He fell.
‘Dreaming again, Hirad?’ asked Ilkar from nearby. Night was full, warm and very quiet.
Hirad nodded and sat up. ‘Emptiness,’ he said. ‘I felt I was flying but nothing else was alive.’
‘Let’s hope it’s not prophetic in any way,’ said the elf. ‘We’re all anxious, Hirad. You’re not alone in not sleeping.’ Ilkar indicated himself. ‘Probably best you don’t dream, eh?’
Hirad nodded again. ‘Easy to say, hard to do. Anyway, I don’t think I am. I think it’s Sha-Kaan’s dream.’
He lay back down, smiling inside at Ilkar’s raised eyebrows. This time, the Great Kaan soothed his mind into deep, dreamless sleep.
‘Damn it, I didn’t think he’d tumble us. At least not so soon,’ said Darrick.
Blackthorne smiled and leaned back in his chair. ‘I told you he wasn’t stupid,’ he said.
The command tent was a beacon of light in a darkening camp in which Darrick had forbidden all but vital fire light to give the Wesmen as little sight of them as possible. Dusk was upon them, the Balaians had been allowed to withdraw and an uneasy calm had settled over the camp.
The Wesmen had stationed a hefty presence a respectful distance from their borders and were clearly unwilling to move in, fearful without their Lord to drive them.
Darrick had sent mages out to check the surrounding numbers. The Wesmen covered the main trail, the forest and crags with squads and scouts but had chosen not to encircle the Balaians. Their remit was clear enough.
The only good news was that Izack had not planned on stopping until within striking distance of Senedai’s forces. He would however, have to move to a different position than planned in an effort to avoid Tessaya.
‘How many will he take with him?’ asked Darrick.
‘Well,’ said Blackthorne. ‘From your reports, Tessaya was separating his forces along tribal lines. The Paleon are numerous though they’ll have taken casualties both in the battle for Understone and today. Even so, if he takes them all, it could be as many as four thousand.’
Darrick gaped and his body felt hot. ‘Izack’ll be slaughtered.’
‘Not unless Tessaya finds him,’ reasoned Gresse.
‘He won’t be hard to spot once he starts fighting,’ said Darrick grimly. He passed a hand over his face, seeing his plan collapse. ‘What a shambles. We can’t waste time taking them on here, there’s no point. Look . . . How dense is the cover crag-side?’ He looked over to where a pair of his mage assassins awaited his next order.
‘Not as dense as in the forest, sir,’ said one, scratching at two days’ growth of stubble. ‘We could clear it a little.’ He smiled slightly.
‘You’d have to clear it a lot to make a difference to our route,’ Darrick said, seeing the man get his train of thought.
‘There are eight of us,’ said the assassin. ‘Anything is possible. They don’t have cross-reporting, they are merely expected to shout if they see anything.’
‘Make them unable to shout, will you?’ asked Darrick.
The assassin nodded. ‘We will prepare immediately.’ He gestured his companion to follow him from the tent.
Darrick turned back to find the eyes of the Barons and his surviving centile Captains wide on him. He shrugged.
‘What choice do we really have?’ He spread his arms wide, shrugging.
‘They will see us and they will follow us,’ said Gresse. ‘It can’t work.’
Darrick shook his head. ‘If we all trooped out together, yes. But we won’t. Here is what I want done. I want every able-bodied man brought to the rear of the camp. No injured will be coming. I need a token presence to remain here, highly visible. I suggest the cavalry.
‘We will walk a mile back down the trail before turning up into the crags, using the mages to assess threat ahead. We will run all night if we have to but I will not let Izack die uselessly.’
‘And what about the wounded and those you leave behind?’ asked Blackthorne. ‘Even should you succeed in this hare-brained scheme, when dawn breaks they will be overwhelmed and suffer the fate you so wish Izack to avoid.’ His voice, low and stern, was tinged with anger.
Darrick smiled, hoping to defuse it. ‘There’s more. Once the runners are away, I need volunteers to help the injured to move out of the camp and hide elsewhere.’ He stared squarely at the two Barons.
‘And the visible force?’ asked Gresse.
‘When the Wesmen work it out and rush in, ride like the wind.’ His smile broadened as he saw Gresse’s eyes sparkle with the thought of it all. ‘Well? What do you think? If we pull this off, we can make a real difference, maybe even turn the tide and give The Raven the time they need.’ He looked around the assembled command team. ‘Are you with me?’
To a man, his Captains nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Baron Blackthorne?’
‘A nursemaid to the sick, eh?’
‘I prefer to see it as a defender of the helpless,’ said Darrick. ‘Far more glory in that, I think. Baron Gresse?’
‘Young man, you are an outrageous risk-taker. Outrageous enough to win. I’ll have the horses ready as dawn cracks the sky.’
Darrick clapped his hands together, feeling the excitement surge within him, banishing the aches and tiredness of the afternoon’s fighting. ‘Then let’s get moving, because we really don’t have the time to waste.’
Chapter 35
Fires were alight all across the Broodlands when Hirad awoke, rested but still tired. He rolled over and sat up, joining The Raven in complete bemusement at what he saw.
The fires were strung, three dozen strong, along the banks of the river, casting an eerie yellow light that reflected from the mist, covering the Broodlands in pale luminescence.
And what the light showed was thousands of Vestare in groups and teams, some examining weapons and stitching armour but most tending to the hundreds of dragons covering every inch of free space. Vestare fussed about necks, wings, heads and talons, applying balms, singing songs and saying prayers to the Skies for Brood victory. They were tiny against the immense bodies of the Kaan, who stretched out their full lengths, many reaching well in excess of one hundred feet, their hulking bodies towering sometimes as much as fifteen feet. Great heads rested on the ground, some with jaws wide while the Vestare crawled in to spread their protective and healing creams on the flame ducts.
The sense of size was awe-inspiring and The Raven stared on, eyes roving the massive flanks, the twitching wings bigger than the largest warship sail and the muscled necks that carried those huge skulls.
‘How long has this been going on?’ asked Hirad.
‘It seems like ages,’ said Ilkar. ‘And I cannot believe you slept through it for so long.’
‘Kept that way, I think,’ said Hirad. He nodded in the direction of Wingspread, outside of which Sha-Kaan had just appeared. ‘Come on, he’ll have a few things to say to us.’
‘And I shall have some to say to him,’ said Styliann, striding off, his three disinterested Protectors in his wake.
‘What’s got into him?’ asked Ilkar.
‘He’s been muttering about “organising things better afterwards” ever since he woke up,’ said Denser.
‘And he’s planning on telling this to Sha-Kaan now?’ Hirad looked after the hurrying figure.
‘I expect so.’ Denser shrugged.
‘Mistake,’ said Hirad, heading for Wingspread. ‘Big mistake.’
The set of Styliann’s shoulders told of a no-compromise show-down with the one-hundred-and-twenty-foot Great Kaan who was preparing for the ultimate battle. Hirad knew he’d talk to The Raven because of their immediate role. Aside from that, he would be tended for flight and fight. Nothing else was open to conversation.
Hirad, trotting quickly ahead of the rest of The Raven, caught Styliann before he reached Wingspread.
‘Styliann, I think I should be doing the talking,’ he said. The Xetesk master hardly broke stride to look at him.
; ‘Ah, Hirad the Dragonene. There are matters of great importance to iron out. Now is a keenly appropriate time. I think I can make myself heard.’
‘Styliann, you don’t understand,’ said Hirad.
The Dark Mage stopped, he and his Protectors surrounding Hirad. ‘Oh, I think I understand very well. And this one-way deal is about to be changed.’
‘What?’ Hirad gasped.
‘Stop him,’ ordered Styliann, his eyes wild. He set off again only this time the Protectors barred Hirad’s path. He tried to push them aside but they wouldn’t yield.
‘Get out of my way,’ said Hirad, anger rising.
Silence.
‘Don’t you get it? Just who is it you’re protecting? Because if you don’t move, it certainly won’t be Styliann, unless you want to guard a smouldering corpse.’ He tried to push past them again, one shoved him back roughly. Hirad’s sword was out in a moment. The Protectors came to ready.
‘Hirad, no.’ The Unknown’s sharp tone stopped him in his tracks. ‘They’ll kill you.’ He was at Hirad’s shoulder. ‘Ile, Rya, Cil, he speaks the truth. Let him pass.’
The Protectors sheathed weapons and stepped aside. Hirad ran through, The Raven behind him, and was quick enough to hear Styliann begin to speak. Vestare fretted around Sha-Kaan’s head. The old dragon had his eyes closed, his neck resting on the ground and his body half in the river. Styliann stood silent for a while, Septern’s texts clutched to his chest, as if summoning the courage to speak.
‘Sha-Kaan,’ he said. He was ignored. ‘Great Kaan, I must be heard.’
Sha-Kaan’s head moved and his eyes opened. He took in Styliann with his cool blue gaze, in a lazy sweep that encompassed The Raven running up behind. He settled on the Xeteskian, his jaws stretching a little.
‘This is not a granted audience,’ said Sha-Kaan, his voice low and sonorous. ‘Leave.’
‘No,’ said Styliann. ‘Make it granted.’
Sha-Kaan’s eyes narrowed and his head shot forwards, bowling two Vestare from their feet. His snout all but touched Styliann’s waist. ‘Never presume to speak to me in that manner,’ growled the Great Kaan. ‘You are not, and never will be, my Dragonene.’
‘My tone was not meant to offend,’ said Styliann. ‘But there is little time and—’
‘I must prepare. Leave.’
‘—there is a chance the spell will not be cast,’ continued Styliann smoothly.
That stopped them all. Sha-Kaan drew back his head sharply, his eyes blinking slowly, breath hissing into his cavernous lungs. Hirad turned and shot Denser and Ilkar a glance. Both shrugged their ignorance while Erienne frowned deeply, mouth moving wordlessly. Sha-Kaan grabbed Hirad’s attention with a sharp mind-jab.
‘How is this possible?’ he demanded.
‘Great Kaan, I have no idea. It is not a problem raised by The Raven’s mages,’ said Hirad.
‘I understood there to be a certain casting but that there were risks as to its outcome.’ Sha-Kaan’s voice was flat, cold and very angry. Hirad shuddered. It was Styliann who spoke.
‘That is indeed the case. It is merely that there is a feeling that Balaia needs assurances of your continued support and future aid in legitimate struggle.’ The air temperature seemed to cool. Sha-Kaan moved his head back in close to Styliann.
‘Assurances,’ he said.
Hirad noticed the Vestare had backed away from the dragon’s neck and head. He turned to The Raven and muttered:
‘Just in case. Give yourselves room. That goes for your Protectors too, Unknown.’
‘You don’t think—’ began Denser.
Hirad shook his head. ‘I would doubt it but, you know . . . Let me try and sort this out, all right?’ He walked briskly up to stand beside Sha-Kaan’s head, facing Styliann, whose face was set stubborn.
‘I feel there must have been a misunderstanding, Great Kaan,’ he said, feeling the dragon’s ire hot in his mind.
‘Let us hope so,’ replied Sha-Kaan. There was menace in his voice that Styliann clearly did not read.
‘No misunderstanding,’ he said, a slight smile on his face.
‘Styliann, I’m warning you to back off. This is not the time,’ said Hirad, hand back on the hilt of his sword.
‘Hm.’ Styliann lifted a finger, apparently framing his next words. ‘I realise that time is of the essence so let me make myself very clear.’ His eyes locked with Sha-Kaan’s. ‘I take it, your honour is not in question.’
‘I am a Kaan dragon,’ came the reply.
‘Exactly. Here is what will happen. You, the Kaan, will agree to help me regain my College. You will also help me in negotiating treaties with the Wesmen and the other Colleges. If you do not, I fear I will be unable to assist in the casting of the spell to close the rip; a fact that will render it uncastable.’
‘But if you do not assist, you will die,’ said Sha-Kaan.
‘And so will you all,’ said Styliann. ‘So I strongly suggest you agree to my terms. Either that or I walk away.’ There was a madness in his darting, wild eyes that Hirad had not seen before. It was like a crazed zeal and Styliann really believed he would get what he wanted; as if the Great Kaan, one hundred and twenty feet of animal power, would crumble to his crude blackmail. The Xeteskian’s hands were shaking and his tongue licked incessantly at his lips as he waited for Sha-Kaan to respond.
Hirad could not put into words what flowed through his body at that moment. The silence of The Raven told him they all felt the same. Disgust did not do it justice. Revulsion merely scratched its surface. Sha-Kaan, however, felt able to do more than glare his utter contempt.
‘You, little human, are willing to sacrifice the lives of everyone in Balaia and my entire Brood if you are not promised help to further your own personal ends?’
‘I prefer to think of it as fair recompense for my personal sacrifice in saving all of Balaia from certain death,’ said Styliann. ‘Though I can see where you might acquire your perception.’
‘But we are asking nothing,’ said Hirad, the words dragging themselves from his throat. ‘We do it simply because it has to be done.’
Styliann raised his eyebrows. ‘Then you have clearly not thought it all through quite as deeply as I have.’
‘Styliann, think about what you’re saying,’ said Denser from behind them. ‘You can’t walk away. You know that.’
‘Can’t I, Denser? I’ve already lost everything.’ Styliann didn’t turn round. ‘So just you watch me.’
‘But you’ll be killing us all,’ said Hirad.
‘So persuade your dragon not to call my bluff.’
Hirad wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug look from Styliann’s face but he knew the mage could kill him before he struck. Sha-Kaan growled far down in his throat, the sound rumbling like a distant avalanche.
Styliann smiled again. ‘It seems a fairly open and shut matter. But please do me the courtesy of answering my request in the affirmative. Your word being your honour.’
‘My answer,’ said Sha-Kaan, a slight nod of the head accompanying his words, ‘is exactly as you should expect.’
Styliann’s smile broadened.
‘Oh dear Gods,’ breathed Hirad. What possessed him he didn’t know but he dived forwards, snatching Septern’s texts from Styliann’s arms, hitting the ground and rolling on to his back.
Twin gouts of flame blasted from Sha-Kaan’s mouth. Hirad’s abiding memory was of the smile disappearing from Styliann’s face as, in the instant before his destruction, he saw his death coming. His body was blown backwards, a mass of fire, his chest a hole where his organs had once been and his head blackened and scoured.
He landed thirty yards away, his torso separating from his relatively undamaged legs, his chest and face gone, a scattering of ash in the breeze all that remained.
‘Impudent human,’ said Sha-Kaan.
The Unknown helped Hirad to his feet, the barbarian’s legs shaking, so close had he come to being caught in the fire. Denser had a hand
over his mouth, his face ashen, exuding the nausea they must all feel. His other arm supported Erienne whose breath came in shallow gasps. Hirad turned to Ilkar, the elf regarding him blankly, his head shaking gently from side to side, ears pricked and reddening.
‘I hope you can use these,’ said the barbarian, handing him the writings, parchments and books. ‘You know, to do something.’ He shrugged. ‘Something else.’
‘I will continue my preparation,’ said Sha-Kaan, all anger gone from his voice. ‘I expect your new solution presently.’
Ilkar opened his mouth to protest but Hirad shushed him with a quick hand gesture. ‘Not now,’ he said. ‘Come on.’ He led The Raven away. The trio of Protectors wandered over to stand above Styliann’s destroyed body, exchanging glances and looking over at The Unknown.
‘What about them?’ asked Hirad.
‘I really don’t know,’ said The Unknown. ‘But we have more pressing matters. Ilkar, Denser, Erienne, what options do we have?’
The other two turned squarely to Ilkar, who spoke.
‘We have one. We read about the theory in Julatsa’s library but dismissed it out of hand, particularly when Styliann arrived with so much more information. And thank the Gods you did what you did, Hirad,’ said Ilkar, tapping the texts.
‘So you can still close the rip and the corridor?’ asked The Unknown.
‘Technically,’ said Erienne.
‘It’s like this,’ said Ilkar. ‘We no longer have enough strength to cast as we intended. And we can no longer sustain the spell long enough to knit interdimensional space correctly.’
‘So what can you do?’ asked Hirad.
‘We can trigger a collapse,’ said Ilkar.
‘Excellent, so no problem!’ Hirad clapped his hands together but his confidence drained when he saw Erienne shake her head. ‘What?’
‘We can’t know what a collapse will do either here, in Balaia, or anywhere in between. It’ll cause ripples in interdimensional space and Septern is very clear on the potential risks of causing them. We could force dimensional realignment, we could tear the fabric of any or all dimensions, we just don’t know.’ Erienne pushed a hand through her hair.
The Raven Collection Page 104
