The Raven Collection

by James Barclay

  ‘Injured but recovering,’ answered Pheone. ‘I’ll back you up.’

  ‘ForceCone overhead,’ said The Unknown. ‘And thank you.’

  Two men ran over to the stage, flinching at the sound of falling stone from behind. Another tear, another weak point. They stopped in front of The Unknown.

  ‘Captain Suarav.’

  ‘Sol,’ said the captain, a man already in the Xeteskian college guard when The Unknown had been prepared as a Protector. ‘Brynel is gone but we aren’t done. It would be an honour to fight in your line.’

  The Unknown smiled mirthlessly. ‘How the world turns, eh? You’re welcome. Our right, by Thraun if you don’t mind. Sharyr, I suggest you prepare something suitably lethal. Stand in the mage line.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  ‘Maces, Raven,’ said The Unknown. He raised his voice, cutting across the cacophony, Rebraal translating his words. ‘Waiting. Remember, we need to force a viable breach if we’re going to break for the college. Al-Arynaar, you have to shore up the flanks and rear. Just keep a holding pattern. Dila, Pheone, we need someone near the wounded to bring them out of sleep if we have to.’

  ‘You want to break out?’ asked Pheone.

  ‘Not if we don’t have to. If we can hold them, that’s what we’ll do.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘Pray for assistance,’ said The Unknown grimly. ‘Because if we do have to break out, we’ll lose a lot getting to safety.’

  ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ said Denser.

  The Raven watched the increasing desperation of the Al-Arynaar mages. Hirad’s heart thumped in his chest. He felt the adrenalin wash away his aches, hiding them from his body while he prepared for battle. He took a long look at Rebraal. The elf was clearly hampered by his injuries. He stood left-side-on and held his right arm across his chest. He was pale and sweating.

  ‘Leave the line, Rebraal,’ said Hirad. ‘You aren’t fit to fight.’

  ‘I’ll be the judge,’ said Rebraal. ‘I do not desert my friends or my people while I can stand.’

  ‘You aren’t in the rainforest now, Rebraal,’ said Hirad. ‘We need you for later.’

  ‘Think there’s going to be a later, do you?’ he asked. ‘Listen to the noise. Look out through the holes. We need everyone fighting just to survive for whatever help The Unknown thinks is coming. The Al-Arynaar must see me here in the front line.’

  ‘Be ready,’ said The Unknown.

  He indicated a buckling area of wall behind the raft of injured. The Raven began to move. The WardLock cracked and protested. Plaster burst from the binding. Timbers groaned and splintered. The tear would be at least six yards wide and there weren’t enough mages to keep ForceCones in place.

  ‘Not too close,’ warned Hirad. ‘It’s time to complete those spells.’

  Al-Arynaar moved up on either flank, covering the route to the injured. To Hirad’s right, Thraun snarled. His yellow-tinged eyes were wide but the set of his body calm and composed. Beside him the Xeteskian, Suarav, gripped his sword tight in his right hand. He was determined but in the shake of his body was the memory of the horrors he had suffered to get to this new place of danger. His soul would not be easily taken.

  The investiture failed. The stone and timber of the playhouse wall burst in, tumbling across the gangway and sweeping aside benches. Balcony boxes fell across an area of thirty yards. Dust and debris billowed towards them where they stood at the edge of the standing room, clouding around the edges of the ForceCones. Karron bellowed and squawked. They charged in, reavers behind them.

  ‘Spells away!’ roared The Unknown. ‘Raven, let’s use what we learned on board ship. Suarav, take our lead. Steady. Steady.’

  Pheone’s ForceCone blazed overhead, slapping into the reavers flying in behind the karron. Deep blue FlameOrbs leapt from Denser and Sharyr’s fingers, arcing over The Raven and dropping into the pack still outside the playhouse. Hirad felt the heat when they passed, saw the detonations and heard the screams. Mana fire splattered across the defenceless karron. It had the desired effect. Those in front of the fire clustered in.

  ‘Casting,’ muttered Erienne.

  The air dried out all around them. Dust dropped from the sky, clearing the scene dramatically. The One casting, otherwise invisible, struck the karron in the front rank and over a wide arc in front of The Raven. These lesser demons, far more reliant than their better-evolved reaver brethren on the density of mana, sensed the linkage to their life force shorn from them.

  Hirad sensed panic spreading through the karron but another set of FlameOrbs from Denser focused their attention once more. They came on again urged on by the reavers but vulnerable with Erienne’s casting settling on them.

  ‘Ready, Raven!’ The Unknown’s mace tip tapped rhythmically on the floor of the playhouse. The first karron reached the standing-room floor. ‘Stepping up, let’s take them.’

  The Unknown double-tapped his mace. At the left-hand side of the line, Ark took a pace forwards and left. He thundered his mace through in an upward curve, following up with a downward slash with his blade. The karron was knocked backwards, its stomach opened up, spewing its internal organs to the ground. The Raven all followed suit in order, a heartbeat apart. Blows catching karron on limbs, heads and torsos. The ferocity of the attack stopped the demons in their tracks, confusing them with its direction.

  Suarav hadn’t followed the move and had gone straight forwards, many Al-Arynaar likewise. But the space it left between him and Thraun was bait the karron in front of it could not resist. It stepped forward and flailed its limbs outwards.

  ‘Thraun, go.’

  Ahead of The Unknown’s order, Thraun had ducked and moved right, coming up under the karron’s strikes and crushing its skull with a massive overhead strike. The creature collapsed and Thraun paced forwards and right again, leading the line this time. Suarav had anticipated too and moved with him. His blow was caught by the karron ahead but still the demon was pushed back. The Raven’s line drove hard, maces aiming at gut and chin, beating a space in front of them.

  ‘Down,’ ordered Denser.

  They dropped to their haunches, Thraun dragging Suarav with him. IceWind wailed into the space. Simultaneously, Sharyr dropped more FlameOrbs outside the playhouse. The elven flanks moved up left and right, forcing the karron into an ever tighter area. Abruptly, the lesser demons broke and fled into the teeth of screams of rage from the reavers.

  ‘Hold!’ bellowed The Unknown.

  Outside, the demons massed again. Strike-strain bunched and clouded. Karron jostled and reformed. Reavers landed and began to run.

  ‘Plenty more work to do, Raven. Good start but they might not fall for that again.’

  The Unknown tapped his mace once more and The Raven paused for breath.

  Flanked by guards and with Vuldaroq next to him, Dystran watched. He tried to take it all in but didn’t really believe what he saw. Tried to understand and follow the speed of strikes. It was all but impossible, a fact that the demons were finding out in far more brutal fashion.

  Auum and Evunn stood back to back and about a yard apart. Stances slightly crouched and feet planted at shoulder width, they fought with an effortless grace that was simply breathtaking. Dystran couldn’t see exactly how they tackled the enemies that came at them on the ground and in the air. They barely seemed to look. But their strikes were efficient and unerringly accurate. He focused on Auum as the reavers flew in. Not in great numbers. Perhaps fifteen and accompanied by dozens of the tiny strike-strain. Karron grouped and moved up but did not attack.

  Auum had logged his immediate targets. The first approached on foot, three others in the air around it. Auum dropped and swept its feet from under it, bouncing back and striking out and left with his knife hand at his next target, dragging the point deep into wing membrane. The demon flittered clear. Auum ignored it. The next had whipped out its tail. Auum caught it in front of his face, looped it around his wrist and dra
gged the reaver from the sky. It bounced onto the ground. The TaiGethen dropped onto its chest and drove his knife up under its arm.

  Never stopping, he rose and turned, sweeping his right foot high over the head of Evunn, scattering the strike-strain that dived on him. His momentum carried him round and he planted his foot before delivering an extraordinary series of strikes that Dystran couldn’t follow. The first downed demon had got to its haunches in time to catch a boot in its face, sending it sprawling. Auum’s arms were a blur. Dystran could see the flash of his knife in the sunlight. He saw reavers beaten aside, he saw them die in spasm and he saw strike-strain flung far and wide. He saw Auum block the odd strike and deliver a riposte before he had any right to be balanced. His limb speed was simply awesome. As if it was being directed from elsewhere.

  Seven reaver bodies lay on the ground around the two TaiGethen. The others gathered and dived straight down. The elves waited. Without a word, they dived left and right in concert, cartwheeling back onto their feet and running back into the space they’d vacated. The reavers had landed hard and were in some disarray. The TaiGethen ploughed into them. Evunn took the lead, his punches designed to cripple temporarily. His knife sheered wing membrane, his fists and fingers crushed throat and thumped into chest, nose and temple, his feet denied them balance.

  Behind him came Auum, sliding into their prone forms, knives in both hands driving home. His body was a shadow across the courtyard. And where he went, demons died. Fifteen reavers were downed and strike-strain littered the ground before the karron attacked too.

  Auum and Evunn stood to face them, bowed fractionally and walked calmly back towards the tower complex. The two elves strode past Dystran without saying a word. Their bodies were covered in small cuts. Evunn had a long gash down one arm and Auum’s left leg was dripping blood.

  Dystran ordered the doors closed. Heavily invested with protection, they would stand massive bombardment by the karron should the need arise, and Dystran had no doubt that it would.

  He watched the elves return to the catacombs.

  ‘Extraordinary,’ he said.

  ‘But even they knew when to stop,’ said Vuldaroq. ‘A handful of demons are dead and tens of thousands still fly.’

  ‘If only we had a few hundred more like them, eh?’

  ‘Shame that you killed so many of them with the Elfsorrow, isn’t it?’

  Dystran glanced sharply at Vuldaroq but there was no blame in his expression, merely statement.

  ‘And all for nothing,’ he said, feeling suddenly weary. ‘Would that I could have that time over.’

  Chapter 38

  The karron attacked again, backed by reavers on the ground, underneath Pheone’s ForceCone. They swamped the space inside the playhouse, driving hard into The Raven and taking on the Al-Arynaar flanking forces. Erienne cast again, rendering the enemy vulnerable. But without offensive spell back-up, barring Denser and Sharyr, the demons slowly made ground.

  ‘Firm up left,’ barked The Unknown.

  Rebraal took a glance. The Al-Arynaar had faltered. They were distracted by the rubble and broken benches around them and the slope of the auditorium. Reavers, floating a couple of feet from the ground, were hitting them hard.

  ‘Gheneer,’ he called. ‘Bring up defence.’

  But he knew there was very little of that. He struck out at a karron’s hammer limb. The spikes of his mace dragged gouges in its flesh. It reared and fell back. Ark followed up and drove his sword deep into its gut. In the heartbeat’s space, Rebraal assessed their situation. It was becoming ever more forlorn. The cursyrd were pressing on every casting, keeping the pressure up on the ForceCone mages, not letting them have a moment’s respite. In five areas around the playhouse and all across the roof, reavers and karron launched themselves at the constructs. And every time they did, more plaster and loose stone was dislodged and a degree of stamina leeched from the caster. It was only a matter of time.

  In front of him, more cursyrd poured through the gap which they widened at every stroke. Overhead, the timbers supporting the roof shifted, seeking new solidity they’d never find. The walls of the building were seriously compromised. Without the ForceCones overhead, Rebraal wasn’t sure the roof would hold.

  They had been forced a few paces back across the floor towards the stage. Rebraal felt tired. His right arm ached up at the shoulder where the collar-bone was cracked and every breath sent a skewer of pain through his chest. Sweat dripped down his face and he had the first inklings of a shake in his left arm. The mace felt too heavy.

  Pheone swept her ForceCone above their heads once more. Strike-strain were dispersed to all points, squeaking frustration. Rebraal blocked a spike arm and reversed his mace across the neck of a reaver following up. The cursyrd reared into the air and was pinned against the wall by the Cone. Ark battered the skull of a karron, sending the creature back into the lines behind. The Unknown jabbed his mace into the eyes of another and he could hear Hirad’s shouts clear across the floor. The barbarian demanded more effort. He demanded strength and unbroken will in Darrick’s name. All those around him gave it without question.

  Taking Ark’s lead, Rebraal drove forwards. He ducked a flailing limb and struck left to right. His mace caught the karron on the side of the head, sending it sprawling across the line. The disruption was used instantly. The Unknown moved up and split his next enemy groin to chest. Hirad swivelled and kicked out high, taking his on the chin. Planting his foot he smashed his mace in under its arm, killing the creature instantly.

  ‘Pushing!’ he shouted.

  Reavers flew low into the line, blocking any move of the allied forces. Rebraal saw a claw rip out and scratch three lines down Ark’s face. Strike-strain followed in, buzzing in their faces, distracting their focus. One bit Rebraal high on the right arm. He jerked with the sudden pain, ice flowing into his cracked collar-bone. He moved to snatch it away. A reaver saw its chance and lashed in its tail and a claw simultaneously. Rebraal tripped and went down hard on his right side, his mace just about blocking the claw.

  He roared in agony and for a moment thought he was going to pass out. He heard The Unknown shout an order and saw the big man’s mace flash across his eyeline and bury itself in the reaver’s side. Rebraal pushed himself back and away. Gheneer hurdled him to take his place in the line, sword in hand for now.

  He dragged himself to his feet.

  ‘Still standing, Rebraal?’ called Hirad.

  ‘Still standing,’ he confirmed.

  Erienne was at his side. ‘You should leave the line. Let me dull this for you.’

  ‘No time,’ said Rebraal.

  ‘Down,’ ordered Denser.

  IceWind again, forcing the cursyrd back, killing them in their dozens. How much stamina he had left was open to debate but it would be plenty. He was the most efficient mage Rebraal had ever seen. Sharyr, though, looked tired. Inexorably, the battle was turning the cursyrd’s way.

  Rebraal moved back to the front. Gheneer noted him, savaged a cut through reaver wing membrane and ducked backwards. Rebraal moved into the fight once more. His next strike killed the reaver Gheneer had crippled.

  ‘Press!’ The Unknown sounded off. ‘Erienne, another casting if you can. We have new blood coming in.’

  ‘On its way.’

  To the left, a massive section of wall disintegrated inwards. Al-Arynaar were trapped under rubble, others knocked from their feet. Karron poured in through the new gap, reavers at their backs. Rebraal heard Gheneer shout orders. The Unknown joined him.

  ‘Alter the angle of defence, Raven. Let’s give them some breathing space.’

  The pain in Rebraal’s chest was intensifying. His right arm was completely useless now and he held it hard across his chest, trying to account for the lack of balance it created. The Unknown ordered the move and right to left. The Raven angled towards the new attack. The right-hand flank of the Al-Arynaar followed suit, keeping up the pressure, denying the cursyrd freedom to press home on
the left.

  But the battle front was too wide to hold for too long. Rebraal wielded his mace in front of his face while he thought hard about how they could turn the tide. Above the noise of the cursyrd that reverberated around the playhouse, and the sounds of orders and struggle, Rebraal could hear something else. Like approaching thunder carried on the wind. He fancied he could feel it through his feet too but dismissed the thought.

  ‘Unknown!’ he shouted. ‘We need to relieve the pressure left. Orbs and IceWind to the gap.’

  The Unknown concurred. ‘Denser, Sharyr. Redirect. Pheone, keep those strike-strain away.’

  The cursyrd were pressing hard on the left. Gheneer had been quick, organising a new defensive line, yet he had lost ten or more warriors. The line hadn’t actually broken but it was perilously stretched. Mages from the holding areas behind turned their attention front. FlameOrbs landed in the gap, detonating plaster dust and incinerating enemies.

  Rebraal ducked a tongue of fire that scoured into the cursyrd ranks. The air was hot and choking. He followed Ark into a fresh attack, feeling his mace biting deep into exposed cursyrd flesh. The reaver howled and lashed out, catching the top of his head. He felt cold blood flow. He staggered back. Ark was with him, fending off the next attack while he regained his balance.

  ‘Drop back,’ said Ark. ‘You are not fit.’

  But that noise of thunder was getting louder. Something was happening. If it was cursyrd, they would be washed away. If it was help, they had to hold out. Whichever it turned out to be, there was nothing to be gained by pulling himself out.

  ‘I’ll be fine.’ And to prove it, he struck out right to left and slightly upward, splintering a karron jaw. The strike it had thought to put in died with it. ‘Can you hear the thunder?’

  ‘Yes.’ Ark’s blade blocked a hammer limb, the return severed it. ‘It is not thunder. It is singing.’

  Rebraal fenced away a reaver claw and thrashed above his head at a strike-strain. The kitten-sized cursyrd was dashed to the ground. Ark was right. It was singing and it was definitely getting closer.