The Raven Collection

by James Barclay

  He smiled.

  ‘Tai,’ he said. ‘As one. We move.’

  You could only stand and admire. It all but cost Hirad his life. He had dragged his sword through the ribs of one of the ugly haired demons and watched the creature bleed to death at his feet when he felt a moment of space. It was then he had seen Auum’s Tai go to work and had known that for all that he had learned in their company back on Calaius, he would never come close to their ability.

  He almost felt sorry for the demons they faced. After all, he couldn’t follow every move they made himself. And they were so much in concert that it left no room for inroads into their attack or defence despite the fact that reavers had joined the fight against them.

  Auum led them in a ferocious assault dead ahead of the wagons’ path. His swords glittered in the early morning sun. Each strike left a trail of blood in its wake. The clumsy karron tried to batter at him but he drove on relentlessly, his blades biting into neck, chest and under the arms where he could deal the fastest death blow. And his accuracy was matched by the mesmeric moves of his Tai in his defence.

  Each elf carried a single short sword at his outer flank which he used to slice into karron flesh at every opportunity. But the main focus was inside and up. Every strike by a karron was parried or countered. Every dive by a reaver met with a kick or a fist, sweeping high over Auum’s head. Demons shrieked in frustration or spun away half-senseless. The Tai’s focus never wavered. Their understanding of each other was total. It was what The Raven had striven for all their years of fighting. They thought they had achieved it. They weren’t even close.

  It was a dance that the Tai wove and those who didn’t know the steps had no chance of survival.

  Hirad staggered under the force of a blow to his stomach. He looked down to see a severed hammer limb strike the ground.

  ‘Gods’ sake Hirad, watch yourself.’ The Unknown backhanded his blade into the face of the same karron and limped a pace to his next target. ‘Fight or leave.’

  Hirad broke his reverie. The Raven were fighting close to the Tai. The karron were quick but not quick enough. Denser, blade in hand, was watching their backs from attacks by reavers. The Unknown and Darrick ploughed a furrow straight ahead. Furious with himself, Hirad dived back into the action. A club fist came at him. He blocked it away with his blade, feeling the strength of the strike. Quickly, he switched his blade to his left hand and lashed out at the creature’s head, bursting one of the eyes on the side of its skull. It howled and fell back. Hirad pounced after it, slicing through the tendons at the back of its legs. It collapsed and he finished it through the chest.

  ‘That’s more like it,’ said The Unknown.

  ‘You know it,’ said Hirad.

  He stretched to deflect a blow aimed at the big man and felt the stitching on his hip give way and blood flow. The pain pounded through him and he swayed. The karron’s next strike battered into The Unknown’s defence, knocking him into Darrick who stumbled sideways, just avoiding the arm of another enemy.

  Hirad dragged himself forward and punctured the karron’s side. Grey splashed onto his armour.

  ‘Don’t even think about it.’

  The Unknown had recovered and unleashed a huge strike left to right, decapitating the karron. The line was almost broken. Reavers flew down to bolster it but the strike-strain were flitting away. Hirad felt a new energy and ran forwards, trying to ignore the tear on his hip.

  A shout from behind slowed him and he looked back. The wagons were with them now. The Al-Arynaar flanking the cart horses moved with purpose, using their numbers as a battering ram, and the Julatsan wagon train burst through the demon line and aimed for the sundered north gate of Xetesk.

  Chapter 34

  The demons had come back in force and they’d brought some new friends with them. His teams falling back into the sanctuary of the college had reported the karron disappearing into all quarters of the city. It was too late to tell the Julatsans but they, it seemed, were making good headway.

  Dystran stood on the balcony of his tower as he had so often during the past two years and experienced another new hope. That both Wesmen and Julatsans would be flooding his courtyard before noon. Gods, how alien it was but how natural it felt to wish it.

  Looking north, he could see the cloud of dust that signalled the Julatsan approach to the city. South, another showed the Wesmen advance. The latter’s was under minimal pressure. The demons clearly didn’t consider them a threat. Dystran prayed fervently that Tessaya would demonstrate to them otherwise.

  Everything was set in the college. Every man, woman and child knew their task when the order was given. Dystran couldn’t cloak the excitement he felt. Something had run through the college when it was sure that the Julatsans were coming this way. It gave them all new life and new hope for whatever spurious reasons. This didn’t feel like resistance; more like rebellion.

  Where would it go wrong, that was the question. He couldn’t fault the ward grid. It was something of which Septern himself would have been proud. All it needed was activation and it was he that would take that task. Chandyr’s strike and fall-back plans were sound, he knew that. The commander was a skilful tactician and had studied General Darrick for many years.

  But he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that the demons were still a step ahead. What was it they had missed? There had to be something. There was always something.

  Hirad’s wound had been rebound but he had conceded he should travel on the kicking plate of Erienne’s wagon, driven once more by Darrick. Thraun still rode inside. The rest of The Raven were out front and just behind the Al-Arynaar line, keeping the path clear.

  The success of Darrick’s tactic seemed to have confused and demoralised the demons. Half-hearted regroupings of karron had been battered mercilessly aside by the TaiGethen-led elven force. The lumbering demons appeared badly hampered fighting inside the ColdRoom shell.

  It had been left to the reavers and strike-strain to continue their sniping attacks. And while they scored small victories, they couldn’t slow the advancing wagon train which was crossing the old battle-fields in front of the north gate. It was a curious atmosphere dominating the demon forces. Hirad likened it to defeat and he told Darrick so.

  ‘Don’t believe it. They’ll look to pin us down in some narrow street in the city,’ said Darrick.

  ‘Well, we have surprises for them in there too, don’t we?’ said Hirad.

  ‘And it’s all main street,’ said Denser, hauling himself up to the bench. ‘We can drive two abreast all the way to the college.’

  ‘Simple enough,’ said Hirad.

  The General shook his head. ‘I doubt that very much.’

  It was less than a mile to the college from the north gate. Hirad had travelled in Xetesk enough to know that even the widest of its streets felt tight. Tall and ancient buildings loomed over the equally aged cobbles and stone pathways, blotting out half the sky. Every street in Xetesk had the potential for ambush. The recently arrived Xeteskians needed to be right about their ward work.

  They had seen flights of demons heading back towards Xetesk, giving credence to Darrick’s observation. The General’s initial delight at the outcome of his snap tactic had quickly given way to introspection and now he wore a troubled expression.

  ‘Come on, Darrick,’ said Hirad. ‘We’ve broken them. What’s the problem?’

  ‘You know it was too easy, don’t you?’ he replied.

  ‘I know we gave them a good hiding.’

  Darrick shook his head a second time. ‘They were inept in the extreme and I don’t buy it. They planned to fail.’

  ‘Hardly. From where I stand they didn’t expect us to drop the ColdRoom and we took them down.’

  ‘Maybe they didn’t but after that, that’s what worries me. They didn’t attempt a concerted reformation, they didn’t bring up reserves from the rear of the shell. They practically stood there and let us slaughter them. How many did we lose? Five? Ten?’r />
  ‘I think you worry too much,’ said Hirad.

  ‘Do I?’ Darrick turned his head to stare at the barbarian. ‘Think it’s plain sailing from here on in, don’t you?’

  Hirad raised his eyebrows. ‘So long as Xetesk lends the hand it has promised. I mean, look at the enemy. They aren’t up for this, none of them.’

  ‘Right. And that’s what most of the elves think to look at them. Don’t let your guard slip for one moment. I’m telling Rebraal the same thing.’

  Hirad swallowed his retort. ‘You really mean it, don’t you?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say it otherwise. The demons are not this lame. They’re in charge here, never mind what just happened. It is inconceivable that we’ve broken them.’

  ‘If you say so, General.’

  ‘I do.’

  Hirad chuckled. ‘Lucky we didn’t have you join us for your sense of humour.’

  ‘I see nothing to laugh about.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  An hour later and barely under attack at all, the Julatsan wagon train rolled through the north gate of Xetesk. The imposing gatehouse edifice, sorely damaged though it was, was the first of many ideal ambush points. Nothing.

  ‘Still sure, General?’

  ‘Don’t tempt fate, Hirad. They only need one place, one chance. Keep looking.’

  The instant they cleared the gatehouse, the atmosphere changed. The cold intensified. Breath clouded in front of faces, and with no breeze to disperse it, hung in a cloud around the train. The city stank with the scent of fear, death and decay. The quiet set Hirad’s teeth on edge. Not even a demon made a sound. Nothing came from the buildings around them, the streets that ran away into the city or from the college. Not a bird sang or a dog barked. All Hirad could hear was the creaking of the carts, his own breath and the sounds of hoof on stone.

  Turning into Norgate Road, the buildings seemed to climb so high into the cold blue sky. Bleak timbers and shuttered windows glowered down on them. Unconsciously, the pace slowed.

  ‘Keep it up ahead,’ said Darrick, voice unnaturally loud.

  ‘Can you feel it?’ said Hirad.

  ‘It’s why we’re all whispering,’ said Denser. He shuddered.

  ‘Watch for any movement,’ hissed Darrick. ‘Rebraal, put the word out. Concentrate.’

  The demons had gone from the sky. Not a one tracked their progress. The empty shell above them was almost unnerving after so long under attack. On the second wagon of the lead pair the Xeteskians, Suarav and Sharyr, his arm in a makeshift sling, were indicating ward positions. They were pointing ahead at the first crossroads which the train would traverse on its way to the playhouse. That building stood in the middle of the tight Seamstone Square. Once on the square, they would be at their most vulnerable.

  Approaching the crossway, Hirad could feel his heart thumping in his chest. He readjusted his sword grip constantly, wiping sweating hands down his trousers. Every hoof-fall was a clarion call for a demon rally. Every nervous whinny or snort an invitation to attack. But still no demons. Darrick’s frown deepened still further.

  ‘Where would I do it?’ he muttered. ‘Where?’

  His voice was the only one puncturing the edgy quiet. More than three hundred elves and men travelled the dead streets. Hirad felt his earlier bravado draining away.

  ‘Just one place, you think?’

  Darrick nodded. ‘And with everything they have got.’

  Hirad swallowed on a dry throat. The Al-Arynaar at the head had just entered the junction. To either side, Flame Walls, deep and scorching, sprang up, fifty feet and more high. Drivers fought with suddenly panicked horses. Shouts of alarm rang out in the enclosed space. Hirad swore. He could feel the heat on his face.

  ‘Scared me half to death,’ he said.

  On the adjacent wagon, Sharyr managed a smile.

  ‘They got the wards out further than I thought. That’s good.’

  ‘Would have been nice to have a little more warning.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Darrick shrugged then raised his voice, scanning about him to check all horses were back under control. ‘Let’s keep this tight. Maintain your pace, maintain your focus. Do not give those bastards opportunity.’

  Hirad could see the response to the voice of authority. Postures straightened, calls of encouragement bounced around. Swords and axes were gripped with more belief, back to the ready position. The trotting of feet and hoof took on a military rhythm.

  ‘That’s more like it,’ breathed Darrick. ‘Nothing like a little purpose.’

  The wagon train drove on up Norgate Way. The detritus of two years’ neglect lay underfoot. The collected filth of decay powerful in the nostrils. At the playhouse, they turned right in response to Sharyr’s promptings and the FlameWalls burning to the left, obscuring that part of Seamstone Square.

  The playhouse was a circular structure with entrances at the four major points of the compass. Around its edge, the square was packed with darkened eateries, inns, shops still displaying gaudy clothes, all topped by two or three storeys of rooms and lodgings.

  The sound of their passage was amplified here, echoes reverberating across the enclosed space. It was a sobering counterpart to the silence covering the city. The gargoyles and carved faces gazed down at them, laughing, crying, enraged, desolate. Monitoring the passing of the last desperate attempt to wrest control of Balaia from their nemesis.

  Hirad bit his lip. The quiet was picking at their nerves and courage. Every doorway, every window could conceal an enemy. The sky could fill at any moment. There was no safety among the buildings that had once provided security for so many.

  ‘Where are the Xeteskians?’ he said, unable to speak at more than a whisper.

  ‘Out of the way,’ said Denser.

  The train turned left and right to exit the square and start along King’s Approach. Nicknamed ‘The Thread’, the street wound its way to the heart of the city. They could see lights burning in Dystran’s tower in the college, beacons still almost half a mile distant.

  Alleys and side streets ran off The Thread all along its length. Some were barely the width of a man. Others as wide as a wagon. All were silent, all deserted.

  A short distance further on, The Thread narrowed and twisted around the rear of the central grain store. The Al-Arynaar vanguard closed form. The Unknown, Ark and Kas dropped back and hitched rides on the sides of Erienne’s wagon. Hirad noticed Sharyr look behind him and curse.

  ‘Problem?’ asked Darrick, noting it too.

  ‘The wards should have triggered behind,’ he said. ‘Something’s dropped out.’

  ‘Or been interfered with,’ said Hirad.

  ‘Unlikely,’ said Sharyr. ‘We—’

  The rear of the grain store burst out onto the street, engulfing Sharyr’s wagon. The noise, a crack like thunder followed by the bass rumble of an avalanche, pressed on the ears, juddered through their bodies. Huge blocks of stone smashed into the wagon’s flimsy side, crushing the roof frame, battering into the horse and its driver. The two helpless Xeteskians were thrown aside. The wagon was driven sideways across the cobbles. The axles collapsed under the pressure and the splintering mass collided with The Raven’s wagon in a squeal of torn metal. Standing on its left sideboard, Kas took the full force of the impact. Darrick, Hirad and Denser were jerked violently left and then away, tumbling onto the ground and into the traces and horses.

  Now the air was full of screams and the sudden roar of demon cacophony. Hirad scrambled to his feet and grabbed his sword from the ground, trying to take it all in. He skipped out of the way of the horses which were bucking and trying to drag their wagon forwards, though its wheels were blocked by fallen stone.

  There could be no survivors inside the other lead wagon. Suarav and Sharyr were getting to their feet but they were all there was moving. Karron were streaming out of the shattered grain store. Ahead, the Al-Arynaar and Auum’s Tai were already engaged in fierce fighting and half cut-off from the wagon train. They we
ren’t making any real headway. It was obvious why. The crushed wagon had been carrying ColdRoom mages. The demons were protected.

  The situation was quickly becoming desperate. Al-Arynaar had rushed to stem the advance of karron from the grain store but were outnumbered and fragmented. An alert group of elven mages was crouched in the open, casting, but above them winged demons were heading into the attack.

  ‘Darrick, Denser. Up, up. Wall side, now.’ Hirad led them, coming across a groggy Unknown Warrior being helped to his feet by Ark. ‘We’ve got to get Erienne away. They’ll want her.’

  The storm of demons thickened, strike-strain barrelling down on them. Hirad led The Raven to the rear of the wagon. Thraun appeared with Erienne in his arms, blood streaming down the side of his head.

  ‘Get her back inside the ColdRoom shell. Run, Thraun, we’re right behind you,’ ordered Hirad.

  The first strike-strain were on them, reavers closing in.

  ‘We need to get Kas,’ said Hirad.

  ‘You cannot help him,’ said Ark. ‘He is released.’

  The Raven ran hard. Hirad came to The Unknown’s left to help Ark. Demons flew around them, reavers landing in front and stalking into the attack.

  ‘Go,’ said The Unknown, his head running with blood, voice a little slurred.

  Hirad nodded and ran on, streaking round Thraun’s left, Darrick mirroring him right. Both men sheathed their swords but while Darrick drew his mace, Hirad had another idea. There were too many of the reavers for them to take quickly. Al-Arynaar were flooding in to help but weren’t going to be fast enough.

  Dagger in hand, the barbarian barrelled straight into the clutch of reavers, taking three of them to the ground with him. He landed on top of them, hearing Darrick join the attack and Thraun shout a warning.

  The reavers were strong. Hirad took a punch across his face that knocked him half away. He felt hands scrabbling to get purchase under his chin and over his heart, searching for his soul. He blocked a clawed hand and jabbed his fingers into the eyes of the demon struggling to rise from beneath him. The creature howled. Hirad’s next thrust took the creature under the arm. It spasmed and was still. Another pushed him away. Thraun ran by.