The Raven Collection

by James Barclay

  ‘That is a lie,’ said Sol sharply. ‘You tell your friends in the morning that the dead are here to help us. I know they scare you but they mean you no harm. We will keep you safe. Nothing will happen to you. I will not let it.’

  ‘See?’ said Diera brightly. ‘Your father will protect you. Now run along. We’ll come and tuck you in. Go on now.’

  She shooed them away and closed the door, turning an angry, pale face on Sol.

  ‘Tell me it is going to get better. Explain to me what I do with our children. Make me understand what just happened. This is too much for me, Sol. You know that, don’t you?’

  Sol nodded. ‘Just tell me one thing. Did anyone say how far the enemy are from Xetesk right now?’

  ‘They are not heading this way at all at present, so Denser said when relating your heroics. Stupid old man that you are. If and when they turn, we will have four days, maybe five. How is your hip, anyway? ’

  ‘A little stiff.’ Sol smiled.

  Diera did not respond in kind. She came and sat on the side of the bed. She gestured at him, his clothes, and she shook her head.

  ‘Where have you been?’

  Sol swung his legs over the side of the bed to sit next to her and brushed dust and dirt from the sheet. The blood of the Garonin was still wet on his clothes and would stain.

  ‘Sorry about that.’

  Diera shrugged. ‘Doesn’t really matter now, does it?’

  ‘I suppose not.’ Sol leaned forward. ‘I don’t know where they took me. The enemy, that is. I hope Denser and the college can help me with that. Somewhere beyond our dimension . . . any dimension come to that. But there was familiarity there that I can’t explain.’

  ‘Why didn’t they just kill you?’

  ‘They wanted to make me agree to passive genocide, if you can believe it. But I made them see that we would fight them to the last man.’

  Diera smiled at last. ‘The mighty King Sol. Still fighting the good fight though this enemy is by all accounts too powerful to defeat even if we had a dozen colleges and a million soldiers.’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Hirad. Old Hirad, that is.’

  ‘Survived, did he? That’s good.’ Sol felt a little warmth for the first time since he had returned. ‘And you believe him to be the soul of Hirad in another body now, do you?’

  The nod was fractional. ‘The weight of evidence suggests that he might be telling the truth. His shadow completely freaks me out. Why does that happen?’

  ‘Because the soul remembers the body it once inhabited, I suppose. It just goes to show that whatever skin you’re in, you’re still the same.’

  Diera chuckled. ‘And you can stop your lectures on the nature of man right there. And how did the enemy respond?’

  ‘Garonin, that’s what they call themselves. They didn’t believe me. Showing them resulted in the three of them dying.’

  ‘Back to the old methods of negotiation, is it?’

  ‘You have been my wife for too long. Is my face really that revealing?’ Sol shook his head. ‘They made me angry. Wanted to stop me getting back to you. I can’t have that, can I?’

  Diera stroked his face. ‘You never could. Lucky for me you always make it, isn’t it?’

  ‘I tell you one thing though. They mean to drain us of every drop of mana we possess and they will not stop until they get it. They are too powerful here on Balaia. We can’t turn them away forever. And that means for you, for ordinary Xeteskians, it is time to leave.’

  ‘And go where? If they are determined to kill us all, then nowhere is safe.’

  ‘We’ll find an escape,’ said Sol. ‘Things the Garonin said to me, mistakes they made. This isn’t over, not by a long way. The dead will help us.’

  Diera threw her arms around his neck and they clutched each other tight.

  ‘Why does it always have to be you?’ she said, her face buried in his shoulder.

  ‘I’m just lucky, I suppose.’

  She broke away and punched his arm. ‘Bastard. What happens now?’

  ‘Well, we get a few hours more sleep. Then I go to the Mount and we work out how to turn the Garonin away once more and where to run in the time that gives us. As for you, my love, I mean what I say. Take the boys. Take anyone else who believes enough to go with you. Head west. Find Tessaya. He knows you. The Wesmen will guard you until I get to you again.’

  Diera nodded and sighed. ‘All right. But you know Jonas is already talking about Beshara. He’s not stupid. If we have to run, why not to a place where dragons will guard us?’

  Sol blinked. Beshara. Realm of the dragons and inextricably linked to Balaia by the mental connections between Kaan brood dragons and selected human mages. And Jonas was a Dragonene. The Dragonene of Sha-Kaan, leader of his brood.

  ‘How can I have been so stupid?’

  Chapter 16

  Sha-Kaan soared back into the clear blue heavens above Beshara and looked down at the devastation below. A line of seven vydospheres travelled the plains of Dormar, driving towards the steaming forests of Teras. His forests. Home of the Kaan.

  The vydospheres spanned a huge swathe of the once-beautiful plains. Flush with Flamegrass, dense with life and the dwellings of the Vestare, human servants of the Kaan and all of Beshara’s multiple broods of dragon. The war-torn world had known peace for many cycles and now this threatened to destroy all that had been built.

  Behind the vydospheres, Dormar was a wasteland, worse than the ancient blasted lands of the Keol. The Garonin had already visited destruction upon the homelands of the Naik, the Skoor and even the ocean-going Veret. Now, closing on the lands of the largest brood, they were meeting significant resistance. Sha-Kaan could still see the wilderness expanding, the fires burning, spreading and consuming on a wider and wider arc.

  Away to the south, the smoking ruins of an eighth vydosphere littered the ground, sparking fire here and there as it slowly disappeared. From the funnels of the others belched smoke and ash while above them the ground was occasionally obscured by the clouds formed as mana was burned for collection.

  Sha-Kaan roared his flight to him. Thirty dragons, climbing hard into the sky, beyond the range of the tracers of white fire and the looping, smoking explosive projectiles. The Garonin had flooded the plain with men and weapons. They crushed Flamegrass underfoot, powdered the homes of the Vestare in their path and rendered all that was living to pale dust.

  Yet they were still vulnerable. Six flights of dragons were in the air above them, awaiting the order to strike. Others from allied broods were on the way. The sky was filling with the massive shapes of dragons and the deafening noise of their calls and barks.

  Sha-Kaan twisted his long, slender neck to check the damage to his one-hundred-and-twenty-foot-long body. Russet gold scales, some warped with age, others blistered by the heat of enemy weapons. Those blackened by the lick of dragon fire were trophies earned in forgotten conflicts.

  He snapped his wings to their fullest width and executed a long, graceful turn, bringing him round behind the centre of the Garonin advance.

  ‘Hold your shape. Breathe only on my command. Do not break, do not falter. Escape at best speed and angle.’ Sha-Kaan’s pulsed orders were greeted with thoughts of acknowledgment, determination and assurances of victory. ‘Kaan. Dive.’

  Sha-Kaan’s bark was a shattering cry that echoed over the clanking, thundering noise of the Garonin invaders and their machines. In their harnesses, the dim-witted hanfeer tossed their heads and shuddered. The dragons dived. Wings tucked in tight, necks stretched out, the wind whistling over the mounds of their bodies. Their tails stabilised their lightning descent.

  Sha-Kaan led them screaming towards the ruined plains. He snapped his wings out to brake and turn barely a hundred yards from the ground. He swept up to the horizontal, dipped even closer to the dust, and forged in. Garonin weapons were trained. They fired. A hundred teardrop streams of white light rattled out.

  Heat blossomed o
n Sha-Kaan’s body. Scales were burned and ripped from his belly, from his back and flanks. To his left, a Kaan was struck square in the muzzle. The dragon roared agony. The head, engulfed in fire, was torn apart and the body dropped to the ground to impact the dust and roll over and over. Sha-Kaan ignored the pain in his body and the tears in his wings as fire drops clipped them. He urged his dragons to hold and they did. Up and to the right another was caught in a crossfire of six weapons. The vast body exploded under the pressure of the impacts. Flesh filled the sky, knocked dragons aside. A wing spiralled down, folding in on itself and colliding with another Kaan below it. The dragon lost his bearings and, temporarily blinded, ploughed into the plains.

  Sha-Kaan opened his mouth and felt the flame ducts swell. He swept through the line of Garonin soldiers. His jaws beheaded one, his claws dropped and tore up four more, breaking them and casting them aside. Around him his Kaan exulted. Sha-Kaan tasted blood in his mouth and sniffed more revenge.

  He focused on the rear of the vydosphere. Huge before him, a billowing metal shell, vibrating as it built to another combustion. He let the fuel from his flame ducts enter his mouth. Through his nostrils, he inhaled the air of his land.

  ‘Breathe.’

  Twenty mouths disgorged super-heated flame. The dragon flight split around the body of the vydosphere, pouring flame across its surface. Funnels collapsed. Antennae shrivelled and melted. The skin darkened, blistered and bubbled. Sha-Kaan breathed again, coming over the spine of the machine. His flame ate into the vydosphere. Rivets popped and plates buckled. The whole skin heaved.

  Sha-Kaan crested the apex of the vydosphere. In their harnesses, the hanfeer were burning, screaming impotent rage. One had fallen sideways. The other still tried to move forward.

  ‘Clear, my Kaan. We are done.’

  The vydosphere gouted smoke and steam through torn plating. Huge areas of the skin were sucked inwards. Sha-Kaan did not look round to see the explosion. He used the wave of force to drive him over the ground at even greater speed and into the forward lines of Garonin already engaged in fighting the dragons clouding the air above them.

  Sha-Kaan dropped until his claws were brushing the ground. He opened them and scooped enemies into each before angling his wings and beating away high into the sky. Safe in the heavens once more, he snaked his head down to his claw and brought one of the writhing, struggling figures to his eye. He set his wings to a lazy glide.

  ‘All will go the same way,’ he said. ‘Take your machines and leave our lands.’

  ‘We will take what we must,’ said the Garonin. ‘You will not stop us.’

  ‘Wrong,’ growled Sha-Kaan. ‘Beshara will not fall to you.’

  ‘Even you are vulnerable and we know how to hurt you.’

  ‘You will not find them.’

  The Garonin laughed. ‘You are mistaken, Great Kaan. We already have.’

  Sha-Kaan closed his left claws and let the blood flow over them. His other claws he opened, letting his victim drop.

  ‘Puny foe.’

  But there was anxiety in his mind. He needed to know they were lying. He flew to the upper skies and sought the mind of his Dragonene while the battle raged on below him.

  Jonas was awake when Sol looked in to see him that morning. Or rather he was vaguely conscious. Sol hurried to his bedside and knelt by him, smoothing the hair from his face and putting a hand on his sweating brow. Jonas’s eyes were moving rapidly below fluttering eyelashes. The rest of his body was utterly still.

  ‘Diera!’ he called. ‘Jonas is speaking with Sha-Kaan. He’ll need you. Hirad, go and get dressed and washed. Wait in our bedroom.’

  ‘But I want—’

  ‘Hirad, please. Be a good boy.’

  Diera appeared in the bedroom doorway and held out her hand. ‘Come on, Hirad. Let’s find a game. I’ll be back, Sol.’

  Sol nodded and turned back to Jonas.

  ‘Jonas, can you hear me? I’m here right by you.’

  ‘Fire . . .’ mumbled Jonas, a line of dribble coming from the corner of his mouth. ‘Burned scales. White fire. Ahh!’

  The gasp was accompanied by an opening of his eyes. He stared about him for a moment before settling on Sol. His face cleared a little and a hand moved to grip his father’s arm.

  ‘Are you seeing or relaying?’ asked Sol.

  ‘Seeing,’ whispered Jonas. His bottom lip trembled. ‘The enemy are there. Garonin. The dragons are fighting. I think they are losing.’

  ‘Jonas, it’s important. I have to know if we can escape to Beshara. Can I speak to Sha-Kaan? Will you channel for me?’

  Jonas frowned and his teeth grabbed at his upper lip. ‘Father.’

  ‘I know I’m asking you to endure pain. Believe me, I wouldn’t ask unless I thought we had no other choice. I need answers and I don’t think you can ask the questions, even if I’m here. I need to hear Sha-Kaan. Jonas?’

  Jonas’s eyes had closed but his mouth had curved up into a smile.

  ‘The Great Kaan says you had better be careful with me or . . .’

  Sol laughed. ‘Or he’ll crush me like a twig, I know.’

  The room filled with a new presence. A smell of oil and wood and the weight of great age and power. Jonas’s mouth hung open. He breathed deeply but otherwise was completely still.

  ‘Sol. It is good to feel you though the times are our darkest yet.’

  ‘As ever, your presence honours me.’

  ‘We can dispense with that. Your family gives so much that the Kaan value. You have questions. I have questions. Jonas is strong but he still cannot support this for long. He is young yet.’

  ‘Then ask, Great Kaan.’

  ‘Jonas relates that you are attacked. Is it the Garonin?’

  ‘They destroy everything in their path and leave an expanding disaster behind them. We have hurt them but I do not think we can stop them. I have to know. Can we escape to Beshara? Can you protect us?’

  There was a heavy silence. Sol could feel Sha-Kaan’s concern in the air. He could all but taste the tension.

  ‘No. They would combine forces and we could not repel them. The damage they have caused is extensive but I believe we can turn them if they do not reinforce. But not if we lose Balaia. Not if I lose Jonas.’

  ‘You will not lose him. Not while I still draw breath,’ said Sol. ‘But we are on the verge of losing Balaia already. Only Julatsa and Xetesk still stand and both are weak.’

  ‘You have questions. You need another way to fight.’

  ‘Yes. Sha-Kaan, I was taken by the Garonin. They wanted to negotiate a peaceful end to our existence. They took me to a place beyond anything I have known and yet it was familiar. Something they said made me wonder. They said they saw all that passed through the place. I got the impression it was outside everything else, every other dimension but perhaps a route to each one. Something like that. And I travelled from there by force of will to appear back here. This is vague, I know, but you are a dimensional traveller. Do you know of this place?’

  ‘It is impossible,’ breathed Sha-Kaan, and for the first time in their long association Sol heard awe and fear in the great dragon’s voice.

  Sol’s heart sank. ‘What is?’

  ‘I know of where you speak,’ said Sha-Kaan, his voice rumbling but quiet, his tone reverential. ‘In your language we would describe it as the top of the world. It is not a place any should be able to travel to by choice.’

  ‘But it is a place we can fight them, I’m certain of that.’

  ‘That may be so but there are two things you should know. If indeed you were there and the Garonin can travel there at will, they are more powerful than even I imagined. And for them to have taken you there speaks even more highly of their abilities as travellers and more dangerously of their capacity to rape any dimension they discover. Because from all the lore I know, only the soul free of the body may travel there, and even then only to pass through on the journey to ultimate rest.’

  Sol felt
another door close on their chances. Diera laid a hand on his shoulder. He covered it with one of his own and squeezed.

  ‘Diera,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘Your son bears up well.’

  ‘He looks weak,’ she said. ‘But it is good to hear you.’

  ‘We have little good news. Sol, should you wish to pursue this path, speak with me again. But tell me. Jonas said the dead have returned. No doubt pursued by the Garonin into Balaia through the top of the world. Who has returned? Only the strong bonded souls?’

  Sol relaxed a little. ‘So it seems. Much of The Raven though we have already lost many of them again. Hirad is here.’

  ‘Ahhh. I would love to feel his mind again.’

  ‘I’m sure it can be arranged. He has not changed.’

  The Great Kaan chuckled. Pictures vibrated on the walls.

  ‘Is Septern returned? His soul would desire it and his ego would bring him back, I am sure.’

  ‘There is a man in Xetesk claiming to be him,’ said Sol.

  ‘Then speak to him of where you were taken. He knows much he did not commit to parchment. Jonas is unsteady. I must tend to his mind and return him to you.’

  ‘We will speak again, Great Kaan.’

  ‘Remain strong. We will fight, you must fight too. If you should flee, do not leave us in the dark.’

  ‘Never.’

  Sha-Kaan’s presence left the room. Jonas was still for a moment before screwing up his face and opening his eyes.

  ‘Mama!’

  Sol left them to their embrace.

  Hirad had been clutching at his stomach while the pain threatened to swamp him and the wind threatened to tear his soul from its anchorage and cast him into the void. Neither Ilkar not Sirendor was in any better shape. Yet abruptly the pain had eased, returned to what Ilkar would describe as a manageable level. He blew out his cheeks and straightened in his chair. To his left and right he could see the other two were feeling the same. Across the table Denser paused in his reading and looked at the three of them.