The Raven Collection

by James Barclay

  Of course, she did not. She stared at him with a mixture of trepidation and contempt.

  ‘Tell me about my husband,’ she demanded. ‘And make it quick. I may need to talk to Sha-Kaan.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Nyam. ‘And I am truly sorry for the intrusion.’ She waved away his apology. ‘And I am sorry for worrying you but it is not your husband who is in danger. It is Erienne.’

  He held his breath for her reaction. There was none barring a coldness across her face.

  ‘If my husband is not in danger, then neither is Erienne. I suggest you provide better reason for this unwelcome visit.’

  Beside her, Jonas stirred. She stared at Nyam meaningfully.

  ‘The power the Al-Drechar help her contain,’ he said, all the time studying her face. ‘They are not strong enough any more. We can help. Xetesk wants the One to grow.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Diera, but there was no irritation in her voice and a flicker across her eyes gave her away.

  ‘You do,’ said Nyam gently. ‘I know you do.’

  ‘Go,’ said Diera. ‘I can’t help you.’ She pulled the shawl tighter around her.

  Nyam leaned forward and grabbed her upper arms roughly. ‘Damn you, woman, you will help,’ he hissed, seeing her moment’s shock give way to fear. ‘We cannot afford to have her running around unprotected by us. If the Al-Drechar were to fail, Balaia would be devastated all over again. My reports are it is already starting. Why do you think I am waking you now? Whatever it is the Al-Drechar are doing right now, it isn’t enough. I must be allowed to see them, observe them, so we can lend our strength.’

  ‘Then why not talk to the Guild elves or the Al-Drechar themselves if you are so genuine?’ she asked.

  ‘Because without you with me, they won’t believe me. They will deny everything fearing what we will do. But all we want to do is help Erienne live.’

  ‘Let go of my arms.’

  He did so. ‘I am sorry. Please Diera, for all our sakes?’

  ‘You must think me very stupid, deaf or both,’ she said, meeting his gaze. ‘Do you think I talk to no one? Do you think I know nothing of Xetesk’s desires? I am not the dim wife and mother you clearly think me to be. I am the wife of The Unknown Warrior. And you are in more trouble than you can possibly imagine.’

  Nyam knew that already. A sense of calm had descended on him. He shrugged.

  ‘The time for such fears is past. Xetesk has a war to win. Control of Erienne will bring us that victory.’

  ‘She’s just one Dordovan mage.’

  Nyam smiled. ‘Diera, I do respect you and your strength. Sol could not have chosen better. But respect me too. Erienne is very much more than just one Dordovan. Deny it all you like but we will prove it. Now, are we going to visit the Al-Drechar together?’

  ‘Why should I move? All I have to do is shout.’

  ‘Diera.’ Nyam’s lips thinned with his patience. ‘My actions might bring about my death, I’m not sure. One thing I am sure of is that if you don’t help me now, they will certainly bring about yours.’ He reached a hand down to Jonas. ‘Such a lovely boy. He needs his mother. Don’t you think?’

  Gylac knew he was close to the breakthrough. It could see him to the Circle Seven on Ranyl’s death. The prospect excited him more than it should but he couldn’t help it. He’d begun to notice the links in the elven texts two days before. Amongst the partially translated passages and the tracts of so far indecipherable script, there was a pattern emerging.

  This Aryn Hiil was so much more than the history and practice of a religion expressed in ancient elvish. He was sure of that now though in truth, Dystran and Ranyl had always suspected it.

  His initial theorising had been backed up by independent research from another member of his staff. It built on the centuries-old notion that the elves were inherently and dependently magical. All of them. The Elfsorrow had proved that beyond question but had run its course before they could synthesise it as a spell.

  Now it looked as if they wouldn’t have to worry about the loss of that opportunity. Because if he was right, and the magical theory supported him, there was a way of unpicking an elf from the mana that made him vulnerable. The elven nation would become Xetesk’s new thralled race. Never mind Protectors, this would be a weapon infinitely more powerful. And it would be infinitely less risky than making pacts with demons.

  He wouldn’t sleep ’til he had the answer. After all, Ranyl didn’t have long to live.

  Gylac heard the door behind him open. He turned in his high backed chair, placing his quill on his note book.

  ‘So, have you—’

  What he saw in front of him was impossible. Laughable almost. He wasn’t sure if he smiled or not. He felt a hot, incredibly hot, lancing pain in his throat. His body was flung back, connecting with the edge of the table. He scrabbled at the pain, trying to look down. He saw the shaft of an arrow and felt the hot pumping blood on his hands. There was a roaring in his ears.

  They were all around him now, soundless like spirits. He was pushed aside, heard a short exclamation. They had the Aryn Hiil. His prize. His safe passage to power. He grabbed at an arm.

  ‘You can’t,’ he gurgled, or thought he did.

  A face stared down at him, so cold. The eyes held a hatred that made him shudder. He heard some words.

  ‘Shorth awaits you.’

  His grip slackened.

  Ranyl barely had the strength to be scared, the pain in his stomach had intensified and his breath shortened. But even he could not help but respect the tenacity of this most deep of the thorns in Xetesk’s side.

  ‘You are persistent, I grant you that,’ he said. ‘We had thought you hidden outside Lystern somewhere.’

  ‘Hiding is not in our nature,’ said The Unknown Warrior.

  Ranyl nodded and craned his head. ‘Why don’t you all come round here so I can see you. It isn’t often one is confronted by The Raven in its entirety.’

  ‘This is not the entire Raven. Ilkar died because of you.’ Ranyl felt the touch of steel on his neck. ‘Don’t try anything. You aren’t quick enough to beat me.’

  Ranyl chuckled. ‘Oh, Hirad, I am long past casting spells. I cannot muster the focus even to numb my own pain.’

  ‘Gods’ sake, Hirad, put it away,’ said Denser.

  ‘No,’ said Hirad. ‘No chances. Not in here.’

  ‘My Lord Ranyl, we mean you no harm—’

  ‘Right . . .’

  ‘Hirad!’ snapped Denser.

  ‘He is Circle Seven. He is guilty of Ilkar’s death. Mean him no harm if you like. I feel different.’

  ‘We should have factored you in,’ said Ranyl. ‘Never ignore The Raven, eh?’

  ‘My Lord.’

  ‘Denser, yes, I’m sorry. What is it you want?’ He felt for the bond with his familiar but it was weak. The demon was lost in sleep. He tried to pulse it awake, cursing his fading ability.

  ‘Your dimensional researches. Tell us where they are,’ said Denser. ‘We need them.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘That’s our business.’

  ‘Hirad, please,’ said Denser. ‘We have a friend to send home.’

  ‘Ah, of course,’ said Ranyl. ‘The great Sha-Kaan. He will be repatriated when we have the capacity.’

  The blade pressed harder. ‘Wrong,’ said Hirad. ‘Every day, he dies a little more. If you can do it, you’ll help us do it now.’

  Ranyl waved a hand. ‘It is a fairly simple casting. We just don’t have the time. Now if you could persuade your friends to lift their siege, we could help you.’ He pulsed again. The familiar didn’t respond.

  ‘Where is the research held? And who is in charge of it?’ demanded Denser. ‘I know you. Nothing is left unrecorded. Which catacomb houses it?’

  Ranyl shrugged. ‘I haven’t been down there for sometime, Denser. It could be anywhere.’

  ‘He’s stalling,’ said another voice. Female.

  ‘
Erienne,’ he said. The prize had walked into his bedchamber. ‘I grieve for your loss.’

  ‘Liar.’

  ‘But a greater loss to the world would be you,’ said Ranyl. ‘You have such potential. Stay with us.’

  ‘I’ve had enough of this.’ The Unknown Warrior stepped in and grabbed Ranyl’s jaw in one huge hand. He squeezed. ‘No more games. No more delay. Let’s get one thing straight. We can get in here undetected any time we want to so I suggest you take what I am about to say very seriously.’

  The Unknown’s face was very close to Ranyl’s and he could see in the ex-Protector’s eyes, the truth behind his words. There was more to this than capturing research. The warrior continued.

  ‘Already, the Aryn Hiil will have been taken by its rightful owners but that isn’t the only crime of yours we are halting here tonight. You will tell us where the dimensional alignment research is held so that we can end Sha-Kaan’s imprisonment on Balaia, a trivial action unworthy of your urgent attention or not.’ The grip on Ranyl’s jaw tightened and The Unknown’s face darkened further.

  ‘There’s something else. You and the rest of the Circle Seven will see to it that no harm comes to my wife and son on Herendeneth. They are there to keep them from the wreckage of this country. They are not your pawns. You will not suffer them to be threatened, used as any kind of ransom or even allow them to be touched by any Xeteskian.

  ‘Do not fool yourself I will not find out. You know we are in contact. If anything . . . anything . . . happens to my family through one of your power games, you will wish your sickness had taken you earlier. And the Circle Seven will wish fervently that they had listened to you relating my words.

  ‘Do you understand me?’

  Ranyl was silent. No one had ever talked to him that way. His first reaction was to counter-threaten but he was in no position right now.

  ‘I—’ His mouth would barely open, such was the pressure from The Unknown’s hand.

  ‘Do you understand me?’ He relaxed his grip.

  ‘I hear you.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘What a shame, though,’ said Ranyl.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ asked Denser.

  ‘You could have been so much more.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You, Denser. The Circle Seven needs you. And you, Sol. You could have been the leader of the Protectors.’

  The Unknown leaned in further, his smile carrying no humour.

  ‘I already am.’ He straightened. ‘So talk. The research.’

  Ranyl breathed in deeply. They had handed him control though they appeared not to realise it. Anything to keep them here a little longer.

  ‘We are testing our theories night and day in the catacombs below my Tower. I am the Circle Seven mage sponsoring dimensional research. Kestys is my lead man.’ He shrugged. ‘You know where to go, Denser. Take it, if you think you’re able.’

  ‘Do we need to know anything else?’ asked Hirad.

  Denser shook his head. ‘No. He’s telling the truth.’

  ‘Why would I do otherwise?’ said Ranyl. ‘I have so little still to lose.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ said The Unknown. ‘Denser. Ranyl looks tired.’

  ‘No problem.’

  Denser began to cast. Ranyl knew he would. There was no point in raising an objection and, in truth, a large part of him looked forward to a few hours of blissful, pain-free rest. He felt a twitch in his mind. He smiled.

  The Raven prepared to leave. Their big, blond, silent and clearly troubled warrior put an ear to the door and shook his head. Lystern’s greatest loss, Ry Darrick, went to his shoulder, others followed him.

  ‘Ready for this?’ asked Denser, voice a little faint with the effort of sustaining the casting, simple though it was.

  ‘I am,’ said Ranyl.

  The spell was never cast. Ranyl’s bed exploded in torn cloth and feathers. His familiar screamed its fury, taking the air on leathery wings, mouth slathering, eyes burning with hatred of the invaders.

  The reaction was instantaneous. Denser turned, dismissed the sleep spell and began to prepare again. The Unknown’s sword was out of his scabbard, pointed towards the familiar, his free hand pushing Erienne behind him.

  ‘Fly!’ shouted Ranyl. ‘Ignore them, fly!’

  ‘Block the window!’ Hirad was already running for the open windows on to the balcony. ‘Thraun, we’ve got to stop it.’

  The blond warrior, Thraun, growled. Ignoring his weapons, he ran to the centre of the room, putting himself between the familiar and the window. Around him, the elven mages were preparing too. Darrick kept his attention on the door, another elf had a bow ready, arrow nocked, looking for a clear shot.

  The familiar flitted above their heads, circled the small chandelier. It flew at Thraun, raked a claw across his face and laughed as the blood began to flow.

  ‘Denser, we need you!’ Hirad’s voice cut across the laughter.

  Thraun made a jump, quick and powerful, catching the familiar by surprise and closing a fist around its trailing leg. It squealed. Thraun dropped back down, dragging the creature with him.

  ‘Hold it, hold it!’ roared The Unknown. ‘Denser.’

  ‘Time,’ gasped Denser.

  Ranyl kicked out a foot. It caught Denser in the back of the leg. He flinched. It was enough.

  ‘Damn you!’ he grated. ‘Rebraal, keep this man quiet.’

  Thraun was struggling with the familiar. The size of a monkey, it had a strength far greater than its stature. It swivelled in his grip, head biting down, jaws clamping on Thraun’s wrist. The warrior yelled, fingers uncurled.

  ‘No!’ spat Hirad.

  The demon flew back into the air, screamed again and dived for the balcony window. Hirad launched himself at it. It balled a fist and lashed it into the barbarian’s face, snapping his head back. Hirad still laid a hand on it but it was too strong, flying out into the night, chittering and screeching, calling the college to arms.

  Hirad dragged himself to his feet, a hand feeling the side of his face below his right ear. He stared out after the familiar before turning to meet The Unknown’s grim face.

  ‘Oh, shit.’

  The alarms began to sound.

  Chapter 19

  Auum ran back out into the library from the archive chamber, the Aryn Hiil inside his tunic, its comforting presence had brought a glow to his whole body. He had felt energised, vindicated. Every elf would benefit. They had taken back something so precious and could return home to talk about what might come next.

  But so quickly, his mood had evaporated. Outside the library, alarms were sounding. Even through the thick walls and the cloying quiet, they could hear the shouts of men and the chilling call of demon familiars in the sky. The college was awake, it knew the raiders were inside and TaiGethen were at risk out in the open grounds. Perhaps it was they who had been discovered. Somehow he doubted it.

  He couldn’t afford the time to get back to the roof and led his people towards the doors.

  ‘Answers,’ he said as he ran. ‘Windows?’

  ‘Not viable. Fixed, large and spell-maintained,’ said Sian’erei from behind him.

  ‘Door, then. Check quickly.’ Sian and Vinuun paced away. ‘Marack, defend our right. Eye to the sky. You cannot kill the demons but you can hold them off. Duele, Evunn, bows. Yniss save us.’

  ‘Trouble,’ said Sian. ‘This door is locked by metal and spell. Those men we killed were in here for the night. The spell is a WardLock, timed to release at dawn. We can’t counter it.’

  Auum cast his gaze to the heavens. The area above the doors caught his eye. Five richly-coloured circular windows ringed the portal. Decorative, probably telling a story judging by the depictions upon them and definitely a weakness.

  He snapped his fingers and Duele followed his gaze.

  ‘We can all climb there,’ he said. ‘Tais, we move.’

  Dystran cast around for something to punch. Not confident about the state of his knuckle
s if he threw one at Myx, he chose instead to smash his glass in the grate of his dying fire.

  ‘How? By all the Gods drowning, how?’

  ‘We do not know,’ said Myx. ‘We will discover. Mages are investigating. ’

  ‘Well, bugger that for now,’ said Dystran, grabbing his cloak and swinging it around his shoulders. ‘Come on. And pass on these instructions as we go.’

  ‘My Lord.’

  ‘Ranyl is available, I suppose?’

  ‘I do not know,’ said Myx.

  ‘Of course you don’t.’ Dystran hurried out of the office in his tower and took the stairs at a trot, knotting his cloak as he went. ‘I want the reserve in here, combing the ground. I want every available Protector back from the walls. Get me the Circle Seven in Ranyl’s tower quicker than they’ve ever moved before. And get every guard off the damn walls. Blind as they are, they might as well help look, even if it means they pat the ground with their hands.

  ‘Damn those bloody elves!’

  Dystran simply could not believe it. What had he missed? How long had the elves been inside? Ranyl’s familiar had been apoplectic with rage. Unable to answer anything coherently and beside itself with anxiety about its master, Dystran had dismissed it before starting to break the glassware. All he really needed to know was that the raiders had got into Ranyl’s tower. And if they’d got there, they could have breached anywhere.

  ‘Last thing. Double the library guard. Do it now. Oh, and get me Suarav. He has some explaining to do.’

  ‘Go!’ shouted The Unknown. ‘Get out, now. We can still make the escape.’

  ‘What about him?’ Hirad pointed at Ranyl.

  The Unknown grabbed his arm. ‘Hardly matters now, does it?’ He glared at the dying Circle Seven mage. ‘What I said about my family? Remember it and believe it.’

  ‘You aren’t getting out of here,’ said Ranyl.

  ‘No?’ The Unknown turned and spread his arms. ‘Raven! Raven with me!’