The Raven Collection

by James Barclay

  ‘Grow up, Hirad, for Gods’ sake.’

  ‘I’m not the one complaining about choice or the lack of it,

  Xetesk man,’ said Hirad. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, none of us is exactly comfortable here but you don’t hear us making smart remarks. Just deal with it.’

  ‘What the hell have we come here for anyway?’ asked Denser. ‘Ysundeneth was full of mages.’

  ‘Yes, Denser, busy ones,’ said Ilkar. ‘And I know none of them. I thought I’d explained that I had to go to my home village to start. Find contacts, establish a line. You have to understand how it works over here. Nailing up a sign offering money to lapsed elven mages won’t work.’

  Denser slapped at an insect that had settled on his hand. ‘One more bite,’ he muttered.

  ‘Want me to show you all mine?’ Hirad stood up.

  ‘Hirad, enough.’

  ‘No, Unknown, you know what he’s doing. It’s bloody typical,’ said Hirad, feeling his muscles tense. ‘When he needs us to find his daughter it’s fine. When the position’s reversed he’ll go on letting us know it’s all done under sufferance. Why can’t you just do something for someone else for a change, eh?’

  ‘For a change?’ Denser gaped.

  ‘Denser, please,’ said Erienne, laying a hand on his arm. He ignored her.

  ‘Who was it cast Dawnthief to save us from the Wytch Lords, eh? Who was it defied the Lord of the Mount to get The Unknown back from his Protector calling? Who was it lay with you and Ilkar to keep you both alive when you - you, Hirad Coldheart - were dying?’

  ‘That’s what being in The Raven is all about,’ said Hirad calmly. ‘Those are great things you did, Denser, and I’ll love you for ever for doing them. But this is now. And I don’t want to hear you bleating about how difficult it is for you.’

  ‘Don’t patronise me, Hirad.’

  ‘Did you have anything better to do with your time?’ snapped Hirad. ‘Aside from sunbathing and gardening?’

  ‘Stop it! Stop it!’ yelled Erienne, surging to her feet, hands about her head. ‘How dare you bring my child’s grave into your infantile row! I came here to try and forget, don’t you understand? Not for The Raven. For me. When will you let me start?’

  She turned and ran from the camp, Denser making to follow her. Before she’d got five yards she ran into the hulking form of Thraun, who dropped his huge bundle of wood and caught her round the waist in one arm.

  ‘Let me go, Thraun.’

  The shapechanger just shook his head. He traced a hand down the side of her face and looked very deeply into her eyes.

  ‘Not forget, Erienne,’ he said, his voice rusty, gruff and croaking. ‘Grieve. Live. Not forget.’

  Chapter 16

  The fish had been excellent but The Raven had paid little attention to its succulence, so stunned were they all by Thraun’s words, his first in more than five years. Where they had come from and what barrier had fallen in his mind to let him form speech they’d probably never know but he had spoken and that was enough.

  In truth he’d done much more. Not just understanding Erienne’s feelings but defusing the whole stupid argument. Now, Denser and Hirad were chatting away like it had never happened and Ilkar looked at them across the fire and shook his head.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said The Unknown next to him.

  Ilkar had noticed him studying the ants that swarmed over the fish bones at his feet, breaking down anything useful and carrying it off. It was the way of the rainforest. Everything was used.

  ‘I don’t understand those two and I probably never will,’ said Ilkar. ‘What is it with them? Put them round a campfire and they’re at each other’s throats about something trivial.’

  ‘It wasn’t trivial, though, was it?’ said The Unknown. ‘Hirad’s right.’

  ‘But he can’t communicate it, can he?’

  ‘And Denser should know that by now and stop rising to the bait. You should have a word.’

  ‘And do you think he’s got the right attitude?’ asked Ilkar.

  ‘Who, Denser?’

  ‘Who else?’

  The Unknown shrugged. ‘Hard to say. He was only trying to protect Erienne, I think. He’s just looking for an outlet. He’ll be fine when we get back to Balaia and he can feel more useful.’

  They fell silent, watching Thraun and Darrick. Since his first utterance, Thraun had said very little and much of his confusion seemed to have returned. But they were all working on him now in turn and Darrick was once again trying to get him to accept a sword. It was looking a lot simpler this time.

  ‘What brought it on, do you think?’ asked Ilkar.

  ‘Erienne,’ said The Unknown. ‘Or, more precisely, what she said. His words came from very deep, didn’t they?’

  ‘I’m amazed he can remember what happened to Will.’

  ‘Like I say, it came from very deep. Maybe we shouldn’t be surprised at what he retains from before he was a wolf those five years.’

  ‘Maybe not.’ Ilkar stretched out his legs. ‘Any more tea on the go?’

  ‘Just some muck you’re boiling down,’ said Hirad from across the fire. ‘Is it really all necessary?’

  Ilkar smiled. ‘You’ll be glad of that muck tomorrow.’

  But he had to admit he and Ren were monopolising the fire. Three pots hung from Kayloor’s spit. Hirad was already clutching cloth balls steeped in rubiac fruit and there was more boiling away for Darrick, who had suffered similar blistering. Next to it, Aeb’s legumia was infusing and the last pot held a dozen mashed gentian plants that Ren was boiling to a paste to dry out and use as an insect repellent. It wasn’t a perfect solution but it was the best they had.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Yes, Hirad, you can,’ said Ilkar. ‘And I say that with a due sense of foreboding.’

  ‘You keep going on about us not understanding how elves live over here, and according to Captain Miserable snoring in his hammock over there we even cut the brush down wrong. Are we upsetting something by just being here, is that it?’

  Ilkar couldn’t hide his surprise. ‘How unusually perceptive of you. Let’s make some more tea and I’ll fill you in on some useful detail. It might stop you getting yourselves hurt.’

  ‘I’ve got a better idea,’ said Hirad, reaching into his sack. He threw a sealed pouch over to Ilkar. ‘I’ve been saving it.’

  Ilkar unclasped the pouch and sniffed. He smiled. ‘Coffee.’

  ‘That comes under critical equipment, does it?’ Darrick’s head had snapped up at the word.

  ‘Indeed not, General, but any that think I shouldn’t have it can relieve themselves of the trouble of drinking any.’

  Ilkar laughed into the silence. ‘Is there room for one more pot on there, I wonder?’

  They made room, and soon, with the smell of the grounds pervading every nostril and steaming mugs in every hand, Ilkar spoke.

  ‘At the core of elven life on Calaius is their belief in the balance of life. The closest translation is “harmony”. They believe that all elements - air, earth, fire, water and mana - exist in this state of perpetual harmony and that it is a delicate balance that must be protected. I can’t emphasise enough how deeply these beliefs are ingrained in the elves who live here and the energy with which they uphold them. To this end, every elf believes him- or herself to be a guardian of the harmony to a greater or lesser degree and that is why you should be mindful of loose comments or careless actions.’

  ‘And what happens if this harmony is disturbed?’ asked Denser.

  ‘Well, that depends what you believe. There are writings that predict floods being sent to cleanse the land, or cloud shrivelling the canopy before allowing the sun through to grow new life. There are also writings about the demise of the elven race but, when all’s said and done, you have to take all these things with a pinch of salt. They’re just warnings to look after the land, if you want my opinion.’

  Beside him, Ren was nodding. ‘Mo
st elves use the teachings to educate the young to respect the forest. It provides their food, clothing, shelter . . . everything. Abusing it is not an option.’

  Ilkar resumed his explanation. ‘Take Kayloor, for instance. He felt your clearance of even this small patch of forest clumsy at best and an affront to the harmony at worst. That’s why he doesn’t like you; because you don’t understand and never can. It’s nothing personal; no stranger can. So we had to accept certain conditions before he’d carry us.’

  ‘And pay him over the odds, no doubt,’ said Hirad.

  ‘No, Hirad, you’re missing the point. We’ve paid him a fair price for his time and the use of his boat. He doesn’t want any more. People like Kayloor live to serve the rainforest families, not the port paymasters. Like I say, you don’t understand and, coming from Balaia, you never will.’

  ‘And what were these conditions exactly, Ilkar?’ The Unknown said quietly, meeting the Julatsan’s eye. ‘We may not be risking our lives here but that doesn’t mean you can keep us in the dark about anything that might be material.’

  ‘I know and I’m sorry,’ said Ilkar, acknowledging his transgression by raising his hands. ‘But it was either acceptance then and there or a very long and uncomfortable walk. If you refuse one guide, you refuse them all.’

  ‘Even so, your negotiation was last night. The Raven don’t do things that way.’

  Ilkar nodded. ‘Point taken, but the conditions aren’t in any way onerous. Common sense if anything. We’ve undertaken to respect the lore of the forest, not to cause wanton damage, to kill only for food or to avoid death, to make reparations as we go and to leave the lands of any family or village should they require it.’

  There was little reaction bar the shrugging of shoulders.

  ‘So we shouldn’t swat any flies, then?’ asked Hirad, doing exactly that.

  ‘Absolutely not, Hirad,’ said Ilkar. ‘And you’ll burn in hell for that.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No, not really,’ said Ilkar. ‘What do you think? There are a million flies for each one you squash. The ratio is altogether smaller for snakes, rabbits and jaguars. Just use your judgement.’

  ‘Hirad doesn’t have any judgement,’ said Denser.

  ‘Let me do the jokes, Denser,’ advised Hirad.

  ‘You’ve said that before.’

  ‘And until you’re funny, I’ll keep on.’

  ‘Another mature debate begins,’ said The Unknown, silencing them both. ‘Presumably, this balance and harmony structure has its roots in religion.’

  Ilkar nodded and leaned forward to refill his mug. Ren took over.

  ‘There are Gods at every conceivable level but there’s little temple worship outside the larger towns and cities.’

  ‘Mind you, the grandest and oldest of them all is out here,’ said Ilkar.

  ‘Mainly, houses have shrines to their favoured Gods and most elves believe the forest to be temple enough for worship. At the top of the tree, if you’ll pardon the term, is Yniss, God of the harmony, who pulls all the elements together. Beneath Yniss there are Gods and lords of the canopy, its roots, the animals, the wind, rain, death, fire . . . You name it. The ones you’ll mostly hear about are Tual, who controls the animals, including elves, by the way, Cefu, God of the canopy above, Gyal, who sends the rain, and Shorth, the death God.’

  ‘There are hundreds of minor deities,’ said Ilkar. ‘It’s all rather well structured for an ancient religion, if a little complex. The point, I suppose, is don’t underestimate the power of these beliefs and the lengths some elves will go to to protect what they have in the name of that religion.’

  Hirad shifted and drained his mug. ‘Funny thing, Ilks. In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never once heard you use any of these Gods’ names.’

  ‘That would have been hypocritical,’ said Ilkar. ‘After all, if I really believed, I’d have come back to do my part, wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Was that the idea, then?’ asked Hirad.

  ‘Something like that,’ said Ilkar, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. ‘Look, can we leave this for now?’

  ‘Ilkar’s got some embarrassing secret, I take it,’ said Denser.

  Hirad nodded. ‘Must be.’

  ‘Can we? Please?’ Ilkar’s raised voice caused Kayloor to shift in his slumber, but he didn’t wake and it served as a timely reminder.

  ‘Another long day tomorrow,’ said The Unknown.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ilkar. ‘Look, can I suggest that you put the nets over your hammocks. It’ll feel a little odd but you’ll thank me in the morning.’

  With a little grumbling, The Raven and Ren took to their beds, leaving Aeb to take the first watch and bathe his face. After him, they’d watch in pairs.

  Lying in his hammock, shifting to try and find a modicum of comfort, Ilkar felt the anxious silence around him as an alien night closed in around the group. He could sense his friends straining to hear danger now that the camaraderie of the campfire was broken. But all they’d be hearing was the rasping, croaking, buzzing, rustling and cawing clamour that came from every direction.

  ‘Doesn’t this ever stop?’ asked Hirad.

  ‘Never,’ said Ilkar.

  ‘Wonderful. Could have told us to bring ear bungs or something. I don’t want to have to sleep with my fingers rammed in my ears.’

  ‘Believe me, Hirad. Not hearing things is altogether worse than hearing them.’ Ilkar smiled to himself. ‘Sleep tight.’

  ‘Fat chance.’

  In the grey light of dawn, Selik could see the smirk on Devun’s face. He’d been wearing it ever since they’d ridden out of Understone, like a child who’d escaped punishment for some misdemeanour.

  ‘So,’ he said, finally addressing Devun. ‘You’ve been itching to tell me ever since we rode out of that slum. What was it you did to that mage that so changed his mind?’

  Devun laughed. It was an uncomfortable sound, without humour or soul. Selik sighed inwardly. Like most of the Black Wings Devun was useful muscle but eminently dispensable. Of Callom and Edman, he hoped for better things.

  ‘The threats weren’t working,’ said Devun. ‘He didn’t believe us, I don’t think he ever would have. So I told him the truth.’

  ‘Which was?’ asked Selik, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

  ‘That Xetesk was so intent on control of Balaian magic that they would march on Julatsa when and if they beat Dordover.’

  Selik looked at him with a little more respect, wondering if he’d misjudged the man. ‘Well, it’s a view rather than the definite truth,’ he said, smiling a little. ‘It’s not exactly the message I had in mind for him to take to Julatsa, but still.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think he’ll be taking it there.’

  ‘Why not?’ The doubt was back.

  ‘Because I advised him that he needed to tell the people best able to do something about it. So he’s going to Dordover.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Selik had to admit to himself that this was a far better solution than he’d planned.

  ‘The look on his face,’ said Devun. ‘He believed me. I said they wouldn’t believe us, but they’d believe a mage. I left it up to him how he said he learned the information.’

  Selik scratched his neck with an index finger. ‘I am genuinely impressed. Let us hope he doesn’t get cold feet at the gates of Vuldaroq’s college, eh?’

  ‘Always a risk.’ Devun shrugged.

  ‘Indeed.’

  Selik spurred the Black Wings on, his spirits lifted in a way he had not anticipated. The Blackthorne Mountains glowered down at them from his right as they rode, heading through the Varhawk Crags and then Blackthorne Town. He knew it would be a difficult meeting, but the warming early dawn sun on his face effectively masked the problems of the future.

  Chapter 17

  It was almost dawn. A violent cloudburst, accompanied by spectacular lightning and resounding thunder, had doused the watch fires and woken everyone from nervous sleep.


  Yron called for the guards to be relieved and fresher faces trotted out to the two camouflaged elven platforms still standing and to four other concealed positions a few feet up in the trees. Anything to give them even a hint of warning.

  The captain hadn’t slept at all, standing at the door of the temple all night, feeling his anxiety grow as the inevitable attack drew closer. Four quartets of men had left camp hours before, skirting well away from their established path before heading north for the boats they’d left a couple of days downriver or on the longer walk direct to the ships moored in the Shorth Estuary.

  With them they carried critical information from the temple. It was a gamble but, not knowing exactly who and what they faced, Yron felt he had no choice. He had entrusted the most valuable information to the group containing Erys.

  His quick briefing of those left behind had been both poignant and uplifting. He hadn’t sought to fool them, to lie or to soften the blow. They were there to hold on as long as they could and die for the greater glory. The elves they would face, he had told them, would be few but extraordinarily lethal, and he had cautioned them against being mesmerised by the speed or grace of what they saw.

  And their fight would be entirely without magic. Stenys had also been sent with a group of runners, his magical skills better used in ensuring survival of the booty than staving off the inevitable at the temple.

  Yron took Ben-Foran on a last tour of the hurried defences they’d set. Thorn traps dug perhaps a little shallow, twisted woodpiles positioned in the hope of driving their attackers down certain overlooked ways and a couple of snap nooses. Little more than glorified animal traps, these last were strung using tensioned saplings on the approach to the apron. Yron was surprised that they had not been attacked during the night. It was a blessing of sorts. Bought them and their runners precious time. Always assuming they hadn’t already been hunted down. If he was honest, he expected only one of the groups to succeed and Erys’s was the most likely.

  ‘You should have left, Ben,’ said Yron, more proud than he would ever admit that the young lieutenant had refused to leave his commanding officer.