Ravensoul lotr-4

by James Barclay

  ‘I see,’ said Sol. ‘Does anyone here want to volunteer how I explain my imminent and voluntary demise to my wife?’

  Chapter 18

  ‘I should have beaten you with the cudgel while I had the chance,’ said Sol.

  ‘I’m sorry, Unknown. Truly. We all are.’

  Denser had largely cleared the room. Sharyr and Septern had returned to the catacombs. Auum had gone to rest. The Raven, such as they were, were alone in the dining chamber.

  ‘Why did I let you in and listen to you?’

  ‘Because it’s me!’ Hirad spread his arms and smiled.

  ‘It certainly was bloody you. Mayhem from beyond the grave. Who else could it be?’

  Sol slumped into an armchair. His body felt strange, like he was in the grip of a fever. He wanted to be furious. He wanted to shout and scream at them about the injustice of it all. That he had a wife and children and had sworn to protect them.

  ‘And that’s just it, though, isn’t it?’ he said.

  ‘Sorry, Unknown?’ said Sirendor. ‘I didn’t quite catch that.’

  ‘Just thinking aloud. Denser, pour some wine, would you? And let’s all sit. Like we used to do in the back room of The Rookery all those years ago.’

  He waited until they had all taken seats by the cold fireplace. Hirad’s feet were on the low table in front of them. Sirendor and Ilkar both leaned forward, forearms resting on their thighs. Denser sat upright, tense and uncomfortable. And Sol, well he sprawled like he always had.

  ‘Remember when we first met Denser? How we all felt it was a long, hard and probably fatal journey ahead even before we heard he was after Dawnthief? And how when he talked to us in the back room that sinking feeling took over for a while before we decided we just had to face what was coming? Sorry, Sirendor, I know you don’t.’

  ‘But you were there,’ said Hirad helpfully. ‘We put your body on the banquet table and covered it with a cloth.’

  ‘I am thus reassured,’ said Sirendor. ‘I trust I looked my best.’

  ‘Well there wasn’t much blood or anything, except what you coughed up when you were dying.’

  ‘Can we leave this until later?’ said Sol.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Hirad.

  ‘Me too,’ said Sirendor.

  ‘You’ve ruined my moment,’ said Sol. ‘Forget it.’

  ‘No,’ said Hirad. ‘Go on.’

  Denser leaned forward. ‘I do not believe you are seriously entertaining this prospect.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Because it is preposterous and the ultimate act of selfishness on the part of the dead to demand you kill yourself to save them.’

  ‘But if it is the only way to save the Balaian people? My people?’

  ‘If. Yes. If.’ Denser sipped at his wine. ‘And I say what I am about to say with due deference to all the quite unbelievable things I’ve seen and places I’ve been with The Raven. Isn’t this just a little bit far-fetched? ’

  ‘You’re joking, right?’ asked Hirad. ‘A load of dead people walking about and Calaius evacuated and destroyed being normal business, I suppose?’

  ‘No, Hirad, I’m not joking.’ Denser pulled his skullcap off his head and rubbed a hand through his close-cropped grey hair. ‘Look, I’m not playing down the threat we face. I’m not pretending the situation isn’t desperate. But you’re expecting Sol, The Unknown Warrior and King of Balaia, might I remind you, to follow you into the Wesman Heartlands and commit suicide to open a gate to somewhere so you can head somewhere else and open a gate back? It’s madness.’

  ‘It’s the only possible solution,’ said Ilkar.

  ‘It quite clearly is not,’ said Denser.

  ‘Your solution will lead to our annihilation,’ said Hirad sharply.

  ‘Big word, barbarian. Who taught you that one?’

  Sol was out of his chair and between them before a blow could be landed. He felt a perverse sense of comfort and satisfaction.

  ‘That’s what I was thinking about. Real Rookery debate.’ He allowed the smile to leave his face. ‘Now sit down, both of you.’

  Denser threw up his hands and sat heavily. ‘It wouldn’t be so bad, Sol, but they are offering you no choice, no alternative. This is blind faith at best. It was never the way we did things.’

  ‘Oh, you misunderstand,’ said Sol. ‘It was always the way we did things. The Raven’s way was trust even in the face of ridicule. Nothing has changed bar the fact that there is no chance I will survive versus a very slim chance.’

  ‘But isn’t that it? We always believed that somehow we would escape and survive.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s true either,’ said Sol. ‘I had no thought that we would survive the demons. I was certain we’d be trapped there, weren’t you?’

  ‘But there was always the tiniest chance,’ said Denser.

  ‘All right, you’ve made your point. Now I want to speak. It is me after all who is being asked to die in this rather inglorious manner.’

  ‘Could be Denser,’ said Ilkar, his eyes twinkling. ‘Any man of free will can make the sacrifice.’

  Denser scoffed. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Neither did I,’ said Hirad.

  ‘The thing is, Denser,’ said Sol, beginning loudly before letting his voice drop a little. ‘The thing is, that there was never really any hope of surviving this one, was there? And so any chance to save Balaia’s living and dead must be taken. However small and however far-fetched it may appear.

  ‘When we were at our best, it was in pretending that the only option open was in any case the best one and that others would present themselves if needed. But we never had choice, not really. There was never the option to stand aside and let someone else do it because there was no one else. And it is the same now.

  ‘I am king, you are right. And as king I am responsible for all the people of Balaia. Right now they are being slaughtered, and I don’t see that we can defend against this enemy. That means we have to go elsewhere to live. It’s something you have to learn, Denser. Sometimes you cannot win. And you have to choose the next best option. In this case, survival.’

  Denser slapped his hands on the table. ‘But you won’t survive, Sol. Win or lose, you’ll already be dead.’

  ‘But if by my death others live, that is enough. If I can save my wife and sons by this action I will do it in a heartbeat, don’t you see that? Wouldn’t you do the same?’

  Denser’s shoulders sagged. ‘Well, yes. But I’d have to believe. Do you believe?’

  ‘When The Raven assure me that something must be done, I believe them. When that assertion is backed up by Auum, I believe them even more. But when I’ve been to the place where we must go, where we can fight the Garonin if we must, there is no room for doubt in my heart.’

  ‘Yes. You’ve been there. And come back. Alive. Why not again?’

  ‘Because the Garonin are not going to take me there again.’ Sol finally sat down again. ‘Denser, if I face the Garonin here again, I will die. If I am to fight them and help my people live, I need to take the chance to even the odds.

  ‘It just makes perfect sense. In Ulandeneth you can do anything you believe you can, I’m certain of it. And who else to travel with but those in whom I believe the most. The Raven. I wish you’d come but I understand if you feel you can’t. Decision’s made, my dear friend and Lord of the Mount. I will do this thing and we will prevail.

  ‘Denser. Denser, look at me. Thank you. I respect your objections. Gods drowning, I love you for your caution and your pragmatism. But the time for both has passed. And I need you to support us in what we are about to do. You may be Lord of the Mount now but you are still Raven. In spirit it may be but we need you with us. What say you?’

  Denser studied his wine goblet and sucked his bottom lip. When he looked up, he was shaking his head.

  ‘I cannot,’ he said. ‘I cannot because you are my friend and I think you’re making a colossal error. And because you are king and first
warrior, and your people need you to stand with them, not disappear off to converse with Wesman Shamen. And because your head is turned by the thought of fighting with The Raven one more time. Only it won’t be how you remember. How does a soul fight, do you think? I’m sorry, Sol, but I can do nothing but repeat my strong objections. I can’t let you do this.’

  ‘Can’t?’ said Hirad. ‘Exactly how are you going to stop him?’

  Denser said nothing. He sipped at his wine and stared out of the window.

  The Raven quartet descended the long spiral stairway in silence. They found nothing to say as they walked across the floor of the tower complex and out into the warm of the morning sun.

  ‘Fancy a walk, anyone?’ asked Ilkar.

  ‘Not if it’s like the last one we took,’ said Hirad. ‘How is dear Selik, by the way?’

  ‘Raging in his cell. We’re wondering whether to put him out of his misery and let another soul take the body.’

  ‘Pointless now, I should think,’ said Ilkar. ‘No one else is going to make it here now. The void will have taken them all. We just can’t hang on to anything without a body and the dead dimension is utterly destroyed. We can feel it. Let him rot.’

  ‘I’ll put your opinion to the Circle Seven,’ said Sol. ‘Look, I really need to go and talk to my wife and children. Stop by later, why don’t you? Pick up the pieces of my teeth perhaps.’

  ‘She’ll understand, Unknown,’ said Hirad.

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Hirad. She will neither understand nor accept it. And neither should she.’ Sol tried a smile but it didn’t come off. ‘See you later. Don’t drift too far; I know how much it hurts.’

  Ilkar, Sirendor and Hirad watched him go before a shrug from the latter and a point towards the eastern quarter of the city sent them on their way. Just beyond the apron outside the gates of the college Ilkar saw, through the passing hubbub of a nervous day on The Thread, three figures detach themselves from the shadows ahead. He touched Hirad’s arm.

  ‘Seen them,’ said Hirad.

  The three old friends carried on walking across the stone of the apron and made their way across The Thread itself. The figures were waiting for them, watching. There was no point avoiding them. And no need. Hirad took his hand from his sword hilt.

  ‘I thought you’d gone for a lie-down,’ he said.

  ‘There are more pressing matters,’ said Auum. Ghaal and Miirt stood close behind him. ‘This city is on the verge of tearing itself apart.’

  Ilkar felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Not a pleasant experience in this body. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Come.’

  Auum didn’t wait to see if they were with him. He spun on his heel and trotted away into a wealthy residential area of Xetesk. Much of it was empty of its usual occupants. All senior mages and administrators had been closeted in the college for many days now. It gave the area an eerie feel.

  An angry shout rang out close by. Abruptly, Auum and his Tai broke into a run, leaving the Raven trio trailing in their wake. Ilkar recognised the tenor of the shouting. Violence hung in the air. Breaking out into a square bordered by tall houses and centred by a fenced garden, Ilkar saw a handful of figures in pursuit of something or someone with Auum’s Tai hard on their heels, eating up the distance between them.

  Ilkar, running a few paces behind Hirad, couldn’t quite see the head of the chase through the trees and hedges bordering the garden. He heard a scream and the sounds of combat. He upped his pace. Ahead of him, Hirad and Sirendor drew their swords. Ilkar began to prepare a HardShield, or whatever it was Denser called it these days.

  A mob of Xeteskians was attacking at least one poor unfortunate. Ilkar was in time to see Auum fly into the aggressors two-footed and at head height. One of them took the force full on the side of his skull. Auum dropped in amongst them. Ghaal and Miirt splitting left and right behind him.

  The TaiGethen’s leader blurred. He flat-palmed a second in the chest, sending him sprawling. A third had his legs taken from under him, and before a fourth could react, Auum had bounced back to his feet and round-housed his target in the temple. He finished his move standing astride the single victim, both short swords drawn and ready.

  Ghaal and Miirt pulled others away but in truth they had lost all desire for a fight. Hirad and Sirendor trotted into the circle of angry locals and Ilkar joined them. It was the safest place he could think of.

  ‘Ilkar, see what you can do,’ said Auum, nodding down at the prone form.

  Ilkar knelt by the woman. Blood from repeated blows matted her head. Her arms were held up to shield her face and she had drawn herself into the foetal position. She was not breathing. Ilkar shook his head and stood. Auum looked up at the attackers. All of them just normal citizens of Xetesk. They held clubs, knives, axes and shovels. There were about twenty of them standing. Three others moved on the ground, groggy and moaning. The fourth was still and by the set of his head would remain so.

  ‘This is how you treat those who return among you, love having guided them here,’ said Auum.

  ‘Leave us to our business, elf,’ said one, a young man, face fired with rage and carrying an axe in a way that suggested he knew how to use it.

  ‘Which would be what, exactly?’ asked Hirad. ‘Beating innocent people to death?’

  The young man pointed at Hirad. ‘Only your sort. Dead men. Time you all went back where you came from. You’ve brought bad luck to Balaia.’

  ‘Simpleton,’ muttered Ilkar.

  ‘We brought you a message, idiot,’ said Hirad. ‘Pity you weren’t listening.’

  ‘You’ve stolen bodies. Now you sleep in our houses and eat our food. You have brought war to our doorsteps.’

  Ilkar rubbed his forehead, already tired despite the time of the day. He made to speak but Auum got there first.

  ‘You will disperse and take this body with you to be returned to her loved ones. Now you have rendered her unrecognisable, I am sure her family will be delighted by your efforts.’

  ‘This is our city. You do not tell us what to do.’

  Auum stepped up to the young man, who immediately brought his axe to the ready in front of him. Auum planted both of his swords in the dirt by him.

  ‘Then mete out your justice. Strike me down if that is your will. I am unarmed.’

  The man swallowed, confused. His lower teeth rubbed on his top lip.

  ‘You are of the living. Our fight is not with you.’

  ‘But I side with the dead. Strike one and you strike at me.’

  Silence had fallen around the group. Somewhere a bell was ringing and there was the sound of running feet approaching from the south, across the gardens.

  ‘You will trick me if I try to strike you,’ said the man.

  ‘No.’ Auum’s head shook fractionally. ‘I will kill you.’

  Hirad cleared his throat. ‘Aren’t you getting this? He’s giving you a chance to back away and leave. I strongly suggest you take it.’

  ‘I-’

  But the youngster did not get a chance to speak further. Auum broke the grip on the man’s axe, moved inside his guard and had placed a finger on his lips before he blinked. Auum’s other hand held a blade to his eye. The axe clattered to the ground.

  ‘Not another word,’ he said quietly. ‘Take her and your fallen friend and go.’

  A tear spilled down the man’s cheek as he nodded.

  Auum stepped back and away, leaving a path to the dead woman. He watched as the two bodies were lifted up by a few of the mob and carried away.

  ‘I see what you mean,’ said Ilkar. ‘What do you intend to do? What’s down here?’

  ‘Allies. Many of the dead too.’ Auum began walking again, sheathing his blades as he went. ‘We need to get them away from here. Out of the city and to the west. Now. Tonight.’

  ‘But they can’t stray that far from their loved ones. You know that,’ said Hirad.

  ‘Some of them are here too. The rest we must find and persuade to
our cause.’

  ‘Denser is not going to like this,’ said Ilkar.

  ‘If I have my way, he won’t even know about it.’ Auum stopped and turned to them. ‘Will you help me?’

  ‘What do you need us to do?’ asked Hirad.

  Auum smiled and walked on. ‘Keep Denser busy. Keep his eyes from the north and south gates. We’ll move them out those two ways a few at a time as often as we can.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Hirad. ‘And who are these allies so we don’t hit the wrong people?’

  Auum chuckled. ‘The two old barons. Seems they don’t much like the way Xetesk leans either. They are very useful. Money still turns heads on Balaia, even now when disaster comes.’

  ‘Good for them,’ said Sirendor.

  Auum stopped once more and the humour had gone from his face.

  ‘I respect Lord Denser more than any other living human mage. But his mind is wrong. You can see it in his eyes. He will not be turned from his action. Look to your friends and see they escape, and look to Denser for he may betray you yet though he means you no harm. Someone has poisoned his thoughts and this will bring only death to any who stand with him. I have seen it before. Only those who run will live.’

  Chapter 19

  Sol did not go home immediately. Sitting there in Denser’s tower, brave words were easy. Out here on The Thread, just a few hundred yards from his family, they sounded so hollow. So he walked while he gathered his thoughts. And he did many of the things that Denser wanted him to do.

  He spoke to his people. He spread calm and confidence though he felt none himself. He answered the questions of the fearful and calmed the anxieties of the desperate. He reminded any who would listen of the help the dead were bringing. Of the strength they added to the defence of Xetesk and the belief they brought to the beleaguered and the weary.

  Words. Easy. And all the while his wife was organising the day in the inn. Almost normal but for the fact that nothing was normal here any more. Trade was stuttering. The prices of food and drink were rising sharply. Only the caravans coming through Understone Pass from the west still arrived every day. It was not only word that was scarce from Korina, Blackthorne, Gyernath and any other place he cared to name.