At least it hadn’t led to any further failures of the Julatsan focus. But it was inevitable that some would come. Every spell they cast took so much more effort, left them that much more drained than they should be. And the problems would be amplified for those casting outside of the college and city.
Pheone stopped walking and gazed down into the perfect blackness that the moonlight could not penetrate, letting her tears fall into its depth. Like the dark below, the shadow was intensifying, little by little, day after day. And every day, the chances of being able to raise the Heart when the elves arrived diminished a little more.
She prayed they would not arrive too late but the abyss was yawning wide.
Chapter 21
The most feared place on Balaia without question, the catacombs beneath the towers of Xetesk were told of in legend and myth, in dark tales and to keep children in bed. They inspired extraordinary exaggeration based on ignorance but some of the invention was shot through with truth.
Here was where the research to which the students weren’t privy was carried out. Where experiments on human subjects dragged there by Protectors had been carried out in years gone by. Where contact with the demon dimension was first established and the power of Xetesk enhanced. Where the Circle Seven had exclusive run with their teams of talented adepts in the neverending race for political influence through spell development. And where the Soul Tank lay.
But as they hurried past the guards so easily killed by Auum and Evunn and on into the labyrinthine passages designed to confuse the unwelcome walker, Hirad noted that the descriptions of jagged rock tunnels, narrow and dripping with water feeding underground pools stocked with hideous monsters were far from accurate.
‘What do you think we are, savages?’ said Denser. ‘Left here, Rebraal. Take the stairway down, then left again.’
‘Well no, but still. It’s a bit smart, isn’t it?’
Denser shrugged and followed Rebraal and Auum down the stairs. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never known it any other way. Just because it isn’t the way you heard it was . . .’
Far from the dank, rough underground horror he’d been led to expect, Hirad was walking through carefully constructed passages the quality of which wouldn’t have been out of place in a mansion house. Wide enough for three people walking abreast, the roughly circular corridors had been smoothed with plaster and painted in pastel colours. There were even a few paintings hung on the walls.
The whole place glowed with a gentle blue light and air circulated, keeping the passages fresh.
‘Mind you,’ continued Denser. ‘We haven’t reached the depths yet. This is just the upper level. Rebraal, straight on, then hard right. More steps. Wait at the bottom. That’s where the fun starts.’
‘How do you mean?’ asked The Unknown.
‘Hold on. Wait until we reach the bottom of these stairs.’
‘Ever the man of mystery,’ muttered Erienne.
‘Yeah,’ said Hirad.
The base of the stairs marked a change in the catacombs. Although the light remained, gone were the pleasant decorations, replaced by stark murals and smooth, unpainted rock faces. They stood in a domed chamber, the ceiling eight feet or more above The Unknown’s head. Passages led off it in four directions and the air was cooler. It was the first open space they’d encountered since they’d entered.
‘We need to stop,’ said Denser.
‘Why?’ asked Hirad.
‘Because you all need to understand how this works as far as you are able.’
‘So talk,’ said Rebraal.
He stood at the head of a group of confused and irritated elves. They were uncomfortable here below ground, beyond anything they could readily recognise.
‘I think we’ve bought ourselves a little time. It’s best spent here,’ Denser said. ‘Rebraal, please relay this as best you can.’
‘Whatever you say.’ His face betrayed some anxiety.
‘All right, listen,’ Denser said instead. ‘You have to understand the nature of the catacombs. They’ve been built over fifteen centuries, no one knows exactly what area they cover because there’s never been any organisation to their building. Generation upon generation of Circle Seven mages have built as they saw fit, extending their predecessors’ areas, digging their own, sealing off what they don’t want. Where I have brought you now is the full extent of my knowledge.
‘This is what we call a hub room. It’s the central point of a Circle Seven mage’s catacomb chambers, in this case, Dystran’s. Looks to me as though he hasn’t spent too much time on decoration recently. There are hub rooms all over the catacombs, dozens. Some mages own several. Dystran undoubtedly does.
‘Right, directly ahead of us is the place we want to be. You can expect alarm wards across most passages in the hub areas but we may not have time to look for them all and disarm them. Doors we need to worry about. Traps are as common as mistrust down here.’
‘Isn’t there a map of the catacombs at all?’ asked The Unknown.
‘There’s a map room where we’re going but it’s incomplete because Circle Seven mages are unwilling to admit to everything they’ve developed. It’s like a different country down here. There’ll be mages researching down here who barely ever see the light of day. I’m sure Kestys is among them right now and he won’t be undefended, though whether it’s by magic or muscle, I don’t know.
‘I just want to get across to you what it’s like. We could be attacked from any direction, it depends on the knowledge of the mages sending forces against us.’
‘Sounds completely ridiculous to me,’ said Hirad.
Denser shrugged. ‘It’s just the way it is in Xetesk. The way to the top is through influence and influence comes from new magical knowledge. That’s the currency of political power. Dystran is top dog because he has always been central to the development of dimensional magic and chosen his aides because of their limited life expectancy.’
‘I like nothing more than a history lesson, as you know,’ said Hirad. ‘But right now, all it means to me is that we have to secure whatever area it is you say we have to and keep it secure until you do whatever it is you do. Then we fight our way out.’
‘What could be simpler?’ said Denser. ‘This way.’
He trotted over to the passage directly opposite the stairway. The Raven gathered around him with the elves spreading naturally into the space behind, watching and listening. He held up a hand and crouched, closing his eyes to tune in to the mana spectrum. While he waited, Hirad looked up the corridor.
He could see half a dozen ways off it, up to what looked like a junction a couple of hundred feet away. It looked so harmless but the atmosphere that poured from it felt anything but; he turned to mention it and was confronted by a set of expressions that chilled him to the bone.
Thraun was staring straight ahead down the passage, his pupils huge in his yellow-tinged eyes. Sweat stood out on his forehead and he looked tensed to run. Beside him, The Unknown Warrior had a hand to his head. His mouth moving slightly, his eyes screwed tight shut. He was swaying. And Erienne, like the big man, was clutching at her head, her frown deep and her eyes, boring into the barbarian’s, small and scared. Only Darrick looked anything like himself.
‘Gods under water,’ breathed Hirad. ‘Darrick, see to The Unknown. Thraun, hold on there.’ He stepped up to Erienne and cupped her face in both hands. ‘Erienne? What’s wrong?’
‘It’s Myriell. They know, Hirad. Xetesk knows about me. It’s not a bluff any more. They’ve seen her shielding me. I’m the only one it can be. Hirad, there are Protectors in her chambers.’
‘Oh no.’
‘What are we going to do?’
‘It’s worse than that,’ said The Unknown.
Hirad swung round. The Unknown’s face was drawn and pale, as if he had a pain right behind his forehead.
‘How?’
‘I can hear them, Hirad. This close to the Soul Tank I can hear everything. They’ve been ordered to kill Myriell when
the hour strikes. That’s any time now. A mage will order it; he’s standing in front of her now.’
‘Tell them not to, Unknown. You’ve got to stop them,’ said Hirad.
Next to him, Denser was moving his hands in an intricate motion, like picking strands of a web on each finger and moving them against a breeze.
‘I can’t, Hirad, I can’t speak to them. I can only listen,’ he said. ‘They’ve been recalled from the siege too. They’re coming here to the catacombs. They won’t fight us but they will fight the elves.’
‘The TaiGethen can take them,’ said Hirad.
‘There’s over fifty of them. Down here they are more awesome than anywhere else, despite how badly they’ll all feel. Believe me, it won’t go well for us. We are threatening the Soul Tank.’
Hirad drew breath, thinking for a moment. ‘One thing at a time. Thraun. Snap out of it. Thraun!’
‘Up there,’ said Thraun, indicating the corridor with a jerk of his chin. ‘It’s rotten. I can smell it, like ten days’ dead flesh.’
‘Not now, Thraun. Look after Erienne, you know you can help. I’m going to talk to Sha-Kaan, see what can be done. Unknown, Darrick, you’ve been here before. We need a defence tighter than a rat’s arse. Rebraal, we’re in trouble. Be ready. Darrick will have instructions, please don’t let Auum question them, we’re good at this. Denser, are you through?’
‘Almost there,’ said Denser, and Hirad respected the man’s concentration, given what he must just have heard. ‘Can’t trigger it. It would blind and deafen us all. Just for a while but long enough, if you know what I mean. Don’t rush me.’
‘We’re running out of time.’
‘I heard.’
Hirad smoothed Erienne’s cheek. She was badly frightened. ‘It’s all right. Sha-Kaan will stop them and Cleress is still there.’
Erienne shook her head, tears forcing themselves from her eyes. ‘She can’t do it alone, Hirad. My mind. They’re going to destroy my mind like Lyanna’s was destroyed. Please don’t let them.’
Thraun pushed Hirad aside firmly. ‘Talk to your dragon,’ he said, pulling Erienne to him. ‘I am here.’
Hirad dropped down to sit with his back to a wall. He closed his eyes and felt the presence of the great dragon deep in his mind. He was resting, unaware of the potential disaster unfolding before The Raven.
Great Kaan, I must disturb your rest.
I am tired, Hirad Coldheart. Tell me good news. Hirad could feel the dragon’s irritation.
I have none, Sha-Kaan. Please listen. Xetesk threatens us here and on Herendeneth. Mages on the island have been ordered to kill the Al-Drechar. It would leave Erienne unshielded.
Sha-Kaan’s growl reverberated through Hirad’s head causing him to gasp in pain.
I warned them, said the dragon. I told them the consequences of such action. I will attend to it. Tell me your position, your mind is in turmoil.
We are trapped inside the catacombs. Xetesk’s forces are coming for us but we are close to the research that can send you home. We want to hold out for long enough but if Erienne is hurt we will struggle.
Then don’t delay me. Tell The Unknown Warrior I am mindful of his family.
The contact was broken. Hirad shook himself and simultaneously felt a huge fist grab a handful of his leather armour and drag him to his feet.
‘Hirad, time to go.’ It was The Unknown, eyes fierce with new determination though deep within, the suffering under the tumult of voices from the Protectors dragged at his mind. ‘There’s been a change of plan.’
‘There has?’
‘Yes, there has. Now move.’
‘Sha-Kaan will keep your family safe,’ said Hirad as he was propelled towards the corridor down which Denser and the TaiGethen had just vanished.
The Unknown paused enough to nod his thanks. ‘The Protectors will be there for them too.’
‘What’s the change of plan?’
‘We’re going to release the Protectors.’
Nyam stood at the threshold of greatness. Or folly. He had heard the whispered words related to him by his Protector, Ark. He had stepped away from elven ears when the import of what was being discussed became apparent. But he had not for one heartbeat guessed what Dystran’s next move would be. And so he stood in the corridor outside the Al-Drechar’s rooms and his hands shook and the sweat dampened his armpits and face.
‘He cannot ask that of me,’ said Nyam. ‘The devastation that could be unleashed. We’ve learned that much, surely.’
Ark was quiet for a moment, relaying Nyam’s words and receiving Dystran’s next utterance.
‘He assures you the power resides in Xetesk to counter the threat of devastation. He demands your compliance.’
‘Please, it is an unnecessary risk, Ark. Impress upon him that capturing the girl will give him what he wants. He doesn’t have to do this.’
Another pause. ‘He feels it is time to exert his authority over this island. If you will not do his wishes, one of us will.’
‘Ask him to reconsider, please. There’s still time.’
Ark’s blank mask faced him. ‘He asks you to remember who is Lord of the Mount. His decision stands. He will give the word.’
Nyam nodded wearily. ‘Tell him it will be done on his word.’
‘My mage.’
Nyam waited until Ark focused on him again, hating himself for his cowardice. ‘Ark, you will carry out this deed.’
Ark merely nodded. After all, he didn’t have a choice.
A roar split the air, shuddering windows in their frames. Nyam winced.
‘Oh dear Gods burning, he knows.’
The Unknown Warrior tried without success to shut out the voices in his head. They spoke of confusion, of anxiety but through it all of purpose. They were advancing towards The Raven, they were sheltering Diera and Jonas and one, Ark, was standing by to murder Myriell. He didn’t feel he had any choice. His brothers concurred but the situation was causing unsettling currents in the Soul Tank.
It brought all the memories crashing back for him yet again but this time so much more acutely. The view through the mask; the hand of a demon hovering ever near his soul; the knowledge of the pain the creatures could cause him on a whim; the strength of the Soul Tank; the depth of brotherhood that he could never experience again and could never explain.
The Unknown breathed deep and looked left and right. Two of the remaining three Al-Arynaar mages moved slowly up the passage, tuned deep into the mana spectrum, looking for any hint of further Xeteskian wards as they moved towards the junction ahead. Behind them walked Marack and her surviving cell member, Harroc. Indeed all the Tai cells bar Auum’s had now lost a member following the piercing of the shield outside the tower complex.
Porrack and Jaruul, Allyne and Lisaan were guarding a left-hand passage opposite him and just beyond the catacombs’ map room in which Auum stood with Thraun and Erienne. The former two were trying to understand the three-dimensional mana model of the network of passages, chambers and openings, the latter trying to gather her broken concentration.
Hirad, Darrick, Rebraal and Auum’s Tai were covering the hub room they’d so recently vacated, waiting for the onslaught they could hear echoing through the catacombs.
Everything was ready. He and Denser were outside the door to the research room, Denser trying to divine the solution to the trap ward cast over its surface and just a few yards away, the place he’d never thought to see again but now knew he would. The Soul Tank.
‘Hurry, Denser,’ he said. ‘This is unbearable. They are closing. Please, I don’t want more to die.’
‘It’s complex, Unknown,’ whispered Denser. ‘I can’t see the solution.’
‘Dammit, I don’t have the time,’ growled The Unknown. He stepped across to the map room and beckoned Auum out. ‘Rebraal!’ he hissed. The Al-Arynaar elf ran back up the passage. ‘Are they closing?’
Rebraal nodded. ‘On us any time. Our mage is ready.’
‘Good. We’re getting nowhere fast here. I need that door opened and the trap triggered. Is he fast enough? Denser says flesh contact will trigger it.’
‘I’ll see to it.’
The conversation was short. Auum sized up the door, handed his boots to Rebraal and sprinted away about twenty yards.
‘Denser, move. Can’t be waiting for you.’
The Unknown motioned anyone in the potential target area aside. Denser saw Auum coming, muttered under his breath and stepped smartly aside. The TaiGethen leader came up the corridor at a pace The Unknown could never have matched, his legs a blur. By the research room door, he stepped around side on, snapped into a cartwheel and lashed out a foot as he travelled, connecting solidly with the heavy bound wood.
He was past it as the ward triggered. A rectangle of flame seared out from the door, scorching the wall opposite and billowing heat along the passage.
‘Gods burning!’ The Unknown put his hands in front of his face for a moment then dragged out his sword and marched to the door. ‘Unlocked? Good.’
He twisted the ring handle and kicked the door in, striding through in the same movement and running around the long table that dominated the floor space. Two mages had spun round from the blackboard they’d been sketching on, jaws slack.
‘Which one of you bastards is Kestys?’ demanded The Unknown bearing down on them.
One pointed to his comrade who, bravely enough, pointed to himself.
‘Lucky for you,’ spat The Raven man.
He grabbed the other and rammed his sword through his gut, the blade rasping on his backbone, and let the body drop to the floor, blood gushing over his boots. The dripping blade was against Kestys’s throat in the next instant.
‘Do exactly what I say, exactly when I say it, and Denser might just persuade me to leave you alive.’
‘Who—?’
‘Just pray you can do what we think you can or they’ll be mopping you up too.’
‘Unknown!’ called Hirad. ‘We’ve got company.’
The Unknown Warrior smiled at Kestys unpleasantly, saw the drops of urine puddling around his shoes and grabbed his collar.
The Raven Collection Page 235
