The Raven Collection

by James Barclay

  ‘Now,’ said Jandyr.

  The blows came in. At the final moment, Hirad sensed the shape of the statues and the shadow of their blades. Two hands on the hilt, he deflected one strike, swaying from the other. Sparks leapt from blades all round the circle, lighting up the nightmare masked faces of the statues for a beat before plunging them back into darkness. All that was left was the after-image. It would have been better not to have seen them at all. At least everyone survived the first round.

  ‘They’re slow to react,’ reported Thraun. ‘Weapons still low but moving now, probably for a slash. I don’t recommend we attack. Let’s see what they’ve got.’

  ‘Very basic conjuration,’ said Denser. ‘If the next blow comes in the same, it’s all they have.’

  Inside the circle, Will worked feverishly, blind, head so close to the case he could smell the metal and glass above the hideous odour of the dead. Around him, The Raven fought to protect him. He focused his mind, driving away the fear. He’d felt enough with his fingers to know the glass was reinforced, that he’d need a hammer to break it and that Denser didn’t want to take that risk. But the seal was complete and he had to find the mechanism that opened it. It had to be there, he just didn’t know how much time The Raven could give him to find it.

  Ilkar had taken Erienne’s hand and dodged the tightening net. But even as he ducked and side-stepped, he knew a blow wouldn’t come. The statues had their target. Knowing the doors would be too heavy, Ilkar made for the nearest shutter. Erienne, still blind, stepped on to the face of a Wrethsire guard, the neck twisting sickeningly as her weight moved across the head. She stumbled, grabbed Ilkar and shuddered.

  ‘Gods, it’s hideous.’

  ‘All right, Erienne, we’re at the edge now.’ Ilkar’s words calmed her.

  ‘What the hell can we do?’ Erienne, her hands placed on the wooden shutter, scrabbled at its edges. Searching but with no hope of finding.

  ‘Think. The Unknown tried force, we have to find the lock.’

  ‘And if it’s magical?’

  ‘We have to believe we can damage the Wrethsires’ castings.’ He shrugged, although he knew she couldn’t see him. ‘We have to.’

  ‘Second strike coming. Midriff slash, right to left. Back and block,’ said Jandyr. ‘Now.’

  A whistle as eight axes missed their targets. Hirad found the experience totally unnerved him. He was not in control of the fight. And under his feet, the crusted surface of blood broke, robbing him of confidence in his balance. But the statues were limited in their scope, as Thraun confirmed.

  ‘All right, they’re taking up for the first strike again. None of them has changed position. You know what to do. Now.’

  The blows came in much heavier than before. Hirad staggered back a pace, his legs brushing against Will behind him. Again his second assailant missed.

  ‘Denser?’

  ‘Still here, just about.’

  ‘Second strike,’ warned Thraun. ‘Now.’

  Hirad just recovered in time. Beside him, The Unknown grunted under the force of the blows.

  ‘That’s too quick.’ If speed and weight of blow kept on increasing at the same rate, Hirad knew it would be a short fight, and he didn’t want to die without seeing the eyes of his killer.

  Will found it. A pinhole tucked under the rim of the lid. It was exquisite workmanship but he didn’t pause to appreciate it. He fished in a belt pouch for his filament wire and guided it, quickly and smoothly, into the hole, thanking the Gods his nerves had returned following the death of Denser’s Familiar. Somewhere in the pinhole was the lock mechanism. Around him the fight was becoming more urgent, denying him the concentration he needed. Twice now, Hirad had stumbled backwards and his retaliating blows had done nothing but strike terrifying sparks from the silent foe.

  Denser was struggling badly. The statues had picked up a rhythm whose pace was increasing, and although he could count it, he was not used to the constant strain the axe strokes produced in the muscles and tendons of his arms. And the fetid stink of rotting flesh clouded his mind and caught in his throat, triggering nausea that weakened his limbs still further. Soon his defence would collapse. He was already imagining the pain.

  Ilkar and Erienne felt around the shutter. Nothing. Whatever held it was not mechanical, and without the benefit of any kind of mana flow, Ilkar knew deep down that they couldn’t hope to damage the Wrethsires’ conjuration. It would be like trying to put out a fire with a feather. Unless they could break the shutter there was no way out, and if The Unknown couldn’t make a dent, what hope did he have? He drew his sword and hammered the pommel on the heavy wood. It was all he could think of to do while behind him, his friends were being inexorably worn down.

  Thraun found the going relatively straightforward. Able to switch grips at will, he, like Hirad, could effectively rest one arm at a time. Jandyr, though, was wilting. The bowman’s light blade was no match for the slugging power of the axe blows and his guard was being forced down inch by inch. Soon, they would cut him.

  Will almost shouted with delight when he felt it - a let-in to the long pinhole. All he had to do was direct the filament wire down.

  ‘Got it,’ he said.

  ‘Will, do nothing.’ The Unknown fielded the next pair of blows, thinking hard. ‘They’ll go for you when you release the stone, I’m sure of it. We need to be ready. Jandyr?’

  ‘Yes,’ the elf gasped.

  The heat was becoming stultifying and suffocating, the Temple airless, poisoned by the dead. None of them could last much longer.

  ‘On my word, Will’s going to pop the lid and grab the stone. Field your next blow, grab him and run him through the cordon to the end of the Temple. Got that? Will?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Another blow, stronger, faster. More grunts of exertion.

  ‘The rest of us, field and dodge, they won’t come for us. Thraun, you’re the eyes, although I’m sure we all know where our enemies are standing. On my word then.’

  ‘Strike coming,’ said Thraun.

  ‘Will, now!’

  The thief pushed down on the filament, and as the lid swung up, he grabbed the stone.

  ‘I have it.’

  The Unknown caught the blows on his blade, ducked and charged through the gap between his two attackers, sensing Hirad do likewise. Jandyr turned and grabbed Will, pulling him upright and forward.

  ‘Run, Will!’ The elf’s cry echoed around the Temple, loud in the darkness.

  Axes rose and fell, clashing sparks off the tiles as they bit. It was enough to see Will and Jandyr sprinting for the far end of the Temple, picking a path through the corpses. The scraping started again, then the clank of metal on stone. The statues were on the move.

  ‘Jandyr, you’re the eyes for Will,’ said The Unknown. ‘You should be able to dodge them. Don’t get trapped.’

  ‘Count on it.’ Jandyr sounded exhausted.

  ‘Let’s get one of those bloody shutters open. Thraun, direct me.’

  ‘Dead ahead of you now. Put your arms out. There.’

  ‘Ilkar, what did you find?’ asked The Unknown.

  The ominous sounds of the walking statues bounced off the walls, mingling with the occasional wet crunch as they drove stone feet through the bodies of their former masters. Jandyr’s voice could be heard, low and comforting, but bone tired.

  ‘There is no mechanical switch,’ said Ilkar as The Unknown felt around the shutter’s edge. ‘It’s all part of the same casting, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Then we’re going to have to batter it. Thraun, let’s see if we can move that plinth. I suggest you sheath your weapons and stand back to the wall. We don’t want any accidents.’

  It seemed to Will that at every turn, he was exposed to a new fear. First the Familiar, then his useless hands, next the sudden dark and now this. Eight huge statues coming for him and him alone because he held the Death’s Eye Stone. He hadn’t even let himself think of the power that animated them, or th
at could remove The Raven’s capacity for victory so effectively.

  All that bothered him now was the sound of their feet marking the floor, that he couldn’t see them coming and that, despite Jandyr’s words and hand on his shoulder, he was certain he was going to perish in this nightmare place that smelt so much of death.

  ‘Will, you’re shaking.’

  ‘Are you surprised?’

  ‘Listen to me and you’ll be fine. They’re closing in, so we have to move in a second to force a change of direction. I’m going to move us left. Grab hold of my arm and keep walking - there’s no need to run because they can’t cover the whole diameter of the Temple. Do you understand?

  ‘Yes.’ The scraping was loud in Will’s ears, the clang of metal boots sounding his death knell, his mind full of the images of axes felling from the disguise of night.

  ‘Let’s move.’

  They hugged the wall, Jandyr gasping with every pace, Will trying to concentrate on merely putting one foot in front of the other. The elf walked quickly, and twice Will all but lost his grip, tripping on the bodies they had so recently dragged to the Temple’s edge. But the fear of being left alone to be cut to pieces kept his fingers tight on the flesh of Jandyr’s upper arm. An abrupt change of direction and Will stumbled.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Sorry, Will. We’re heading to the other side of the Temple.’ Jandyr’s breath was tortured. ‘It’ll give me more space for the next move.’

  Thraun swept the case from the plinth and tried to tip the column of carved marble. For a moment he thought it was set into the floor, but with a crack that signified the shifting of the dust of ages, it moved.

  ‘Unknown?’

  ‘Thank the Gods.’

  The two big warriors hauled the plinth to an acute angle before wrapping their arms around it and heaving it from the floor, grunting with the effort and breathing heavily.

  ‘Lead away, Thraun,’ said The Unknown. ‘Quickly.’

  Will slipped on a slick of new blood and went sprawling, shouting as his hand was wrenched from Jandyr’s arm. He rolled over and came to his haunches, eyes probing desperately at the impenetrable dark, recoiling as they touched cold torn flesh.

  ‘Jandyr,’ he wailed. ‘Don’t let them get me!’ Movement by him and a hand on his arm. He flinched then relaxed.

  ‘I’ve got you, Will. I’ve got you.’ Jandyr’s voice was a beacon of calm. ‘We’re all right. They can’t get us. Come on, we need to keep moving.’

  Will rose to his feet. ‘Which way?’

  ‘Just follow me.’

  The Unknown absorbed the recoil of the first blow on the shutter, his massive shoulders shuddering under the reactive force. But the wood had given. Magically sealed it might have been, but it was still just wood.

  ‘Next time,’ said Thraun. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Go.’

  The wood shivered. They heard it splinter but still they weren’t through.

  ‘Close,’ Thraun said. ‘Again.’

  ‘Go.’

  The marble plinth crashed through the shutter. Thraun let his end go and The Unknown drove forwards, pushing the makeshift battering ram out on to the path. A jagged hole in the wood let in fresh air, a wan light that shone like a watch beam and, more importantly, a flood of mana as the structure of the Cold Room was broken.

  ‘That’ll do,’ said Denser.

  In moments, the Temple filled with a gentle glow as Erienne tempered her LightGlobe, wary of the danger of a new sort of blindness. Jandyr and Will were still evading. As the globe deployed, they began to run towards the main doors. Jandyr was limping badly.

  ‘See to those doors,’ said Hirad.

  ‘I’ve got them.’ Ilkar’s ForceCone focused where they met. Its casting blew them clean off their hinges to cartwheel into the glorious warm night air.

  ‘Let’s go, let’s go!’ Hirad led the run from the Temple, gulping in fresh air, unfettered by the taste of death. ‘If they follow, we can outrun them. Come on!’

  The Raven exploded from the Temple, Jandyr and Will last, crashing into the dirt beyond the steps. The statues stopped at the doors, unable to move beyond the confines of their casting. The Raven stopped at the tree line.

  First one masked figure, then another, stepped from the shadows. Eyes so long used to the dark took it all in as plain as if it were day. In moments, ninety Protectors barred their passage, headed by a single rider.

  The Raven formed up, The Unknown at its centre, eyes boring into the ranks behind the horseman. All the time, he knew they’d been there.

  Will stayed by Jandyr. The elf lay face down in the earth, blood running from a gash that led from shoulder to hip.

  ‘He needs help.’

  ‘So do we,’ said Erienne.

  Will looked up as Denser spoke.

  ‘Styliann. You’re a little late for the rescue.’

  ‘Remarkable,’ said Styliann. ‘It was imperative you survived. Balaia doesn’t have much time.’

  Chapter 30

  The hordes were coming and Darrick had to make the most critical command decision of his career. He’d seen The Raven safely into the west and, a day later, Styliann and one hundred Protectors had galloped through, bent on vengeance. He hadn’t spoken to the Lord of the Mount but he had seen into his eyes. He pitied the Wesmen who encountered that centile of death.

  The situation was clear to him. While the defence of the east was his charge, the real battle was about to fought in the west by The Raven and, it seemed, by Styliann. Darrick looked about him. He’d assembled the most capable staff he could think of, any one of whom could marshal the defence forces equally as well as himself.

  To the south, while Gresse and Blackthorne’s loss of the latter’s town was a serious blow, their harrying tactics should delay the Wesmen advance on one flank, and to the north, he had to believe that the Colleges would hold Triverne Inlet. There lay the greatest concentration of magic, and there the Shamen could be effectively countered for now.

  In his heart, Darrick knew he couldn’t stand at the head of Understone Pass and wait for the result in the Torn Wastes. He wanted his five hundred horse, his fifty mages and his freedom to ride.

  He wanted a fight, and by the Gods he was going to have one.

  Ilkar walked away, back towards the Temple. He was shaking. Styliann’s voice came to him through a haze.

  ‘I really am very sorry.’

  Ilkar shrugged and turned. ‘When did this all happen? What happened at Triverne Inlet?’ He couldn’t understand how the situation could possibly be so bad.

  ‘Yesterday. I received communion earlier this evening. They wiped us out. We had thought to hold them there for days but their magic was too strong,’ said Styliann. ‘They’ve got something we never saw three hundred years ago. White fire that brings down walls and something altogether darker that can eat the flesh.’

  The Raven listened in silence, The Unknown standing with the Protectors, his eyes unfocused. The mage force and warriors at Triverne Inlet had been massacred, overwhelmed by magic-wielding Shamen. The Wesmen were less than three days from Julatsa and there had to be doubts over the Colleges’ ability to keep them at bay. Blackthorne and Gresse were losing the battle to keep the Wesmen from flanking the Understone Pass defence, and Darrick had ridden into the west and disappeared. The Gods alone knew what he meant to do. Suddenly, their planned approach to Parve had turned into a headlong rush and they could already be out of time.

  ‘And what are your plans, my Lord?’ asked Denser, still stunned that the Lord of the Mount should be in the west.

  ‘You know why I am here,’ said Styliann. ‘They took Selyn and I will take their lives. You will come with me and so will Dawnthief. The Raven can return to Understone Pass. Their skills are better used in its defence.’

  The atmosphere changed in an instant. Hirad shifted to a ready stance, sword still sheathed for the moment. The Unknown moved to stand beside him, as did Thraun. Ilkar and Erienne flanked
Denser as he stood in front of the mounted Styliann. Will remained with the fallen Jandyr. There was a ripple through the Protectors.

  ‘I’m not sure I understand,’ said Denser, though an awful realisation was flooding his heart.

  Styliann raised his eyebrows. ‘Denser, the balance must be redressed and we must have dominion. Dawnthief must belong to Xetesk alone. Now, bring the catalysts to me or I will take them from the corpses of your friends.’ He signalled, and the Protectors unsheathed their weapons, the sound slicing through the night air.

  ‘You can’t let him do this!’ hissed Ilkar.

  ‘He has no choice,’ said Styliann. ‘He always knew this would be the result.’

  Denser gaped at Styliann, his head shaking slightly. ‘And you . . . ?’ He gestured behind him at the Temple.

  Styliann frowned. ‘Yes. And you did what even my Protectors could not. I’m impressed,’ he said. ‘But now The Raven’s work is done.’

  ‘How did you get here before us?’ asked Hirad.

  ‘I was never very far behind you, Hirad. You chose to rest on your way here; I did not.’ He shrugged. ‘A pity I didn’t succeed. It would have made all of this so much easier.’

  ‘Yes,’ said The Unknown. ‘Because we hold the cards, don’t we?’

  Ilkar fell back from Denser behind The Raven. His incantation was short. ‘Shield up,’ he murmured. The Raven’s swords were drawn.

  Styliann laughed. ‘Do not think you can stand in my way,’ he said, dismissive. ‘Denser, do the right thing or I’ll be forced to take your life too.’

  ‘You wouldn’t do that.’ Denser moved back, Erienne with him, feeling Ilkar’s shield cover him.

  ‘Any reason why not?’

  The Protectors came to ready. The Unknown tensed.

  ‘Because I represent the only realistic chance of casting Dawnthief with any hope of destroying the Wytch Lords while leaving Balaia still habitable.’ But Denser’s words held little conviction.

  ‘If you really are blind enough to think you are the only Dawnthief mage in Xetesk, I pity you,’ said Styliann. ‘I am offering you glory. You and I will destroy the Wytch Lords and then you will stand by me on the Mount and oversee our rule of Balaia. There are two Towers in need of new Masters. Come.’ He beckoned Denser forward and the Dark Mage moved an involuntary half-pace before Erienne’s arm, still locked through his, restrained him.