The Raven Collection

by James Barclay

  ‘What just happened?’ he asked. ‘Something good, I’m hoping.’

  Hirad could not keep the smile from his face.

  ‘He’s back. I told you he wasn’t dead. I told you.’

  ‘What?’ Denser was gaping. Hirad knew how he felt. ‘Where?’

  ‘Close. Right now that’s all I care about.’

  Denser smiled. ‘That is good news. We need him on the streets.’

  Hirad nodded. News of the losses of Xeteskian mages and soldiers had spread quickly through the city. The confidence the departing force had inspired had dispersed like dust on the breeze with the returning stragglers. The populace was nervous and the returned dead were beginning to have a serious impact. People were leaving.

  ‘And what do you expect him to be saying?’ asked Ilkar. ‘I’d have thought he’d be showing the way to the west, not trying to shore up morale.’

  ‘There is no need for this panic reaction,’ said Denser.

  It was dawn now and a pale light was streaming through the window of the dining chamber, where an early breakfast had been laid and ignored by all but the Lord of the Mount.

  ‘Where does that opinion come from? The catacombs? The destruction of one machine shouldn’t give us rash confidence about saving Balaia,’ said Ilkar. ‘You heard Sharyr. They just rolled into Lystern and rolled out with the Heart. We are down to two functioning colleges and Julatsa is likely to fall within days. You know where that leaves us.’

  ‘Yes, with Xetesk still standing and not even under threat because we turned them away.’

  ‘But that is not victory,’ said Sirendor. ‘It is delay at best. Don’t revise what you know you saw out there. It was slaughter. And your mage team that broke the machine? All dead.’

  ‘And your second salvo of spells was useless because they learned how to defend against them,’ added Ilkar. ‘Come on, Denser. You know it as well as we do. We cannot win here.’

  Denser’s face reddened and the bread in his hand remained halfway to his mouth.

  ‘No? I’m looking at facts, not suppositions. We now have proof that Gresse’s theory holds water. Those machines are initially incapable of sucking in the mana density from an attractor as big as a Heart. They have to reach a critical mass first. That means if we time our attacks well, we can keep them at bay indefinitely.’

  ‘Your logic is seriously flawed,’ said Ilkar.

  ‘I’d have put it differently,’ said Hirad.

  ‘That’s why I jumped in before you. We can do without your version of tact right now.’

  ‘Please explain the errors of Xetesk to me, my dead friend,’ said Denser.

  ‘Enough sarcasm, Denser, we’re talking about the lives of everyone here. And the deaths of everyone too. We cannot afford any errors, don’t you see that?’ Ilkar cleared his throat. ‘Isn’t it obvious how they will react to another machine or two being destroyed? They’ll just appear here with everything they’ve got and level this place.’

  ‘Why haven’t they done that already?’ asked Denser. ‘Where’s your logic for that?’

  ‘They want to achieve their aims with minimal manpower,’ said Sirendor. ‘Just as we would. I have no doubt they have the capacity to do whatever they want but why commit it until necessary?’

  ‘I’ll tell you why. It’s because they can’t,’ said Denser. He pushed a scorched parchment across the table. ‘Sharyr found this. It refers to these Garonin and talks about an unending conflict beyond the boundaries of our known dimensions. Unending. And this was written by Septern. That’s well over three hundred years ago. All we have to do is chip away and we will turn them for good. They’ll give up and go somewhere easier to exploit.’

  Hirad closed his eyes. ‘How can you read this so wrong? Denser, you’re a Raven man. You know Lystern is gone. You know Calaius has gone the same way. That leaves plenty of enemy to focus on Xetesk. We have to concentrate on finding an escape, not on futile defence.’

  ‘Ah, and there’s the rub, isn’t it?’ Denser leaned back in his chair and picked up his coffee mug. He cradled it in his hands. ‘Neither my mage teams nor you have any idea where we might escape to. I mean, you have come back here - and I love you for it - to tell us to run, but you cannot tell us where. You say nowhere on Balaia is safe but you cannot supply a single ship, so to speak, to transport us to sanctuary. What is this desire to head for the west? What will it gain us?’

  Hirad sighed. ‘All right. Admittedly, we don’t know. But we are drawn there. The Wesmen will be able to help us. I know this sounds flaky but their paths to the dead are different from ours. We think they can open the door to a new home. But we can’t prove it.’

  ‘Right. And until you can, my streets will remain unsettled by your divisive presence and your scaremongering, and my efforts will necessarily have to be focused on defending my people. Keeping them from running to an uncertain future when they should be standing and fighting. If I do not, I am derelict in my duty, am I not? Do you really feel I have a choice?’

  Hirad shook his head and stood. ‘You believe them, don’t you? You believe the word that we are here to chase the living away and have this place for ourselves. Be straight. Do you think the Garonin are here at our behest? Is that what you actually believe?’

  ‘Gods drowning, of course I don’t. Bloody hell, Hirad, I have locked Dystran up in his rooms precisely because I don’t believe that rubbish.’

  ‘But you still visit him, don’t you?’ said Hirad, feeling his skin getting hot. ‘You still hear what he says.’

  ‘Who I visit and what I ask and listen to is my business and not yours, all right? And yes, I do listen to him because he is smart despite his unfortunate views in some areas. And one thing we do agree on is that we don’t know what more good you can really do. The dead as a whole, that is.’

  Hirad reached across the table and hauled Denser from his chair by the collars of his shirt.

  ‘I’ll tell you what we can do. We can stop you from signing away the lives and deaths of everyone who ever came from Balaia. We can help you find a place where we can all start again.’

  Hirad’s breath fired into his face. Denser’s face deepened into a scowl.

  ‘You will unhand me, Hirad. Right now.’

  Hirad did not.

  ‘You have to listen to him, Denser,’ said Ilkar, coming to his feet also. ‘There is only one way to delay the Garonin and give us the time and chance to find a way out of here. Surrender the Heart. Do a deal.’

  Denser stiffened. ‘Surrender the Heart of Xetesk? Never.’

  ‘Then they will take it from you,’ said Ilkar.

  ‘That you could utter such . . . heresy, here in this tower,’ said Denser, his face blazing with his rage. ‘I am the Lord of the Mount and you will release me, Hirad. Perhaps Dystran was right. Guards!’

  The door opened but it was not guards who entered, it was Sol.

  ‘Fantastic,’ he said. ‘This is the face of unity, is it? Gods drowning, Hirad, put him down. And all of you calm down. I could hear you half way down The Thread.’

  Hirad shoved Denser back into his chair.

  ‘I want—’

  ‘Denser, shut up. We’re in big trouble but there might just, just be a way out. We need to talk to Septern. I presume you’ve verified it is him by now. And first you need to hear an old friend.’

  Sol pushed open the door. Hirad sat back in his chair, unable to believe his eyes.

  Standing in the doorway was Auum.

  Chapter 17

  Auum stared at the humans, the living and the dead, as they bickered their way towards catastrophe. At first it had been fascinating. The legendary mage Septern had spoken at length about the history of his dimensional discoveries but had not been allowed to discuss what he was here to discuss. Hirad Coldheart, whose shadow adorned the wall to Auum’s left, had brought to the table all the raging belief that had at first irritated but now endeared him to Auum and indeed all the elves. And Ilkar had spoken carefully and
tactfully about what had happened to the dead of Balaia. Yet still they fought, and in the middle Denser appeared not to know who to believe.

  Auum himself had remained silent, answering only direct questions thus far, and there had been few enough of them. He had been content to rest a little, eat a little and drink a good amount of water. The mages who had carried him and his Tai from the ship and all the way north to Xetesk on flickering Freedom Wings were exhausted and sleeping. He had no time for that. Not yet.

  ‘I’m not going to repeat myself again,’ said Denser. ‘No one else is leaving because there is nowhere to go. Here we stand and here we fight. As for you and your dead, Hirad, you do what you like.’

  ‘That is a shameful statement,’ said Hirad. ‘We exist in pain every heartbeat yet we endure it because we desire only to help the living survive and so secure ourselves a new place of rest. Or we hope that. The fact is, we have no certainty whatever about the outcome. We’re here because of those we love. I had counted you among those people. Perhaps I was mistaken.’

  ‘But you have no answers!’ Denser was practically screaming in his frustration. ‘Your best gambits so far are: give them the Heart and hope they stop, or get us all to the west and some mythical Wesmen-organised escape route. You are talking about the end of magic on Balaia at the very least and an abandonment of our home dimension at the ridiculous worst.’

  ‘We are talking about a return to a more natural state of magic,’ said Ilkar. ‘And is that not better than certain extinction?’

  ‘I will not relinquish our only true chance of beating these bastards, Ilkar.’

  ‘No, what you won’t relinquish is Xetesk’s power over Balaia. And it’ll do you no good because they will simply come in here and take it. They make the demons look like a bunch of apple scrumpers. Why won’t you understand that?’

  Denser was on his feet again and Ilkar stood opposite him. Both jabbed fingers and puffed out chests. Auum watched Ilkar with discomfort, the elf’s words coming from a youthful human mouth.

  ‘You fear that, don’t you, Ilkar? Xetesk being the only magical power remaining on Balaia. It’s pathetic.’

  ‘I’m dead, in case you hadn’t noticed. I couldn’t care less who is left and who isn’t so long as it means I can return to my rest. But you, you and your Circle Seven and that bastard snake Dystran, you desire dominion, don’t you? And that should scare us all. Because you’ll sacrifice the lot of us pursuing this folly. But you have to listen to what everyone bar your inner circle of power-mongers tells you: we have to run.’

  ‘Where, damn you, where? What do I advise my people? Follow these dead west but I don’t know where or why? Dear Gods falling, please throw me a scrap here.’

  ‘I know where,’ said Auum.

  For a moment the noise of the argument continued but Auum’s voice had a way of leaching through even the most sewn-down of ears. One by one, they turned to him. He waited until he had the attention of them all.

  ‘And so do the Wesmen.’

  ‘You could have said so before,’ said Hirad. ‘Told you, Denser.’

  ‘But then, like all of you, I would have been speaking before I was truly ready,’ said Auum. He was staring at Denser. ‘I will speak without interruption.’

  Denser spread his hands. ‘Help yourself.’

  ‘Then sit, all of you, and hear me because time runs short and your complaining brings all of our deaths closer. Denser, you are wrong. The Garonin are unstoppable but they are escapable. Their resources are stretched but this dimension is so dense with mana that they will pour what they must into it to gain it all. And they will come back time and again when the density builds. This world is no longer viable for man or elf.

  ‘Ilkar, you are wrong too. They will not stop after gaining the Hearts. The mana held in the soul of each man living and in each dead soul is too much to ignore. This is still a populous country. They will annihilate everyone while collecting their verrian. You should have read the lore of the Ynissul more closely while you still lived.’

  Auum gestured at Septern. ‘And you, great mage returned, you have many of the answers but your memories are flawed. You have been dead too long. But even you are aware of the cost to some of our survival, as are all of the dead around this table though they hesitate to admit what they truly need. I see it in your eyes. In a moment you shall speak of Ulandeneth but first I shall say this:

  ‘Any who wish to escape the Garonin, and that is the only way to survive them, have two choices. The first and infinitely preferable, though terribly dangerous, is to travel west to the Charanacks, the Wesmen. They and their Shamen can open the first door. It is dangerous because such a concentration of souls will attract the Garonin and you will be beset.

  ‘The second choice is to try and hold the fastnesses of Julatsa, Xetesk and Korina for long enough to allow those who travel the first door to find the new home and open escape routes there for all remaining souls in this dimension. However, the Garonin are already too close and will overwhelm your cities within days. Far too quickly in any event for the corridors to be opened.’

  Sol raised a hand. ‘Auum, if I may speak before you call on Septern?’

  Auum nodded.

  ‘Thank you. One point of interest you raise is the concentration of souls. Surely if we break up those concentrations, we deflect Garonin interest or certainly dilute their attack front by spreading ourselves more thinly.’

  Auum smiled. ‘That may be so but it merely delays the inevitable. The Garonin means of travel and detection of mana will bring them to their quarry in time.’

  ‘But surely worth a try,’ said Denser, staring squarely at Hirad. ‘Anyone who wants to run and hide in the Blackthorne Mountains and the Wesman Heartlands can do so. That will draw attention from those dedicated to the service and defence of Xetesk and Balaia.’

  ‘I may be dead, Denser, but I’m still quicker than you, all right?’ said Hirad.

  ‘Spare me, Hirad.’

  ‘You are betraying The Raven.’

  ‘I am trying to save my people,’ said Denser.

  ‘We are your people.’

  ‘Were.’

  ‘Enough,’ said Sol, resting a restraining hand on Hirad’s bunched arm. ‘Auum.’

  ‘You demonstrate further ignorance, Denser,’ said Auum.

  Denser shook his head and sighed. ‘I will beat myself later. What is it this time?’

  ‘None of the dead around this table have the luxury of running to hide. Do they, Septern? Do they, Hirad, Ilkar?’

  ‘What is he talking about?’ asked Denser.

  ‘Ulandeneth,’ said Septern. ‘It is the place through which all souls are said to pass on their way to birth, and on their way to death. It is the only place that links every dimension in every dimensional cluster. If we are to escape the Garonin, those tasked with opening the corridors must travel there to seek the new home. I searched for it all my life. I found so many places and all spoke of it. But I never found Ulandeneth. That is the elven term by the way. The Soul Home. There are many others but it is perhaps the one that sits most easily on the tongue.’

  ‘Can we go back a bit?’ asked Denser. ‘Dimensional clusters?’

  Septern nodded at Sharyr, another so-far-silent presence. ‘Go on. I like your explanation of it. You’d have made a fine student of mine, you know.’

  Sharyr blushed. ‘When Sol described how the dragons were under attack, it led me to thinking. The demons have been destroyed, so we understand from souls claiming to have escaped them. The dead dimension has also been torn apart; Balaia is under attack; every place that we know, simultaneously invaded. To me, it means that the Garonin found them all at once.’

  Sharyr crabbed his hand. ‘Imagine this to be Ulandeneth. It sits at the top of everything. It’s the hub of all life, like this tower is the hub of Xeteskian magic. Then imagine lines coming out of Ulandeneth, countless lines probably and each one leading to a cluster of dimensions.

  ‘What I th
ink is that each cluster is self-contained. It has a place for the dead and a number, probably variable, of places for various living species. It’s a way of organising the vastness of creation, if you like. If you are able to travel dimensions, even in a limited sense like dragons and demons can, it is because you can sense some of the lines that lead between dimensions. And when you die, you are channelled back up to Ulandeneth and then down to your particular place of rest.’

  ‘You’re sure there is a place for the dead in each cluster, are you?’ asked Denser.

  ‘It’s just a theory,’ said Sharyr. ‘Nothing is certain.’

  ‘And Auum, you cannot confirm absolutely that your dead travelled to a different place in your former home than they do now, am I right?’

  Auum inclined his head.

  Denser glared briefly at Ilkar. ‘Go on, Sharyr.’

  ‘Thank you. Now because for every soul there is no pause, the transit through Ulandeneth is brief indeed. Rumours of seeing light, sensing others around you, helping hands, fleeting fear just as you die . . . all these things make sense if you believe in Ulandeneth. It provides for them all. And it is a safe haven. The only trouble is, it appears the Garonin have learned how to stop there.

  ‘And not only that, they have begun to detect the lines that lead out to other dimensional clusters. I think they do this by following the souls of the dead because, as we know, the barrier between the dead and the living dimensions is actually very thin. It is a short step from communicating with the dead across the barrier to crossing it physically. All the Garonin had to do was rip open the dead dimension and then follow the dead to whichever home was theirs.

  ‘Simple, really.’

  Sharyr leaned back and took a long draught of water from a goblet held in a slightly shaking hand.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Hirad. ‘Really, really basic stuff. I just soak up dimensional theory, I do.’

  Denser was considering all that Sharyr had said. ‘So, in effect, you could argue that the dead have brought all this trouble on us.’