The Raven Collection

by James Barclay

  And there it was. The unmistakable sound of multiple hoof beats echoing across the town.

  ‘You’re a mage?’

  ‘What else?’ shouted the man, desperation edging his voice. ‘Don’t leave me out here to die, I beg you. Please.’

  A brief conversation was ended by an order barked down from the parapet. A heavy plank slid back from its mountings and one of the braced stockade gates began to creak open.

  ‘Now!’ shouted a voice slurred by paralysis.

  A dozen pairs of hands shoved at the gates as men ran from the shadows either side. Simultaneously, a quartet of arrows whipped up to the parapet, punching two men from their feet to thump lifeless onto the earth below. More followed, volley after volley, while the Black Wings drove the doors back.

  Shouts ricocheted across the compound as the Black Wings pushed through. Selik headed them, moving left to slash his sword into the back of one of the men trying to keep the gates shut. His men piled in behind him, laughing as they came, slapping the gates back the last few feet and trapping one hapless college soldier against the stockade wall.

  ‘Split!’ yelled Selik. ‘Gain the ramparts. Loose groups. Watch for spells. Go!’

  He sped on, breath wheezing into his part-paralysed chest. He ran straight across the compound, stables to his left, barrack buildings ahead. Devun was at his shoulder, others either side, and he felt energy flood through him.

  The door to the wide low barracks building opened and men spilled out, half dressed, half asleep, still buckling leather as they came. Anders led them. It was too perfect. Selik swept back his hood and struck hard, right to left. Anders, distracted, missed the blow, which sheared into his left arm and on into his unarmoured ribs. The garrison commander went down in a welter of blood, not even having the breath to scream as the blade sliced through his lung and heart.

  The fight against magic had truly begun, and as Selik blocked a disheartened sword thrust and the first spell bloomed behind him, he still had time to remind himself to praise Devun for his superb acting performance before the compound gates.

  Chapter 36

  Aeb lay alone. The Calaian Sun was three days from Balaia and sailing well, easing through the water and eating up the distance. Above him, on the sun-swept deck, The Raven trained. He could hear Hirad shouting orders and The Unknown urging better cohesion. He could hear the occasional ring of steel, the creaking of the ship’s timbers and the snap of the sails on the masts.

  But he couldn’t be with them because, like Erienne, who spent so much of her time lying still under the tutelage of the Al-Drechar, he had been called to commune with the Soul Tank. He felt the unease as soon as he opened himself fully. It was uncomfortable, drowning for a moment, the intense feelings of brotherhood he had with every Protector, near or far. It was what kept him sane and focussed; it was his life. His soul mingling with those of the other three hundred and twelve now left, still mourning those lost, still joyful in their own union. Still so powerful.

  To be called to commune was a seldom-used level of psyche in the Soul Tank. It was as close to an interrogation as the Protectors ever got, not that the voices were ever silent. Aeb could always hear the voice of every soul. He would hate the emptiness if they were taken from him and that was what he feared most about being freed.

  My brothers, it is joy to share my mind and soul with you, pulsed Aeb.

  He could sense them all near him, feel the warmth shot through with anxiety as they responded in kind to his greeting. The Tank was agitated.

  We must know where you are, Aeb, said Myx, one of the Lord of the Mount’s honour guard. The Master worries.

  It was what Aeb had been fearing. Thus far, he had kept the details of his mission from the Circle Seven but now his complex loyalties were set at odds. He was sworn to protect Xetesk but above that, he was given to Denser and stood by Sol. Sol, the beacon of hope, Sol the brother who had regained his soul. He felt a helplessness. Betrayal was coming. He knew it, his brothers knew it. All they could do was mitigate the scale.

  Ask as you are ordered, said Aeb. I will respond as I must.

  They could not refuse to ask a question they had been given and Aeb could not refuse to answer. To do so could invoke punishment from the demons who channelled the paths between their bodies and their souls. Nothing scared them but that.

  Aeb listened and answered, and when the Communion was done, went to find Denser. There were things his Given had to know.

  The Calaian Sun sailed into the Bay of Gyernath three days later, still at least a day and a half behind the Xeteskian force but with the advantage of a stop-off at Blackthorne to get a first-hand and trustworthy account of the current situation from the Baron.

  Aeb had been as careful as he could during his questioning in the Soul Tank. He had been forced to admit that The Raven had joined elves seeking revenge for the desecration of the temple and the return of the stolen texts. The Raven’s original mission was also now known to the Xeteskians but Dystran would assume it had failed as The Raven hadn’t persuaded a single mage to come with them. The fact that a dozen were on board and plenty more were assembled at Ysundeneth was not something Aeb had been required to reveal. After all, no one had asked him.

  For his part, having been given complete licence by Denser to ask whatever he felt he could, Aeb had gleaned some useful information. More than just the Xeteskian task force had landed at Arlen. The ship carrying the surviving researchers and Protectors from Herendeneth had arrived two days later and both groups were travelling north under guard.

  Potentially more worrying from The Raven’s point of view was that Xetesk was effectively surrounded - by Dordovan forces to the south and by Dordovan and Lysternan forces north. Lystern had not yet struck a blow against Xetesk but Dordover was attacking at every opportunity, trying to disrupt the precarious link between Xetesk and its forces in Arlen. The fluid situation would make The Raven’s job of catching Yron all the more difficult and gave them much to ponder during their lengthy walk from the bay to Blackthorne.

  Anchoring in mid channel, they’d landed at a deserted jetty surrounded by squat warehouses. Nothing looked particularly permanent.

  ‘Just a stopgap till Gyernath gets back open, I expect,’ The Unknown said.

  ‘Certainly isn’t up to Blackthorne’s usual standard,’ agreed Hirad.

  He scanned the horizon, took in the Blackthorne Mountains at the head of the bay and the mist-covered peaks of the Balan Mountains to the east. He felt a pang when he saw them. The Balans had been his home for almost five years when the Kaan dragons began their exile on Balaia. Anger invaded his thoughts. Only one Kaan dragon left here now thanks to Xetesk, and he living on borrowed time.

  ‘Good to be back though, isn’t it?’ said Denser, coming to Hirad’s shoulder. ‘Feel that fresh cool air and the lack of a million mosquitoes.’

  ‘And snakes, rats, spiders and ants,’ said Erienne.

  They were right. It smelled different here. It smelled good. It was home. Hirad chuckled and looked across at Erienne. She looked pale and tired despite almost constant rest. A frown creased her brow and in her eyes there was a depth that he found a little unsettling, like she was focussed on something elsewhere.

  ‘You all right?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve slept most of the voyage but my mind is full, like I’ve been studying non-stop. There’s so much to take in. I can’t really explain it.’

  ‘Just as long as they aren’t hurting you,’ said Hirad.

  Erienne smiled and placed a hand on his arm. ‘No, Hirad, but thank you.’

  Behind Erienne, Thraun was standing on the edge of the jetty sniffing the air. Darrick was by him, looking about, before shouldering his pack and wandering off towards the warehouses. Aeb, as always, stood silent and close to Denser and The Unknown, his axe and sword crossed over his back in their snap fastenings.

  Another boat nudged against the jetty. Al-Arynaar and TaiGethen jumped
out and jogged away to join their brothers and the ClawBound where they were gathering on a rise. Ilkar and Rebraal were with them, the two brothers deep in yet another heated conversation. Hirad watched as one of the Al-Arynaar mages spoke to them briefly, nodded curtly and moved away as if being near Ilkar upset her somehow. More words were exchanged before Ilkar clutched Rebraal in a half-hearted embrace and Ilkar strode over to The Raven, shaking his head.

  ‘Another happy family discussion?’ asked Hirad.

  ‘Oh, it’s not him,’ said Ilkar. ‘Not this time. Come on, let’s go.’

  He cast about for his pack and picked it up off the jetty, throwing Hirad’s to him at the same time.

  ‘And are they coming with us?’ Hirad jerked a thumb at the elves.

  ‘No,’ said Ilkar. ‘Come on.’ He set off along the rutted wagon trail that cut into the soft earth. ‘I presume this is the quickest way to Blackthorne.’

  ‘What’s got into him?’ asked Denser.

  Hirad shrugged. ‘Them, I expect.’

  The elves were all knelt in prayer, a low murmuring drifting across on the wind. It was going to be a fine if cool afternoon. Hirad felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’d forgotten what it was to see open land and not be hemmed in by impenetrable forest.

  Out in the bay, the Calaian Sun’s sails billowed. Jevin was heading for Arlen, hoping to pick up a cargo and news of Xeteskian strength. He’d be returning to the bay in twenty days.

  The Raven set off after Ilkar. Simultaneously, the elves stood and headed away north and east, splitting as they went. ClawBound pairs ran alone, TaiGethen trios likewise, with the main body of the Al-Arynaar following.

  ‘Trouble for someone,’ said Hirad.

  ‘You’re not wrong,’ said Darrick. ‘Glad we’re not in the firing line.’

  They caught up with Ilkar quickly and walked in a loose knot around the Julatsan mage, who explained as he pushed on.

  ‘They don’t feel they can wait,’ he said. ‘Not for information from Blackthorne and certainly not for us. I’m just worried they’ll run into more trouble than they can cope with.’

  ‘So what were you talking to Rebraal about?’ asked Denser.

  ‘I was warning him about the power of Xeteskian magic and what a Protector army can do. Not that he really wanted to listen. I mean they all saw Aeb in action but they don’t understand what two hundred at once really means. They’ve never seen a true college battle line - you know, properly organised cavalry, foot soldiers, mages. They won’t know how to handle it.’

  ‘But they’re confident all the same?’ said Darrick.

  Ilkar shrugged. ‘It’s more the pressure of time. Three TaiGethen died on the voyage. So did four Al-Arynaar, along with a couple of Jevin’s crew. You can understand it.’

  ‘But there’s a problem,’ said The Unknown. ‘Or you wouldn’t have been so irritated.’

  ‘They still don’t think we can help,’ said Ilkar. ‘They don’t understand this place - the politics, the factions, who they can trust - though they think they do. They just assume people will be sympathetic or stand aside because we have a common enemy. I only just managed to persuade one of them to give me her Communion signature.’

  ‘And do you expect to hear from her?’ asked Denser.

  ‘No, but she’ll be hearing from me. Us. They may not care what they’re getting themselves into but I care about the effect it has on what we’re trying to do.’

  ‘So what are they planning?’ asked The Unknown.

  ‘Well, remember Rebraal and all the Al-Arynaar mages know something of Balaia. They’ve all spent a lot of time here. ClawBound are going to scout the likely route from Arlen to Xetesk. TaiGethen will be close and will gather any information they can.

  ‘If the Xeteskian force is too big to attack when they first find it, they’ll wait for the rest of the elven army and then attack. That’s it. No talking, no discussion.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Hirad. ‘This is going to get messy.’

  ‘Quite,’ said Ilkar. ‘So we need to get hold of the thumb before the elves launch a war on Xetesk.’

  ‘How?’ said Erienne.

  ‘Right now I don’t know, but we’d better come up with a plan quickly. I’m rather hoping Blackthorne will be able to provide some good intelligence.’

  ‘May I speak, Master Denser?’ Aeb’s voice, deep and powerful, rolled over them.

  ‘Of course,’ said Denser.

  ‘I am a risk to everything you do,’ said Aeb. ‘You should dismiss me immediately.’

  His voice was neutral but Hirad knew what dismissal meant; the Unknown had been very clear about it. Though not under punishment, Aeb would be bereft of his link to a mage. The demons in the chain linking his body to his soul would torment him until he made it back to Xetesk. If he made it back.

  ‘I can’t do that,’ said Denser. ‘You know why.’

  ‘Recovery of the statue fragment is more important than my discomfort,’ said Aeb. ‘Xetesk can track all of us through me.’

  ‘Discomfort is an understatement,’ said Denser. ‘But there’s more than that. You’re one of us. You’re my bodyguard and The Unknown’s left-hand defence. The Raven do not send their people away because it’s more convenient that way.’

  ‘I could bring about your deaths,’ said Aeb. ‘This is bigger than The Raven.’

  ‘Nothing is that big.’ Hirad locked eyes with the huge Protector. ‘Nothing.’

  Aeb said nothing in reply, merely switched his gaze back to Denser.

  ‘Master?’

  ‘Subject’s closed, Aeb,’ said Denser. ‘You stay.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Aeb, and there was no disguising the relief in his voice.

  ‘What ties us together isn’t dissimilar to what binds the Protectors, ’ said The Unknown. ‘If Denser dismisses you it is a betrayal of us. You do understand that?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Aeb. ‘But I also understand the Elfsorrow and what it will do if not checked. I risk that.’

  ‘We’ll have a better chance of reclaiming the thumb and returning it to Calaius if you’re with us,’ said The Unknown. ‘The only thing that worries me is Dystran rescinding the Act of Giving.’

  ‘Unlikely at the moment,’ said Denser. ‘While he thinks he can track us and keep us at a distance, he’ll see Aeb as an advantage.’

  ‘What happens if he does rescind it, though?’ asked Hirad.

  ‘Well, Aeb would no longer be under my control. He could be assigned to another mage or returned to Xetesk.’

  ‘But I will never fight against The Raven,’ said Aeb. ‘No Protector will bear arms against Sol.’

  ‘Still, Aeb, you’re only a risk if you know exactly what it is we’re planning to do, right?’ said Denser, a twinkle in his eye.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Aeb.

  ‘I mean it’s all very well knowing where we are in Balaia but quite another thing knowing where we’re headed, would you agree?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, you may not be able to lie but I intend to exercise my imagination to its fullest,’ said Denser. ‘And clearly you’ll have no choice but to report it as the truth.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Aeb a third time, and there was the faintest trace of humour in his normally impassive voice.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Denser. ‘Could be fun, this.’

  ‘Fun, he calls it,’ grumbled Ilkar, but there was a smile on his face. ‘The whole elven race is under threat and he’s about to engage in a game of bluff with the Lord of the Mount of Xetesk.’

  The Raven reached Blackthorne late in the afternoon, under escort from a pair of mounted militiamen. Leaving an area of woodland, they were greeted by the sight of a busy vibrant town. Hammering echoed into the sky, the sound of children laughing floated above that of hooves on packed earth, and everywhere columns of smoke spiralled into the cloudy sky from furnaces and cook fires.

  Blackthorne had a population of eight to ten thousand, though that numbe
r had been significantly swollen by refugees, and there were tented camps on three sides of the town. The rebuilt Blackthorne Castle presided benevolently over the southern end of the town, pennants flying white and blue in the breeze, its pale grey stone washed clean.

  Walking through the town behind Blackthorne’s horsemen, The Raven’s reception was mixed. There was awed recognition, curiosity and shouts of welcome to Hirad as an old friend of the town, but concern because walking with them was a Xeteskian Protector.

  Baron Blackthorne had no reservations and welcomed them in his private dining room with flagons of excellent red and white wine, plates of vegetables, bread and cheese. There was some meat but it was obviously in short supply.

  His eyes sparkling under his stern dark-haired brow, Blackthorne greeted each one of them in turn, remarking on the return of Darrick, kissing Ren’erei’s hand on meeting her for the first time and shaking that of Aeb, though the Protector looked uncomfortable at the touch. Hugging Hirad to him, he ordered wine poured for all his guests and sat them down around his table. Aeb stood behind Denser but accepted a drink.

  ‘Gods, but it’s good to see you alive and well,’ he said. ‘We need some sanity in this country and I can only bring that to a small corner.’

  ‘We’ve heard plenty of stories about conditions here,’ said The Unknown. ‘You seem to be bearing up well.’

  ‘Only because I have enough men to defend my resources and the support of my people,’ said Blackthorne. ‘Elsewhere, it’s wild. Gresse and I have been touring but there’s little we can do and he’s back at Taranspike Castle. It’s down to the colleges now and the war is worsening by the day. So what brings you back from your tropical paradise?’

  There was a pained silence. Blackthorne sighed and clapped a hand to his forehead. ‘Curse my stupid mouth. Erienne, I am sorry. I heard about your daughter.’

  ‘Seems like the whole world has,’ said Erienne, voice trembling slightly.

  ‘That’s about the size of it,’ said Blackthorne. ‘And I will say this because you need to know the mood of people outside my lands. The news of her death and the end of the elemental destruction was greeted with joy, not tears. She is not spoken of well, my lady, and neither are you, your husband or much of the mage community.’