Merke whispered over the ground, sword and jaqrui ready, bows flanking her. Ahead, she could make out the figures of four men hurrying down the alley. They turned left and disappeared. She heard calls and shouts and upped her pace, rounding the corner. It led to a dead end and a man trapped against a high stone wall.
He was facing the quartet like a warrior, upright, with his axe ready as they approached him, two of them in masks, one weaponless, the other with a crossbow. They were speaking to him and he was shaking his head.
‘Left and right,’ she whispered.
Arrows flew, punching through the necks of the masked men, who fell without a sound. Her jaqrui wailed away, its keening sound setting roosting birds to flight. The weaponless man, a mage, turned in time to see it flash into the bridge of his nose. He screamed and fell.
Taking his chance, the hunted man leaped forward, one arm hanging limp, the other holding his axe effectively enough. Panicked, the crossbowman fired, taking him in the thigh, but he came on, blade smashing into the man’s face around his mouth, splitting the base of his skull and sending him crashing against a wall to slide dead to the ground.
He ignored the corpse and sized up the Tai, Merke a little confused at his reaction. There seemed to be no relief that he had been saved, only a sort of weary resignation. He stooped, wiped his blade clean and resheathed the weapon in a gaudy impractical-looking holster and held out his hands in a gesture of peace.
Merke walked forward, her Tai with bows ready and tensed.
‘Please,’ he said in serviceable elvish. ‘I have what you need. Let me help you.’
‘Then we will take it from you,’ said Merke. ‘Give me the thumb. No stranger should carry a shard of Yniss. You cannot help us.’
The man nodded and dug in a pocket, producing the statue fragment. Beside her, Vaart and Inell dropped to their knees in prayer. The stranger held out the piece reverently. Merke took it, kissed it and offered prayers that it had been returned.
‘It is ours once more,’ she said. ‘Harmony will be restored.’
She turned and gestured her Tai to rise, catching Vaart’s eye. He nodded minutely and she looked back over her shoulder.
‘You are hunted here,’ she said to the man.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I am . . .’ He struggled for the word. ‘Unpopular.’
Merke smiled briefly. ‘You have done us a great service. We will take you out of here.’
‘Thank you,’ he said.
She shrugged. ‘Auum will want to know why. Follow. Do not tire. We will not wait.’
Chapter 43
‘My Lord, please calm down,’ said Ranyl.
‘I can’t think of a single reason why.’ Dystran nursed his cheek, feeling the tender bruising that covered it for the most part.
‘He will be found,’ said Ranyl. ‘But you have other matters to attend to urgently.’
‘Excuse me, dear friend,’ said Dystran, ‘but I do not. In case it escaped your attention, that bastard marched right into my bedroom and all the while my Protectors, whom I mistakenly assumed had no option but to protect me, were staring at their boots.’
‘My Lord, it isn’t—’
‘I could have been killed!’ Dystran heaved himself from his chair by the study fire, walked past the nervously fidgeting Ranyl and went to the windows to look out at dawn breaking over Xetesk. ‘Gods burning, I know Lords of the Mount have been assassinated in the past but never in the central Tower bedroom. That is not the sort of history I was planning on making.’
‘My Lord, you were in no danger of death,’ said Ranyl.
‘Oh, I am so relieved. Just a beating, then,’ said Dystran, turning back into the room. ‘And how did you come by that knowledge? The Protectors tell you?’
Ranyl nodded. ‘We are undertaking a thorough investigation.’
‘Hold on. Are you telling me that Xeteskian Protectors were complicit in the theft?’ Dystran frowned. ‘Is that possible? How did Yron gain such influence?’
‘Not Yron. He was merely the beneficiary of arrangements made for others.’
‘Then who . . . ?’ But he knew. He bloody knew. And Ranyl’s nod merely confirmed it for him. ‘The Raven. Is there something else you want to tell me about last night’s events?’
‘Our strike team was unsuccessful.’
Dystran shook his head slowly and kneaded his forehead. He was still slightly muddled from the spell Erys had cast but it was clearing fast.
‘Please entertain me with the details.’
‘As you know, my Lord, you yourself only authorised three Familiars, six mages and twelve swordsmen due to the war situation we find ourselves in. We have heard nothing from them. Word from the Soul Tank is that The Raven killed them all.’
‘Dear Gods, I am defended by incompetents and cretins. It was the middle of the night. They should all have been asleep bar a guard.’
Ranyl made an apologetic gesture. ‘The Raven are an exceptional group of people.’
‘I just don’t understand it,’ said Dystran, feeling the rage build inside him. ‘I do not understand it! I am supposed to be the most powerful man in Balaia yet some bunch of ageing mercenaries thirty miles away is managing to screw up all my plans. They turn Protectors into pussycats at will and it’s probably them that sent the elves in to snatch Yron from under our noses. This is a bloody walled city. How the fuck did they get in and out so easily? How is all this possible? Please tell me, Ranyl. I’d be really interested to know.’
Dystran watched for Ranyl’s reaction. He’d suffered these outbursts before and like the previous times his calm was commendable.
‘We will have answers to all your questions in due course. However, I think you will find that the elves are acting quite independently. And remember, we have the Aryn Hiil and a wealth of Al-Drechar research. Your original plans are still achievable.’
‘That makes me feel so much better,’ said Dystran caustically. ‘And how many years do we have to keep Dordover and the elven nation from our gates until we’re ready to use our new knowledge, eh? Let me tell you what’s going to happen. We are going to find Yron and the statue fragment and both are to be brought back to me undamaged. Commit as many men as you can without compromising our city defence and our main battle fronts. That is all that matters.’
‘And The Raven and Aeb?’
‘Use them. Track them and you’ll track the thumb; we know it’s what they’re after. As for Aeb, we’ll take him back when the time is right, but for now he’s more useful where he is. Now then, these more pressing matters?’
‘The war outside our gates, which has taken a turn for the worse,’ said Ranyl.
‘Oh yes, how could I forget?’
Dystran closed his eyes and listened.
The Raven woke to a misty, dew-heavy morning. Having left their last camp in the middle of the night to find a safer spot, sleep had been in short supply. They had eventually decided to rest with their backs to a low crag overlooking a sweeping hillside above a wooded valley. The mages had laid alarm and trap wards a hundred and fifty yards away on the open ground and, with Denser, Darrick and particularly Aeb needing healing spells, mana stamina was low.
The prevailing mood had not been improved by Thraun and Ren’s lack of success on the pre-dawn hunt, making breakfast a thin stew of root vegetables cooked over the fire they’d only dared light as dawn edged the sky.
More than all that, their plans had been rendered useless by the news Aeb had heard from the Soul Tank.
‘And what did they say, exactly?’ asked Denser.
‘My brothers did not impede Captain Yron or the mage, Erys. Captain Yron escaped the college. Erys was killed.’
‘So where is he? Yron, I mean.’ Hirad took a spoonful of the stew and grimaced.
‘He was chased,’ said Aeb. ‘He escaped but he had help. Two of my brothers were killed. We believe the TaiGethen have him.’
‘Well, that’s excellent,’ said Hirad. ‘Just make sure they d
on’t leave without us because of what Erienne has to do. Why are you looking like that, Unknown?’
‘There are other issues this raises,’ he replied. ‘Ilkar, can you commune with your Al-Arynaar contact? Make sure we link up.’
‘I can. Just don’t ask me to cast anything else today.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ said The Unknown. ‘Aeb, tell me about the college reaction.’
Aeb was standing near the fire. He had been lent a white undershirt by The Unknown. It covered the burned skin on his back but looked incongruous. Protectors only ever wore black.
They are searching for him,’ said Aeb. ‘Mages, soldiers and Protectors all left the college before dawn when the city sweep was complete.’
‘That isn’t what I was asking.’
Aeb’s stare signalled he knew that. ‘There is suspicion. The brothers of Dystran’s personal guard are under investigation. There could be difficulties.’
‘For you?’
‘My name has been mentioned.’
‘Then we have to get to Dystran,’ said Hirad. ‘Stop him recalling Aeb and invoking punishment.’
‘No,’ said the Protector. ‘There is no time.’
‘Aeb, the implications for you . . .’ Denser trailed off.
‘Master Denser, I acted by choice. So did my brothers who looked away. It is a freedom we had almost forgotten. What comes after is understood. Delay will kill more elves.’ He indicated Ilkar, deep in concentration, and Ren, who sat stroking his hair.
There was a moment’s silence before Hirad spoke. ‘That’s a Raven speaking.’
‘Nothing is certain,’ said Aeb.
‘Don’t hide the risk you’re taking,’ said The Unknown. ‘Styliann is long dead and the current Lord of the Mount is clearly capable of any atrocity. But whatever happens I’m going to make it my business to see your sacrifice, if it comes to that, is the last.’
‘It’ll be The Raven’s business,’ said Hirad. ‘Anyway, those researchers could have brought back key information. About releasing the Protectors, I mean.’
‘You can’t really think that’s likely,’ said Denser. ‘I mean, look about you. There’s a war on. Think he’s interested in releasing his most potent warrior force? Think it’s even on his mind that he promised to send the Kaan home?’
‘That’ll have to wait.’ It was Ilkar, propping himself up on his elbows, his expression one of deep concern. ‘She’s gone. My contact. She’s just not there.’
‘Dead?’
Ilkar nodded. ‘Gods falling, Hirad, this is terrifying. Every moment that passes, more die. We’ve got to stop it.’
‘We’ll do it, Ilks,’ said Hirad. ‘I swear. We’ll have to ride to find Rebraal. It’s the only choice we’ve got, isn’t it?’
‘Where are the Al-Arynaar based?’ asked Darrick.
‘South-east of Xetesk,’ said Ilkar. ‘We’ll have to ride across the lines to get to them.’
‘Well, no time like now,’ said Hirad, getting up and tipping the rest of his stew onto the fire. ‘At least I can avoid eating that dung disguised as vegetables.’
Beside The Unknown, Aeb had already strapped his weapons over his back and was donning the riding cloak Darrick had given him.
‘All right to ride?’ asked the big warrior.
‘Yes,’ said Aeb. ‘Fighting will be sore but not impossible.’
The Unknown nodded. ‘Thank you, Aeb. For everything.’
‘It is my calling to protect,’ he said simply. ‘Saving Ilkar and Ren protects you.’
‘Look!’ said Thraun suddenly.
The Unknown turned. The shapechanger, his sharp eyes focussed east, was pointing into the distance. Though the mist still clung to the bottom of the valley, further off it had burned away to a beautiful clear sunlit morning. Far away, where they knew Xetesk to be, they could see the faint lights of hundreds of spells in the sky. A pall of smoke was rising and they could imagine all too easily the suffering beneath.
The assault on the Dark College had begun.
The ease with which the TaiGethen and he escaped Xetesk would have worried the old Yron. They simply scaled the western walls of the city and dropped into open ground, hurrying away under the shroud of night. Once clear of immediate pursuit, Merke had stopped to attend to his crossbow wound, removing the bolt, applying a dried herb pack and tying it down with a tough bandage. It served to ease the pain of the puncture in the muscle at the front of his thigh but didn’t do a great deal to staunch the blood as he trotted along behind the Tai cell.
They were heading south-east as dawn touched the sky, looking to clear the college lines before joining up with the rest of the elven army. Yron had very mixed feelings about it all. While he was glad to have returned the thumb to its rightful owners, it was abundantly clear that neither Merke nor her largely silent companions had any idea who he was. This Auum, whoever he turned out to be, might have a much better idea. And if that was so, he could look forward to nothing but death, which by turn he felt he deserved and was equally sure he didn’t. Funny old world.
Moving across open ground and making for one of the few surviving forest areas five miles south of Xetesk, they were seen by a group of twenty riders galloping across the tufted muddy plain crossed by a lattice of narrow streams. The horsemen had been heading north but turned when they saw the TaiGethen, moving to intercept. Immediately, the Tai unslung bows.
‘Leave it to me,’ said Yron. ‘They could be friends.’
‘They could be Xeteskians,’ said Merke evenly.
‘They don’t have the look,’ said Yron.
‘We will be ready.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’
Yron faced the riders, the elves standing behind him in a loose group, bows pointing to the ground. The horsemen came to an orderly halt, one man trotting a little further forward. He took in Yron and the elven trio. Their faces were still covered in deep brown and green paint, having had no chance to clean them under prayer.
‘Hunting?’ said the rider abruptly.
‘Escaping,’ said Yron, knowing immediately they were not Xeteskians. ‘Xetesk is an unpleasant place.’
‘We are in accord there,’ said the rider. He was a black-haired man, youngish, with heavy brows and a hard face. Yron didn’t like him. ‘Tell me your purpose.’
‘It isn’t my way to state my business to total strangers,’ said Yron. ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me who I am addressing.’
‘My name is Devun and these are men from the army of the righteous. We are the vanguard of thousands.’
Yron cursed under his breath. Black Wings. Not promising.
‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, Devun. Now I would ask you to move aside and let us continue. My friends and I have pressing matters away from your battles with the colleges.’
‘Not so fast, one of only four,’ said Devun, and there was threat in his voice and posture. ‘The only innocents fleeing the colleges now are refugees, hungry from seasons of deprivation. None of you have that look.’
He was looking past Yron again at the TaiGethen.
‘And these are neither refugees nor college representatives,’ said Yron, and he walked a little closer to Devun. ‘My friend, you are among those who hate Xetesk with the same passion as you do. Let’s not cause trouble here. These elves are not used to people standing in their way. It makes them nervous.’
‘Well, since we are friends, there is no harm in you telling me both your name and your business.’
Devun had no interest in letting them go. Yron could see his posturing impressing those with whom he rode. But there was no harm in the truth; it might just do the trick. He drew himself tall, ignoring the blood running down his leg and the dull ache of the wound.
‘I am Captain Yron, late of the Xeteskian college guard, now on the run for desertion and treachery. These are members of the TaiGethen from Calaius. Take me if you must but don’t get in their way. You’ll live to regret it. Or rather, you won’t.’ He spread
his arms. ‘Your move.’
Devun didn’t even pause to think. ‘Commander Selik will want to talk to you all.’ He signalled to his men. ‘Hold them.’
Yron sighed and ducked to the ground, rolling over and out of immediate trouble. Riders heeled their horses, moving to surround them, others began to slide from their mounts, drawing swords. The TaiGethen exploded into action.
All three elven bows drew and released, knocking three men from their saddles. The cell split. Merke threw a jaqrui ahead of her, drawing her sword, running and leaping in a blur of movement. She caught a rider feet-first in the stomach, knocking him from his horse to hang by one stirrup. She landed smartly, rose and slashed out his throat. More jaqrui wailed, more men died.
Vaart was surrounded by four. He feinted and ducked a straight blow, punching his sword clean through the eye of his attacker and following him as he went down, rolling over the corpse and dragging his blade clear. The other three came at him. He lashed a kick out front, winding one, caught a blow on his sword from another and swayed away from a reckless swing.
He rolled right, coming up and stabbing into the thigh of the nearest man, whose sword lashed out and caught him a glancing blow on his left shoulder, biting deep before swinging clear. Vaart rolled again with the blow, fending off the two who still came at him. He stood, drop-kicked one in the windpipe, a killing twist of his foot as he landed atop the Black Wing. He spun on his heel, hurled a jaqrui into the face of the man with the thigh wound but the last was just quick enough to bury his sword in Vaart’s chest. The elf died silently.
Yron pushed himself to his feet, running to Merke’s aid. To his left, Inell was backing away from three bowmen, eyeing up which to take first, the bodies of two in front of his dripping blade. Yron ignored him, drawing his axe and thrashing it into the back of a man attempting to flank the cell leader. At the same time, Merke thrust her sword up into the belly of a swordsman still on his horse, spun and almost tore Yron’s throat out, just pulling her blow. She nodded and half turned but then stumbled forward, falling into Yron and bringing him down, an arrow deep in her back, puncturing her heart.
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