‘I think the whole of Blackthorne heard you and Ren treating last night as if it was your last.’
‘Hirad, do you mind?’ It was Ren from just behind them.
‘Those corridors didn’t half echo, you know,’ said the barbarian, revelling in Ilkar’s deep blush.
‘Hirad, stop it,’ said Ilkar.
‘Tried to get a good night’s sleep—’
‘Ah, Hirad, but many of us were with our loved ones last night, weren’t we?’ said Ilkar. ‘For me it was Ren, then there’s Denser and Erienne and I understand The Unknown had contact with Diera through Aeb. And you talked sweet nothings with Sha-Kaan.’
‘Now who’s lucky, eh, Hirad?’ said Denser.
‘Is it my fault if I am called by a higher intellect?’
‘Wouldn’t want to sleep with it though, would you?’ said The Unknown.
‘Too much chafing,’ agreed Ilkar.
The Raven dissolved into laughter, Ilkar bent double over his saddle, Hirad taking both hands off the reins to wipe his eyes.
Fifty yards ahead, Aeb had stopped and turned in his saddle, his blank mask asking the question more eloquently than any words. It served to sober them up a little. The Unknown waved him on.
‘How is Sha-Kaan, anyway?’ he asked.
‘Angry,’ said Hirad. ‘And now alone. We have a lot to hate Xetesk for, don’t we? No offence, Denser.’
‘None taken. I agree with you.’
‘Good,’ said The Unknown. ‘Then let’s keep focussed. We’ve got a job to do. If the TaiGethen can’t get the thumb from the Xeteskians before they reach the city it’ll be down to us to go in and get it for them. Remember who we’re doing this for and remember not to speak loosely around Aeb.’
Hirad leaned over and punched Ilkar lightly on the shoulder. ‘I’ll take it as a personal affront if you die before we succeed in this, all right?’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ replied the elf.
The Raven upped the pace. Xetesk was at least seven days away.
Selik stood on the ramparts inside the Understone stockade feeling deeply satisfied. Since the massacre of Anders and his pathetic garrison of frightened boys, the twelve surviving Black Wings had been busy making as much of the town as habitable as they could. Water butts were full all down the main street, boards had been removed from buildings and firewood was stacked next to the butts. The bodies of the garrison had been burned long ago and their ash blown away by the wind.
Selik saw this town as the birthplace of his new order, and though it was rotten now it would one day be the centre of his power. The foundations were already there, they just needed renewing. Perhaps it should be renamed. After him would be good, or maybe after his mentor, Travers.
But first they would have to fight, and under cloudy afternoon skies he saw his army begin to assemble. From the east came a line of men from Pontois, some riding, most walking or hitching rides on the dozens of supply wagons rattling along behind them. Later, he knew militia from Orytte, farmers from the devastated lands around Corin and Rache and refugees displaced from Korina and Gyernath would all come. He had no idea how many there would be or what sort of men he could expect, but with every person who walked into Understone he saw his power grow.
He was under no illusions. Though his captains would drill and he would speak, the thousands who marched on Xetesk would be little more than an ordered mob. They would not have the skill of those they faced but if, as he expected, battle had worn down the colleges, his numbers could surprise and overwhelm.
Hundreds upon hundreds would die, but such was the price of freedom and righteousness. Selik nodded to himself and went down to meet his recruits.
Thraun cantered along at the back of The Raven formation, feeling a sense of distress invade him. His recollections of Balaia were occasionally very sharp and the scents all around him fed his lupine side. Along with the thrill of the grass and the trees they passed, the sounds of birds and animals and the fresh smells of spring life, came memories of fire and tortured howls. He saw again the betrayal in the eyes of his pack and their helpless bodies burning under mage fire, cut off from the embrace of the forest.
And in the laughter of The Raven and their close companionship were more images of death and fear. Of his best friend Will lying still beneath the sheets of an infirmary bed in Julatsa. Of his chest falling never to rise again. Blame. He was to blame. And there was nothing he could do to right the wrongs.
He had been in the body of a wolf when Will’s fatal wound had been received and had eventually fled in that body to escape his grief, only to be found wanting again. And so here he was. Back in a man’s body but feeling like an intruder in the world of men yet unable to face the prospect of life as a wolf. Nothing he could do would be right.
‘Thraun, are you all right?’
Thraun looked up. The Unknown Warrior was dropping back to ride beside him. He didn’t answer.
‘You had a bit of a wobble in the saddle just then. I wondered if you were feeling all right?’
Thraun shook his head. ‘No.’
‘Can you tell me what’s wrong?’
He could understand everything they said, everything they asked him, but just couldn’t find the words to explain the hopeless divide within him. The frustration threatened to overwhelm him at times like this and it was made all the more acute because he could remember being able to speak so freely. He had chosen silence until now rather than anger himself by failing to make himself understood.
‘The words won’t . . .’ He waved a hand uselessly. How could it be this way? He could think it all but he just couldn’t say it. Something was missing.
‘Then let us help you,’ said The Unknown. ‘Don’t be silent because there’s a block in that head of yours.’
‘I . . . I can’t.’ He sighed and punched the pommel of his saddle.
‘Take it easy. Why don’t you let me ask the questions? Just say yes, no or whatever you can. Repeat what you hear, if it’ll help.’
Thraun could see the sense but couldn’t tell The Unknown that it made him feel like a child. Worse, an idiot.
‘I’m not trying to patronise you, Thraun. You do understand that, don’t you?’
Perfectly, he thought. But it doesn’t make any difference. So instead he nodded and bit down on his shame.
‘Is there anything we say you don’t understand?’
‘No.’
‘Do you think in the words you want to speak, then?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you remember all that happened to you?’
Thraun shrugged. ‘Yes?’
‘Or you think so at least. Sorry, stupid question. How can you know what you haven’t remembered?’
Thraun smiled. ‘Yes.’
‘You have memories as man and wolf?’
‘Yes.’
‘Bad?’
‘Bad,’ agreed Thraun. ‘Bad.’
‘You feel guilt?’
‘Guilt.’
‘Responsible?’
‘Yes.’
‘You aren’t to blame, Thraun.’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘And there’s nothing you can do, is there? Nothing to make it better.’
‘No, there isn’t!’ he stormed. ‘They’re all dead because of me and there’s not a fucking thing I can do about it. I ended so many lives because I can’t be man or animal so what do you expect me to say? Sorry? I’m in torment here in my head and no one understands because I don’t have the words.’
He broke off, aware that they were all looking at him. Yet despite his sudden fury, he felt massively relieved. He relaxed his bunched shoulders.
‘Thank you, I think,’ he said.
‘Any time, Thraun. I think you’re trying too hard sometimes. Don’t think. React. Let it happen.’
‘I’ll try,’ said Thraun, but he could feel the veil falling again.
‘And I’ll be there to provoke you, don’t you worry.’
Thraun nodd
ed, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
Chapter 39
There was far more to the situation than Auum had appreciated and for the first time he wished he had listened more closely to The Raven. This was no simple two-way fight. At least two other factions were involved and that made decisions complex. However, the outcome was still not in doubt.
The ClawBound had discovered the party of Xeteskians on the third day of searching, moving steadily along the trail Rebraal had indicated. Their communications had spoken of a sizeable force. It had been another day before Auum and his Tai had found the pair. Although sympathising with how unsettled they were, he had rebuked the ClawBound for attacking an innocent. He had then personally tracked the Xeteskians for another day before moving quickly to the meeting point.
He reached it half a day ahead of the enemy and immediately began to plan, gathering other Tais to him and assessing information from the northern scouting. Troops in battle lines had been found a further three days north, their purpose unclear because they faced both north and south. There was no knowing if they were Xeteskian but the fact that they could be enemies added further weight to the argument for attacking the travelling force at the first opportunity.
‘The enemy strength is not considerable in numbers but the warrior and mage quality is high,’ said Merke, leader of the second Tai tracking the travelling Xeteskians.
‘Agreed,’ said Auum.
And it was so. The mounted forces numbered fifteen mages and thirty cavalry. On foot were twenty foot soldiers and fifty of the masked warriors. It was these last about whom Auum was most concerned. He had seen the one who fought with The Raven and his speed and raw power were beyond question. Rebraal had been at pains to emphasise that the more of them there were in one fight, the better they became. So fifty were to be rightly feared.
Given their strength and the focussed magic they could bring to bear, to attack them with the numbers that had landed from the Calaian Sun would be foolhardy. But the main elven force was now on land and travelling north. If they kept up their pace, there would be a chance to attack the Xeteskians south of the battle lines. Assuming the troops in the line were also Xeteskian, it was vital to attack the marching force as soon as possible.
Auum called Rebraal to him.
‘What are the numbers we can expect here?’
‘A further fifteen TaiGethen cells, four ClawBound pairs and a hundred and seventy Al-Arynaar. But every day more fall prey to the Elfsorrow.’
‘The Tai have been mercifully free of the Elfsorrow since we left Calaius but it won’t last,’ said Auum. ‘We have an opportunity but I need to combine our forces quickly. Hold Communion. Have the main force move more quickly northwards and be prepared for battle a day after they join us. We must strike before the enemy reach the college lines to the north.’
‘And if we don’t secure the fragment?’ asked Rebraal.
‘Alert The Raven,’ said Auum. ‘They say they can help. If we fail, we’ll see what they can do, won’t we?’
‘You are sceptical, Auum?’
Auum shrugged. ‘It is the way of an elf. You have listened too closely to your brother. Rebraal, one more thing. We are going to track the strangers from a distance. They must have no idea we are following them. If they increase their pace, we are lost. Be sure your people understand.’
‘Don’t worry. None of the Al-Arynaar will travel forward of the TaiGethen or ClawBound.’
‘We are in an alien land,’ said Auum, ‘People talk and messages cross long distances by magic. Unless you have no option, keep clear of Balaians. This must be the greatest victory since the unification of the elves. Our lives are all at stake. Be sure they are mindful of that, too.’
‘We understand, Auum,’ said Rebraal.
Auum nodded. ‘Pray with me.’
‘It will be my honour.’
Ilkar came out of his Communion with the Al-Arynaar mage and outlined the elves’ plans.
‘Where do they report seeing the college lines?’ asked The Unknown.
‘Three plus days north of Thornewood.’
‘That’s the southern border of the Xeteskian mage lands,’ said Darrick. ‘When you talk to her next, tell her the troops they can see are going to be Dordovan; the lines they can’t see a couple of miles further north will be the Xeteskians.’
‘And they’re planning on attacking where, exactly?’ asked The Unknown.
‘Rebraal’s brief is a little sketchy but it’ll be close to the lines. Perhaps not in sight but not far off. It’s all a question of getting the main force that followed us into the Bay of Gyernath north quickly enough. With the best will in the world, they can’t catch Yron and the researchers much south of the Xeteskian lines. They’re all on foot after all.’
‘But fast,’ said Ren. ‘And resolute.’
Ilkar nodded. ‘So where does that leave us?’
‘Simple,’ said Hirad. ‘We can get north of Yron’s force and perhaps even contact the Dordovan lines. Let them know what’s coming. What do you say?’
‘It’s good enough for me,’ said Ilkar.
The Unknown looked at Darrick, who nodded his agreement. ‘Let’s do it.’
Yron had never been able to shake off the idea that they were being watched. For practically every mile of the ten-day journey since they had left Arlen with the researchers, he’d had a nag at the back of his mind. He knew they drew glances from everyone they passed but that wasn’t it. Hollow-cheeked men and women trying to work the land or with bow in hand on the hunt, traders wary of attack giving them a wide berth on the trail and refugees in any number just drifting; they weren’t the problem.
Nor were the Dordovans. He’d been given clear assurances that their path to Xetesk was clear of enemy college forces until close to the mage lands. And he had no reason to disbelieve the army command. The devastation in Arlen, shocking as it was, served as ample proof of Xetesk’s intent to see them safely home. There were parts of the town where nothing would grow again, the magic had caused so much damage to the core of the earth. Like a smaller version of the Torn Wastes far to the west.
But something wouldn’t let him relax, and it wasn’t the vague threat of Black Wings and misguided non-mages. Riding in the midst of fifty Protectors he would hardly fear those. It was the elves. He had no evidence whatever that they had followed him across the ocean as The Raven would have done. And he had no evidence they were being trailed or watched but he just knew it was so.
And because of this feeling he ordered them to follow a path away from the cover of valley, crag and forest. He would even have avoided long plains grass if he could, but to do that they’d all have had to fly. So instead he drilled his guards and kept half of his mages awake and shielding them day and night. He was aware they thought he was mad, but they hadn’t been in the rainforest. They didn’t understand these elves’ capabilities.
The Protectors of course said nothing, and he was grateful for their reassuring presence. The rest of them would be welcome to laugh in his face the moment the gates of Xetesk closed behind them. In fact, he decided, he’d be the one to start the laughter. Only Erys understood, but all his words with the researchers, foot soldiers and cavalry served to do was make him seem as ridiculous as the Captain.
Yron had spent several nervous days riding between the ruins of Grethern Forest and Thornewood but with no incident. They had stopped off in Erskan to find themselves unwelcome and the gates of the castle closed against them. And they had skirted the earthquake rubble of Denebre over which the birds would not fly. Nothing. Not a hint of trouble.
They were less than half a day from the Dordovan blockade of the Xeteskian mage lands as late afternoon began to give way to dusk, but still Yron refused to relax. One word from him and the Protectors that ran with him would pass the message to their brothers in the battle lines and the way would be cleared, but still he could not stop fidgeting.
His eyes flicked over everything. There was forest to their left but
it was a mile away and to their right a long rolling hillside ambled up to a sheer cliff twice as distant as the forest. They rode through a plain of waving grass that barely brushed his feet.
‘See anything, Erys?’ he said.
‘No, Captain,’ said Erys a little wearily. ‘But I am still watching, believe me.’
‘Don’t humour me, boy,’ said Yron. Never mind weary, he felt absolutely exhausted. He’d hardly slept a wink since they’d left Arlen. ‘Just do what I ask. Point and laugh later.’
‘I won’t be doing that,’ said Erys. ‘I’ve seen too much of you to take your hunches lightly.’
‘Good, because I’m still sure.’
But inside he wasn’t sure. Was he simply being paranoid? Dystran had assured him that The Raven were being monitored through the Protector, Aeb, and presented no immediate danger. And he hadn’t seen a single elf. But he couldn’t afford to be complacent. Because in complacency lay death.
The Xeteskian force rode and ran on easily, eating up the distance. Yron reacted to every bird call, every whinny of a horse, the rattle of tack, the chink of metal and the breeze playing over the grass. He shivered constantly, just waiting for the awful keening sound of a jaqrui crescent scything through the air.
Six miles from the lines he ordered the lead Protector to him.
‘We will be nearing the Dordovan supply lines or rear scouts,’ he said. ‘They know what we’re attempting and will be ready. Assume they know our position.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Esk.
‘I want a clear run. I don’t want a single sword, arrow or spell coming within a hundred yards of me, do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then I leave the timing to you and your brothers across the lines. Strike as required.’
‘It will be done.’
The Raven Collection Page 200