The Raven Collection

by James Barclay

  ‘Keep going!’ shouted Hirad.

  A hand clamped around the top of his head and jerked him backwards. He fell onto his back, fists flailing out to either side. His vision was full of demon flesh. There was a flash of steel. One of his assailants was flung aside. He turned onto his stomach and pushed himself to his haunches. Ark stood above him, The Unknown on one arm, his mace in his other hand.

  ‘Down,’ he said. Hirad ducked his head and the mace swept by again. There was a squeal. ‘Go.’

  Hirad came back to The Unknown’s side. ‘Not without him. Come on.’

  They set off again, Darrick taking up station ahead of them and Denser, a ForceCone directed ahead, clearing a path. Al-Arynaar had surrounded Thraun and were shepherding him back down the train. Demons were flying in all along The Thread now, attacking those within the still-functioning shell. Behind, the fighting was intense. Elves falling back in control. But the way ahead was blocked. The two ruined carts and tons of stone were strewn across the way. Just back inside the shell, Hirad took the time to look hard. He dragged strike-strain from his back as he did so, crushing their bodies in his fists or underfoot.

  The two surviving Xeteskians ran past him. He could still make out Auum, leading the Al-Arynaar. There was a huge density of the squat karron in between the TaiGethen and the remainder of the train. He would survive, he always did. And the train had troubles of its own, Under heavy attack from above, there were still efforts to turn it around but in the tight space and with frightened horses it was proving almost impossible.

  Thraun, with Erienne crushed close to him, was heading towards the nearest wagon. Denser was by his side. Darrick had run further down the train to oversee the turning of the wagons. The Unknown, coming to his senses, pushed Hirad away.

  ‘I’m all right.’

  ‘You’re as bad a judge as me.’

  ‘What’s the situation?’ asked the big man.

  ‘Auum’s cut off but he’s all right so far. Darrick’s back there. We have to turn this train around, get out of the east end of the playhouse square. The rest of us are here but Kas has gone. I haven’t seen Eilaan or Rebraal. We’re in trouble.’

  ‘Very astute,’ said The Unknown, smiling through the blood slicking his face.

  They paused. Al-Arynaar ran around them. Reavers were beaten back while The Raven headed for relative safety. And Hirad heard a voice that gladdened him. Strong, authoritative, elven.

  ‘Let’s get those wagons turned!’ shouted Rebraal. ‘Move, Al-Arynaar. Yniss protects us.’

  Wagons began to move with more purpose, elves and humans goading terrified horses into action. Hirad could see Darrick directing those turning the rear wagons. The General’s mouth was moving but he couldn’t hear him over the din around them. But whatever he was saying it was generating instant organisation. He smiled and grabbed Denser’s arm.

  ‘Look at Darrick. Can’t really stop being a commander, can he? I—’

  At the back of the line, buildings were burst from the inside left and right. Rubble flew in a storm, tattering the rear wagons, destroying them both and collapsing the rear ColdRoom. Demons poured into the street and from above, driving their advantage home while the Al-Arynaar struggled to regroup. The sound of the collapse slapped into their faces, drained their spirits.

  Hirad stared, mouth hanging open, his sentence never to be finished. Darrick was gone, buried under the deluge of rock. Gone. For an instant he thought he saw the General through the dust, struggling to rise, but it could only have been the demons storming into the attack, a trick to torment him.

  ‘Darrick. NO!’

  Hirad started to run but Denser got in front of him.

  ‘Hirad, stop.’

  ‘Out of my way, Denser. Darrick’s down there.’

  ‘He’s gone, Hirad, you know what you saw.’

  ‘I saw the building fall, I saw the demons come out. Get out of my way.’

  ‘Hirad, he’s dead. And if we don’t do something very quickly, we’ll be joining him. Please.’

  Hirad looked into Denser’s eyes, saw the tears forming there, the desperation for Hirad to understand, to accept. Biting back his anger, he nodded his head.

  Around them demons shrieked their delight. Karron roared and pressed their attacks harder. He could hear Rebraal bawling orders. Elves and the few surviving men outside of The Raven fell back towards the centre of the train from both sides. Strike-strain rained in on the closing space. He looked to The Unknown who was wiping blood from his face and looking left and right, disbelief in his eyes.

  Darrick was dead. The wagon train was stopped for good. They were trapped.

  Chapter 35

  Seeing the broken bodies of Al-Arynaar, Xeteskians and the Protector Kas, Auum had time for a whispered prayer while he led his Tai into the fight against the karron.

  ‘Tai, as one.’

  Al-Arynaar were streaming in, arranging themselves around the flanks of the TaiGethen cell. The karron were being hampered by the rubble they had created. The TaiGethen, born to the treacherous surfaces and obstacles of the rainforest, had no such problems.

  Auum hurdled a block of stone, ducked a support strut and launched himself into his first enemy. He landed both feet on the creature’s chest, driving it onto its back and into the massed ranks behind it.

  His balance sure, Auum stepped right, pivoted and lashed a roundhouse kick into the next, knocking it sideways and buying him all the space he needed. Evunn followed up his attack, sliding into the arm of the first downed karron, dragging it away from its body. Duele, sweat beading on his brow, dealt the killing blow. Neither elf stopped moving, coming fluidly to their feet and pouncing on their next victim. Auum didn’t need to look to know they were with him. He heard the touch of their feet and the power of their strikes. And he heard the cursyrd die.

  He rose in front of a karron, breathing hard, feeling the exertion and seeing the tide of enemy still before them. The creature grunted and swung both arms inwards. Auum blocked right and left, feeling the shudder through his body. He locked eyes with the lesser cursyrd and saw its incomprehension of his strength. He butted its eyes. It squealed, arms rising. Duele’s knife snapped in.

  Auum stepped left and glanced right. He flat-palmed a karron in the chest, pushing the creature out of his way. His Tai ran around his flanks, knives catching the morning sunlight. The karron was stretched and killed.

  But while the Tai fought going forwards, the Al-Arynaar were being forced back. More karron were pouring into the line, hammers and spikes whirling. The squat creatures had no care for their own and no coordinated attack pattern. Each called its own guttural squawk while it bludgeoned its way forwards, desperate to feel elven flesh under its weapons. Auum saw a press forming behind.

  ‘Break!’

  His Tai danced back into the space they had created. Behind them, Al-Arynaar mages had deployed ForceCones to keep the winged cursyrd busy.

  The karron surged out of the shattered grain store. Auum saw creatures batter each other in their haste. Deep-coloured blood sprayed into the air. To the right, the elves hadn’t retreated quickly enough. The wave of karron beat into them. A spiked arm drove left, catching a warrior in the side of the head. The karron squawked its pleasure. The elven body was tossed aside. Hammers fell fast and dense. Auum poised to strike back, identifying targets.

  ‘Hold!’ he called. ‘Let Tual guide your hands.’

  But down the train, the winged cursyrd were flooding the street. There was precious little movement from the remaining wagons. Auum had to buy more time but the karron were strong and determined. Not enough mages could be brought to bear to break the line without allowing the reavers to attack their rear. The warriors had no choice but to stand.

  The right side of the elven line fractured. Karron trampled elves underfoot, crushing skulls and bodies with hammer limbs, splitting flesh with spikes. The Al-Arynaar responded and closed the line but seven karron were through, threatening the thinly gu
arded mage defence.

  ‘Tai, we move.’

  Auum slammed the heel of his palm into the chest of an advancing karron and turned to run at the loose enemy. He didn’t take a single pace towards them. In the line beside them, an elf missed his strike. The spiked arm of a karron swung, splintering his skull. The dead elf was flung back and sideways, colliding with Duele. The TaiGethen half fended the body away but stumbled to his knees on slick cobbles. The karron stepped through and struck its hammer limb into the elf’s chest.

  ‘No!’ Auum saw Duele flung across the street and was already on the move to his side. Evunn swept the karron’s legs from under it and delivered a blistering attack to the creature’s body. Its squawk of triumph clotting in its throat, Evunn’s short blade buried in its armpit.

  Auum reached Duele just as the Al-Arynaar line collapsed. To the right, mages were attacked, ForceCones dispersing. Winged cursyrd stormed into the space, cutting them off from the wagon train. He had no time to care. He scooped his Tai into his arms. Blood ran from Duele’s mouth but he was still breathing.

  ‘Yniss protect you, my friend,’ he whispered, his limbs shaking. He raised his head and voice. ‘Break. Run for the college.’

  And with the pounding of the karron vibrating cobbles underfoot and the shrieks of winged cursyrd loud in his ears, Auum led his people in a desperate run for sanctuary.

  There was a single explosion to mark Darrick’s death, a Xeteskian ward triggered way too late to stop the carnage. A handful of karron were caught in its blast and tongues of flame brought demons down from the sky but it didn’t stop their advance.

  Karron smashed the shattered wagons and allied bodies aside, driving up The Thread towards the one remaining ColdRoom casting. The sky darkened with strike-strain and reavers, their chittering and taunting reverberating from the blank faces of the buildings. Al-Arynaar rushed to form a fighting line within the ColdRoom but the tide was going to sweep them away.

  ‘We’ve got to get to cover,’ roared The Unknown into the tumult. ‘Denser, I need an option.’

  Denser was ahead of him. He indicated a narrow alley ahead and right. ‘The playhouse. It’s our only chance for this many people.’

  ‘What’ll it do for us?’

  ‘Buy us time. Here, we’re all dead.’

  He was right. The back of the train was lost completely. Demons were diving into the shell, karron battering into defenders on the ground. Hirad turned to the head of the column in time to see the Al-Arynaar line fold.

  ‘Fuck.’ He ran to Rebraal and grabbed his shoulders, his own limbs quivering with rage. ‘I want ForceCone mages down that passage now. We’re heading for the playhouse. Disengage your forward line. Do it now. Don’t let those bastards get anyone else.’

  Rebraal nodded and began barking commands. Hirad swung back to The Raven.

  ‘Thraun, behind me with Denser. Ark, don’t drop the big man. Look out for Pheone and the Xeteskians. Rebraal, it’s now. Raven! Raven with me!’

  Rebraal had been quick and his mages accurate. Three strode down the passageway, warriors at their backs. Hirad went after them, hearing The Raven in his wake. In The Thread, the bodies of man, elf and demon littered the ground. A Raven was amongst them. The four remaining wagons emptied and the last ColdRoom dispersed. The demons surged, pushing the routed Balaians before them. The tight entrance to the passage was quickly becoming a bottleneck.

  ‘Dammit.’ Hirad broke into a run and shouted ahead in elvish. ‘Too slow. Drop the Cones and let’s move.’

  It became a headlong dash, mirroring that led by Auum to the gates of the college. Strike-strain fell about their heads, nipping, biting and scratching. No sooner had he pulled one away from himself or Thraun beside him than three more cackled and attacked. Others threatened Erienne. Thraun ignored his own pain to keep her as safe as he could. Hirad could hear the sounds of karron in the buildings either side of the narrow alley, running through thin walls, trying to get in front.

  ‘Left ahead!’ shouted Denser.

  Hirad relayed the message forwards. A few yards behind The Raven, karron beat a wall into the passage, spilling out after it. He risked a glance and saw elves driving through the sudden barricade, kicking, punching and butting. There wasn’t time for artistry and the only saving grace for the runners was that the alley was too narrow for all but the smallest reavers.

  The leading elves turned the corner flat out. Hirad and Thraun were falling back a little. Hirad could see light that indicated Seamstone Square and the playhouse. It flickered like the light above them. The sky was filled with demons.

  Hirad chewed his lip. In the square, the enemy would be waiting. They needed spell cover but the incessant picking of strike-strain and the force of numbers running through the alley wouldn’t give mages much opportunity to cast.

  ‘We need a safe corridor,’ he said, panting a little. ‘Mages, get the nearest door open. Swords and maces left and right. Pass the message back. Thraun, stay in the passage. You too, Unknown.’

  ‘Forget it.’

  They reached the square. The nearest playhouse door stood less than ten yards across the open street. Reavers crowded the entrance. Hirad heard prayers and the Al-Arynaar went to work. Unable to kill without using Auum’s move, the elves chose containment for the moment and all used blade and fist to quickly force a small space. Hirad ran into the centre of it.

  ‘Let’s go, Raven!’

  In front of Hirad, an Al-Arynaar backhanded his blade into the chest of a reaver. It skittered backwards, squealing. The elf moved left allowing Hirad in. He accepted, powering his mace through in an upward arc, connecting with his enemy’s face and following through. The demon’s head snapped back and it staggered into those behind it.

  ‘Pressing!’ yelled Hirad and then Rebraal and The Unknown were beside him.

  The elf’s mace pushed end-on into the gut of his enemy. The Unknown’s carved left to right, clattering his aside in a flurry of claw and wing. Ark led more Al-Arynaar from the passageway, strengthening the break-out and driving further across the street. The demons, surprised at the ferocity and organisation of this attack sprung from the ashes of a rout, struggled to maintain any cohesion.

  Strike-strain descended. Hard to ignore, their claws like sharp frost, they flittered over the heads of elves and men, trying to get into their faces where they could be most effective.

  His mace in his right hand, Hirad ducked a claw to his face and whipped in a blow of his own, seeing the spikes rip into flesh and drive the demon back. Strike-strain locked onto the back of his head, scuttling forwards. He grabbed at one with his free hand and jerked it clear and flung it away, feeling blood begin to trickle from his scalp.

  His limbs felt leaden. He roared to clear his mind and wiped a hand across his sweating face. He had to keep going, had to drive them all. He knew his arms were fatigued and his back sent pain through his body with every pace, every blow. They had no choice but to push on. Blocking aside another blow, he took a pace into the shadow of the playhouse. Their goal was only three yards away. He heard the dull rumble of falling stone and the crack of shattering masonry topped by the exultant squawks of demons. The karron had reached the square.

  ‘What the fuck is going on!’ bawled Dystran at his mages and Chandyr, ranged around his balcony.

  Demons were clouding in two areas of the city. He watched them dive into the attack and soar high, cackling. He could hear fighting and screaming. Men’s voices sounded out when the demon cacophony lulled. Dust clouded the air in the direction of the playhouse.

  ‘The ward grid has failed,’ said Chandyr.

  ‘Oh, do you think so?’ Dystran rounded on his commander. ‘And do you also have in that incisive mind of yours the memory of my request for a contingency?’

  ‘You know I do, my Lord.’ Chandyr’s face was unreadable.

  ‘Care to enlighten me, my esteemed commander?’

  Chandyr nodded. ‘Prexys, would you be so kind?’


  The old Circle Seven mage closed his eyes briefly. ‘He is coming,’ he said.

  ‘Well he’d better be quick,’ said Dystran. ‘Our new friends are getting slaughtered.’

  From the centre of the city, one shape detached itself from the mass and sped back towards the college. The familiar, one of only three that still remained at the college, landed lightly on Prexys’s shoulder.

  ‘Master,’ it said, drooling slightly, its chest heaving in and out.

  ‘You know it occurs to me that we should have persuaded these things to leave the college earlier. They’d have made useful spies.’

  Prexys calmed his tired familiar. ‘It is risky enough now,’ he said. ‘And enemy attention is diverted from us. Speak. Tell us what you saw.’

  And the familiar related everything. The attacks on two fronts. The elves approaching at speed and the larger group trying to get into the playhouse. The lack of any real watch on the college and the breaking of the ward grid. It was enough for Chandyr.

  ‘We can get the elves inside,’ he asserted. ‘We can also trigger the rest of the wards but they’ll all go up at the same time.’

  Dystran looked heavenwards. ‘Yes, I mean there are a few buildings that haven’t been damaged yet. And how do you propose to get the elves in?’

  ‘Well,’ said Chandyr. ‘I don’t want to bore you with the fine detail but in essence, we open the gates and rush the demons. There’s more to it than that. I mean, every mage knows position and casting for a run up The Thread. It was always the most likely route into us. It’ll work.’

  ‘It had better.’

  ‘It will.’

  ‘And another thing,’ said Dystran. ‘Will somebody please tell me what in all the hells has happened to our other new friends the Wesmen?’