The Raven Collection

by James Barclay

  The Raven were circled around a small fire. Erienne was asleep in Denser’s arms, no doubt in contact with the Al-Drechar. Darrick too was sleeping, though his was an emotional tiredness. The Unknown was awake, lost in his thoughts and staring at the blaze. Thraun was outside. He would guard them while he prowled the overgrown fields and sniffed out scent-marked territories. Still so much the wolf. Still so much lost inside himself. Hirad doubted the Thraun he remembered would ever fully reappear.

  ‘How’s my family?’ asked The Unknown, seeing his eyes open.

  ‘Unharmed,’ said Hirad evenly. ‘I don’t think you’re going to like this much.’

  ‘He calls it administrative guidance,’ explained Hirad to Darrick.

  It was an hour before dawn and The Unknown had urged them to be on their way, his face severe in the light of Hirad’s report from Herendeneth. He had said little as he pushed them to clear the camp, saddle up and go but there was no doubting the fire within and his renewed desire to get inside Xetesk. And quickly.

  The city was two days’ ride at best and their situation was far from ideal. Lysternan and Dordovan supply chains were everywhere on the principal routes, their security augmented by college horsemen and mercenaries not willing to fight for the besieged Xetesk despite the higher wages.

  Not so long ago, The Raven would have contracted themselves to Lystern or Dordover too. Their desire for balance in the colleges would have stopped them joining Denser’s home college. That and Ilkar’s determination never to work for Xetesk. How different it all was now. Once feted, The Raven were now effectively outlawed and hunted by all but Julatsa. And yet they were still Balaia’s best chance of lasting peace if they lived long enough to make good on all their promises.

  ‘It’s an interesting use of language,’ said Darrick.

  ‘He used it first when threatening Styliann, would you believe. Funny how Xeteskians always seem to be on the receiving end.’

  ‘And who do you think will be getting the benefit of his advice this time?’ asked Darrick.

  Hirad shrugged. ‘Could be Dystran, though I don’t think that particular Lord of the Mount will be available to us. Put it this way, anyone who can affect the safety of Diera and Jonas is in the target area.’

  ‘Got to get in first, though,’ said Darrick.

  ‘The TaiGethen will help,’ said Hirad. ‘Should be fun.’

  Darrick eyed him oddly then and Hirad knew all over again why he would miss Ilkar so much. The Julatsan elf would have lost no time commenting on how only Hirad would describe invading the Dark College as ‘fun’. Something to make him laugh and make him believe even more that they would succeed.

  No one could do that now. Denser tried but he had a lot to learn. Ilkar was irreplaceable. But at least Darrick could read Hirad’s mood and thoughts right now.

  ‘That’s why we’re doing all this,’ he said. ‘To make Ilkar’s sacrifice meaningful.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Hirad, voice gruff. ‘Can we talk about something else?’

  The agreement to a daily Communion had seemed a small price to pay and a sensible measure in Lystern and Dordover’s latest military alliance against Xetesk but there had been times when Heryst rued sense. Today was one of those days. He’d had no sleep since The Raven’s audacious liberation of Darrick and he’d known that Vuldaroq, High Arch Mage of Dordover, would have questions, if not outright accusations. It didn’t help that it was his, Heryst’s, turn to seek Communion, so depleting his mana reserves further in a contact he had no wish to make.

  ‘At least you do me the honour of contact at the appointed time,’ said Vuldaroq, his tone cold, saying everything about his assumed knowledge.

  ‘There is no reason why I would not,’ said Heryst carefully, sensing already so many echoes of their past conversations.

  ‘Really? I had thought you might be engrossed in the search for a common enemy.’

  ‘I have people I can trust to conduct necessary investigations.’

  ‘Are they as good as your jailers?’

  ‘Vuldaroq, you will not tax me about events wholly within the legal compass of my college,’ said Heryst. ‘We have more pressing matters to discuss. Particularly the situation at Xetesk’s east gate.’

  It was a deflection Heryst had assumed would fail but he had to try it anyway.

  ‘That situation, while unfortunate, is static and no more of our forces are currently at risk from further failures in the Julatsan magic system. What is surely a risk to us all, however, is the use of the One magic within your college borders last night and the escape of the likely practitioner. An escape you did little to oppose.’

  ‘And this view was given to you by men watching from windows how far away . . . a hundred yards? Perhaps a little less if I’m generous.’ Heryst felt ready for a fight. Dordover deserved nothing less.

  ‘Are you disputing The Raven escaped from your college around midnight last night?’ asked Vuldaroq.

  ‘No.’

  ‘And Erienne was with them.’

  ‘She was one of The Raven last time I checked,’ said Heryst.

  ‘Don’t get clever, Heryst, it does not become you when you are on the defensive.’ Vuldaroq’s voice in his head was full of righteous indignation. ‘I know the One magic was cast in your college grounds around the time The Raven escaped. My analysts have pinpointed the area closely enough. Gods burning, man, it wasn’t very difficult. I also know that The Raven were in your college and that Erienne is the only likely suspect as someone able to perform such a casting.’

  ‘And how do you work that out, Vuldaroq?’ Heryst clamped down hard on his irritation. ‘Recent history has informed us that the reason Erienne and Denser conceived the child was precisely because Erienne, in particular, had no way of casting such magic but wanted to produce an offspring that could. Perhaps you’d like to enlighten me as to how you know different. Is there something pertinent to our alliance that you have accidentally omitted to tell me?’

  Silence in Dordover. Vuldaroq considered his response. Had Heryst not seen Erienne’s casting with his own eyes he would not have believed it possible she could harbour any knowledge of the One. But she did. The question was, given Vuldaroq had already guessed her to be the practitioner, as Heryst had thought he would, how would he back up his claim? What exactly did Dordover know that he was prepared to share?

  ‘It is the only logical explanation,’ said Vuldaroq carefully. ‘I was on Herendeneth when the Nightchild died. Erienne was with her as were the Al-Drechar. Something must have been passed to her or else she has somehow been able to use some knowledge of the Al-Drechar’s teachings. Heryst, I am not an expert. No one is. We have to work together.’

  ‘We are working together,’ said Heryst.

  ‘Damn you, we are not!’ snapped Vuldaroq. ‘You know something and you are not telling me. What did you see?’

  ‘I was too busy attempting to stay alive. Hirad Coldheart had a knife to my throat.’

  ‘That they could escape with Darrick from under your nose.’ Vuldaroq chuckled, returning to his preferred line of provocation.

  ‘Well, you’d know all about defeat at the hands of The Raven,’ said Heryst. ‘Remind me how many men you committed to the offensive on Herendeneth?’

  ‘It is hardly the same order of magnitude as being outwitted in your own college grounds.’

  ‘You still lost. One thing we can agree on. It hurts.’

  ‘So help me, Heryst, damn you. Did Erienne cast a spell of the One?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Heryst replied. ‘The One was used but by whom, why and to what effect we are still investigating. In case it is The Raven, we have them under observation. We know where they are headed. They are only six. They cannot evade us forever, should we wish to stop them.’

  ‘I would have thought that your main priority. After all, Darrick is with them.’

  ‘That is an internal matter I am dealing with separately,’ said Heryst coolly. ‘You will not intercept the
m. You don’t understand.’

  ‘Oh, I understand, my Lord Heryst. I understand that you know Erienne performed the casting in question. I understand that you were not strong enough to stop her escaping you and I understand that my forces are all ordered to arrest The Raven on sight.’

  ‘Vuldaroq you—’

  ‘And before you protest, I understand something else too. If I were Xetesk, and I had pinpointed the One casting, I might be taking a detour on my way north, to ensure Julatsa never rises. Care to guess where that might be if I believed the ultimate weapon resided there?’

  Heryst had no answer. There was none that left him with any credibility in this debate.

  ‘Lucky, then, my dear Heryst, that we are friends and allies, isn’t it? With me at your side, you might just stop them destroying your college. I think it’s time you were completely straight with me, don’t you?’

  Thraun pointed away to their left and up on to the ridge along which the supply wagons had passed earlier that morning. Heading for Xetesk and heavily defended, the train had rattled past with a cloud of dust, squealing axles and hard-driven horses. Seeing the signs from over a mile away, The Raven had simply ridden further from the trail and rested their mounts while they watched it go by.

  But now, galloping hard away from the Dark College, horsemen were approaching fast. The Unknown dragged his reins right, turning his horse on the canter and digging in his heels, demanding more speed. The Raven followed him, angling away from the ridge and trail, hoping to hide themselves in the folds of land. Here, the ravages of Lyanna’s uncontrolled elemental power had wreaked terrible damage. Barely a bush or shrub stood tall. Trees lay broken and rotting. And criss-crossing like whip scars across the back of the land, the top soil was torn away, leaving dark slashes in the green of spring grass.

  Hirad urged his horse on in the wake of The Unknown and Thraun, sparing a glance behind to reassure himself that the others were keeping up. The sound of hooves hitting soft earth filled his ears, clods of mud churning into the air in the wake of their passage.

  The Raven rode down a shallow incline, heading for a cleft between two rises that would take them back towards the ridge and beneath the sight of any riders. But they were not going to be fast enough. The dust from the ridge signalling the oncoming horsemen was already too close and while Hirad watched, the heads of the leaders appeared on the skyline no more than a hundred yards from them.

  Forcing a reckless pace along the trail, Hirad clung to the hope that they wouldn’t see The Raven below them. But with a shout, the whinnies of horses pulled up sharply and a sudden change of direction, that hope disappeared. Whoever they were, they split into two groups, of at least six each. One began edging down off the ridge in direct pursuit, the other wheeled about and galloped back down the trail, looking to head them off.

  ‘Keep moving!’ yelled The Unknown. ‘We can beat them on open ground.’

  He hunched over his saddle, Hirad mimicking him, the strong smell of horse sweat in his nose and mouth. And then Darrick was by him, riding easily as if he were out for a training gallop. He caressed his horse after The Unknown, eating up the ground between them, leaning over and pulling at the big man’s shoulder.

  The Unknown turned his head. Darrick drew a finger across his throat, pointed front and back and with barely a flick of his reins, swung his mount right and began charging directly away from the path, heading for a steep-sided gully. The Unknown followed him, Hirad doing likewise, frowning, not understanding for a moment. Yet the reason for the move soon became apparent.

  Darrick dragged his horse to a stop in a cloud of dirt and loose stones, ten strides from the gully edge. The Raven pulled up around him, the sounds of their pursuers loud in the sudden lull. As one, they turned. Left and right, riders came on, angling in at them, one group over a hundred yards distant, the other perhaps twice that, having picked its way down from the trail ridge.

  ‘Listen to me,’ said Darrick. ‘We couldn’t afford to get trapped between them on the gallop. They knew they had us there, they know the terrain.’

  ‘Whatever’s in your mind, tell us fast,’ said Hirad.

  Darrick twirled the now headless rake he’d taken from the Lystern stables in his right hand as he spoke, Hirad acutely aware of how vulnerable the ex-general was, garbed only in his dress uniform.

  ‘Couldn’t you have picked up a sword?’ he said.

  Darrick shrugged. ‘Without armour, I’d rather keep them a little further away. Right, we’ll go at the closer group on my mark. Let me lead. Don’t flinch. Denser, ForceCone at the far group if they close. Anything to slow them when they wheel as they will to follow us. Swords, everyone, Erienne centre for protection, casting SpellShield. Anyone ever wanted to be in the cavalry?’

  Blades hissed from scabbards, free hands held reins loose. Horses, heads up, ears pricked, stood ready, shifting slightly. The nearer group came on. They weren’t flat out. Darrick waited and Hirad saw what he must have seen immediately. These weren’t cavalrymen against them. They didn’t have the form or the relaxation in the saddle.

  ‘Waiting,’ said Darrick. ‘Waiting, let’s have them wondering.’

  ‘Mercenaries,’ said Hirad. ‘You’d think they’d know better.’

  ‘Shield up,’ said Erienne.

  ‘ForceCone ready,’ murmured Denser.

  Ilkar’s voice never came and Hirad’s heart missed a beat.

  At less than thirty yards for the nearer group, maybe ninety from the other, Darrick spurred his horse.

  ‘Note their blade position. They’ll chop down, trust me. You know what to do. Come on! Close form. Ride, Raven!’

  His mount sprang away, the rake handle held a third of the way down and pointed straight along the animal’s neck. The Unknown was after him, Thraun on the right flank, leaving Denser partnering Erienne in the centre while Hirad defended the rear quarter. He felt his pulse race and a grin split his face as the wind rushed into him. He roared his energy, Thraun taking up the call. The Raven rode.

  Oblivious to the vulnerability of his unarmoured body, Darrick galloped directly for the centre of the mercenary charge. Deep green light splashed across Erienne’s shield from a mage rider, the casting dissipating harmlessly.

  Darrick twitched the rake handle in his grasp, the wood now held horizontally away from him. He kicked his horse’s flanks again, closed the gap to engage, feinted low then whipped the pole through head high. His target had already begun to defend low and couldn’t readjust the heavier weapon in time. Darrick’s rake caught the top of his head, knocking him senseless. His blade fell from nerveless fingers and he slumped back. Darrick didn’t pause to look, ducking low in the saddle as an enemy to his left struck out, missing his back by a whisker.

  A stride behind him, The Unknown and Thraun drove in. The big man’s sword whined through the air, striking right and out, plunging into the undefended body of Darrick’s left-side attacker. On the other flank, Thraun clashed metal with a fast-armed swordsman, carving his own blade round and riding on unharmed. His opponent was not so lucky. Hirad was following up, his blade straight and true and his grip strong, the man dead before he hit the ground.

  The Raven punched a hole clear through to open ground. Darrick fended off more blows, his rake splintering in his hands. The Unknown dragged his blade through the thigh of the mage rider and Thraun nicked another on the way past but they weren’t finished. Denser rotated in his saddle, ForceCone cast with a single word. Without a SpellShield the surviving enemy were defenceless. The Cone slapped into the backs of them, catapulting riders from saddles, fracturing bones in men and horses.

  ‘No!’ shouted Darrick. ‘Too early.’

  He pulled up and turned.

  ‘Wrong,’ said Hirad, seeing the faltering gallop of the second group. ‘That was cavalry, this is Raven. Kill but never murder.’

  ‘Form up!’ called The Unknown. ‘Darrick my left.’

  They trotted into a single line abreast, still u
nder Erienne’s shield. Loose horses milled in confusion, the injured limped or lay, their cries echoing mournfully from the ridge. Dead and wounded mercenaries were scattered over an area of twenty yards and Denser kept a weather eye out for mindless acts of bravery. Ahead of them, the centre rider of the group raised a hand. His five colleagues reined into little above a trot.

  ‘Shouldn’t go attacking The Raven, Tolmek,’ said The Unknown, commanding voice crossing the twenty yard divide. ‘And you can have the same but it is not what we want.’

  ‘There’s a high price on your heads, Unknown,’ replied Tolmek. ‘And those are my men you’ve killed and wounded.’

  The mercenary leader had modelled himself and his team on The Raven. He was an experienced fighter, scarred from battle, his sharp blue eyes bright beneath a fluted helmet which crushed his untidy black hair to his head. If The Raven admitted to respecting any others in their trade, he’d be high on the list. Right now, though, he was a potential enemy. He understood that.

  ‘We have the right to defend ourselves.’

  ‘I have the right to try and fulfil open contracts,’ replied Tolmek.

  ‘I’m sure,’ said The Unknown. ‘Yet we’re all fighting on the same side. You want Balaia saved, you turn and ride away.’

  ‘What I want is money enough to retire before I’m too weak to hold my sword.’

  ‘Then fight with Xetesk. They’ll pay you more,’ said Hirad.

  ‘I think you know me better than that, Coldheart.’

  He nudged his horse on ahead of his men, closed until The Unknown’s mount nuzzled his and spoke quietly.

  ‘Everyone is looking for you,’ he said. ‘I can understand Lystern’s anger but there’s more, I know it. Dordover is way too keen to see you taken. All of you alive, not dead. What’s going on?’

  ‘Time you were leaving,’ said The Unknown. ‘You don’t want to force us to fight you.’

  Tolmek half smiled. ‘Tempting though it is to try and earn the reward . . . maybe another time.’