Denser shook his head. ‘Out of all of you, only Styliann ever really understood The Raven.’
‘And look where it got him. Dead in another dimension. Dystran is in charge now.’
‘Indeed,’ said Denser. ‘And the shame is that he, Styliann, is not here to explain to you what you should already know. Because then you would understand the gravity of your decision.’
‘Like I say, sometimes you forget your place.’ Heryst turned away. ‘Be gone by dusk.’
Bedlam in The Raven’s chambers. Denser could hear it as he and Erienne approached down the main stairs from the Great Hall and turned left through the tower doors to the senior mage and guest quarters. The Raven had been given three bedchambers leading off a high-ceilinged drawing and dining room.
Denser and Erienne shared a look of raised eyebrows before he pushed the door open. Hirad and The Unknown Warrior stood toe to toe, the former so furious he was sweating in the cool of the drawing room, his braided hair flying with every jerk of his head.
‘You aren’t listening to me, Hirad, you ca—’
‘Why should I listen to you? We had a chance to save him then and there and you blanked me.’ Hirad’s finger jabbed into The Unknown’s chest. Denser saw the big man’s fists clench.
‘Something wrong with your eyes, Hirad? Or is it the usual brain failure? I counted nine mages and fifteen armed guards. We didn’t even have one dagger between us. They would have killed you. All of us.’
‘I may not have your brain but at least I’ve got heart,’ rasped Hirad. ‘I’d prefer to die trying than look on like a scolded child. How about you, eh?’
The Unknown’s left hand whipped up and caught Hirad’s finger in mid-jab.
‘Put that down or I’ll break it. Don’t treat me like some boy you can push around.’
‘Someone’s got to push or Darrick’s going to die.’
The Unknown forced Hirad’s hand down to his side, their gazes locked together.
‘No one is dying today,’ said The Unknown.
‘No? Asked Darrick his opinion, have you?’
‘You know better than this.’
‘I know one of The Raven is about to be executed. What do you know? The sun’s got to your fat neck, Unknown.’
The Unknown’s arms moved in a blur. His hands gripped the barbarian’s upper arms and he lifted Hirad clear from the ground, moved two paces and dumped him in a chair.
‘Now you will sit there and you will listen.’
Denser recognised the chill in The Unknown’s voice. Hirad didn’t.
‘So now I have to sit and wait for the killing cast, do I?’
The Unknown leant in, hands braced on the arms of the chair.
‘You have tried my patience enough. If you want to take me on, feel free to try if it’ll make you feel better. Think you can down me, do you, Coldheart?’
‘Unknown, I—’ began Denser but The Unknown snapped out his left hand towards him, palm raised.
‘What’s it to be, Coldheart? Use your fists or your head. It’s up to you.’
Hirad stared at him, eyes bulging, breath hissing from his nostrils.
‘Tell you what,’ continued The Unknown, ‘how about I get the deepest thinker of us all to tell you what you should have known from the very start? Thraun?’
The shapechanger, who had been watching the exchange in agitated silence, frowned.
‘I . . .’ he began. Denser could see the confusion in his eyes.
‘If you wanted to rescue Darrick, when would you do it?’ asked The Unknown.
Thraun tried to frame the words but as so often, the block between his thoughts and his speech remained obstinately in place.
‘Now you listen to me, Unknown,’ said Hirad, voice quieter but brim full of rage. ‘I have just lost Ilkar and we were helpless. And if you think I’m just going to sit around here—’
‘Wait,’ said Thraun, instantly the centre of attention. ‘Wait until the very end. Until they think we have given up.’
‘What?’
‘Think, Hirad,’ said The Unknown, straightening, his voice pained. ‘For once in your life, think.’
‘What else do you reckon I’ve been doing?’
‘Absolutely everything but,’ said Denser. He walked over to the cold fireplace on the mantel of which stood a pewter jug and carved wooden mugs.
‘Wondered when you’d join in the fun,’ growled Hirad.
Denser poured mugs of ale and handed them round.
‘This isn’t fun for any of us,’ said Denser. ‘Heryst wants us, or more particularly you, out of the city by dusk.’
‘Well he knows what—’
‘Hirad!’ barked The Unknown. ‘Drink your ale, take a deep breath and count to ten. Slowly. You have to calm down.’
Hirad opened his mouth.
‘Just don’t,’ said The Unknown. ‘Because right now, you are the second biggest threat to Darrick’s life.’
‘And how do you work that out?’
‘It doesn’t take a genius, Hirad,’ said Erienne.
‘What?’
Denser almost laughed but kept it in check. He could see Hirad’s anger at them all crumbling in the face of his lack of allies.
‘I want to assure you of one thing,’ said The Unknown quietly. ‘The Raven will not abandon one of their own. It’s never happened before and it isn’t going to start now.’
‘I—’
‘Hold on, Hirad,’ said The Unknown.
He walked to the door and yanked it open, looking up and down the corridor. Satisfied no one had been listening, he closed it again, looking at Denser.
‘Just in case, eh?’
Denser nodded. ‘No problem.’
The SoundShield was a simple casting, done in moments. Denser nodded when it was in place. Hirad, still breathing hard, tried to take them all in at once, a frown across his face. He settled on Erienne who walked over to him and knelt by him, a hand on his cheek.
‘Oh, Hirad, you react in all the right ways but at all the wrong times.’
‘I have to do what I feel,’ he said.
‘Time and place,’ said The Unknown. ‘Show that passion later and we stand half a chance.’
‘Later?’
‘Yes, later.’ The Unknown walked around in a tight circle. ‘Erienne, how long until the execution?’
‘Midnight is traditional in Lystern. The condemned is not supposed to witness the joy of another new day.’
‘Midnight,’ confirmed The Unknown. ‘When we all come together in the Vigil for Darrick’s passing. Hirad, are you getting this?’
‘Sort of.’
‘Gods falling, a sign of life!’ The Unknown drained his mug and sat opposite the barbarian. ‘And now, at last, we can plan.’
Devun had been a long time coming to Understone. For so many days he’d feared what he would find. But the faltering Balaian army the Black Wings just about commanded needed reassuring. Selik had promised he’d join them but he’d failed to materialise. And so the army of ordinary Balaians, united against magic, had stopped in its tracks, scant miles from the walls of Xetesk. Their goal was in sight but they were too scared to approach it without their leader.
So, belatedly, Devun had ridden with a group of ten to find him. Understone had been turned to nothing more than an open grave. He dismounted fifty yards from the garrison stockade and let his horse bend its neck to crop the burgeoning plains grass. He could smell the sick taint of decay on the breeze and could see the damage to the wooden stockade which Selik had made his headquarters. A few yards later and the first bodies were clearly visible, lying in the grotesque shapes of their deaths.
Devun sent his men on down into the town and carried on towards the stockade alone, already knowing what he was going to find. A numb feeling spread across his body. He tied a rag around his mouth and nose, to guard against the stench that grew with every pace, and drew his sword, just in case. But the scavengers had been and gone. The bodies in the main str
eet had been stripped of weapons, armour and clothes. And he could see, up towards the eastern end of the town where his men were headed, that every scrap of canvas had been taken from the makeshift site that had housed much of the army of the righteous.
Swallowing bile, Devun pushed open the gates of the stockade, a gasp escaping his lips. The ground was covered in bodies. Clouds of flies feasted on the corpses. Carrion birds pecked and tore at the festering, decomposing flesh. Every body had been stripped, just like outside, but here he could chart more easily the course of the battle. Slaughter, more like.
There had been two conflicts. One right here by the gates where a jumble of bodies, unrecognisable in their putrefaction, lay in close formation. The other had been concentrated to his right. A clear area in front of the burned remnants of a collapsed rampart was bordered by a press of bodies. Beneath them, the ground was stained black with their blood.
Whoever had been here had presumably taken their own dead away, leaving the Black Wings and ordinary Balaians to rot where they fell. Devun was disgusted. He walked on across the compound; the smell in the still warm air was staggering. He fought back the nausea, waved his free hand in front of his face to fend off the swarms of flies and stepped between the bodies as best he could.
He stopped for a while in front of the door to the garrison offices and barracks. He knew what he’d find inside, he just had to see for himself. And if not inside, he’d have to look at every corpse lying behind him.
Devun pushed open the door and the savage odour hit him like a charging horse. He gagged and coughed, leaning against the door frame until his vision cleared and the cold sensation eased enough for him to move on.
Just ahead and to the right, was the office door and an answer to his question. Scratched into it was a symbol. It was rough but there was no mistaking it. He spat on it, watching the spittle dribble down across the eye and claw of The Raven’s sign. He opened the door. The office had been ransacked. Papers were strewn across the floor. The table and shelves were all done for.
By the door in the left wall a rotting head lay separated from its stripped body. Devun walked over to it, knelt and grasped the hair that still covered the skull. So much of the face was gone, eaten by rats and insects, but the bone around the left eye socket was warped and the left cheek criss-crossed by dozens of tiny cracks. IceWind had done this but that wasn’t what had killed Selik. It was The Raven.
Devun placed the head carefully back on the ground, stood and walked quickly from the building.
Later, sitting on his horse in front of his men, Devun watched the flames consume the Understone garrison and give some belated respect to all those who had died within it.
‘What will we do?’ asked his new lieutenant. ‘Without Selik, the army will break up faster than ever.’
‘We have to bring new muscle and new energy to the fight,’ said Devun. ‘Captain Selik had always kept one idea back. Something he thought we could do if we were desperate. I think that time is now. It’s risky but if we bring down the colleges, it’ll be worth it. Follow me.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘To talk to the Wesmen.’
Devun turned his horse and trotted away towards Understone Pass.
Chapter 4
Dystran sat at Ranyl’s bedside, where he had spent every hour he could since the Circle Seven Master, and his close friend, had felt the cancer take its death hold. By the old man’s head lay a black cat, an expression of human desperation on its features. Dystran wasn’t surprised. When Ranyl finally died, the demon familiar would perish with him. The two had been melded for more years than he could remember. Certainly for longer than his tenure as Lord of the Mount of Xetesk.
Dystran sighed. He seemed to have been doing so a lot lately. He’d never really believed Ranyl would actually die. And now he had to face ruling without the man responsible for putting him there in the first place. It would be like losing a limb.
‘Stop mopping my brow and tell me what happened today,’ said Ranyl, voice still strong though punctuated by gasping breaths.
Dystran dropped the cloth back into the bowl by his left hand and smiled. ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to mother you. I just wish you’d let me ease the pain for you.’
‘I have eternity to feel nothing, my Lord,’ said Ranyl. ‘Let me feel what I can for as long as I can, even if it is somewhat uncomfortable. ’
It was far more than that. Ranyl’s drawn white face, pasty skin and feverish brow were evidence enough. But he had been quite determined that when he could no longer numb the pain himself, no one else was to do it for him. Not even the Lord of the Mount.
‘So tell me, young pup,’ said Ranyl, face softening when he used the over-familiar expression. ‘What taxes the mind of Balaia’s most powerful man today?’
‘Well, old dog.’ Dystran responded in kind. ‘We have witnessed an extraordinary event today. Something happened to Julatsan mana control. Every spell deployed failed at once during the morning’s fighting. Quite suddenly and quite without warning. I have people working on the spectrum now, trying to assess the situation though I understand it was only a temporary condition.’
‘But you took full advantage?’
‘Without wasting resources, yes,’ said Dystran.
‘Result?’
‘I’ve been able to recall a significant number to prepare for the press north.’
‘But you’re unhappy?’ Ranyl’s breath caught as he felt a sudden sharp pain in his stomach. He closed his eyes while it passed. He turned his head on his pillow. ‘What’s wrong?’
Dystran couldn’t hold the stare. He’d never been able to. He chuckled and stood, walking in a small circle, his fears plaguing him again. At moments like these he wondered how he had survived so long on the Mount. Surely true leaders had more conviction, more strength. All he felt were palpitations, the skin crawling on the back of his neck and the anxiety that descended when his vision tunnelled.
‘Am I doing right? Is what we plan the best path for Xetesk and Balaia?’
Ranyl breathed deep. ‘It is natural to doubt your path,’ he said, his voice soft. ‘Because only by questioning your actions do you ensure you choose the right ones. And you have, my Lord. Xetesk must rule and you must preside over that rule. Don’t be anxious if you doubt so long as your courage never wavers.’
Dystran sat back down, squeezed out the cold cloth and mopped his mentor’s brow. The old man worsened by the moment.
‘Who will guide me when you are gone?’ he whispered.
‘You do not need a guide. You can see the path, you know you can.’ Ranyl cleared his throat, gasping at new pain. ‘Now, enough soul-searching for one day. I am tiring and I want to know about the research on the elven texts. And the latest from Herendeneth.’
Dystran relaxed. ‘The Aryn Hiil is a treasure, a real treasure. We have hardly started to understand its most basic secrets but it is clear the elves’ linkage to all the elements is far more fundamental than any of us imagined. It is no myth, and one of those elements is magic. We were right. The Aryn Hiil has so much to give us. It’s the central writing of elven lore and the words it contains are only part of its importance.’
Ranyl’s watery eyes glittered with new energy. ‘And how long before we have spells to exploit it?’
‘I am awaiting an estimate,’ said Dystran. ‘But not imminently, unless the Aryn Hiil reveals information allowing us to adapt spell shapes we already know. You know the research time needed for anything we have to start from scratch.’
Ranyl managed a weak nod. ‘But when you are not at my side, I suspect you are spending time with our Herendeneth team, yes?’
Dystran shrugged. ‘The dimensions are where the power really lies. And what the Kaan and Al-Drechar have told us opens up so many possibilities. I can see a time when I could drown Dordover without having to leave the catacombs. But it is too far away for our current purposes.’
‘Is anything useful now?’
&n
bsp; ‘Oh yes. It is just a shame the One will die with the Al-Drechar. We will soon know about the realignment of the dimensions. On a whim I will be able to open a pathway and send Sha-Kaan home to his own world. On another, I could release all the Protectors. Or make more. The demons no longer have a monopoly on understanding. ’
‘Good,’ said Ranyl. ‘Then I can die confident.’
The familiar moved uneasily where it lay, half shifting to its repulsive demonic form. Dystran knew how it felt. Ranyl’s time was near.
‘Can we do this?’ asked The Unknown, when The Raven reassembled at dusk to eat and talk.
The time since the verdict had been difficult and enlightening by degrees. Everything had hinged on Heryst accepting Hirad’s apology for his outburst. And he had done so with little complaint, rescinding his earlier order for The Raven to leave by nightfall.
‘It was strange,’ Hirad had said, and The Unknown who had accompanied him had agreed.
‘He wanted to apologise to us,’ he’d said. ‘His hands are tied. He feels as badly about this as we do but anarchy is a heartbeat away in this city unless he is seen to be even-handed in this most delicate matter.’
The Raven had been given leave to begin their Vigil by the cell block, which was attached to the barracks, and would also remove Darrick’s body. In the time left, each of them had visited Darrick under observation, Erienne and Denser had taken the chance to study in the library and The Unknown had tested the feeling of the remaining cavalry and guardsmen in the college.
‘It’s possible,’ said Denser. ‘But it depends on getting inside the cells without casting. They’ll be watching the mana shield over the college very closely for sure.’
‘Find anything useful in the library?’ asked Hirad.
‘The odd snippet,’ said Erienne. ‘But as you can imagine, there were archivists taking a great interest in everything we read. The only truly useful fact is that the cells are outside the very heart of the Tower’s mana focus.’
The Raven Collection Page 216