‘Which is how they got into the Balaian cluster, you think?’ asked Ilkar.
‘No doubt about it.’
‘So, what are they drawn to this time?’ asked Sirendor.
The Unknown pursed his lips. Hirad’s soul was already crying out before he replied.
‘Big collection of souls in the corridor, Sirendor,’ said The Unknown. ‘Big enough to hold a lot of mana and attract a lot of attention if the Garonin turn up here.’
‘Auum,’ said Hirad, and he broke into a run. ‘Come on, Raven.’
Hirad heard the sound of their footsteps after him. Thraun loped easily by his side. Across the bleak land, Hirad could see the Garonin making deliberate progress, their long stride metronomic like the tapping of The Unknown’s blade. In the clearing haze he could make out well over thirty.
He scanned ahead of them. Dimly he thought he could see what looked like a structure of some kind. What was definitely there was a different quality of light. He upped his pace. Curious that he felt no breath in him. And strange that there was still a limit to how fast he could run. The limit of his memories, he assumed. Still, it would be good to reach a fight on the run and not be gulping in air when he got there.
‘Through the back of them or join Auum, if it is him?’ asked Sirendor as they ran.
‘We need to upset their attack,’ said The Unknown. ‘Ilkar, how’s it coming?’
‘Not so . . . well.’
Hirad glanced back. Ilkar was struggling. He looked as if he was running in thigh-deep mud and there was an odd quality to him, like he was shimmering or something. Hirad slid to a halt.
‘Unknown. Quickly!’ He grabbed Ilkar’s arm and made him stop. ‘Ilks. Come on, stop a moment.’
‘Need to . . . get attack. In . . .’
Ilkar stumbled and fell forward, sprawling on the ivory floor. Hirad’s eyes were drawn to his legs. His boots were gone and below the knee his legs seemed indistinct, grey beneath a shifting mist.
‘Stay with us, Ilkar,’ said The Unknown. ‘Sirendor, get here. Thraun!’
‘Can’t find anything,’ mumbled Ilkar. ‘No energy. My mind is cold.’
‘It doesn’t matter, Ilks,’ said Hirad. ‘We’re with you. Get your strength from us. It’ll come back.’
‘Listen to him,’ said The Unknown. Sirendor joined them and all placed hands on Ilkar’s body. It just seemed the natural thing to do. ‘We know you, Ilkar. We remember your sacrifice at Understone. We know how strong you are. Believe in yourself as we believe in you. The magic doesn’t matter. Your soul next to ours, that matters.’
Ilkar’s shivering began to subside and the shimmering that had encased his body cleared. His boots reformed slowly over his ankles and feet. Thraun trotted up and nuzzled Ilkar’s head, licking him hard across the face. Ilkar spluttered and thrashed to a sitting position.
‘That is disgusting.’ He stared at them as if for the first time. ‘What happened?’
‘We thought we were losing you, Ilks,’ said Hirad.
Ilkar wiped his face. ‘I have never been licked by a warrior before, in whatever shape he currently resides.’
‘Well, pull a fading stunt like that again and it’ll be me next time,’ said Hirad.
‘What more incentive could an elf want?’ Ilkar held up a hand to The Unknown, who was standing. ‘Can you help me up?’
‘Sure you’re all right?’ asked The Unknown.
‘Much better for the pep talk, Unknown.’ Ilkar smiled.
The Unknown gathered them all close. ‘Before we run, I want you all to bear in mind one thing. We cannot lose faith, not for a moment. It makes us weak and we cannot afford that. Whatever happens, we are Raven, we are strong. We have never been defeated.’
He held out his hand, palm down. One by one, Sirendor, Ilkar and Hirad placed theirs on his.
‘We are The Raven,’ he repeated. ‘Now let’s go save Auum and find ourselves a new place to rest.’
A soul-tearing scream stopped them before they had taken a single step.
Chapter 42
Two figures lay on the ivory ground not five feet from where Ilkar was standing in The Raven’s huddle. Their screams called out to his soul, burying themselves in the centre of his pain. He could feel theirs so cleanly it brought him, all of them, to their knees.
He led the crawl over to them while the screaming dug at his ability to put one hand in front of the other. His teeth were gritted together and a taut sound was being dragged through them. Wreathed in flame, her hair burning like the brightest lantern on the darkest night, the little girl had her hands over her face, helpless in her agony. Arms wrapped around his head as if to protect him from whatever fell on him, the other figure, a grown man, was tucked into the foetal position. He was covered in dust as if fresh from the trail. His head was a mass of blood, his skull smashed at the back. Shards of bone had pierced the brain within.
Sol reached them first, laid his hands on the girl. The flames were extinguished immediately and her body relaxed. A shuddering sigh escaped her burned mouth and a transformation overcame her. Her body lengthened, grew. Beautiful angled features were drawn on her face. Auburn hair covered her skull and a full figure developed beneath tough trail clothes.
‘Erienne,’ gasped The Unknown, and she dragged him into an embrace, body shaking, her bright green eyes looking out over his shoulder, staring and confused.
Hirad hurried to the man. His screaming had subsided. Tight curls now adorned his head and the dust of the trail was gone. He wore cavalry boots and trousers, a chain mail shirt and a cloak was about his shoulders, trimmed the green of Lystern. Slowly, he straightened out and came to a sitting position. His face was pale but in his eyes shone the determination that had made him such a valuable member of The Raven.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Oh, thank you. I was lost. I heard you.’ He smiled. A rare occasion when he had been alive. ‘I found you across the void.’
‘General Ry Darrick, late of the Lysternan cavalry,’ said Hirad, holding out a hand which the other man took, shook and used to pull himself upright. ‘We thought you gone forever.’
‘Where are we?’ Darrick asked.
‘Where we should have been a long time ago,’ said The Unknown, helping Erienne to shaky feet. ‘Seeking our new home.’
‘But there’s a problem, right?’ asked Darrick. ‘It isn’t as simple as that.’
‘We are The Raven,’ said Hirad by way of explanation. He turned back towards the Garonin. ‘And we’re late to the fight.’
‘Are you all right, Erienne?’ asked Ilkar, coming to her other side.
She smiled at him but there was still confusion in her eyes and the memory of agony.
‘It already felt like forever,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t think you would ever find me.’
‘What did?’
‘The void. It is worse than any myth. Trapped in the moment of violent death for all time. I have been burning, my flesh melting and my bones cracking. I can still feel it, Ilkar.’
‘It will fade. You’re with us now,’ said Ilkar. ‘What’s your story, Darrick?’
Darrick turned a haunted face to him. ‘Even though I came back, I have been feeling the pounding of endless tons of stone on my head and across my body. Why that?’
‘Perhaps it is still your most vivid death memory,’ said Erienne. ‘My latest most certainly is.’
Darrick nodded. ‘Every moment I can feel the one that dashed my skull and the smell of the karron demons. I can see you all there on The Thread and I die endlessly, never knowing if you succeeded or not.’
‘You all ready to run?’ Hirad had broken into a trot. ‘And as you’ll have guessed, we did succeed. Couldn’t have done it without your help on the way, though.’
‘Thank you. Where are we running?’ asked Darrick.
Hirad pointed and Darrick fell in beside him. Ilkar smiled and his body felt strengthened, more complete. Perhaps Sol was right. And perhaps more would come. Still, though, the mana spectr
um was dark . . . no, not quite. Beyond the Garonin, from where the luminescence emanated, there was something.
‘Souls,’ said Ilkar. ‘Thousands of them. We’d better make this fast or it’s going to be a slaughter.’
The souls huddled together in the lee of the edifice their combined strength had created. The escape from the corridor had been close. Auum had never doubted they would make it but enough of the dead had lost faith and so had inevitably perished. They had been cast back into the void as the passage folded to nothing. The rest were scared and the crumbling of the rock, if such it was, behind them was evidence of failing belief.
None of them would help the TaiGethen. Indeed it was hard to pick out many individuals. Most had coalesced into an amorphous shifting globe, each with a voice that shouted for help. Some had remained grey shadows. All waited for Sol to appear to lead them to safety. But The Raven was nowhere to be seen and Auum had more significant and immediate problems.
‘Ghaal, how many?’
‘Thirty-eight. All carrying the mana drain needles. Forty yards distant.’
‘Work to disrupt them. They’ll try to get round us to the mass. Choose your blows.’
Auum unclipped his jaqrui pouch, loosened the swords in his twin back-mounted scabbards and thanked Yniss for his gifts. He turned to the two greatest gifts of all. TaiGethen. Souls he’d thought lost forever. Friends garbed for the rainforest and painted brown and green on their faces in the manner of Tual’s children. Evunn and Duele.
‘Yniss calls you for your greatest challenge, my friends,’ said Auum. ‘Fight with me one more time. Protect the dead. Help is coming.’
Duele and Evunn nodded. Both looked confused, fearful even. But the sight of their Tai leader brought them hope and, more importantly, faith.
‘Tai to me. We pray.’
Auum knelt and bowed his head as the Garonin moved closer. He could feel their footfalls through the ground and he could hear them slapping dully on the ivory. The four knelt with him and they knew the closeness of touch.
‘Yniss, we stand before an enemy that knows no mercy. Protect us. We prepare to fight in your name. Guide us. We do your work and ask only that you bless our struggle. Hear us. Ulandeneth speaks with one voice, elf and man. Join us.’
Auum raised his head and gestured to his Tai to stand.
‘Ghaal, Miirt, get amongst them. Duele, Evunn, my left and right. Spread as you must. Watch your brothers. Watch your sister. Tai, we move.’
Miirt and Ghaal moved out a few paces, remaining close together. Auum, Duele and Evunn spread across the mass of souls. They couldn’t hope to cover it all. The huge body of souls, thousands of them, spread over an area easily fifty yards wide and twice as high. The structure in which they huddled afforded them some protection but the anxiety spawned by the approaching Garonin increased with every moment and the walls were weak, laced with cracks and beginning to crumble.
The structure was essentially simple. A scooped-out circular overhang, bordered by rough spires of rock and with a further tall spire rising above the centre of the overhang. It looked like an ancient weathered hand, with index finger pointing at the sky. Ivory was its colour.
The Garonin began to spread into a wide line, seeing their advantage.
‘Pick your targets and work fast,’ said Auum. ‘Yniss will guide you.’
‘I had thought myself lost in the void forever,’ said Duele. ‘Your call brought us back.’
‘No,’ said Auum. ‘Yniss brought us together. Now we must show our gratitude.’
Ghaal and Miirt dropped into a half crouch. The Garonin broke into a run. Auum turned his head to face his enemies.
‘Dance.’
Ghaal and Miirt sprinted forward a few paces, planted their left legs and jumped, soaring over the oncoming first line of Garonin with their bodies straight and arms ahead like a diver entering the water. Both curled their bodies, rotated and landed to run at the second line.
Auum moved a heartbeat later. A jaqrui crescent wailed away from his hand, catching his target on the wrist and chopping hard into the flesh. The Garonin’s weapon fell from nerveless fingers. He turned to find Auum right in front of him. Auum’s right hand came up under the enemy chin, driving his head back. His left came through, the blade in it biting deep.
Auum stepped back and ran right. The Garonin surge was fully on them. Duele swayed away from a running enemy, planting a straight kick into the side of his knee. The cracking of bone ricocheted across the edifice behind. The Garonin went down clutching at the injury. Duele ensured he was not suffering for long.
Evunn was surrounded. Garonin were unwilling to face him. Most preferred to run by, trying to get at the body of souls. He jumped. His swords whipped outwards left and right. Two Garonin pitched forward, deep cuts to their necks. Evunn brought his blades back, crossing them in front of him. The Garonin before him stumbled and collapsed. His head lolled to one side, spurting gore, all but severed. That got their attention. Three turned on Evunn and he was quickly on the defensive.
Screams rose from the mass as mana was siphoned away. Dark spots appeared briefly, fading to nothing. Too many Garonin were getting past the wafer-thin defence.
‘Fight!’ called Auum. ‘You have to fight for your lives. For your souls.’
But their fear was too great and it played into the willing hands of the enemy. Auum ran the line of the pulsating, terrified mass of souls. Garonin were deep within it. Auum flashed a blade into the back of a Garonin, who spun round to stab his needle point into Auum’s soul. Auum could see it coming as if it were being pushed through tar. He stepped to one side, grabbed the Garonin’s arm and pulled the enemy onto the point of his sword.
Back out in the middle of the fight, Ghaal and Miirt were under increasing pressure. Garonin bodies fell and disappeared. Too many for them to ignore. The Tai were back to back against ten, their limbs blurring, swords tracing paths in the air. But it was all in defence.
Auum thought to help them but before him stood three Garonin. Others ran left and right of them, diving into the mana-rich souls behind him. More screams, more pleas for help. Auum drew his second blade. The three Garonin rushed him, their speed startling. Needle points flashed out from their hands, joined to their armour by lines of some kind.
Auum swayed left to dodge the first, bringing a blade through to sever the line. He ducked down as he moved, his other blade chopping into the second needle, shattering it. The third came straight for his head. Dropping the blade from his left hand he caught the needle scant inches from his forehead, hurling it to the ground, where it smashed.
Auum launched himself forward. Left fist connecting with the faceplate of the centremost enemy. His momentum carried him on. The Garonin had no chance to react before Auum’s blade lodged in his gut. Auum dropped to the ground with the body and rolled aside, dragging his blade clear. The remaining two Garonin had been joined by three others.
Auum drove to his haunches and scuttled backwards, giving himself precious room. Another figure loomed over him. He glanced up into the hard black eyes of his enemy. No blow came. The Garonin toppled sideways and a human hand reached down to help him up.
‘Can’t have you taking all these for yourself,’ said Hirad.
Auum smiled. A deep green-brown washed the ivory land to his right. Garonin by the dozen disintegrated, screaming as they went.
‘Raven!’ called Sol from behind him. ‘Raven, with me!’
Auum sent a brief prayer of thanks to Yniss and let his blade speak again.
God’s Eyes arced through the sky, falling in the midst of the Garonin blocking the mouth of the valley and the path back to the beach. Rebraal and the Al-Arynaar pushed hard up the right-hand slope, mages with them, shielding them from the white tears that blew the unwary apart. But the mages were weak and the shields fragile. The Garonin knew it too.
The attack, when it came, had been as shocking as it had been overwhelming. The valley had flooded with the weapon fire of
the Garonin. Beams of energy had surged down from the vydospheres above them, obliterating those they touched. TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar rendered to so much ash in moments.
But still the Garonin could not force surrender. ClawBound and TaiGethen charged into the enemy forces. Al-Arynaar warriors and mages regrouped under shielding spells and the fightback had begun.
The God’s Eyes did little but cause armour to flare. Rebraal cursed. Ahead of the surviving Al-Arynaar, perhaps a hundred and fifty of them, the Garonin were waiting, weapons raised.
‘Get our shields overlapping to the front,’ he called. ‘The Tai have our backs. Pushing my warriors. For Yniss and our people!’
The Al-Arynaar moved forward, Rebraal at their head, Dila’heth just behind him. Down on the valley floor the TaiGethen pressed into the central mass of Garonin. The enemy pressured them at the rear, where the ClawBound and more TaiGethen were amongst them, disrupting any concerted advance.
‘Slowly,’ said Dila’heth.
‘We cannot afford to be slow,’ said Rebraal.
‘My mages are weak. Concentration is fragile. We must be careful. ’
But Rebraal could hear the sounds of destruction and pain from beyond the valley. He could see the bodies of his brothers and sisters littering the valley floor. Garonin weapons kicked up shards of rock and mud all around them. White tears from across the valley and from above splashed over the shields. Mages gasped under the pressure and the enemy in front still weren’t firing.
Eventually, Rebraal nodded. ‘Slowly, warriors! At the pace of your mages.’
‘They’re waiting,’ said Dila. ‘I don’t like it.’
‘They have no need to force anything,’ said Rebraal.
There was a series of detonations from the foothills of the mountains. Rebraal looked up. Smoke and dust billowed out a few hundred feet above his head. A bass rumble vibrated through the rock wall that formed the valley side along which the Al-Arynaar moved. Shards of stone began to fall. Rebraal went cold. A dull thump echoed out. And another.
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