Like the lame deer in the herd. Unprotected. Easy meat.
He brought the cell to a halt. Ahead of them, a river the enemy column should just have crossed, wove through low-lying marshy land between a series of gentle rises scattered with heavy brush, bracken and woodland. They had waited for the sun to decline and now the terrain was perfect.
Auum led them in a prayer to Yniss to watch over them, and to Tual, the God the ClawBound most revered, to guide them.
‘There can be no sound,’ he said. ‘Our jaqrui pouches remain closed, the Claws must restrain their voices. We are few. We can inflict damage to help our brother Al-Arynaar and repay the debt owed to the ClawBound but we must not be heard. There is nowhere for us to run from their mages and their familiars.
‘We have our targets. We move.’
The ClawBound pairs made no gesture to suggest that they had heard or agreed. They were still for a moment, and then ran away, one pair directly ahead, the other to the right, leaving the Tai cell to take the left flank.
‘Care with your bows,’ said Auum. ‘Only if you are certain of a clean kill.’
He drew his twin short swords and sped away through thigh-high grass towards a bracken-covered mound, while Duele and Evunn, bows prepared, moved five yards left and right and ten behind.
Auum sensed every footstep he made, minimising the pressure, feet finding sure hold. The drying ground still held treachery for the unwary but the elf, born to the rainforest, would rely on it as he would solid rock. He breasted the bracken, easy movements at one with the direction of growth, stems eased aside rather than crushed underfoot. Beyond the mound, the land fell away sharply to a muddy tributary. He sized it up as he approached, the fast failing light no barrier, finding the solid ground, footfalls not sounding.
Climbing up from the tributary he slowed momentarily, assessing the land ahead, seeing a knot of trees left, another fall in the land and clear tracks through tall grass. At the base of the dip, a figure disappeared into another small wooded area. He raised a hand, pointed to the relevant tracks and curved away, sprinting hard down the slope, eyes to his right.
He could see them both now, walking calmly through the trees that sprouted new life after the storms that had all but destroyed them. The men were close together, eyes ahead, looking forward to their rest. With the sky near full dark, it would not be long. But they were not destined for rest among their friends.
Auum checked his run and curved back towards the right, closing in. He held out an arm, three fingers straight, his order taken up by Duele and Evunn who made up the ground for the cell to advance in line. Duele was running with his bowstring taut, an enemy in range but no definite kill shot available. Evunn still searched, his mind perhaps not as keenly resolute as those of his Tai fellows.
Auum did not think he would need either of them. The ground plateaued in front of him and he crossed it with barely a whisper. He could hear them talking, their quiet tones carrying to him above the sounds of breeze and tree, rodent and predator. At the base of a tree, its bulging trunk stripped bare by deer, he stopped, watching. They were oblivious. They were looking around themselves again, checking back and watching the route they had travelled now their eyes were adjusted to the dark.
The Tai had needed no such wait.
Auum let them move ahead ten yards, nodded to Duele at his right and moved in. Beneath the trees, the ground was soft and damp. No twig lay underfoot, tinder dry, to snap. He was within four paces when one felt the skin crawl on the back of his neck and began to turn.
Auum took off, body spinning and right leg stretched, catching the man in the cheek, his cry muffled by Auum’s boot smearing across his mouth. The TaiGethen landed next to the other man and jammed a short sword up under his jaw, spearing his brain through the roof of his mouth. He dragged the blade away, made to finish off the other but he already had two arrows in his chest.
Duele and Evunn trotted in and cut the shafts free, cleaning and dropping them back in their quivers. Auum nodded their direction and the cell set off again.
Not a bird had been put to flight though the blood of fresh death stained the earth.
Thraun missed the closeness of Erienne, her hair and the feel of her skin. He missed that he couldn’t help her any more and that she had no use for him. For any of them. He treasured the touch she had given him, cupping his cheek, her lips just brushing his and then she was gone again as she had been from Denser. He had felt hurt but now he just felt deeply sorry for her because, to him, the torment she was going through was obvious.
Not just that every move she made was jerky and uncertain somehow. And not because she said very little but to make demands to stop, to ride, to eat or drink. But because he had seen into her eyes and not even Denser had seen the raging within. Every cell of her was fighting to restrain the One and it took her almost completely from them.
But he knew that she was better for the fact that she could sense them again. The times she had been close to him, the briefest touch or a lifting of the corner of her mouth told him she was still there with them.
Thraun was the watch now that they had eaten and the fire was doused. It was dark but his lupine eyes could separate the shades and his nose was keen, the strong smell of wood smoke hanging in the air just one of the myriad scents he could discern. The Raven were sleeping and that was compliment enough. He sat with them, right in their midst, silent.
From where would the threat come, he wondered. They had camped as they must, hidden from plain view land- or airborne but there was no geographic feature nearby to guard any point of the compass. So threat could come from anywhere and strike at anyone. Not Erienne. She would not be killed though she could conceivably be taken. But any member of The Raven was as critical as any other.
The question was, who would they target? If, indeed, any of the Lord of the Mount’s assassins were even in the vicinity.
Thraun pushed himself to his feet and padded carefully across the small camp site to where the horses were tethered. He stood with them, watching as they did, the eddies of the night around them. Horses were always nervous with him on first contact. This group had calmed now but they sensed something other than the human in him. It was just something he had to accept.
Like so much that was frustrating. Like his lack of language and the gap between thought and articulation. Like the love that remained for his wolven side but that he denied because he feared the prison of the animal form. So much he didn’t fully understand.
He stood with the horses for some time, their warmth and innocence comforting. They demanded so little. But they missed almost nothing of what was around them. There was a moment when all their attention was in the same direction. Thraun moved away from them then, walking smoothly back towards his friends. Denser was stirring but in his anxiety he might have done that at any time. Might have.
Thraun paced evenly and very quietly towards Denser, seeing the mage flap his arms as if pushing away an unseen enemy. Indeed. Thraun saw the shimmer against the heat signature of the dead embers. He walked past Denser’s feet, bent down and dropped his hand on the Cloaked figure, catching him a little high but adjusting his grip. Thraun pushed, the assassin becoming visible as he stopped moving, his face driven into the ground, a knee on his back. The shapechanger growled.
‘Knife,’ he said.
The assassin held out his right arm. The dagger in his right hand was coated. Thraun punched his wrist and the weapon dropped from his grasp.
‘You will not move,’ said Thraun. He tightened his grip on the assassin’s neck, dragging him backwards and up, the other arm wrapping around his front grabbing his groin. ‘Raven!’ Thraun’s voice boomed across the campsite.
Around him, they awoke, rolling and standing, shaking sleep from their minds and dragging swords from scabbards lying on the ground.
‘Form up!’ shouted The Unknown.
Quickly, the four Raven men ran to positions around the still sleeping but stirring Erienne
. Thraun pulled his man inside the ring.
‘Where’s your friend?’ asked Hirad.
The assassin said nothing. Thraun pulled him closer, both hands gripping a little tighter.
‘Talk.’ Where there was one, there would be another. He would be watching them, probably from close by. ‘Talk.’
The assassin let go a small groan of pain. Denser turned at the sound. Thraun saw the disappointment in his face.
‘Takyn?’ he said. ‘You?’
‘I am sorry, Denser,’ replied the assassin. ‘I am so ordered.’
‘That’s just bloody great,’ said Denser, he swung back round. ‘Now they’re sending my friends to kill me.’
‘You should have chosen better friends,’ said Hirad.
‘I did.’
‘Yes, Denser, you did,’ said Takyn.
‘Call the other one out,’ said The Unknown. ‘Either that or have him watch you die.’
‘I’ll do it,’ said Denser. ‘Gythen, I know you’re there. Come in and join the party. Let’s work this out and all walk away with our lives tonight.’
‘Don’t be naïve, Denser,’ said a voice from the dark. Thraun struggled to pinpoint his direction. ‘How can you possibly let us go? Takyn knows it. I know it.’
‘Come out and take us on, then,’ said Hirad.
They heard a dry chuckle. ‘Getting myself killed on duty has never been in my plans.’
Denser turned to Takyn. ‘In a moment, it looks like you’ll never be able to father children. Call him out, we won’t kill you.’ He paused. ‘How could you accept this job? Don’t our years of training together mean a thing to you?’
‘They were a long time ago,’ said Takyn between measured, difficult breaths. Thraun did not slacken his grip anywhere. ‘You chose your route, I chose mine.’
‘But this?’
‘I’ll admit I never expected to be assigned to The Raven but you have to be prepared. You know how it works. You’d have made a good assassin.’
‘I’m so flattered.’
‘Denser,’ said The Unknown sharply. ‘This is not helping our problem. Gythen, this is your chance to walk away with your friend, not alone. Show yourself.’
Hirad spoke to Takyn over his shoulder, loud enough for the other to hear.
‘Denser may have trouble killing you but I won’t. Anyone who does Dystran’s bidding shares the blame for the death of my friend. All your lives are forfeit.’
‘Hirad, please.’ said Denser.
‘I’m just telling it how it is.’
Erienne stirred again and awoke, finding herself in a ring of men, tension in the air. Thraun watched her puzzlement turn to irritation, the light that was in her eyes diminishing quickly.
‘Assassins,’ he said.
‘So kill him and let me rest,’ she said, her voice rough and dry. ‘I must have rest.’
‘We’re dealing with it, love,’ said Denser. ‘But there’s another one. You could pinpoint him. You know you have the talent.’
She was on her feet now. Thraun could see her expression clearly when she looked at her husband. It held contempt and impatience but she forced those alien thoughts away, leaving Thraun to see the struggle she was enduring and the fear when her face relaxed.
‘I don’t know if I can stop it if I start it,’ she said, her voice now small and desperate.
‘What are we debating this for?’ asked Hirad. ‘I’m with Erienne. Denser, light up the site, I’ll slit this bastard and we ride out. The coward in the shadows can get us back if he can keep up with a galloping horse. How about it?’
‘Ever the diplomat, Hirad,’ said Denser.
‘We have a Code,’ added The Unknown.
Hirad scoffed. ‘Assassins have no honour. I will show them none in return.’
He spun round, his movement quick enough to surprise even Thraun and Takyn started violently. The barbarian’s sword point prodded Takyn’s chest above his heart. ‘Any of you think you’re quick enough to stop me?’
Erienne’s voice in the void was enough. ‘If it’s any help making up your mind, whoever you are out there, you are moving very slowly to my right. You have just ducked under an overhanging branch. In your next pace, you will pass a small drift of leaves. Denser’s FlameOrbs will be ready in moments. You can’t get away from the splash zone. Your call.’
Thraun watched Erienne’s head fall to her chest and her arms clutch at her ribs as if she was feeling an acute pain. Outside the circle, Gythen blinked into view.
‘Sorry, Takyn,’ he said.
Takyn shrugged. ‘It’s why we want her.’
‘Not another word,’ said Hirad.
‘Gythen, drop your weapon,’ said The Unknown as Darrick moved purposefully towards him. ‘Right now. Hirad, lower your sword.’
‘Un—’
‘Now!’
Thraun watched the conflict on Hirad’s face. His respect for the big man prevailed over his desire for more revenge. His swordpoint dropped and he pushed his face into Takyn’s.
‘Consider yourself one lucky bastard.’
Next to Thraun, Erienne swayed. He thrust Takyn at Hirad and caught her before she fell. The Unknown spoke into the moment’s uncertainty.
‘Darrick, bring him over here. Denser, you can forget the Orbs now, I think deep sleep is more what they need. And us, for that matter. Man on watch guards them too.’ He nodded in some satisfaction. ‘Reckon that makes us safe tonight, don’t you?’
Erienne sank into brief and broken, haunted dreams, feeling more alone than at any time in her life. Since forcing herself back to consciousness to do battle with the One entity throughout her body, she had sought Cleress but the old elf did not or could not answer her. There had been occasions when she thought she had heard a voice but it was vague, like a whisper in a gale. Perhaps the One had shut her out. Perhaps she really was dead.
The effort of adopting the structure allowing her to see Gythen had taken such energy. The technicalities of the casting were simple, enough. Stopping the One from using it as a route to vent power was not.
The Al-Drechar had taught her so much in the short time they had been with her. The possibilities and the dangers, so closely connected, the partitioning of her mind that was demanded to keep castings under control while capping the well of One power. But she hadn’t understood the most basic lesson they had been trying to teach her since that first day she had let them into her mind. She understood it now.
Every moment of her training in Dordover had taught her that magic was an element controlled purely by the mind, formed into shapes by the mind and using physical movements merely to focus the mind to perfect the desired construct. Physical tiredness was the result of the mental effort. She had brought this doctrine to her dealings with the One.
But the One was so different. The One demanded, if you were to control it for any length of time, the use of the whole body. Muscles were flexed, tendons tightened and arteries swollen, with the blood driven through them in pulses. Mana was just one element of the larger magic. Everything else was open to her too and the One entity attracted the raw fuel like moths to light. From metal deposits, to water and the air around her, to verdant foliage and the living earth. Anything with a vitality that could be stripped.
The problem was, it was an unbalanced magic. Where mana would dissipate on casting, returning to its natural chaotic state, the One magic did not, making it potentially so much more destructive. It could not simply be formed into structures and let go. The structures of the One, through which power was vented in a controlled fashion, had to be disassembled to make it safe. Otherwise a structure could drag elemental energy from around itself, becoming almost self-perpetuating while it slowly unravelled. How easy now to understand why the storms and disasters Lyanna created had been so vicious, so long-lived.
Her poor daughter’s body had simply been too small to exert the physical control and her mind alone was helpless to contain the power it held. That was what the Al-Drechar
had been trying to explain since the beginning but her grief at Lyanna’s death had stopped her listening.
Erienne’s body was strong enough, though barely. She had wondered why the Al-Drechar hadn’t asked her to accept the entity as part of her entire being rather than just her mind but even that made sense now. The mind had to be trained first. The mind had to be the cork in the bottle as well as the casting focus. The body could only be trained once the stopper could be put in place.
What her body did was channel the One in an endless circuit. It had no outlet and could drag no more power in unless she chose to open the bottle to cast a spell. Every urge in her body told her to yank out that mental cork because doing so would relieve the surging she felt inside her. Every thought in her mind drove her to keep the stopper in tight. What a paradox. The very time when in theory she should be in maximum control of the One magic was the time it was at its most dangerous to her and everything around her.
Now she understood, truly understood, the challenge that faced her. She would never fully control or cap the energy the One contained. All she could do was suppress it. And whenever she cast she had to use just exactly the right amount of power to achieve her end. That right amount being dependent on the strength of her body and the freshness of her mind combined. Too much at the wrong moment and she was lost. Not enough and the casting would fail.
Erienne’s mind began to relax just slightly as her path became clearer. She was aware that she would hate what she had been forced to become. The spider would always be there, looking for a way to break her. And yet she could never fight it, never beat it. Just cage it and let it run to her design.
A more peaceful sleep overcame her now. Her last thought before the shouting woke her at dawn the next morning was that she was going to have to get to know herself all over again. She hoped her husband would understand.
Chapter 37
The Raven Collection Page 251