‘Why did you do it?’ asked Nerane, the elf mopping Myriell’s brow. ‘We were helping you every way we could. We answered your questions.’
‘Not all of them,’ said Nyam. ‘And now I have the answer I need for my masters in Xetesk. You should not have hidden the fact that another One mage was alive and under your protection. We want to perpetuate the order, see it grow again.’
‘You would take it for yourselves.’ Myriell’s voice was cracked and exhausted. ‘We will not allow that.’
Nyam looked at the old elf again, saw her eyes open and staring at him with unfettered disgust.
‘That assumes you have a choice,’ said Nyam.
‘We always have a choice.’
‘You are protecting her now?’
‘I am doing what I must. You risk what you covet by your intrusion,’ said Myriell, her eyes closing again.
‘You must let us help you,’ said Nyam.
‘We will never let our secrets fall into the hands of any college,’ she said, voice faint. ‘Get out.’
Nyam felt torn between his respect for the Al-Drechar and his need to exert his authority. Threats weren’t working. He heard footsteps behind him and turned his head to see a Protector approach.
‘You must hear me, my mage,’ he said. ‘I stand in communication with Myx.’
Myx. Dystran’s personal Protector.
‘Speak.’
Nyam listened and his heart began to charge in his chest.
Rebraal took up a position in the lee of one of the two pillars that flanked the entrance to the dome complex. As The Raven ran out in their trademark angled chevron, with the mages in a quartet just behind them, he stretched his bow again and assessed the state of the college defence.
Ahead of them, the ornamental gardens opened out into the courtyard before the west gates of the college, currently closed. Men were running towards the gatehouse from either side along the walls. More were gathered in the courtyard itself and The Raven were facing about four times their number of swordsmen, mages and archers.
To his right, the way they were planning to run, there was activity by both stables and barracks. Again, soldiers were gathering, some running away east in the direction of the Mana Bowl, others forming to move up to the tower complex. They would have to fight fast, keeping the path open for the TaiGethen who should be advancing from his left, having swept through the library. Assuming they hadn’t encountered too much trouble, of course.
Spells arced out to strike both forces as they closed. Rebraal searched the enemy for the shield mages. Light glared. Al-Arynaar Orbs flashed against the Xeteskian shield, which dipped under the pressure. Denser followed up with an IceWind. Clouds of supercooled air banked against the deepening blue of the enemy defence. From within it, Xetesk’s reply flashed hard against the Al-Arynaar barrier. Again, he could see it flex but hold firm, keeping The Raven safe.
The fighting lines came together, The Raven with typical force. The Unknown flicked his blade inside the guard of his first attacker, splitting his face from chin to forehead. He followed it with a dash to the side of the head to cast the man aside, giving him space to fight free. Beside him, Hirad switched his sword grip at the last moment, confusing his enemy, who tried to adjust the strike that was already on its way. Succeeding only in unbalancing himself, the guard watched helplessly while Hirad swayed left and whipped his sword into his undefended left flank.
Rebraal’s bow tensed. Xeteskians were rushing up from the courtyard to flank. There were archers and swordsmen, five of them in a tight squad. He loosed a shaft; it tracked slightly right, taking the front swordsman in the shoulder, spinning him round and dumping him on the ground. The others ignored their fallen comrade, running on. Hirad was going to be in trouble.
The Al-Arynaar leader plucked another arrow from his diminishing supply and nocked it even as he headed down the steps at a dead run to join the barbarian. He lined up another target, tensed and fired on the run. He missed the swordsman, the arrow nicking the cheek of an archer and doing nothing but drawing attention to himself.
Time to fight. He crouched low a pace, laid his bow on the ground and came on, drawing his short sword as he closed on The Raven’s line. Hirad hadn’t seen the risk to himself, caught up as he was with a skilful and quick opponent.
‘Hirad, your right! Guard your right!’ he called.
Arrows flew by him forcing him to duck reflexively. He needed to get under Erienne’s HardShield fast. Elsewhere in the line, Darrick and Thraun were forming an excellent partnership, the raw bludgeoning power of the shapechanger counterpointing Darrick’s slick swordplay and solid defence.
‘Flanking right!’ shouted The Unknown, taking up Rebraal’s warning and thrashing his blade at the guard confronting him. The man blocked the blow but staggered back under the impact. The Unknown saw him to the ground with a blow from the hilt of his dagger.
Hirad swept his blade in hard and low, his opponent blocking it aside, twisting away and licking his blade into the barbarian’s left arm, slicing leather and flesh. Hirad growled and sent in a riposte, chopping a cut high up on his enemy’s thigh. He backed away a pace and the move saved his life.
At the very last he saw the pair of swordsmen bearing down on his right flank, and wrenched his sword out to drive away the first strike though for the second time in quick succession a blade nicked his arm, this time his right. He ducked under a wild sweep from the other flanker but was helpless in the face of his original attacker. The quick man lashed in a killing blow but found The Unknown’s blade blocking his way and the big man’s dagger punching into his temple.
Rebraal took off in his last three paces and planted a two-footed kick into the chest of the second of Hirad’s flanking attackers. He landed atop the man, heard ribs crack and turned to get the barbarian’s grateful nod before the pair of them carved into the last standing swordsman, putting him down in a heartbeat.
The archers backed off in a hurry, taking the defending mages with them towards the courtyard. From around the side of the library, Auum led the TaiGethen into view right on cue.
‘Raven, let’s go!’ called The Unknown.
But from across the college to their right, from the barracks and stables, came more of the enemy. And simultaneously, the western gates of the college swung open and men poured in, heading straight for them.
‘Oh dear Gods,’ said Hirad, breathing hard, the muscles in his arms protesting, his thighs burning with exertion.
The Raven’s move faltered almost before it started, the TaiGethen gathering around them. From everywhere, it seemed, Xeteskian forces converged on foot and even on horseback. Arrows and bolts filled the air, clattering against Erienne’s HardShield.
‘We aren’t going to make it,’ said Darrick. ‘They’ve got us trapped.’
‘Ideas?’ demanded The Unknown. ‘We’re out of time.’
‘Only one place we can defend,’ said Denser and he was already moving back towards the tower complex. ‘Follow me.’
‘Back to the dome, back to the dome!’ yelled Hirad. ‘Rebraal, bring your people.’
The raiding party turned and ran headlong for the steps up to the open doors and relative safety. The shadows shortened right in front of Rebraal, Xeteskian spells rushed through the air, crashing down on the rear of the group. He heard Gireeth scream in pain, turned his head and saw the mage’s shield go. There was a wash of heat, hard cobalt light flashed and the lone FlameOrb burst on to the TaiGethen below.
Elves, burning and dying, were driven to the ground, their cries lost against the fire that rushed up the steps, biting at all their heels.
‘Faster!’
Hirad, breathing in gasps, upped his pace in front. The doors were within a couple of paces. Auum led his Tai cell in, The Raven charging in behind, the survivors of the collapsed shield in their bootprints.
Thraun and The Unknown bent their shoulders to the doors, shoving the well-oiled and counterbalanced side fast closed, hear
ing arrows rattle against the wood.
‘Denser, WardLock now,’ ordered The Unknown.
‘Ahead of you there.’
The casting was quick and efficient. Pale blue light crackled across the lock and through the veins of wood-and-iron binding. Rebraal slid to a stop in the blood of the fight so recently played out. He turned and took them all in, elf and Raven alike. Three TaiGethen and two Al-Arynaar mages hadn’t made it. And alive though the rest of them might be, the same thought ran through all their minds.
In the centre of the Dark College, they were trapped.
‘Ah, gentlemen, so glad you could all make it on this quite unbelievable evening.’ Dystran smiled thinly from his seat in Ranyl’s dining chamber on the second landing of the tower.
The dying lord himself was upstairs resting. The remainder of the Circle Seven were seated at the table.
‘You’ll note there are no refreshments,’ continued Dystran. ‘You’ll also note that despite my request, Captain Suarav has so far been unable to join us. Would you like me to summarise why that is?’
He looked around the table, seeing the group of men, all of whom were at least twice his age. None of them would look him in the face. There was a phrase concerning ivory towers. He’d have to look into ways of seeing they saw more of the world beyond their noses.
‘It is because this college is under attack by a few ageing mercenaries and some extremely impressive elves.’ No meaningful reaction. He slammed his fist on the table. ‘They are tearing up my college! Surely even you heard the odd shout or the odd spell marking our once pristine walls?’
‘My Lord,’ acknowledged someone though Dystran was barely listening.
‘Tell me, Myx, where are The Raven and their elven friends at this moment?’
‘They have just run into the dome, my Lord,’ said Myx. ‘The doors have been WardLocked.’
There was a stirring around the table.
‘Yes, gentlemen, they are scant feet below us. Fortunately, there is a small bright spot I can apprise you of. On Herendeneth, a proactive young mage by the name of—’ He clicked his fingers.
‘Nyam, my Lord,’ said Myx.
‘Nyam has confirmed beyond reasonable doubt that the Al-Drechar are shielding a One mage. As you know, we feel that mage to be Erienne of the same Raven who are currently trapped beneath us. Here is what we will do.
‘First of all, we need to send a message to some old friends. Then, I intend to prove that Erienne is that mage, and you must be ready to act on the mana spectrum the moment that proof is clear. We have always said that we should be able to adequately protect a One mage from his own mind while the awakening process completes, then school that mage in the art as laid down in certain of our more precious texts.
‘It is time for us to make good on that assertion.’ He turned to Myx. ‘Your brothers, how close are they to their positions outside the Tower complex?’
‘Before the hour turns, they will all be ready, my Lord.’
‘Good. In that case instruct our new friend Nyam that when the hour turns, he is to kill the Al-Drechar currently shielding Erienne.’ Dystran turned back to the table and examined the ends of his fingers before looking up into the blank faces of his Circle Seven. ‘That should give us our proof, don’t you think?’
‘We can’t stay here,’ said Denser.
‘No, really?’ snapped Hirad. He rubbed a bloody hand through his hair. ‘And there was me thinking we’d set up camp here, wait for the trouble to die down.’ There was an impact on the doors. Timbers creaked but it seemed half-hearted, an act of frustration more than a serious attempt to break in. ‘Gods, this is just like Lystern, except we don’t have horses waiting saddled and this city has walls.’
‘Quiet, Hirad,’ said The Unknown. ‘Denser, facts and quickly. What do you have in mind?’
‘This is an indefensible position, despite how it might look. Outside, they’ll be waiting for instructions from the Circle Seven who will be in here somewhere. Look, it’s grim. Our escape route is blocked. Right now, I don’t think there’s a way out for us. At least in here, or rather, in the catacombs, we can achieve something and hold out longer.’
‘Like what?’ asked Hirad.
‘Got a dragon to send home, haven’t you? I know where the research is held. Maybe we can last long enough to effect the casting. Depends how simple it is.’
‘You aren’t confident about our chances, then?’ said The Unknown.
Denser shook his head.
‘It’s the best plan we’ve got,’ said Hirad. ‘Rebraal, you hearing this?’
The elf nodded. ‘I’ve relayed it to the TaiGethen. We all knew it was a risk coming here. We’re with you.’
‘And the Aryn Hiil?’ asked Denser.
‘It will not fall back into their hands. We’ll destroy it first.’
‘Good, then let’s go,’ said the dark mage. ‘One last thing, Unknown. Where we think this research is, and the lead mage. It’s near the Soul Tank. I’m sorry.’
The Unknown nodded. ‘I’ll be all right. Just don’t ask me how I’m feeling, any of you. You already know.’
‘Follow me, then,’ said Denser. ‘I—’
A high-pitched sound flashed round the dome. Loud and piercing, it dug at the ears and vibrated through heads. Hirad clapped his hands to the sides of his head, grunting involuntarily. Across the dome, swords clattered to the floor and the elves were dropping to their knees, their pain written on their faces.
Abruptly, the sound ceased, leaving behind it the impression of great space. A voice, amplified by every surface and clear as a bell, filled the space.
‘Now I have your attention, I have a proposal for you. You can hear me, can’t you, dear Raven, dear elves?’
The voice echoed away. Hirad picked up his blade and scanned around, looking for the source. He saw Thraun breathing hard, his eyes closed, face pale. The elves were faring no better. The Unknown was glaring at the ceiling, chest puffed out, sword once again in his hand. Darrick was rubbing at his ears, face carrying that expression of irritation that was becoming a trademark, while Erienne stood close to Denser, looking to him for an answer which he duly provided.
‘Dystran, how unnecessarily loud to hear your voice.’
‘I rather thought you’d be impressed by it. You should be. You have gathered in the most perfect place for Intonation. Bear that in mind. I can be much, much louder.’
‘Yes we are all duly impressed by your ability,’ said Denser, his tone bored. ‘What do you want?’
‘I want to end the bloodshed,’ said Dystran. ‘You have proved your prowess fighting my people but that’s over now. You are caught, you know you are. But you need not die. I have a deal for you. Surrender yourselves now and none of you will be harmed. The elves we will guarantee safe passage back to Calaius once this siege is broken, assuming they let us have back what was taken from our library. And The Raven will remain here as our guests until this unseemly conflict is over. General Darrick, as a man under sentence of death in your own college, I should think that a very happy solution. Denser, you can reacquaint yourself with the place that made you. Sol, you can be sure your family are safe, talk to them through your Protector brothers whenever you like and Erienne . . . Erienne, with us you can fulfil your potential.
‘It is tempting, I know. But you’ll want to discuss it so I give you a short time to do so. Then open the doors. The other way is pain and suffering, believe me.’
Dystran’s voice echoed away to nothing. Hirad opened his mouth but saw Denser put a finger to his lips and point up. Then he spread his arms wide, asking the question. Every head shook. Denser smiled, put his finger back to his lips and beckoned them all on, pointing to Rebraal to come close.
‘They’ll have the entrances to the catacombs guarded. Perhaps Auum could do the honours,’ he said into the elf’s ear.
Rebraal nodded. ‘We will see to it.’ He walked over to Auum and relayed the message.
Led b
y the TaiGethen, The Raven entered the catacombs of Xetesk.
Pheone walked alone around the crater that hid the Heart of Julatsa, her mind torn between grief and hope. Her people had reached the Xeteskian siege lines and contacted the Al-Arynaar. Communion had confirmed what she wanted to hear. They would come but had a mission to perform before leaving the lines and heading north. The news had filled her with an optimism she had never thought to feel again. But so quickly, her heart had been crushed again.
The Raven were in the game, it seemed, though their location was a closely guarded secret because of trouble with both Lystern and Dordover. But she hadn’t really listened to the reasons why. Because when she had asked after Ilkar, she had been told of his death. The Communion had broken then and there, and the loss and emptiness had swept through her like a gale that had no end.
She had run from her friends, where they had been conducting the linked Communion, and they had been respectful in turn, leaving her to herself and her thoughts.
She had cried long for Ilkar, his smile, his energy and his sheer presence. The touch she would never feel again, the pain that must have accompanied his death from the Elfsorrow. She thought of The Raven too. Such a close friendship now destroyed by something they couldn’t fight. Helplessness. She knew how that felt all right.
Finally, she pushed the images of the elf she had loved from her mind and tuned in to the mana spectrum. The shadow was there, covering the Heart, smothering its colour, dulling its power. And the effect they’d noticed in the last couple of days was there, and growing too. The shadow was sending out flares of gloom like spears into the mass of the spectrum. She wondered what that meant. So far they had come up with nothing.
The Raven Collection Page 234