“Thraun, no!” she ordered over her shoulder. “Friend.” It was the only word she could think of that he might understand, but one more inappropriate she couldn't imagine.
“And you stop it now!” she spat at the demon. It grinned and chuckled, looked past her at the wolf.
“Leave him, it's Thraun,” she warned.
The demon backed off immediately, grin replaced by an expression of surprise. “Shapechanger—” it said, expelling breath in a hiss.
“Yes, now get out after your master and never presume to defile the grounds of this College again.”
“Yes, mistress,” said the Familiar, and powered out of the door.
Erienne turned and found herself facing the quartet of mages for whom the spell of incomprehension had been broken.
“You know these…things?” one asked. All of them had read the mana trails to identify her as Dordovan.
“Acquainted, certainly,” said Erienne brusquely. “And soon you'll be free of all contamination, I'm seeing to it personally. Now please excuse me, I'm in a hurry.” She started toward the crypts, then saw she wouldn't have to find an excuse to search them. Will was huddled near the door, shaking. “Will? What the—”
A hand was laid on her arm. “I think you'd better come with us. That was a Xeteskian Familiar you spoke to. It called you mistress.” The man holding her arm was middle-aged. His greying hair was receding and thin but his eyes, dark and brooding, were strong as they bored into her face. Erienne didn't recognise him.
“Yes, and as you can see, I have ordered it from the College. And now I'd like to help my friend.” Her heart was beginning to beat faster again. She had to buy enough time.
“A commoner in the Tower after nightfall,” he said, at once dismissive and threatening.
“Never mind that, he needs help. Look at him,” urged Erienne, casting a glance to where Will hadn't changed his position. What had happened to him?
The mage did not trouble to look. “It isn't that simple, as you must be aware.”
“Let go of my arm.”
“No.” The grip tightened and the rest of the mages began to close in.
Erienne flicked her head nervously, in her mind cursing Denser's stubbornness in sending in the Familiar to watch her. Thraun growled deep in his throat and moved toward her. The mages looked as one.
“Do it,” she said. “Please. I can't control him.”
“We can take them both,” said another of the mages. “You know what to do.”
“Gods,” said Erienne, knowing instinctively which spell they would cast. “Thraun, run!”
The wolf didn't hear her. Man-packbrother was hurt and the woman-friend was under threat. He removed the source of the threat.
The mage's shout of alarm was cut off abruptly, Thraun's jaws clamping around his neck, bearing him to the ground hard. Erienne stumbled as the grip on her arm was wrenched off and the hall dissolved into a few moments of total confusion.
Erienne shouted for Thraun not to kill the mage as Sol charged through the main doors, scattering the mages and swatting one with a punch to the back of the neck as he ran. Their concentration broken, the mages ran into the library, slamming the door behind them.
“Thraun, leave him!” yelled Erienne, rushing to the wolf's head, expecting to see nothing but blood. Instead, Thraun looked around and she could see, under his paws, the terrified mage, pressure marks in his neck but otherwise very much alive. Sol saw him into unconsciousness and Erienne turned her attention to Will.
The little man had curled into a ball and was rocking slowly to and fro. He was silent but tremors racked his body, pushing breath through his clenched teeth in a juddering hiss.
“Will?” Erienne touched his arm and he flinched violently. “We've got to go.”
Thraun padded to her side and nuzzled him, licking his face. There was no reaction but a movement in the mana had Erienne jerking upright.
“Casting!” she said. She yanked at Will's sleeve. “Come on! Get up!” He wouldn't move. And then Sol was at her shoulder. He stooped and swept Will into his arms.
“Run,” he said. They ran.
Jandyr galloped into the stableyard wondering how he was going to saddle and bring four horses to the College in the short time he had, only to find Denser already there. He was barking orders at the stable lad, whose fear was all too apparent. Denser had what appeared to be wings folded at his back.
“You took your time,” he said.
Jandyr didn't reply. He dismounted and ran to the lad. “Which one next?” he asked.
The lad pointed at Thraun's horse. “T-tack and saddle inside on the left, first h-hook,” he said. And then to the elf's back, “He just flew down. He flew. He shouldn't…”
“All right, son.” Jandyr reappeared with saddle and bridle. “He won't harm you.” He caught Denser's gaze briefly. His blasted cat poked its head from his cloak and Jandyr swore it was smiling.
The mage pulled a girth strap tight and buckled it. “You lead, I'll be above you,” he said. “I'll make sure the other horses follow you, don't worry about them.”
“Whatever you say,” said Jandyr.
“Hurry.”
“Shut up.”
Erienne had no idea what spell was being cast from the library, but she was sure it would be an entrapment of some kind. And as she sprinted down the steps on to the path, she heard the door fly shut behind her, crackling and fizzing. WardLock. They had been very lucky.
Sol forged on ahead, carrying Will like a sack over one shoulder. Thraun loped easily by Erienne, who was pushing hard. The grounds of the College were still wreathed in confusion but too many people were paying them attention, Thraun saw to that.
Even so, Erienne thought they'd escape the gates unchallenged, but felt her heart sink as she heard a single voice shout: “Stop them.”
Jandyr would have preferred to smooth his passage with apology but he'd never have left the stableyard. Pausing only to flick some coins to the lad, he climbed on to his horse, kicked its flanks and charged out into the streets of Dordover. Above him, Denser kept pace at a height of about one hundred feet, and behind him, the quartet of riderless horses kept close form.
The streets were busy with early evening traffic and walkers. Jandyr kept up a barrage of shouted warnings, conscious of the attention he was undoubtedly drawing to his headlong dash in the direction of the College. Most cleared the way but the odd one, he knew, would take a kick or be trampled by the barely controlled stampede.
Thundering away from the centre of the City, Jandyr was approaching a residential and parkland area when Denser abruptly swooped to his side.
“Trouble ahead,” he shouted above the clatter of hooves on cobbles. “Take the next left, carry on to a large warehouse and go right. Keep going down there and I'll catch you.” He disappeared back into the sky.
Jandyr had no desire to find out what the trouble was and swung his horse left as indicated. The others followed, though not without some pause, Denser's influence diminishing with distance.
Two things saved Erienne in her chase for the relative safety of the streets outside the College. The reluctance of any mage to cast a spell with so many innocents in the way was one, and the dual threat posed by Sol and Thraun the other. The Protector threw Will over one shoulder, snatched his axe from his scabbard and simply roared his way to the gates, while the howling maw of Thraun kept any blade from their rear.
And so it was that they rushed out of the gate and on into the bedlam that was overtaking Dordover.
Denser flew fast for the College. The mana over the buildings was again a solid orange and he refocused to search for Erienne and the shapechanger.
Between them and the horses, Denser knew, was a cordon of City Guards. More would follow. To the north, the College Guard was coming together, some already on horseback. And there, running blind along the main street and pursued by at least ten College Dordovans, were Erienne, Sol and the wolf. It was a moment before De
nser saw Will carried like a sack over Sol's left shoulder, one massive arm clamped around his midriff. They were going to be trapped.
Jandyr turned along the side of the warehouse and continued his gallop. His eyes pierced the dark of night and the blank of shadow, while at his back, the four horses were getting skittish. Denser had strayed too far. A few strides further on, Jandyr halted to tie the horses off and fix the reins to his saddle. In the midst of the mêlée of flank and fetlock, he grabbed at bits and bridles, snapping out orders that were half obeyed.
He linked pairs of reins then looped the master set over the rear of his saddle, tied in a slipknot. Halfway back on to his horse once more, he was stopped by a voice.
“Want to sell those horses? They look a little much for one man—I beg your pardon, one elf.”
Denser dropped to Sol's shoulder.
“You're running into trouble. Go right and follow me.” The mage led the fleeing trio off the main street. He rose to get his bearings on Jandyr and saw him backing away from a ring of torchlight.
“Damn it.” He melded minds with his Familiar. “Follow my eyes and bring Sol to me.” The demon flew from his cloak.
There were five of them, one for each horse, noted Jandyr drily. Three carried torches, all carried blades. He had snatched his ready-strung bow from its ties, quiver already over one shoulder. With one arrow nocked, he backed off, keeping the horses behind him. He knew he had to buy time, he just wasn't sure how much.
“Move away from the rides,” repeated one. Their faces harsh in the torchlight, the men moved forward.
“I can't do that.”
“Then we'll be forced to kill you.”
“One of you goes first. Which will it be?” Jandyr swung his bow in an arc, encompassing them all. “You,” he said, targeting one with unease in his eyes. “One more pace and you're a dead man.”
His intended target stopped walking, but the others moved on, quicker now as they closed.
“You can't stop us all that way.”
Jandyr glanced at the sky in the direction of the College and saw Denser descending like an eagle on its prey. He smiled.
“I won't have to.”
Denser, knees raised, cannoned into the head of one man, sending him crashing into another. Both hit the ground hard. Jandyr released his arrow and took his target in the chest. He nocked another, stretched his arm and aimed at the two still standing.
“If you want to run, run now.” They needed no further invitation.
Ignoring the men he had felled, Denser untied the horses and climbed on to one, his ShadowWings gone. Jandyr paused to cut the arrow from his lifeless victim.
“Let's go, come on.” Denser urged his horse to move, the others following mutely. Jandyr hauled himself into his saddle and the race was on.
Erienne felt her lungs were about to explode. Her heart slammed painfully in her chest, her legs were tree trunks and her head thudded. She was slowing them down, she knew, and behind her, the pursuit was closing. An arrow missed her by inches, plunging off into the street where an innocent was equally lucky. Shouts of recrimination reached her ears and that threat at least was removed.
Beside her, Thraun still ran easily, and half a dozen paces ahead, Sol, with the Familiar standing on his right shoulder, one hand pointing the way, the other arm around his head, cleared a path with his presence alone.
They were running up a wide street toward the centre of Dordover. It led straight into the central marketplace, taking them past the old grain store which was now the headquarters of the City Guard. While the roads around the College were quiet following nightfall, Dordover was a lively city after dark, and the City Guard were plentiful, policing the street theatre crowds, the food stalls and the alleys where whores plied their trade and the dagger was as much currency as was coin.
As she thought to shout a warning, Sol veered right, taking a narrow passage leading directly away from the main street. Here, the life ahead was replaced by the quiet menace of the industrial quarter. Footpads haunted the shade and every corner was a trap for the unwary. With no lamplight, the shadows extended their dark fingers across the ground. Erienne stumbled but remained on her feet, while behind her, Thraun howled. The sound bounced from the walls and echoed into the sky like a cry from hell. Erienne found herself wondering who was chasing them and whether the noise would stop them. It would have stopped her, she was sure of that.
Running on, she followed Sol round a left-and-right combination into a wider alley. Tall buildings rose to either side, their walls glaring down, deeper black than the night. Thraun was again at her side and she could hear the mob behind. Their shouts were mixed with the unmistakable sound of hooves clattering across stone and slapping through mud.
And then she could see them approaching through the gloom, reining to a halt in front of them. Sol ploughed on, the Familiar back in cat form, and Erienne realised the two horsemen had to be Denser and Jandyr. She staggered into the group.
“Are you hurt?” asked Denser.
“Don't talk to me,” she managed between gasps. “They're close. We need to rush.”
As if to add weight to her words, the chasing pack of around twenty men burst into the alley. Arrows raided and skipped off the walls and the Dordovans charged. Sol threw Will across his saddle and all but picked Erienne up and dumped her in hers. Mounting up, he wheeled his horse in a tight arc and galloped off. In a cacophony of whinnies, flashing hooves and ducking heads, the others followed.
Thraun turned and ran at the enemy.
Leading the way, Sol pushed his horse back past the warehouse and left into the main street. Denser was close behind, with Erienne, her strength gone, clinging grimly to her saddle and flanked by Jandyr, who held the reins of Thraun's riderless mount.
Arrows flew over his head toward the horses as Thraun crashed into the front of the mob, his bulk bearing him straight over one man to bury his jaws in the neck of another. A swing of his head and the victim's throat was torn out, his cries lost in blood. In ten seconds of claw and fang, Thraun had scattered the bewildered pursuers. Some had run, some backed off. Others lay still and one or two would never move again.
His job done, he broke off and stretched his limbs for the long run into the forest, howling his delight as he went.
“It's exciting being in The Raven, isn't it?” said Hirad, leaning back against his tree and stretching his legs in front of him.
“Feeling more comfortable about it now, are you?” asked Ilkar.
“No, I'm feeling surplus to requirements.”
“Well, you're not.”
“You know what I mean.”
The campsite was clear. All equipment was stowed and tied to the saddles, and the three horses, which included Denser's, were tethered just a few yards away.
Hirad smiled, remembering his friend's urgent words as they scurried around the camp to clear it. And now they'd been sitting with their backs to trees for getting on for an hour. He thought he ought to be worried about what was going on in Dordover, but for some reason, apart from his remaining anger at Denser, he felt oddly calm. Maybe it was just that none of them was original Raven so he didn't care that much. Actually, that was certainly part of it, but there was more—there were some of them, Thraun and Jandyr in particular, in whom he found he had great confidence. Almost the sort of confidence he had had in The Unknown and Sirendor. Almost.
Sadness fell on him with the force of night, and the memories swept through his mind, images of death and loss overwhelming the good times he recalled so fleetingly. Ras dying as they fought around him; Richmond trying to defend a man he didn't even know and paying with his life; The Unknown, his blood soaking the earth outside the low barn; and Sirendor…Sirendor, his life draining away while all Hirad could do was watch. For all his great words, he hadn't been able to protect any of them, and now Talan was gone too, driven away by fear and the knowledge that if he stayed on his death was inevitable.
He wiped at his eyes a
nd looked over at Ilkar. Gods help him if he lost Ilkar, his only link to The Raven he loved and for which he had lived.
His heart began to race and his breathing shallowed. It was all beyond his control. There in Dordover, the fate of the new Raven, and perhaps that of Balaia, was being decided, and he was on the edge. A peripheral figure reduced to saddling horses and clearing campsites. Maybe they'd been right those short weeks ago in another life when they'd joked about his age. It was no joke. He'd slipped from leader to led and he hadn't noticed the change. Denser. Denser had done it. And the one thing he couldn't have was Denser in command of The Raven. Not after what he had caused.
He lifted a shaking hand to wipe across his nose and took a slow, deliberate breath, glancing again at Ilkar, hoping his fears weren't written for all to see. But Ilkar wasn't looking at him. He'd cocked his head to one side and, as Hirad watched, put an ear to the ground, hands either side, and tensed.
Hirad was already halfway up by the time Ilkar said:
“Someone's coming.”
“Let's hope it's them.”
“Well, I'm not standing around waiting to find out.” They ran for the horses but had not covered half the distance when light bloomed behind them, creating a false dawn, sweeping away the night and throwing sharp shadow ahead of it. A heartbeat later, the detonation and a noise like rushing water.
The horses bucked and pulled at their tethers. Hirad clutched at his mount's bridle, dodging a flailing front hoof and coming face against a wild rolling eye.
“I don't like the sound of that!” he shouted, trying in vain to calm his horse as he tugged to release the rein.
“No time,” gasped Ilkar. “Just get on.” His horse was calmer, and Denser's, after flinching violently at the light, was still.
“On this?” Hirad hauled the rein free and his mount whinnied, front legs pawing the ground. “We're going, we're going!” He hooked a foot into a stirrup while the mare jumped and snorted, threatening to bolt before he hit the saddle. “Calm down, damn you!” He swung on to its back and forced some semblance of order on the terrified beast. As he turned it, a wolf streaked into the clearing from the direction of the light and away into the forest the other side. His horse reared again. He couldn't hold it.
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