The Raven Collection

by James Barclay

  Chapter 9

  ‘Has the water clogged your ears, Ilkar? I said no.’ Hirad slammed his tin cup down on the stone table and stalked to the door of his hut, leaning against its frame and looking out at the dreary night.

  The rain hadn’t stopped and by the time they’d found the horses, all three men were drenched and miserable. Hirad had banked a good fire in his hut and now their clothes were steaming on a rail hanging in front of it while they each wore a blanket. But despite the ridiculous picture they made and the meal they shared, Hirad’s mood had not lightened enough to hear what Ilkar and The Unknown wanted of him with any real reason.

  ‘You shouted it, actually,’ said Ilkar evenly, picking at some lamb stuck in his teeth. ‘And I heard you the first time. I just hoped I’d heard wrong.’

  ‘Well you didn’t,’ growled Hirad, turning half face. ‘Why the hell should I help that prat? Everything he promised, he failed to deliver. The Kaan are still here.’

  ‘It was never something that was going to be solved quickly,’ reasoned The Unknown.

  ‘I know. I didn’t expect quickly. But it’s been almost five years. And nothing has happened. Nothing.’ Hirad’s voice was cool and angry. ‘They’re dying, you know.’

  ‘I understand your feelings,’ said The Unknown. ‘But Denser’s not been idle, he’s—’

  ‘Oh yeah, I gathered that. Close to the Circle Seven, has the ear of the Lord of the Mount, good chambers. Not idle at all.’ Hirad cleared his throat and spat out of the door. ‘Tell you what, when he comes here with clear evidence Xetesk is working on getting my dragons home, I’ll help him find his family.’

  ‘He doesn’t have that sort of time,’ said The Unknown.

  ‘He’s had five years!’ Hirad stormed back across the room. ‘Five bastard years! My dragons are dying and the only people capable of helping them are sitting on their fat arses congratulating each other about how they beat the Wesmen. The real heroes are being left to rot.’ Hirad stared at The Unknown and Ilkar in turn, taking in their faces in the firelight.

  ‘I’m not getting through, am I?’ he said quietly. ‘Get your boots on and come with me. The Choul’s right next door. Saying hello is the least you can do.’

  The three men scurried across the short space to the cave, blankets held tightly around them. Hirad’s lantern lit the way in the chill, damp gloom.

  ‘Gods, Hirad, it’s cold,’ said Ilkar.

  ‘Yes, isn’t it,’ said Hirad. They rounded the corner into the Choul proper, the stench of dragon nauseatingly strong. Hirad grinned fiercely at his friends’ gasps.

  ‘Great Kaan, visitors for you.’

  Sha-Kaan raised his head and opened a shining blue eye.

  ‘Well met, Ilkar. Well met, Unknown Warrior.’ His voice was low and tired, that of a dragon close to sleep.

  ‘And you, Sha-Kaan,’ said Ilkar. ‘I won’t ask about your health. Hirad has already been forthright. I am sorry.’

  ‘Sorry will not take us home.’ The lack of lustre was plain. The immensity of the Kaan’s size and presence was undiminished but the verve was gone from his voice and his languid movement was a sign of his growing inertia.

  ‘Hirad mentioned your desire,’ said The Unknown.

  ‘It has always been a desire. Now it is a necessity.’ Sha-Kaan gazed at the pair unblinking. ‘You have picked a curious time for your visit. Rain and dark, I understand, are not to human liking.’

  The Unknown shrugged. ‘We need Hirad. The weather is inconsequential.’

  ‘And I told them I wouldn’t be helping,’ interrupted Hirad.

  ‘With what?’ asked Sha-Kaan.

  ‘Finding Denser’s daughter.’

  ‘Ah.’ Sha-Kaan opened his mouth wide, his jaws stretching impossibly wide, fangs glinting in the lantern light. ‘I might have guessed the thief was at the heart of your anger, Hirad Coldheart. Presumably he isn’t yet offering a way back to Beshara.’

  ‘No,’ said Hirad curtly. ‘He hasn’t quite finished worming his way to the top of the Xeteskian mage society.’

  Ilkar sighed.

  ‘You have something to add?’ asked Sha-Kaan.

  ‘Hirad knows I believe he’s being harsh on Denser, though I understand his and your frustration at the length of your wait. But we’re talking about the safety of Erienne and her child, Lyanna. They are in considerable danger though they probably don’t know it. Right now, Dordover is searching for them both and Denser thinks they don’t necessarily want to catch Lyanna alive.’

  ‘And I said he’s creating shit,’ said Hirad. ‘Dordover has been training her. Why would they want to kill her?’

  ‘I tried to explain but you weren’t listening. It’s because of what she represents and where they think she’s gone,’ Ilkar said.

  Sha-Kaan breathed out, a low rumbling sound that sent echoes through the air.

  ‘This child is a mage?’ he asked.

  ‘ “Mage” hardly covers it,’ said Ilkar. ‘She is almost certainly a four-College adept and probably capable of encompassing the One Way.’

  Nos- and Hyn-Kaan’s heads snapped up and all three dragons stared at Ilkar, who took an involuntary pace backwards. The Kaans’ necks moved, giving the impression of a three-headed beast with a single monstrous body.

  ‘Where has she gone?’ demanded Sha-Kaan.

  ‘Denser suspects she’s with practitioners of the One Way but we don’t know if they even still exist, let alone where they might be.’

  ‘Al-Drechar,’ breathed Sha-Kaan. ‘If they live, they must be found. Hirad, you must help.’

  ‘Who are these Al whatever?’

  ‘Keepers of the One,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘Septern will surely have shared his knowledge with them. He was one of them. They can send us home.’

  Dordover had ignored Xetesk’s call for a Triverne Lake meeting. That in itself would have been an act of aggression had they not invoked a dusty but very useful clause in the four-College treaty which in this case covered Julatsa. The College was inquorate, temporarily at least, and unable to fulfil its duties. More, its acting High Mage, Ilkar of The Raven, was absent.

  Vuldaroq fully expected the deputation he received a few days later, particularly as it came in the aftermath of his mobilisation of a one-hundred-and-fifty-strong Dordovan mage force, enhanced by three hundred mounted swordsmen. That, added to Darrick’s Lysternan and Dordovan cavalry, however reluctant their commander, amounted to a significant troop movement. Xetesk were bound to be unhappy but, as in all things, it was the way in which they were told that was important.

  This was not a stroke Vuldaroq would have pulled with Styliann still incumbent on The Mount. Whatever his personal feelings, Vuldaroq had respected Styliann’s intelligence and political acumen. But the pup, Dystran, had no respected network, no quality advisers and no sure thoughts of his own. Even Denser wasn’t on hand to help. Everything seemed to be working rather well and Dystran’s entirely predictable responses merely added to Vuldaroq’s feeling of control.

  He chose to meet Dystran and his unimpressive entourage in the austere surroundings of a student’s study chambers, the small living area of which contained a round table and four straight wooden chairs, a basic iron-grated fireplace and plain brown drapes which hid ill-fitting shuttered windows. Candles cast a wan illumination amid gaunt shadows, and the air was heavy with old damp.

  The only concession to the seniority of his guests was the ubiquitous bowl of fruits and an insulated jug of Dordover’s much vaunted herbal tea. It was cold, wet and very windy outside and the enlivening infusion would banish thoughts of that particular unpleasantness and stop tired minds from wandering.

  Vuldaroq and High Secretary Berian were ensconced early in the chambers, situated in an outbuilding off the central courtyard behind the Tower. As the door opened to admit a scowling Dystran, Vuldaroq had positioned himself to greet him with a perfectly modelled expression of apology on his face. Behind Dystran, came Ranyl, an average mage in Vuldaroq’s o
pinion, and a pair of Protectors.

  ‘Gentlemen, I must apologise for the sparseness of our surroundings but your arrival finds us at rather a loss for quality accommodation. ’ He held out his hands in a gesture of supplication. Dystran regarded him coldly before moving to sit opposite Berian.

  ‘We have come here to talk, not debate the fine points of your College’s architecture and wallhangings,’ he said.

  ‘Indeed not,’ said Vuldaroq, smiling thinly. ‘Berian, tea for our guests. My Lord Dystran, your Protectors?’ Vuldaroq found it difficult to contain his distaste at the abominations that insulted his College by their presence. They should all have been put to the sword years ago.

  ‘They need nothing. If they make you feel uncomfortable, they can remain outside.’

  ‘Most kind.’ Vuldaroq took his seat and waited while the tea was poured. Ranyl selected an apple but he was the only one who ate. The Dordovan Tower Lord watched while the Xeteskians drank, noting with satisfaction their obvious pleasure.

  ‘Very good,’ admitted Dystran.

  ‘Perhaps our best kept secret,’ said Berian, inclining his head.

  ‘Hmm, and you keep very few of those these days, it seems,’ said Dystran, turning to face Vuldaroq.

  ‘You have issues you wish to discuss,’ said Vuldaroq smoothly.

  ‘I have not ridden here to idly pass the days,’ said Dystran shortly. ‘And I will not keep you from my point. Your mobilisation of forces is a clear act of aggression and an insult to the peace not only between the Colleges but that presiding across Balaia. And, I will add that your Arch Mage’s decision to send, with all due respect to yourself, a lesser lord, to attend me is a personal slur that I find both mystifying and unnecessary.’

  Vuldaroq lifted his hands in a placatory gesture while he seethed behind his carefully neutral expression.

  ‘As I’m sure you are aware, my Lord Dystran, Arch Mage Herolus is in very poor health and his death is close. I and Berian act as his voice and his ears in his stead, as it has always been during times of Arch Mage sickness. There is no slur.’ He sipped his tea before continuing. ‘Furthermore, I find your use of the term aggression a little surprising. I fail to see who it is that we threaten. My meagre forces are acting on reputable intelligence suggesting a threat to our child, Lyanna, and her mother. We are naturally concerned and have dispatched a protective force to travel south, where we believe we have most chance of finding our people before our enemies do.

  ‘I fear the same cannot be said for your considerable number of, and I use the term advisedly, “Protectors” now marauding along the borders of the mage lands blatantly intimidating any Dordovans they and their masters encounter.’

  Dystran frowned. ‘Against what are you protecting the child? You haven’t even found her yet and indeed probably never will. The Raven may bring her back but I fear even they will be left searching for spirits in the wind.

  ‘As for my Protectors, they are there as a reminder to Dordover that shows of strength and force will not go unchallenged or unmatched. They also provide a security net for those within and without the mage community who do not share Dordover’s parochial views.’

  Vuldaroq chuckled and leant back in his chair, taking a mouthful of tea that he sloshed over his tongue, letting the flavours enrich his mouth. At least the pup had spirit.

  ‘My dear Dystran, Dordover’s views can hardly be considered parochial, shared as they are by Lystern and Julatsa. It is Xetesk that is out of step with College thinking and College desire.’

  ‘But surely your desire to control Lyanna will lead to her losing her life,’ said Dystran.

  ‘I have mentioned no one losing their life,’ replied Vuldaroq. ‘Our intention is to return the girl here to continue her training.’

  ‘Which, as I think we are both aware, will result in her quick and painful demise.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Don’t play me for a fool, Vuldaroq. We both understand what is happening here and we both know that Erienne left Dordover because she believed your training was harming her daughter. We both think we know to whom she has gone and we have both read the Tinjata Prophecy. But instead of being excited about the possibility that the Al-Drechar still live, your sole concern is grasping at something that is not even yours to take back.’

  Dystran’s eyes burned while beside him, Ranyl drank tea as if he hadn’t a care. In contrast, Vuldaroq could sense Berian’s discomfort without the need to look. He let the tension settle, choosing to refill their mugs, the new burst of revitalising herbal scent a perfect tonic.

  ‘I have never thought you a fool,’ he said at length, the lie slipping easily from his tongue. ‘But the chaos and destruction visited on Balaia is the principal reason Lyanna must be returned to us quickly. It’s clear to the Masters here that whoever holds her, and I’m not at all convinced it is these Keepers of the One you seem to think it is, haven’t the skill to prevent her from unleashing these mana storms. There was no such problem while she was here, was there?’

  Dystran gave a slight nod. ‘Stories of freak weather were around well before Lyanna left Dordover. Still, a predictable response. However, Xetesk considers Lyanna a Dordovan by fluke of birthplace only. We believe her to be a child of the One and that while Tinjata was mainly accurate, his conclusion was flawed and based in fear of a return to the One Way, not in real belief of ultimate disaster.’

  ‘And you don’t consider earthquakes, hurricanes and tidal waves the prelude to ultimate disaster?’ Vuldaroq was surprised by the basic flaws in the Xeteskian take on events. ‘If we’re right, and by we, I mean you and us, then just one small child is causing all this. She must be properly controlled until she is able to harness her undoubted powers effectively.’

  Dystran shook his head. ‘Let’s not pretend, Vuldaroq. Lyanna represents a threat to the magical order that Dordover wishes to maintain. But she is the future for us all. The way forward, not back as you seem to believe. And we will not stand by and watch her destroyed by you while you hide behind your pretty words.’ Dystran set his body and pushed his mug away from him. ‘We will stop you taking her. Recall your forces. Let The Raven see her safe.’

  ‘The Raven?’ Vuldaroq couldn’t help but scoff. ‘Pawns in a greater game and in too deep. They are a help to us all but no solution. Surely you can see that.’

  ‘Yet you let them run because part of you believes them to have the best chance of finding the child.’

  Vuldaroq inclined his head. ‘Their skill is unquestioned. Their strength as the years pass is more open to debate.’

  ‘And assuming you should recover the child by whatever means, when will you be handing her to Xetesk for further training?’

  The Dordovan Tower Lord was taken by surprise by the question and blew out his cheeks while giving an involuntary half shrug. ‘Dystran, that is a decision for our lore masters and not one that can be given now.’

  Dystran leaned forwards, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. ‘On the contrary, Dordovan, it can. The girl is to be left with the Al-Drechar, if it is they who hold her. And that is because we believe they have the best chance of halting the mana storms in a timely fashion. Or she is to travel to Xetesk before enjoying training in both Lystern and ultimately Julatsa. She will not be returning to Dordover.’

  Vuldaroq felt his jaw drop a mote before he caught it. ‘You dare to threaten this in the halls of my College?’ he managed.

  ‘Oh, please, Vuldaroq, this is no threat and my Protectors are not marching for pure effect. I tried to ask you politely but now I demand that you withdraw your forces and those of Lystern and allow this matter to be settled in the natural way.’

  ‘Meaning?’ snarled Vuldaroq.

  ‘Meaning Lyanna be allowed to develop unhindered in the place that her mother and father deem the most appropriate. That place clearly not being here.’

  Vuldaroq turned to Berian and raised his eyebrows. Berian responded with a slight shake of th
e head.

  ‘I’m afraid that we cannot agree to such conditions. We have a vested interest and will see it through.’

  Dystran stood abruptly, followed a heartbeat later by Ranyl. The door to the chambers opened and a Protector stood in the frame, his sheer presence imposing and frightening even to the mages.

  ‘Then I am afraid that relations between our two Colleges, and presumably Lystern, are not, for the time being, on a cordial footing. You are so notified and warned. Good day.’

  The Xeteskians swept from the room. Vuldaroq leaned back in his chair and poked his tongue into his cheek.

  ‘Stupid young pup,’ he said and turned to Berian. ‘Oh dear, old friend. It does look rather as if we have a little trouble on our hands. Heryst and Darrick must be informed immediately. See to it, would you? I have others to contact and we both have journeys to make.’

  Erienne found herself more than a little hurt that Lyanna hadn’t cried when told her mother was leaving. In fact, she displayed precious little emotion bar a smile when Erienne explained the reason for her abrupt departure.

  ‘They are tired,’ Lyanna had said. ‘And I think they look older. Daddy can help.’

  And much as she had tried to dismiss her feelings as a purely selfish reaction, Erienne couldn’t help but think that Lyanna’s response was simply too calculated. Not right for a five-year-old girl.

  Erienne waved again and Lyanna waved back as the long boat pulled out of the tiny bay to dock with the Ocean Elm. Ephemere stood to one side and, as the long boat reached the less sheltered water, ushered Lyanna away back up the path to the house.

  Inside the failing illusion, the trees flanking the path waved in a light breeze and the rocks that flanked the small beach and the path closed in quickly as they moved further from the shore, taking from Erienne her last view of Lyanna’s hair and back.

  Erienne let her head drop, her heart already heavy. This was going to be her first break of more than a couple of days from Lyanna and she wasn’t at all sure how well she’d cope with the separation. She felt a lump in her throat, tears behind her eyes. It would have been easier if she thought Lyanna felt the same.