‘When on Calaius, Unknown . . .’
The Unknown shook his head. ‘Very funny. Seriously though, how have you been? There’s a lightness about you, I’ll say that.’
‘Life with Auum teaches you a few things.’
‘Hasn’t quietened your voice though, I see,’ said Diera.
Hirad stepped around The Unknown, kissed Diera and ruffled Jonas’s blond hair. The boy hid behind his mother’s skirts.
‘And a good morning to you, Lady Unknown,’ he said.
‘It’s good to see you, Hirad. It’s been too long.’
‘Yeah,’ said Hirad, stepping back and taking them all in, feeling the guilt begin to nag at him like it always did when he saw them standing together, the perfect family. ‘Yeah it has.’
‘Come on up to the house, it’s almost time for lunch anyway. Denser and Erienne are going to get a real surprise,’ said Diera.
‘Yes, they are,’ said Hirad, unable to keep the light in his expression.
‘So,’ said The Unknown, slapping him on the back. ‘You’ve got a year or more to fill me in on, man-elf. How long is Jevin staying for or is the Calaian Sun coming back to pick you up another time?’
‘He’ll be here a few days. As long as necessary, really,’ said Hirad. ‘Look, Unknown—’
But The Unknown wasn’t listening to him. There were voices coming from around the corner in the path, still just out of sight.
‘Who’s that man, Mummy?’ asked a small voice.
‘That’s Hirad, sweetheart, one of your father’s . . .’
She trailed off, sensing the tension that had stolen through every muscle of The Unknown’s body. Hirad looked briefly at her, saw the colour drain from her face and the tears already beginning to well up behind her eyes.
‘Brought some friends with me, Unknown,’ he said, voice close to cracking. ‘I’m sorry, Diera, I’m so sorry.’
And round the corner they came, their smiles and greetings dying on their lips as the scene unfolded before them. The Unknown spared Hirad a dangerous look and turned back to watch them approach, most of them people he hadn’t ever thought to see again. Darrick, Thraun, Rebraal, Auum, Duele, Evunn.
‘Hirad, what is going on?’ he hissed.
‘Think we’ll be all needing that drink,’ said Hirad.
Whatever it was The Unknown said next, Hirad lost in the sound of Jonas beginning to cry and Diera shouting ‘no’ over and over.
‘There, see it?’ Kayvel was pointing out over the south-west of Lystern.
Heryst was one of a dozen faces pressed against the highest window in the tower. The day was dull and drizzling, adding to the misery of the population of the enslaved city. He could barely concentrate on what he was supposed to be trying to see, his eyes as always drawn to the perpetual terrified drudgery that unfolded daily beneath him.
The demons had assembled the people they wanted to keep alive into buildings ringing the college and had cleared areas of the city in full view of the rebellious mages for crops and livestock. It was a reminder every heartbeat if one were needed of the Lysternans’ failure to do any more than survive.
In two years, while they had expanded their domain within the college, nothing outside of it belonged to them. They had wells under their control but had to raid farms for food or fly high and fast to hunt or forage in distant areas still apparently ignored by the invaders. Those making the flights had at least brought back information about the wider state of Balaia and it made grim listening.
Those still living outside the control of demons lived in constant fear of being the next into the inexorably expanding net. In addition to the college cities, all major population centres bar one were in thrall. Korina, Gyernath and all the northern and eastern baronies were captured, leaving only Blackthorne as a bastion in the south. It was a testament to Baron Blackthorne’s skill and farsightedness that he still remained free, if that term could really be applied to any of them. Only Blackthorne outside of the colleges had refused to victimise and drive away the mages in his town or employ when the Black Wings were at their height of influence. He was alive now because of that decision.
In the scattered villages, isolated farmsteads and hamlets, a subsistence life went on but there was precious little travel or trade. After all, the demons controlled every marketplace and port and had thrown an impenetrable ring around Blackthorne. Those living in these small communities would all have fled but there were no ships to anywhere. Some had tried to make it to Understone Pass but no news of their fate ever came back.
And everywhere the stories about what the demons were doing were the same. No one unable to father or bear children was left alive. The old, infirm and barren had been taken for their souls in the early seasons of the occupation. Those that were left were drilled into a workforce designed purely to keep them alive, let them breed and so perpetuate the supply of souls. And while the new generation were born and grew, the demons satiated themselves by draining life force slowly, using a horrifyingly exquisite touch to draw off only that which they needed.
Heryst had seen it from the windows of the college. He wondered why the enslaved hadn’t given up, taken their own lives or their children’s. He had witnessed in their faces the enduring shock and incomprehension. The eyes not dead but not alive either. The look of hope extinguished.
But somewhere inside them, most of them, the will to survive still lurked. It drove them to exist through the nights of terror, the knowledge of why they were being kept alive. The human spirit, never truly broken.
Heryst knew why that inner light still burned. It was because every day they could see the college. Still holding out. A torch to guide them through their bleakest moments, something to cling on to though they were helpless themselves. It meant an expectation was laid on Heryst and those few who worked to find an answer. It was why Heryst looked out every day to remind himself. They had to strike back. They had to. If only they had the means.
‘My Lord?’
‘Kayvel,’ said Heryst. ‘I’m sorry, miles away.’
‘Please, just for a moment, look away from the city.’ Kayvel placed a hand on his shoulder, all it did was remind him how thin he had become.
‘Show me again.’
‘Look towards Xetesk, tell me what you see.’
Heryst looked. Beneath the shale-grey cloud, there was a lightness in the south-west. It was faint but it was there. Sometimes stronger, sometimes fading. There seemed to be a pale blue hue to it but that could have been a trick of the distance.
‘What is that?’ he asked.
‘You know how you’ve been asking why it is the demons don’t try and attack us any more?’ said Kayvel.
‘Yes.’ Heryst shrugged and drew back from the window. ‘So what?’
Kayvel pointed. ‘Well, I think that’s why.’
Heryst regarded him coolly. ‘You’re going to have to explain that.’
‘Naturally.’ Kayvel chuckled and scratched at his beard. They all had them these days. There were other things more important than putting the edge of a dagger to your chin every day. Until the lice struck. Then they shaved. ‘We know that what we possess as mages makes our souls prized by demons. That’s surely why they targeted the colleges from the outset.’
Heryst nodded, about to tell him to stop repeating the obvious when he realised Kayvel was speaking for the benefit of the whole room, which had fallen silent.
‘But we saw them back off quite quickly when they knew they couldn’t take us without great loss of life on their side. We know this has happened in Xetesk and Julatsa too but we don’t know about Dordover. Worryingly quiet over there, if you ask me.’
A murmur ran around the room. Heryst looked round. On the council table, the ColdRoom mages were lost in their casting. Two others sat next to them, monitoring the mana spectrum as best they could for any communication through the strands of mana that linked to the spell that kept them safe. How strong they had all been against all the odds. Wha
t character had been shown by so many. Heryst didn’t know about anyone else but he knew he’d have gone under a long time ago without the spirit they had engendered here.
Kayvel continued. ‘So it seems clear they are waiting for something to happen before they can attack us with hope of success and without huge losses, right?’
‘It’s logical,’ said Heryst.
‘They have been completely systematic in their approach to taking Balaia. It has been a textbook conquest.’
‘You sound as if you respect them for it.’
‘I think we must,’ said Kayvel. ‘Because the chaotic creatures we read about in our myths bear no relation to the organised race we witness every day. It’s time to stop thinking about them as the evil in our mythology and start thinking about them as a capable, intelligent enemy playing perfectly to their strengths.’
‘Haven’t we always done that?’ asked a voice from the crowd that had closed in to listen.
‘No, Renarn, I don’t think we have,’ said Kayvel to the gaunt youth who had spoken. ‘It’s so difficult to change the teachings of thousands of years. Don’t forget that, with the exception of Xetesk and to a certain extent Julatsa, we have never viewed demons as anything other than a nightmare symbol. They really were the story told to keep children quiet at night. Trouble is, they are far more dangerous than that. They are a dimension-travelling race seeking domination of this dimension. And they are ninety per cent there already. Once Balaia falls completely, who will stand in their way?’
‘Wesmen and elves, presumably,’ said Renarn.
‘For how long?’ asked Kayvel. ‘They have come to the colleges to take out the biggest single threat to them, that of magic. The other races they can defeat at their leisure because weapons can’t kill them.’
‘The elves have magic,’ said Renarn.
Heryst went cold. ‘Not when the tower of Julatsa is destroyed.’
‘Right.’ Kayvel’s smile was grim.
‘All right.’ Heryst gestured for calm as consternation swept the room. ‘Come on, let’s keep our focus. We’re already deflected from the question, which is, what does that mist signify?’ He pointed out of the window.
‘It’s mana,’ said Kayvel.
Heryst started. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Think about it. What is the one thing stopping them from attacking us inside our ColdRoom constructs?’
‘Mana of course.’
‘Yes. It is an integral part of their being. It’s armour on one level but actually it’s far more than that. Without it, they die. It’s clear that there’s enough mana in the atmosphere of Balaia to keep them alive, but not enough to overwhelm our castings and flood the ColdRooms.’ He indicated the window to the south-west. ‘That, I am certain, is the demons introducing mana to the air above Xetesk for just that purpose.’
‘But surely we’d feel it,’ said Renarn.
‘No,’ said Heryst. ‘Not at all. We’re inside a ColdRoom here, we won’t feel anything. What about those that have flown outside?’
‘Well, the spectrum is turbulent, or so I’m told. But that in itself isn’t proof though I challenge you to tell me another reason why it should be so. There’s something more. The temperature is dropping like it always does when mana is too concentrated. This is supposed to be late spring. It is unseasonably chilly.’
Heryst sighed and walked back to the window. He looked out on the mist with greater suspicion. ‘Can it really be mana? I don’t know. Don’t we need to know more than anything exactly what it is the demons have planned for us? Mages and wider Balaia, I mean. Because extermination doesn’t seem to be on the agenda, does it?’
‘It would be incredibly useful to know,’ agreed Kayvel.
‘Right,’ said Heryst, nodding. ‘Let’s go and catch ourselves a demon and ask it, then.’
It had taken The Unknown quite some time to calm Diera enough for her to take Jonas and walk the island. He didn’t know how to feel. On one level he was furious with Hirad for threatening his idyll and the life he loved; just being with his family. But he knew that Hirad would not have come to Herendeneth this way unless he felt he had no choice. And indeed had he not been approached and whatever it was turned out to be Raven business, he would have been just as angry.
But he felt retired. Although he kept himself fit and sparred with Ark every day, the desire to fight had gone. He’d fought and won his battles and he’d earned the right to be here on this beautiful island, watching his son grow while his wife lay in his arms. It was almost everything he’d dreamed of though he would have preferred to have been on Balaia, and be landlord of The Rookery too.
So he’d kept a silence to let his emotions settle while he walked ahead of the party from the Calaian Sun. He took them to the kitchen of the house, away from the sights and sun of the island. Into a place where they could focus and talk. The only time he opened his mouth was to call Denser and Erienne to join them.
And now here they sat with drinks and food in front of them, waiting for Hirad to speak. At least he had the decency to look deeply apologetic.
‘So, Hirad, perhaps you can explain why you’ve come here bringing who you have brought with you,’ said The Unknown. ‘And it had better be very bloody important.’
‘It’s as important as it can get,’ said Hirad. ‘This is bigger than Dawnthief, believe me.’
The Unknown raised his eyebrows. He looked for some hint of exaggeration in Hirad’s tone and found none. He felt his heart beat a little faster.
‘So you have our attention.’ The Unknown gestured to his left. Both Denser and Erienne were impassive but their hands gripped a little tighter together.
‘Look, we don’t know everything at this stage but we believe that the demons have invaded Balaia and are threatening the spirit dimension and if they can beat Balaia they can take out the dragons too.’
‘Whoa, whoa!’ said Denser, half laughing, his face a picture of scepticism. ‘Gods burning, Hirad, that’s a statement and a half. Bloody hell, I don’t believe there even is a spirit dimension.’
‘Then that is your weakness,’ said Auum.
Denser ignored him. ‘And what is this about demons? Come on, one thing at a time.’
‘You wanted to know if it was important. Why it was I came here with everyone. Now you know.’ Hirad sat back, his face set. The Unknown recognised it so well. That was why it worried him. Hirad wasn’t given to over-egging anything.
‘It’s all right, Hirad,’ he said. ‘One thing at a time. Demons in Balaia. Let’s hear that first.’
‘I can’t do it like that, Unknown. It’s all linked together.’ He stopped and chewed his lip, taking a deep breath. ‘And I don’t understand it all. What I do know is that if the elves think it’s worth leaving Calaius for and worth coming to The Raven for then that’s all I need to know. And I know that one of The Raven is in trouble and we never leave our people that way. Never.’
‘All right then, tell us whichever way you can,’ said Erienne. ‘Just know that this is so unexpected. We’re happy here.’
‘And I was happy in Taanepol. Thraun was born again in the rainforest. Some things are bigger than our happiness.’
‘Gods, hasn’t it always been the way?’ breathed Denser.
‘Yes it has,’ said Hirad and The Unknown felt his regret like a wave over the beach. ‘You have to understand this is the last thing I wanted.’
‘What’s going on, Hirad?’ asked The Unknown. ‘Just tell us the way you know.’
Hirad relaxed and looked to Rebraal and Auum. Both nodded for him to speak. He took a drink and was silent for a little while, gathering his thoughts.
‘This all sounds so ridiculous. A few days ago, I heard Ilkar. I was asleep but it wasn’t just a dream. Wherever he is now, he’s in trouble. All the dead are. Rebraal will tell you. It’s because the demons are attacking them on a new front. They need to break down the resistance of the Spirits because if they do it makes all of Balaia and Calaius
vulnerable to them. And if that happens, the dragons are under threat too. Don’t ask me to explain it because I can’t. But we can stop this, if we have help and if we do it now.’
‘Trouble is,’ said Denser. ‘Coming from you, it isn’t ridiculous at all. Far-fetched, yes. Ridiculous, no.’
Hirad managed a smile. ‘Thanks, Denser.’
‘It doesn’t mean we understand it, though,’ said Erienne. ‘Why does it mean Balaia’s been invaded?’
‘And how the hell have you heard Ilkar?’ demanded The Unknown. ‘He’s been dead more than two years.’
‘I just did, Unknown. And Rebraal has heard him too. It’s too real to be just nightmares.’
‘Rebraal?’ asked The Unknown.
The leader of the Al-Arynaar inclined his head. ‘Hirad speaks the truth as you know he does. There is so much humans don’t understand about what exists outside their vision.’
‘We don’t need patronising,’ said Denser. ‘Just the facts.’
‘There is a place that all the dead go, all the souls as you would call them,’ said Rebraal. ‘You deny it because it doesn’t fit with your understanding of life and death but it exists nonetheless. It is a dimension as you understand them but the journey there is something only the soul can make, not the body. It is not a place you can ever visit though you can connect to it. Belief is everything. We know it. So do the Wesmen. It is time you knew it too.
‘All the souls of the dead go there but most are silent because they don’t know they can still communicate with the living. Ilkar knows as do all the elves who pass there. But right now, he shouts with a voice full of fear. The cursyrd are pressing the fabric of their realm.’
‘Why?’ asked Denser.
Rebraal regarded him as if he was simple. ‘Because it contains countless millions of souls. It is everything the cursyrd want if only they could force a breach.’
‘Are you with this?’ The Unknown asked of Darrick and Thraun.
The shapechanger nodded.
‘We’ve been on board ship with them for three days,’ said Darrick. He shrugged. ‘I believe them.’
The Raven Collection Page 273
