Porrak’s cell unslung bows and took a few paces back, fading into the shadows to give Auum’s trio room. A sense of déjà vu came over Auum, waiting while the glow from the lantern grew as it neared. The Tai were standing perfectly still in the lee of the warehouse. Auum would be happy if the patrol walked right past them but one glance and shout was all it would take to bring the might of Xetesk down on them.
The Xeteskian patrol were not talking. Auum could hear their steps, measured and deliberate, in time with each other. And while he listened, they slowed, as one, on closing to less than ten yards from the crossway. He frowned. This was not a conscript patrol. He hadn’t been able to see much of them beyond vague dress; the lantern had obscured their faces. But there was no aura of anxiety, no whispered fear. These were experienced professionals. That they would walk past the alley without at least scanning down it as far as they could see was inconceivable.
Auum held up three fingers. He bent first the middle finger, then those left and right in order. Duele and Evunn knew their targets and he knew they would not wait to attack. The lantern light intensified, spilling into the alley. Auum waved Porrak’s cell further back. He tensed his body, plucked his knife from his belt and reversed it in his hand.
The patrol was on them. He could hear the individuals’ breathing. One caught a breath, sensing something out of place. They paused. One could be heard inching up the warehouse wall, the others presumably just behind him. The plan changed again. Auum held up a single finger and pointed at himself. Next he gestured Duele and Evunn to follow him in an arc into the passage. Finally, he closed his fist.
The Xeteskian slid along the wall. Auum waited, hands poised, ready to pounce. His being was centred. He could all but smell the rainforest and every sound came to him as clear as cicadas in the evening. His enemy’s leather armour making the barest scratching on the stone. The man’s regular breathing, his boot tracing through stiff weed grass.
Three fingers of one gloved hand gripped the edge of the wall, first knuckle showing. Either a mistake or a calculated risk. Whatever, Auum ignored it, holding for the prize which came immediately after. A head began to emerge, eyes straining round, hair covered by a metal and leather helmet.
Auum wagged one finger. Duele and Evunn began to run. The TaiGethen leader took a half pace away from the wall and snapped out his right hand clamping onto the Xeteskian’s face. Startled, the man dropped back but he couldn’t break Auum’s grip. The elf’s left hand whipped round, the dagger hilt in his fist hammering into the soldier’s temple. He sagged, Auum pulling him forward into his chest.
Duele and Evunn were shades across the lantern light, movement hard to track against the blank walls. Duele hit the mage carrying the lantern. He’d backed away reflexively before gathering himself to try and cast but he never stood a chance. The elf clamped a hand over the lantern handle, jerked the mage off balance and cracked his right fist into his jaw. Evunn had no need of such restraint. He ducked under a flailing fist and jabbed straight-fingered into his enemy’s throat, crushing the man’s windpipe.
‘Get these men away,’ hissed Auum.
Porrak’s cell ran to help and, two to a body, they trotted back to the raiding party. Denser was still working on the locks, Erienne in close attendance. He was looking calm and in control. Hirad and The Unknown Warrior were standing apart, ready to run to assist. The other elves hadn’t moved a muscle. Auum hadn’t expected them to.
‘Well?’ he demanded.
‘Nearly there,’ assured Rebraal.
‘There’ll be more. We need in now.’
Denser must have heard him.
‘Got it,’ he murmured.
There was no sound but the mage straightened and pushed the door open.
‘In,’ said Auum.
The Raven, led by Denser, moved in first. The Al-Arynaar followed them and finally the TaiGethen, Auum last, making sure all his people were safe. He pushed the door closed behind him, hearing the faint fizz and crackle as the WardLock reset. A LightGlobe was set to hover, illuminating a blank chamber about thirty feet on the longer side and fifteen on the shorter. A door was set into the far wall. The room was empty of any furnishings.
‘Tell me again what this is.’ Hirad was looking around him, nonplussed.
‘Come on, Hirad, mages have not always been the most popular rulers in Xetesk,’ said Denser. ‘Boltholes were inevitable for the chosen few.’
‘Yeah, but you were never in the Circle Seven. How did you find out about it?’
‘I was the Dawnthief mage,’ said Denser. ‘It was felt I should be given the information. My mentors showed me the path and gave me the key constructs. I couldn’t tell you if they sought the permission of the rest of the Circle.’
‘And how would you get away from here?’ asked The Unknown.
‘Fly,’ said Denser. ‘In the event the college was surrounded and archers were positioned around the rooftops, the Circle could have disappeared into the artisans’ quarter and away.’
‘It’s a coward’s way out,’ said Hirad. ‘Fairly typical of Xetesk.’
‘Who cares? It gets us in and no one will suspect we’ll come this way because not even Dystran thinks The Raven are here, let alone that I’d know the combinations.’
‘Good,’ said The Unknown. ‘Now what about them?’
He walked over to the Xeteskians, Denser following him. The two soldiers had been dumped to one side of the door, Auum having snapped the neck of the one he’d knocked cold. But the mage, under the watchful eyes of Duele and Evunn, was showing signs of coming round.
‘Well, well, well,’ said Denser. He knelt and shook the mage, slapping his cheeks. ‘Wakey, wakey, Arnayl. You need to answer us some questions.’
Arnayl’s eyes flickered open and a hand moved to rub his chin while he stretched his mouth. Middle-aged, his light hair was streaked with grey and his square face was lined, eyes red-rimmed. He blinked in the gentle light, frowned while taking in the faces of elves and men around him and started violently when he focused on Denser.
‘What the f—’
‘No time for that,’ said Denser. ‘There are things we must know.’
‘Where am I?’
‘Somewhere you never believed existed,’ said Denser, smiling. ‘Now, what’s the current mage and college-guard strength inside the walls?’
‘Find out,’ said Arnayl. ‘You’ll get nothing from me.’
He tried to raise himself on his elbows but Denser shoved him back, his head cracking on the packed ground. He grunted.
‘Let me remind you of your position.’ Denser’s tone hardened.
‘There are more than twenty people in here. All of them would be happy to end your life. All of them have lost precious things because of Xetesk’s actions and your life is forfeit, as is anyone’s who stands in our way. Now I might be able to persuade them to let you live but you’ve got to help me out. Right now.’
‘I will not betray my college,’ said Arnayl. ‘You cannot ask that of me.’
‘The more we know, the fewer Xeteskians will die,’ said Denser. ‘But we are going in and we will get what we came for. You can help us save your fellow mages or you can die, knowing many will join you. Answer me.’
Arnayl stared back, closing his mouth deliberately. The sound of a sword being drawn echoed thinly in the small chamber. The point of that sword pressed against Arnayl’s throat. Hirad spoke.
‘Your people triggered Elfsorrow. You would have presided over genocide. Thousands died, including my friend Ilkar. Because of you—’
‘I had nothing to do with that decision.’
‘You are Xeteskian, sworn to your college. You are to blame.’ The swordpoint drew blood. ‘Don’t think I won’t kill you in cold blood.’
‘Please.’ Arnayl’s voice was choked and the colour had drained from his face. He spread his palms in supplication.
‘Tell Denser what he wants to know. And don’t try to cast. You aren’t quick enough to
beat me.’
Arnayl swallowed and closed his eyes. ‘I can’t tell you anything. Surely you understand.’
‘I understand,’ said Hirad.
He drove the point of his blade through Arnayl’s throat. Blood fountained into the air. The mage juddered and died. Denser shot upright, jumping away from the mess.
‘Gods, Hirad, what are you doing?’
‘He would have told us nothing,’ said the barbarian, dragging his blade clear and wiping it on Arnayl’s cloak.
Auum nodded. ‘He is right.’
But there was something in Hirad’s eyes that wasn’t right. Like he’d lost his focus. Denser had seen it too. So had The Unknown.
‘Hirad, what is it?’ asked Denser.
Hirad was shaking. He fought to steady his arm to sheathe his sword and when he turned his face back, there were tears standing in his eyes.
‘I could have saved him,’ he said. ‘And now all I can do is avenge him.’
‘No one could have done that,’ said The Unknown. ‘Ilkar said it himself. When he contracted Elfsorrow he was already dead.’
‘No!’ shouted Hirad. ‘All that time we wasted. We let Yron escape into Xetesk and lost days. Days. And being here and listening to that bastard just makes it so real. I could have ridden after him. Gone round the Protectors and caught him, made him give us the thumb fragment. I stopped.’ He turned away from them. ‘I stopped. And he died.’
‘It wasn’t like that,’ said Denser. ‘You aren’t counting right. Even supposing we’d caught Yron, Ilkar would still have caught the disease and died on the voyage.’
But Hirad was shaking his head. ‘We could have made it to Calaius,’ he said, voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. ‘Back to the rainforest. We would have found a way.’
Rebraal walked over to him, the eyes of every elf and The Raven on him.
‘We must all take some responsibility,’ he said carefully. ‘I could have stopped them at the temple but I didn’t. The TaiGethen and ClawBound could have found him in the forest but they didn’t, not soon enough. We can’t go back and correct what has gone but we can shape the future, make Ilkar’s death mean what it should - the start of the return to balance in magic. And for that we need the Aryn Hiil and our other writings. We need that strength to go to Julatsa with the confidence to succeed.
‘Don’t lose it in here. We need you.’
Hirad breathed deep. He managed the briefest of smiles in Rebraal’s direction. ‘I’m sorry.’ He took them all in now. ‘All of you. This is very difficult.’
‘We all know what his friendship meant to you,’ said Erienne. ‘Do right by him and help us all get out of here alive.’
The barbarian nodded, a very definite gesture. He looked squarely at Auum.
‘Let’s go get your books,’ he said.
Chapter 16
Dystran hadn’t really slept at all. At best, a few hours’ edgy rest, broken by those damned elven-controlled panthers. There was something about the noise they created. Unearthly, somehow, it drove shivers to the core of them all. Broke their dreams. They were the enemy’s most potent psychological weapon though they didn’t seem to realise it. Dystran would have have had them calling all night. As it was, the alarm, when it came in the early hours of the morning, was almost a relief.
He’d agreed the defence plan with Commander Chandyr on the city walls and Captain Suarav in the college guard during the previous day and so dressed unhurriedly before leaving his tower and descending the long spiral stairs, past his guards and disabled static alarms and blocks.
Myx was waiting at the base of the tower. The huge Protector, like fifteen of his brothers, was being used more for city-wide and battle communications than protection. Dystran knew the humiliation they felt but he had no time for guilt.
‘News,’ he demanded.
Myx fell into step next to him. ‘The walls have been breached. There are enemies in the city.’
Dystran sighed. One failure already. ‘How many?’
‘It is impossible to say.’
‘Oh, right,’ Dystran smiled. ‘You’re going to tell me that no one saw anyone, I suppose.’
‘Correct, my Lord.’
Dystran stopped. Make that two failures. ‘I was joking.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Myx, uncertain how to respond.
‘You’re telling me that no Xeteskian guard or mage has laid eyes on the enemy even though they are inside the walls?’
‘Some will have, my Lord. We have not yet found the bodies.’
‘Was that a joke?’
‘No, my Lord.’ Myx was surely frowning beneath his mask but Dystran couldn’t see it.
‘Stupid question.’ Dystran waved a hand and set off again.
His mind boiled, the acerbic comments he might deliver churned away. He shook his head, muttered to himself and scratched his hair, unruly from his disturbed rest. He was halfway across the spectacular domed hall which lay at the centre of the tower complex and high above the Heart of the college.
Passages ran away towards the chambers at the base of each tower as well as to banqueting and reception halls, guest quarters and administrative offices. It was a maze for the unwary and the design was entirely deliberate. Ways to the real power of the college were not easily discovered and no senior or circle mage wanted the uninvited venturing into catacombs or tower.
Dystran’s sandals slapped on the exquisitely patterned marble floor as he headed for the intricately carved main doors. The left one opened and a soldier hurried in.
‘Ah, Commander Chandyr, how good of you to come before I called. I expect you’ll be bursting to explain to me how an unknown number of highly skilled elves are running loose in my streets.’
Chandyr’s momentary confusion cleared when he saw Myx.
‘You’ve heard,’ he said.
‘Evidently.’
‘Sorry, my Lord.’
‘So, would you care to enlighten me? I understood that no section of the city walls was to be unguarded at any time. I also understood that patrols would always be in sight of one another as they are outside the walls of my college. Given these two parameters, I fail to see how anyone got in without tunnelling. Difficult through our foundations, I would suggest.’
Dystran kept a firm grip on his anger. He knew Chandyr was a competent soldier but he was better suited to the open field, on the back of a horse. Circumstance, though, had conspired to install him to the city’s most senior military position.
‘No, my Lord, they scaled the walls. I have no explanation for it. I came here to report on our search and to offer my apologies.’
Dystran waved a hand. ‘Apologies later.’ He sighed again. Seemed he’d been doing a lot of that. ‘What do you know and what’s happening right now?’
‘Seven men are unaccounted for, presumed dead. We found three ropes leading down from an area of the south wall by the Darin bakery. There were no other signs. We have been unable to track them and have begun a spread search of the streets. We have cast the net from both their point of entry and the college walls assuming they intend eventually to gain entry here.
‘We will find them.’
Dystran chuckled. ‘You know, somehow I doubt you will but I wonder whether that matters.’ He paused. ‘You haven’t removed any of my guard from the college walls?’
‘No, my Lord.’
‘Good, see that you don’t. Here’s what I suggest because they have only one target and that is this college. They will not kill the common man, they will not spoil our grain, poison our water or fire our buildings. And do not think that they have not been pressured to do just that on any of the innumerable nights we may assume they have already run free in these streets. It is what I would have demanded.
‘They are a singular race. That much I have learned from men like Yron, and those incredible texts we guard so jealously. They seek that one prize and then they will go. So why don’t we let them come, now they have gained entry so effortlessly? They cannot
gain our walls unseen. They do not have the magic to threaten us. Julatsa fails more by the day.
‘Rest your men, Chandyr. Guard my walls and guard my cobble-stoned yards. And when we see them at our gates, we can call two hundred of the reserve from their bunks to fight them and fifty mages to burn them. They will not enter this college.’
‘My Lord,’ acknowledged Chandyr.
Dystran turned away and wandered back towards his tower, a complete calm descending on him. ‘Now why didn’t I think of that before?’
‘Because until now you were unsure of their sole intent.’
‘It was a rhetorical question, Myx,’ said Dystran.
‘Yes, my Lord.’
‘Stand outside my door tonight. Wake me should the elves be spotted. The sport should be worth watching.’
‘I will, Lord Dystran.’
‘One more thing,’ said Dystran as they entered the base of his tower and headed for the stairs. ‘I would know the exact time we are able to cast the first of our new dimensional magics. And I would know which of our castings is the better prepared for use.’ He smiled at Myx and patted his shoulder. ‘Just in case.’
Hirad led The Raven along a passage hacked out of packed clay, shored up with timbers along its length. It bore the signs of considerable age and, here and there, despite the holding spells, timbers had fallen away and the tunnel threatened to cave in.
Beyond the door in the blank warehouse office, a flight of wooden steps had run down for more than thirty-odd feet before levelling into the slightly meandering damp and reeking passage. They’d run all the way, the LightGlobe never far from Denser’s shoulder, guiding them, the rats scattering before them, feet splashing in puddles.
The barbarian’s mind was a riot of conflict. It had fallen on him so suddenly though he knew it had been there, waiting for a moment of weakness to present itself. He couldn’t afford to let his guilt cloud his judgement but he couldn’t push it aside either. This place. This filthy passage led to the heart of everything and everyone he blamed for Ilkar’s death besides himself. No one was innocent. And the thought that they had come to steal and not mete out justice was one he found hard to bear.
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