The Raven Collection

by James Barclay

  ‘I’m a soldier,’ said Ben-Foran. ‘I’m not stealthy, I’m clumsy if anything, but I fight well. My skills are better used here.’

  ‘So you keep saying.’

  ‘So stop reminding me, Captain.’ He sipped from the mug of tea he carried.

  ‘You could have chosen life.’

  ‘I chose soldiering,’ said Ben-Foran. ‘That sometimes includes death. It’s an occupational hazard.’

  Yron bent to check the snap mechanism on one of the nooses, wondering if Ben-Foran was as calm as he appeared. Gods knew, Yron wasn’t, but then he had a greater knowledge of their enemy and still couldn’t quite believe they hadn’t arrived yet.

  The noose was excellent. He didn’t expect it to trap anyone but it would certainly give the elves pause for thought. He drained his own mug.

  ‘Very good,’ he said. ‘Who set this?’

  ‘I did.’

  Yron smiled. ‘Bloody waste of time teaching you though, wasn’t it? Who’re you going to pass it on to, some sub-deity in the afterlife? Gods, but I should have been a career drinker. It’s so much simpler when you’re pissed.’

  ‘Teaching is never a waste,’ said Ben-Foran. ‘You never know when it’s going to be your time to die.’

  ‘Not a waste, eh? Then come and see this and learn. Unless you’ve something better to do.’

  ‘Nothing pressing, Captain,’ said Ben.

  Yron led him away from the apron to the small natural clearing where they’d taken the elven bodies after the assault on the temple. He heard Ben take in a sharp breath.

  Not four days ago, they’d left nine bodies there. None had questioned Yron on why. What was left were a few scattered bones and remnants of clothing. Everything else was gone.

  ‘The forest takes everything back,’ said Yron, his voice quiet and reverent. ‘They deserved that respect from us.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Ben.

  ‘It’s an elven belief. One of many. All life returns to the forest in death. Everything is used. We owed them the respect of not burning them.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘No graveyards in the rainforest, Ben. Burying corpses is a waste.’

  Yron heard a sound at the far edge of his hearing. Ever so slight but not made by an animal, he was sure of it. He put a finger to his lips and gestured Ben-Foran into the shelter of a broad-leaved plant growing in the lee of a palm. The youngster knew better than to question him.

  Stunned he wasn’t dead, Yron watched the lithe shapes pass by scant yards from him. He couldn’t help but be impressed by their economy of movement; it rendered them all but invisible, mere shadows across the forest floor.

  With his heart loud in his chest, Yron turned his head to Ben-Foran, gesturing him to be still. The young soldier looked at him questioningly and nodded his head after the elves, a hand on his sword hilt.

  Yron responded with a shake of his head and a frown. He scanned the ground at his feet and took the pace between them very slowly.

  ‘We’ve got to warn the others. Help them,’ whispered Ben-Foran.

  ‘We wouldn’t get twenty paces,’ said Yron, his head almost touching Ben’s, his voice very, very quiet. ‘It’s hard, I know, but the Gods have spared us for a reason or we’d already be dead. When the attack starts, we’ll move. Go after Erys.’ He paused and looked Ben in the eye. ‘This isn’t going to be nice.’

  Auum moved smoothly across the forest floor, Duele and Evunn his shadows. They’d rested to eat and pray not far from the strangers’ camp in a place free of their stench. Ignoring the crudely hacked path the forest was already beginning to reclaim, they kept to the natural trails, aiming to see the temple at dawn when Cefu was at her most magnificent and their strength was at its height.

  They could sense the strangers at the temple long before they could smell them. The forest was askew, Tual’s denizens confused by the destruction so carelessly wrought. The balance was disturbed but there was more. The TaiGethen could feel it deep within them. It was as if Yniss had turned away, His attention deflected. The imbalance caused by the strangers in the forest was just one small part. What Auum and his breed could feel went deeper, to the base of everything on which the elven races built their existence. He could feel it in the air and taste it on the rain. It ran through him on the mana trails and was heard in the rustling of the wind through the canopy. It was everywhere.

  Auum experienced an unusual frisson of anxiety. The harmony was at odds with itself. He knew it was serious but it was a matter for prayer and contemplation later. The Tai had their task for the present, as did the others he knew would be approaching from the south. Others were surely near too. And Al-Arynaar. Drawn by the unease that must have swept through all of them, though some would feel it more keenly than others.

  In the last few hundred yards, Auum’s senses heightened, bringing him an awareness of his immediate environment no stranger could possibly conceive.

  Again they stopped for prayer and to mark their faces. Again they strung their compact high-tension bows. Again they headed towards their target, their total focus broken only by the two strangers outside the attack perimeter.

  The Tai ignored them for now. Once their task was complete and the temple returned to the Al-Arynaar, they would be tracked to their destination. Just to be sure all the invaders died.

  Auum stepped easily over a snap noose of fair quality. Interesting that they should attempt such crude traps. It suggested desperation, as did the thorn pits they skirted immediately after. A hiss brought him to a standstill. He looked left. Duele indicated trees ahead where men were concealed, two of them on the approach to the temple. Auum pointed to himself and then to the trees before indicating Duele and making a sweeping motion, pointing to his eye and up again into the branches.

  Duele nodded and darted away. To the right, Evunn was a statue, barely visible even to Auum. He directed Evunn further right, both elves nocking arrows. The forest stilled. It was time.

  The two bows sang together, arrows whipping away, striking their targets with deadly accuracy. One man was taken through the throat, the other’s heart was pierced. Auum was already running, another arrow in the string, ignoring the bodies as they fell near him. To the left, a jaqrui crescent whispered away, the thud of its strike reaching Auum’s tuned ears. Duele was at the platforms.

  Twenty yards ahead, another stranger was staring out from a hide in the trees right by the stone path to the temple. He knew something was coming but could see nothing. As he opened his mouth to call a warning, Auum and Evunn both loosed arrows, the impacts in the enemy’s head and neck punching him out of the tree to crash into the foliage below, dead before he felt the fangs of the viper he disturbed.

  A third arrow was in Auum’s bow before he broke cover at the side of the apron, sprinting round its left-hand side while Evunn took the right. He heard a shout from within the temple, an echoing scared voice. It was as they wanted, the expected reaction to his plan. Four crossbow bolts flashed out from the temple doorway.

  Auum held up four fingers. Across the apron, Evunn mirrored his gesture, having seen the same number of bolts. In front of them, canvas fell across the opening, hiding the strangers inside the sacred trap they’d made for themselves and desecrated by their very touch. He heard voices from within; he couldn’t understand the language, but knew it jarred in his ears.

  He and Evunn moved back into the edge of the forest either side of the apron. Duele appeared by him.

  ‘Five are dead,’ he said. ‘There are no more outside.’

  Auum nodded. ‘Climb.’

  Duele ran to the temple, keeping out of sight of the breaks in the canvas. He found footholds where there should have been none and climbed swiftly up the side of the building, moving onto the domed roof, arms and legs splayed for purchase, easing up smoothly. His route took him left and then right, allowing him to look down through six of the small tinted windows. At each one, he shaded his eyes with a hand. When he seemed satisf
ied, he came down to the stone lintel and sat just above the log that held the canvas covering in place.

  Auum nodded he was ready. Duele lifted up two fingers, made a trigger gesture and indicated immediately left and right of the doorway. Next, four fingers twice and a spread of his arms describing a rough crescent. Finally, four fingers again and a flat-palmed sawing gesture left to right signifying a line. Auum nodded again and looked across to Evunn. He pointed at the doorway and swept his hand to the right. To Duele, he repeated back his own sawing gesture.

  Loading his bow, Auum ran at the doorway, Evunn likewise, their footsteps nothing over the slick stone and vines of the apron. They were six paces from the temple when Duele heaved the log from its mounting on the lintel. Auum fired into the gloom, his bow discarded, light short sword and jaqrui in hands before he’d gone another three.

  Together, they dived over the log, turning low forward rolls, crossbow bolts slashing empty air above their bodies. Duele swung down over the lintel behind them. Auum came to a crouch, his eyes adjusting quickly to the light in the temple. Shouts echoed off the walls and ceiling, men moved, swords before them, crossbowmen struggled to reload. His arrow had missed its target but no matter.

  He darted left, surprising those immediately in front of him, who took a reflexive pace forward directly into the path of Duele as he rushed on. Auum’s jaqrui moaned away, its double edge whipping into the face of a crossbowman, who shrieked as he stumbled backwards, blood pouring from the bridge of his nose, one eye gone. Hand fishing in his pouch for another, Auum came up to his first opponent, seeing the fear in the stranger’s eyes. His blade licked out, slicing across the man’s shoulder and upper body before he could organise a defence. Auum kicked out straight, the blow taking the man in his midriff and catapulting him back against the temple wall.

  Left, another jaqrui, this one clashing against the blade of a stranger, sparks seething as the edges connected. Auum rolled again, coming up and stabbing straight into the groin of another. A third roll right to avoid a blade that swept into the stone floor and he was standing again. A stranger came at him, hefting a longsword. The clumsy half-paced blow was turned easily. Auum punched him in the face, his blade flickered out and sliced the man’s throat, a kick sending him to the ground.

  His movements fast and sure, Auum ran at the surviving crossbowman, who had loaded his weapon and was bringing it to bear. Auum leapt, his legs shooting out straight, catching his target in the chest. He felt ribs crack beneath the force of the blow and the man grunted his pain. Auum landed and rolled again, spinning around as he stopped to plunge his sword through the man’s heart and finish his cries for help.

  He stood, able to take in the whole scene from his position by the wall of the temple. Ten were down. Duele and Evunn fought side by side, swords a blur, the clashing of metal echoing sharply in the enclosed space. Blood slicked the floor. Two men were coming at him, one with an injured shoulder. Both were wary. It would be their undoing.

  Stepping back, Auum snapped out another jaqrui, this one whipping into the injured man’s sword arm just above the wrist. He dropped his blade, turned and ran for the door. The other came on. Auum rushed him, dropping at the last moment to sweep his legs from under him. The man crashed to the ground, sword swiping uselessly at thin air. On top of him in an instant, Auum’s punch crushed his windpipe.

  The Tai leader tore from the temple after the fleeing stranger, eating up the ground between them. Jaqrui in hand, he cocked his arm but did not throw. Ahead of him, the man screamed, slithered to a stop at the edge of the apron and started to scrabble backwards. From the shadows padded a panther, its eyes locked on him. And behind the beautiful animal came an elf, dressed in jet black, face painted in halves of black and white. Elf and panther were one. A pairing of the ClawBound, their minds interlinked, their consciousnesses irrevocably combined.

  Auum nodded at them and turned back to the temple. The stranger had nowhere to run.

  Inside, all the enemy were dead. Evunn had sustained a slight cut to his shoulder and Duele one on his thigh. It was nothing. The forest would provide healing and Yniss would keep them safe for what they had done.

  Auum strode up to his Tai. ‘We will scour this temple of their blood and present their bones to Tual. We will rest. But first we will pray.’

  The Tai turned to kneel before the statue of Yniss and stopped. As if dragged against his will, Auum walked forward, stepping over the body of a stranger. He crouched by the pool and cried out. A fury rose within him that he had no desire to contain. His heart sounded doom in his chest, his face burned and his muscles tensed. His body shook. But he could not drag his eyes from the stump of the statue’s arm. He saw it as if through a haze, his mind unable to fully comprehend the enormity of what was before his eyes.

  Duele dived into the pool and swam down, surfacing when he had finished his search of the bottom and heaving himself back out of the water. His face was streaked where his paint had run, his eyes were narrowed and he seemed to struggle to get his words out.

  ‘The hand is there.’

  ‘Then the statue can be remade,’ said Auum. But his relief was short-lived.

  ‘Part of the thumb is missing. It is not in the pool.’

  Auum sat back on his haunches, staring at the ruined stream that fell uselessly into the pool from the smashed pipe under Yniss’s wrist. The flow was wrong.

  ‘Then we will find it,’ he said. ‘Search the temple. Search the bodies, search everywhere.’

  Outside, a low growl was followed by a scream, cut off abruptly.

  ‘The ClawBound will help,’ said Auum.

  ‘And if we can’t find it?’ asked Duele.

  ‘Then we will take one of the strangers alive. And he will be but the first to pay for what they have done here.’

  Auum pushed himself to his feet. The Al-Arynaar would soon arrive. And more TaiGethen cells. Much could be done to cleanse the temple and raise the hand from its resting place but the statue would not be complete until the thumb was returned. And until then, Yniss would forsake them.

  Auum felt a chill dread creep over his body. He knew the writings. He knew the consequences. A tear ran down his cheek.

  Chapter 18

  Captain Yron had been frozen in terror, suddenly sure he’d never truly experienced the emotion before. Originally, he’d planned to make their escape once the temple was attacked, but the attack had been so swift and sure he’d kept Ben-Foran hidden by the scattered bones of the elves. At the same time, he’d heard a big cat advancing along the path.

  He could just about see it in the shadows. The panther was fifty yards from him and directly behind it stood an elf whose face was painted half white. It was the only part of him Yron could see. They had moved towards the apron; there had been a commotion, a scream and the panther had pounced. Yron had closed his eyes, hearing his man’s cries cut off, and had prayed that he and Ben would be spared such a fate.

  Now, with all four elves and the panther in the temple, or at least very near it, he signalled to Ben and they moved. Rising to their feet, the squawking of birds masking at least some of their noise, he took the most careful pace of his life, his foot coming down soundlessly. He indicated that Ben should step directly into his prints and moved off, all the time waiting for the whisper or wail of one of their throwing crescents or the thud of a bowstring.

  With agonising slowness, he reached the path his trailblazers had hacked through the forest and started down it, still staring at the ground immediately in front of him, hardly daring to breathe. He could feel the sweat pouring down his back and face, he saw it drip onto the ground beneath his chin. Over and over, he told himself to keep calm, to resist the desire to run. They had to get out of earshot before they did and he had no real idea how far that might be.

  Pausing and looking back over his shoulder, he saw Ben-Foran’s drawn and pale face. It too was slick with sweat and the young soldier reflexively clasped and unclasped his hand around the
pommel of his sword. Yron raised his eyebrows, Ben replying with a nod. They walked on.

  Just a little further, he told himself, just a little further.

  The path was alive; countless ants scurried to and fro. He was careful to step over them as well as he could. Tiny though they were individually, they packed painful bites and he didn’t need them up his legs and in his boots. It was impossible to find silent footing now. The debris of the crude path lay on the ground and cracked beneath his feet, the reports like thunder in his ears.

  He stopped again and looked up. The light was going fast. He couldn’t see the sky but knew cloud must be boiling up from the south. He let Ben-Foran catch up and whispered, ‘When you feel the first raindrop, run. Run as fast as you can for as long as you can. Don’t stop until you think you’re going to die.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Towards the camp, then east to the river, any river. We’ve got to throw them off the scent or we’ll be dead before nightfall.’

  Thunder rolled in the distance. The humidity climbed. Yron was soaked beneath his clothes. Rain would be refreshing. It came suddenly and very heavy, thudding into the canopy and driving through. A drop landed on the ground in front, immediately joined by a thousand others. He ran.

  With Ben behind him, he ran faster than he ever had, fear driving his limbs. Though he tried to listen for noise, he could hear nothing but the sounds of his feet slapping on the ground, the rain drumming overhead and his breathing loud and fast. It was exhilarating, uplifting. Ahead the path was already being overgrown, and he brushed aside lianas, creepers and spiders’ webs. All around him, he knew the smaller animals would be seeking shelter while the larger ignored the deluge, accepting it with stoicism.

  Sloths, monkeys, monitor lizards, tapir. All would sit it out wherever they were while he and Ben sprinted past, heedless of root and low branch, of striking snake and angry spider. Because what was behind them, Yron knew not how far, was infinitely more dangerous. Distance alone wouldn’t save them; distance and a river in flood just might.