shrugged. Out in the dining room, the Dordovans stood in a confused silent group, covered from the kitchen door by Ren and Aronaar, who had moved back from the ballroom.
‘Hardly matters does it?’ said the General.
Hirad shook his head. He looked down on Lyanna’s still form and over at the hideous bloodied mass that had been Ephemere. Flanking her, Myriell and Cleress sat, eyes closed, each with a hand covering one of their dead sister’s.
Vuldaroq cleared his throat. ‘Would you mind moving this?’ He waved at Darrick’s sword point. ‘For rather obvious reasons, I no longer represent a danger.’
‘Hirad?’ asked Darrick.
‘Whatever,’ said the barbarian. ‘We can’t kill him, so we might as well let him go.’ Darrick sheathed his sword and Vuldaroq relaxed.
Hirad looked at The Unknown. The big man’s gaze was locked on the body of the child.
‘Unknown?’
‘All for nothing,’ he said. ‘Poor little mite. She never stood a chance.’
‘But we had to try,’ said Hirad.
‘Always doomed, wasn’t she?’ The Unknown pointed at the Al-Drechar. ‘And they knew it.’
‘What now?’ asked Hirad.
The Unknown looked up, his eyes moist. ‘First, I suggest the Dordovans pick up their wounded, bury their dead, and leave. The battle is over. Then, I really haven’t got a clue.’
Movement at the periphery of Hirad’s vision had him spinning. A man, if you could call him that, shoved his way to the front of the Dordovans massed around the kitchen door. He had one hand to his head from which blood dripped steadily. He was swaying on his feet, blood ran from a badly bandaged wound on his leg and his eye was unfocused.
‘Selik,’ grated Hirad. He hefted his sword. ‘One man who doesn’t get away alive.’ He crossed the space quickly and raised his sword to ready. ‘Defend yourself. I’d hate to cut down an unarmed man.’
Selik dragged his sword from its sheath and waved the Dordovans away, nodding.
‘You I can take.’
But The Unknown stepped in between them, facing his friend.
‘No, Hirad,’ he said. ‘The fight is over. It would be murder.’
Hirad looked at him, his blood boiling for him to strike the Black Wing down, but The Unknown held his gaze and spoke softly.
‘Hirad, we have a Code.’
‘Yes,’ said the barbarian. He put up his sword and pointed a finger at Selik. ‘One day, The Unknown won’t be there and I’ll be waiting. Remember that every day when you wake up.’
Selik spat on
the dining room floor. ‘Honour. It’ll be the death of you, Coldheart. Now, Vuldaroq, when are we going to leave this bastard island?’
‘Come walk with me, Hirad,’ said The Unknown.
It was late in the afternoon and so much had changed. The Dordovans had gone back to their ships, taking their wounded and Selik with them. Whether the Black Wing made it to Balaia was a matter of some conjecture but Hirad rather hoped he did. He wanted the satisfaction for himself.
Ilkar was once again watching over Thraun and he remained a mystery. Soon, they would have to wake him and see if he was either man or wolf inside the hybrid body. Denser had taken Erienne out into the gentle sunshine and had laid her on a grass bank near some of the ancient graves to sleep under a WarmHeal spell. It would do nothing to ease the agony of her mind, but it gave her body respite from the trauma. And Darrick walked alone, no doubt picking over the holes in his tactics and wondering whether anything could have been made different. Elsewhere, the six surviving Protectors, including Aeb, conducted ceremonies for their dead.
The Unknown limped beside Hirad as the two old friends wandered out through the rubble of the house and down the path towards the beach.
‘How will she cope do you think?’ asked the big man. ‘Either of them for that matter.’
‘Erienne?’
‘Who else.’ The Unknown fell quiet for a few paces. ‘Losing a child, however it happens, must be a devastating blow. But it’s happened to Erienne twice. First the twins, now Lyanna.’
‘We’ll be here,’ said Hirad.
The Unknown smiled. ‘I know but she’ll need so much more. Imagine. All her children are dead. Her spirit will be shattered. Her belief in herself as a mother gone. I doubt it’s something she’ll ever really come to terms with. Lyanna was her world.’
‘Denser’s the key, isn’t he?’ said Hirad. ‘He’s the only one that can really share her grief or understand what she’s going through and make her believe in herself again.’
The Raven Collection Page 159