Help me, my brothers.
We cannot refuse the Master.
Sol shouts that you should not.
The demons are close to us all.
May the Gods forgive me.
Ark raised his axe. ‘I am sorry.’
The Al-Drechar nodded her head.
Ark tensed his muscles and powered in the swing and all but fell. His mind was silent, loss deluged him and in the same instant, unrefined joy battled it, his soul crying out on return to its rightful place.
Panicked, he tried to drag the axe aside from its target, a cry ripping from his lips.
Erienne saw the Protectors in front of her sway. One buckled, others staggered, struggling for balance, clutching at anything around them. Shouts filled the air, shocked, disoriented, scared.
She turned to The Unknown Warrior. He clenched both fists.
‘Yes! Yes, you bastard, yes!’
‘We’ve done it!’ she said, relief flooding her. ‘Myriell, we’ve—’
Myriell’s scream tore through Erienne’s head like exploding glass, her death a cascade of pain, and a welling of power she couldn’t hope to contain.
‘No,’ she whimpered. ‘Denser.’
But the last thing she saw was the dismay in The Unknown’s eyes as the One erupted into her mind and blew her consciousness to shreds.
Chapter 23
Denser had turned from the exhausted Kestys and reached the door of the Soul Tank chamber just in time to see Erienne scream his name and collapse to the floor. His triumphant words died on his lips and he had been about to move when a mana gale struck the catacombs.
Uncontrolled power surged from Erienne’s mind, grabbing what it could from the elements and augmenting it with the keenly focused Xeteskian mana. Denser gripped the frame of the door but no one else he could see was so lucky.
While Erienne lay motionless, the Al-Arynaar mages operating the ForceCone were pitched into the hub room. Auum’s Tai cell, reacting with typical speed, spread themselves linked across the passageway, sliding down it only gradually. But Hirad, Rebraal, Darrick and The Unknown tumbled in a heap, trying to grab each other to arrest their progress while Sian’erei was plucked from the ground and flung straight into Dystran.
And the Xeteskians fared no better. The gale hit them full force, scattering the Circle Seven and their confused Protectors like chaff in a breeze. He heard the clatter of metal striking stone and knew soldiers as well as other mages were suffering beyond his vision.
Dragging his head round, he could see Porrack and Jaruul clutching to corners much as he was while at the far end, Marack and Harroc were pressed hard against the wall, barely able to move.
Denser had no choice. He dropped to his hands and knees, braced himself against one wall and began to edge his way down to his wife and into the teeth of the gale in whose eye she lay helpless, her mind being ripped apart with every beat of her heart. Beyond her, chaos held sway. The Raven’s warriors had been swept into the hub room to join the helpless mass at the mercy of the extraordinary wind. He could see them struggling to create distance between themselves and the enemy. Auum and his Tai still resisted and it might prove a crucial advantage.
Denser fought every inch against being thrown back up the corridor. He couldn’t afford to fail. Not for The Raven and most particularly not for Erienne. The last few yards, he was flat on his front as the wind howled past him. Erienne was its epicentre and its focal point.
Reaching her body, everything stilled. He lay very close to her, feeling her ragged breathing, seeing the blood trickle from ears and nose, the drool from her mouth and her eyes twitching horribly beneath their lids. Her body quivered. Every muscle was taut to breaking and every nerve end fired. She was hot, too hot to live for too long, her face and hands sheened in sweat.
‘Hold on, love,’ he said, pushing aside his emotions for the moment. ‘I’m here. Please hold on.’
He knew what he had to do. He could shield her from the Xeteskian mana, starve the One of its fuel. Of course, that was why the Circle Seven were present. In their typically arrogant way, they thought that by doing the same, they could keep her safe until they understood the power and brought her back to herself. It had led them to this ridiculous folly and risked her life.
Of course they had an advantage. They were six powerful mages and could keep up the casting indefinitely. He was one man and it was terribly draining. He looked up and caught Auum’s eye. He mouthed ‘be ready’ and though not sure if the elf understood, bent to his task.
Partitioning his mind, he tuned to the mana spectrum and pulled in an oval construct, packed with pulsing mana energy. That was the simple part. Keeping the construct rotating and feeding on the mana about it, he sought the centre of the gale. What he saw all but made him lose his concentration. Into the darkened pit that was Erienne’s mind, mana was being dragged like water thundering into a sinkhole.
And from the centre of that same hole, the power was being channelled out. Struck through with a deep brown, the Xeteskian-based energy was gouting from her, thrashing in every direction. But it shouldn’t have been the Xeteskian colour. Every fibre of his training told him that mana dragged into a Dordovan mind would be coloured the vibrant orange of that college because her manipulation of it, the lore she applied instinctively, made it that way.
He drew breath and moved the oval construct forwards, feeling it buffeted by the tumult around it. Dragging on every ounce of the learning he had gleaned from his time with Dawnthief, he forced his shielding spell in. He couldn’t see Erienne’s mind but he knew its position. He stopped the rotation of the spell, opened it along one side, shot it down the sinkhole and snapped it shut.
The effect all around him was instantaneous. Without the energy to get to his feet immediately, he opened his eyes and looked straight ahead. Quickest to react, Auum, Duele and Evunn stormed into the hub room. Swords in hand, they attacked the soldiers on the left-hand side. Only just regaining their feet and sense of direction, half of them were dead or about to die before they’d even formed a defence. Blood flowed across the floor.
Auum tore the throat from one man, backhanded his blade into the chest of a second and straight-punched a third in the windpipe. He couldn’t see Duele but he saw the body that tumbled into view, Evunn leaping it smartly before crashing his left foot into the stomach of his first target.
In the centre of the room, Sian’erei wrestled free of Dystran and struck him on the nose, skittering back towards the corridor at an order from Hirad. She began to cast. The Raven warriors and Rebraal regained their feet quickly. The Unknown’s blade flew from his scabbard, tapped once on the ground.
In front of them, the Circle Seven mages, ever quick when self-preservation was needed, had scrabbled to stand and were diving for cover behind the statuesque Protectors or running headlong for stairs or other passages. Denser saw Dystran take a single pace and disappear, a look of thunder on his face as he went. Another of the Circle Seven did likewise before all of them had taken themselves from the immediate vicinity.
Hirad snarled and lashed out at a mage too slow to rise. The blade caught him on the top of the skull, splitting it apart and spreading gore across the stone flags. Darrick fenced briefly with a soldier before dragging his blade hard across the enemy’s stomach and stepping back smartly as entrails disgorged through his wrecked armour.
It was carnage, all watched with total detachment by the men in the masks, the former elite fighting force of Balaia. And it was all over in moments.
‘Back off, back off,’ said The Unknown. ‘Auum, leave the Protectors. Sian, keep the shield going. Rebraal, make sure they understand. ’
A shout went up behind Denser, urgent. Rebraal answered and the TaiGethen backed away into and down the corridor. Protectors watched them go, weapons slack in their hands.
‘How is she, Denser?’ asked The Unknown into the sudden uneasy calm.
‘What are we going to do, Unknown?’ Denser felt his world coll
apsing around him. ‘What the fuck are we going to do?’
Sha-Kaan bellowed and tore a hole in the roof big enough for his head. He plunged it inside and snatched up a Protector, crushing his bones and spitting him aside. Somewhere a woman was screaming. He looked around again. A mage was backing away. Nyam.
He swivelled and took in the room. One Al-Drechar was dead. The other, apparently unaware, was asleep. Other Protectors stood in the room but none made a move. There was something altered about them. None made any attempt to cover the mage but three still stood in front of Diera who had run in, sensing something at the last moment. She was too late, though at least was safe. But it was she who was screaming. The babe in her arms was too traumatised even to cry.
He turned back to Nyam, arrowed in his head and stopped inches from the mage’s face.
‘Speak,’ he ordered, knocking the man back against the wall with his breath. ‘Explain now. Your life hangs by the merest thread.’
‘We can’t stay here,’ said The Unknown. ‘Denser, can you get up?’
Below him, Denser nodded and pulled himself up. ‘Be careful with her. I’m shielding her but I won’t be able to do it for long and it isn’t protecting her, only us.’
‘All right, Denser, all right. Let’s get ourselves away from here,’ said The Unknown, dragging the mage towards him. ‘Keep your concentration. Thraun, carry Erienne. Be careful.’
Thraun nodded and padded over, smoothing Erienne’s hair from her face before picking her up, resting her head in the crook of one arm, her knees across the other.
‘She is fading,’ he said.
‘Just look after her,’ said The Unknown. ‘Ideas. Darrick?’
‘Gods know how much time we’ve got,’ said the erstwhile general. ‘Not long. The Circle Seven mages all got out and they’ll be back in strength. All we can do is lose ourselves from here, I guess. The TaiGethen are at the access points right now but whatever we’re going to do, we need to do it now. What about them, Unknown?’ He pointed at the Protectors.
There were fifteen of them standing in the centre of the hub room amongst the blood and bodies covering the floor. Weapons had been stowed and they stood in a loose circle, saying nothing.
‘I think you’re needed, Unknown,’ said Denser, levering himself away, ‘I’ll be all right. Go on.’
‘Right,’ said The Unknown. ‘Rebraal, Hirad, go with Denser into the research room. Take what he says we need. Everything else destroyed, all right? Oh, and make sure Kestys is dead. He knows far too much about all this.’
The Unknown walked into the hub room, his heart heavy when it should have been singing. He had released them, all of them. So simple in the end. And that made him angry. Dystran wouldn’t ever have done it, however easy, and might even have increased the number. Behind him, Erienne was probably dying because of what that man had chosen to do, and in front of him were men he wasn’t sure would thank him for returning them their souls despite the dream he knew they had harboured in the Soul Tank. It was different when you lost the brotherhood. He knew.
The circle opened when he approached, admitting him to its centre. It closed around him again. He turned slowly, taking them all in, still masked, unwilling to test their freedom. He understood that too.
‘I know what I have taken from you,’ he said. ‘I know the loss you are all feeling. I know the quiet in your minds feels like the murder of your family. But I know the prayers of the Soul Tank too. The desire of every Protector. The legend of the free man. Me. I have survived. I have known the love of a woman and the joy of the birth of my son.
‘There is life for you. It is different to anything you can remember from your pasts. But it is what you craved. And you will always have a bond as close as I enjoy with The Raven.’ The Unknown allowed himself a pause. ‘Tell me I have done the right thing by you. Tell me you can forgive me all that you have lost for all that you have gained.’
They said nothing. For a timeless moment the eye of every Protector bored into his head.
Hands moved to the backs of heads and buckles were snapped free. Slowly, nervously, masks were taken from faces and, one by one, dropped on the ground at The Unknown’s feet.
He turned full circle again, saw youth, saw the strength of full manhood and the craggy knowledge of early middle age. Every face, pale and covered in red streaks and weals where the masks had rubbed, gazed back at him and on their first moments of a new life. Every eye held fear but it also held hope. It was enough.
‘Good,’ said The Unknown. ‘Now if you’ll take my advice, you’ll put those back on for the last time and bluff your way out of the gates of the college. Find your other brothers. Get out of the city. Please. You owe nothing to anyone.’
‘No,’ said one, a voice The Unknown recognised as Myx’s. ‘We will not abandon you here.’
‘You must. Ally yourselves with us and you’ll be killed. Don’t waste the opportunity. Please, I beg you.’ There was no movement. ‘If you respect me, you’ll go. We will prevail. We’re The Raven. Please, pick up your masks and go.’
‘Do it,’ said Myx but he kicked his own mask aside as his brothers stooped to retrieve theirs, watching it kick up a trail in the blood. ‘I will come with you.’
‘Why?’ asked The Unknown.
‘Because one with you means all are with you. We are brothers. We are one.’
The Unknown looked into his eyes, saw his conviction. His was a face that had seen so much beneath his mask. The first lines of age were on him and grey flecked his temples.
‘I understand.’
‘And,’ said Myx, a glint in his eye, ‘there is another way.’
Deep blue light flared in the corridor left.
‘Move!’ yelled Auum, flinging himself right.
The Protectors and Unknown scattered. Duele and Evunn turning to face the danger and dancing aside. The FlameOrb seared into the hub room, scorching blood into steam, baking dead flesh and splattering against the far wall, setting hangings on fire.
‘Raven!’ yelled The Unknown. ‘We are leaving!’
‘Brothers, obstruct,’ said Myx ahead of him, running up the Soul Tank corridor, TaiGethen in his wake.
‘Go, go!’ shouted The Unknown. ‘Follow Myx. Come on, Hirad. Anything you haven’t got to hand, forget.’
‘We haven’t—’
‘No time. Come on.’
The Raven, Al-Arynaar and TaiGethen charged away into the depths of the catacombs.
Dystran, dabbing his still bleeding nose, strode into the hub room behind a quartet of college guards, including Captain Suarav. He was met by the blank masked faces of over a dozen Protectors. One pace in, he slipped on the blood-slick floor, grabbing out at Suarav for balance and standing on a corpse while he regained it. He sighed.
‘Look at this. Look at what they have done.’ He shook his head. All his years as Lord of the Mount. All the years of near constant war and he hadn’t seen this much death close up.
It stank. Entrails and their contents were strewn over the floor, still steaming gently. Bodies lay in the twisted attitudes of their deaths. Eyes stared at him, sightless and reproachful. The course of the FlameOrb was marked in blackened, smoking gore. But it was the blood that really shocked him. How many people were there lying here? Twenty perhaps but even so, how could they disgorge so much blood? It spattered the walls and the ceiling and across the floor it was a slick that splashed with every footfall.
‘We didn’t even kill one of them. And they’ve got away. Temporarily. ’ He turned on the nearest Protector. ‘And what did you think you were doing, eh? Nothing. Standing like statues while real men were slaughtered by bandits. I don’t know what they have done to you but I will find out. Anything to say?’
Silence.
‘No, I thought not. Suarav, where are you?’
‘Here, my Lord.’
‘Extend the search. Split into six groups, it’s your only choice. One Circle Seven mage with each group to direct you. Who knows w
hat they think they’re going to do? I also want every exit from here into the complex guarded. I—’ He clapped his hands together. ‘The vents.’
He walked towards the Soul Tank corridor. ‘Of course, how can I have been so stupid. Suarav, let me show you something in the map room.’ Protectors were standing in front of the corridor entrance. ‘Out of my way.’
The three masks turned to look at him. ‘Things have changed,’ said one.
‘Don’t I bloody know it. But I still have the magical power to obliterate you. Now move. In fact, get out of the catacombs altogether. ’
One of them shifted. ‘Let us talk of respect.’
Dystran closed his eyes. He was going to have to be very careful.
‘It’s a good distance and they will find us,’ said Myx.
He was keeping the pace high, trying to put a sensible gap between them and any immediate pursuit, but anything was going to be only a temporary breathing space. The Unknown and Hirad ran with him, Thraun and Denser behind with the unconscious Erienne. Darrick and the elves followed. Already, Denser had made them stop once to feed more energy into the spell around Erienne’s mind and he looked a tired man.
‘How big are the catacombs?’ asked Hirad.
‘Bigger than you know. It is mostly this.’ Myx gestured around them. ‘Interconnecting tunnels between each hub. We were in Dystran’s hub. We’ll slow at the next one. It has . . . history.’
The Unknown let the remark pass.
‘And you know all this because . . . ?’ asked Hirad.
‘I am . . . was, the Lord of the Mount’s Given. It was my job to know.’
‘Fortunate.’
‘I hope so.’
The Unknown had been a Protector such a short time but still he understood the method behind the apparent madness of the catacomb construction as if it had been bred into him. Generations of paranoia bred by violently short tenure in the Circle Seven had led to the chaotic maze of finished and unfinished passages that encircled every hub.
The Raven Collection Page 237
