Erienne turned the corner, Hirad right behind. As he slid to turn, a crossbow bolt tore into the flesh of his calf, the impact throwing him from his feet and he fell, hammering into the rail which cracked under the impact. He heard a cheer behind him and hauled himself out of immediate sight.
'Fuck it!' he said.
'Hirad,' said Erienne, turning back.
'No time,' he grated, dragging himself to his feet. 'Keep away from those windows. Denser, Erienne, get your ShadowWings sorted and go. Ilkar, what have you got?' The pain screamed through Hirad's leg as he applied weight to it, feeling the blood flooding into his boot. The bolt was lodged, which was a blessing, and hadn't struck his bone, which was close to a miracle. He hefted his sword.
'Unknown numbers running towards us this way,' said Ilkar. 'I'll keep them busy.'
In front of Hirad, the first Black Wings were coming down the port rail towards them. He hefted his sword, changing to his left hand for a better angle and waited, knowing every bought moment was vital.
'I can cast Orbs,' said Denser.
'No, Xetesk man, get Erienne off this bloody ship!' snapped Hirad. 'Go before I pitch you over myself. We'll be right behind you.'
'You'd better be,' said Denser.
'Fly!' The first Black Wing paced around the corner, sword swinging round at shoulder height. Hirad blocked it aside then swept his blade back left to right, the man swaying backwards to dodge the blow, bringing his sword back in front of him and stabbing forwards. Hirad blocked easily and backhanded the man across the face with his right fist and lunged forwards, pain flaring from his calf and spearing up through his back. He took the man in the midriff, skewering through his leather armour. He felt the sword grate against the Black Wing's spine and wrenched it clear, the body collapsing to the deck.
'Ilkar, how are you doing!' Hirad thrust forward, seeing a crossbow edge around the corner. His blade ground along the stock of the weapon and smashed though the sight, burying itself in the eye of the Black Wing who screamed and fell, finger flexing on the trigger, the bolt scoring Hirad's leather as it passed.
'Holding them back,' said Ilkar, out of breath. 'Just.'
'Keep going, watch for crossbows.'
He glanced over his shoulder. Erienne and Denser were gone.
'Time to leave, Ilkar.'
'How?'
Hirad crouched, waiting, his wound throbbing badly. The next attacker was more cautious. The barbarian listened closely, hearing a boot slide along a timber. And again. Gripping a stay with his left hand and ignoring the billowing agony from his calf, he leant out and struck low, his sword thrashing into the man's ankle, biting through boot and into bone. The Black Wing howled and fell back. More bolts whistled by, missing comfortably.
Hirad swung back. It had to be now. He limped down the stern rail. Ilkar was struggling.
'Behind you,' he said, approaching. 'Duck on my word.'
Ilkar fielded a blow to the stomach and pushed the man away but he was strong and snatched his sword back, whipping it round and over his head.
'Now!'
Ilkar ducked. Hirad's sword powered round, blocking the downward strike and sending the guard off balance. Hirad stepped over Ilkar and thumped a fist into the man's face. He staggered back a pace.
'ShadowWings and go, Ilkar!'
'They'll come from behind us, Hirad.'
'I'll hold them. Go.'
'No.'
Hirad slashed again, the Black Wing blocking but only just.
'Trust me, and don't lose sight of me. Now get lost.'
He stepped up and crashed his sword through the enemy's neck. The man teetered and pivoted over the rail.
'Fish food,' growled Hirad. 'Who's next?'
Behind him, he heard Ilkar deploy the wings and leave the deck.
'Hirad, they're on you,' he shouted.
Hirad put his back against the wall of the aft cabins. Black Wings were filtering down the rail from his right. He could see crossbowmen behind him.
'Don't you lose me, Ilkar!' he yelled into the night, praying that the elf was watching him.
'Drop your weapon!' ordered a Black Wing.
Hirad smiled. 'I don't think so,' he said.
He stepped forwards and dived over the rail, sword ahead of him, and splashed into the sea.
The freezing water enveloped him, the waves huge and dark surrounding him. He broke surface briefly, kicking his legs, feeling his injured calf protesting as the salt edged in. He scoured the sky but could see nothing. The Ocean Elm moved gently away from him and he was lifted by another wave. The wind roared in his ears, he could feel more hail lashing down and he felt heavy. Very heavy.
He knew he should let go his sword and try to shed his leather but something inside him refused. He submerged again, water piling over on him, the storm singling him out as its next victim. He kicked again, feeling the air on his face and grabbing in another lungful.
'Ilkar!' he shouted into the gale.
He scrabbled at his back, sinking again, fighting to get his sword into his scabbard, knowing it was stupid, knowing he could afford to lose it, but having to free both his hands. He was going down but he refused to die. And there it was, like the feel of silk on the body of a woman, his sword slipping down into the leather. He swam for the surface, breaking clear and shouting again for his friend.
He looked up and there was Ilkar, diving out of the night with the hail.
'Grab my legs. Don't you let go.'
Ilkar hovered above him, trying to get close enough as the wind buffeted him and the waves splashed over his legs. Hirad grabbed and missed, kicked his legs and grabbed again, this time, catching hold with one hand.
'Go!' he shouted and Ilkar started to rise. He swung with his left arm and caught the toe of Ilkar's boot as the mage climbed high above the waves.
Hanging on for his life he climbed up Ilkar's legs inch by tortuous inch, stopping only when he had his head jammed just above the elf's knees and his arms locked around his calfs. He could see other shapes around him. Denser and Erienne.
He took a look back towards the ship, searching for pursuit from the Dordovan mages but knew that they'd have been lost to sight almost instantly. They were clear and no one who left the deck would have any real idea where to fly to find them.
'We did it!' he yelled. 'We bloody did it!'
Whooping his joy he hung on for the flight back to the Calaian Sun.
Chapter 31.
The skipper of the Ocean Elm felt a deep satisfaction. His ship was not his own, too many of his crew had been murdered and he was trying to ride out the worst storm he'd ever experienced in the Southern Ocean, but he felt a sense of overriding peace.
He'd just witnessed a rescue that should have had no chance of success but for the fact that it had been carried out by The Raven. The man he had seen laying out Selik with a single punch had simply not believed he could fail.
And, in the midst of it all, on a ship occupied by Black Wings, he and his crew were free. With Erienne gone, they could choose their fate. And choose it, they would. Tryuun had seen The Raven mages clear the ship, pluck the warrior from the sea and disappear into the night, the crossbowmen and Dordovan mages having no targets to aim at as the blackness swallowed them up. And seven more Black Wings were dead. As the hail thundered down on to his thick leather skullcap, it was turning into a wonderful night.
But better was coming up the ladder to the wheel deck. The skipper was alone there at the moment, having sent his new helmsman from what could easily be harm's way in the aftermath of the rescue. For himself, though, he felt no threat to his life and he smiled broadly as Selik dragged himself to the top of the ladder and limped towards him, a bruise growing on one side of his jaw and a lump the size of an egg dominating his temple on the other.
'Need a hand?' he asked, sparing Selik a quick glance and half smile.
Selik pushed an angry face into his.
'Don't forget who is running this ship,' he spat.
'No,' said the skipper. 'The Guild of Drech have always done so. All you had to do was guard one woman and you failed even to do that. How does it feel?'
Selik grabbed the neck of his coat. 'Your taunting will get you killed, elf, slowly. You and your crew. Remember who has all the weapons and all the magic.'
The skipper sobered but he couldn't keep the smile from his face entirely. 'I will.'
'Now you will keep this ship heading for Ornouth. Any deviation and your crew will suffer.'
The skipper laughed. 'Oh, Black Wing, how little you understand. I have no intention of sailing anywhere else. Ornouth is where we belong. You will be the strangers there. And now Erienne is gone, the deal is different. Before I was taking you there to kill. Now, I'm taking you there to die.'
Though her mind still recoiled from memories of the Black Wings, Erienne worked through the rest of the night, her enforced rest from magic leaving her stamina strong. She was desperate for the warm embrace of Denser but there was one man who needed her more.
The Unknown Warrior's hip bone had shattered like a vase dropped on stone. Bone splinters had invaded flesh and muscle, tendon and ligament were slashed and dying, and the joint was a lattice of cracks that would hold no weight and allow no movement. The pain, even through his spell-induced sleep, must have been terrible.
Tears had fallen from her eyes as she probed the appalling damage with mind and gentle fingers. She would have said there was nothing to be done, not even with a BodyCast but the look in Hirad's eyes as he asked her if she could help would live with her forever. He had come to rescue her and she could not let him down. He wouldn't even have the bolt removed from his calf until she had said she would try. He had kissed her then, his rough face against her cheek. It had been a display of emotion she thought beyond him but that was an unfair assessment. The barbarian hid his feelings beneath his tough warrior skin when he could, but they ran as deep as any man's. Perhaps deeper than most.
She created the shape of the BodyCast, a spell of tremendous versatility but so difficult to control. It was heat-driven, it covered her hands in a beautiful warmth and, as she probed The Unknown's hip again, tendrils snaked away to soothe infected flesh at her bidding while she concentrated on the main problem.
Using the mana to free each splinter in turn, she moved them back towards the top of the thigh bone, arranged in front of her as pieces in a child's puzzle. She used the spell to examine them, define their edges and divine where they had come from. And any that were too small, she teased out to drop on to the bloodied sheet, hoping the bone would grow again in time.
But time was something in short supply. She was keenly aware that there was more fighting to come. Dordovans would soon find their way to Herendeneth and she needed The Unknown to be standing with The Raven when they did.
She bent to her task, the BodyCast forging, reforming, knitting and healing. It was slow, painstaking and desperately draining, using the hair-thin filaments of mana to guide shards and splinters back into position, to encase the cracks in his joint and to bring nerve endings and muscles back to bond.
It wouldn't be perfect, that much was obvious. Perhaps if she'd been there immediately after he'd been struck it would have been different but now, too much time had passed and the body had its own imperfect ways of rebuilding itself. And some of those she could not undo. Too much of the bone was crushed useless to make her BodyCast anything more than a best fit. Some things magic could not reverse.
The Unknown would never be quite the same again. How he adapted would be up to him.
Hirad joined Ren, Ilkar and Jevin on the wheel deck well after the sun had passed its zenith on the next day. He could still feel the pain of the bolt but Denser had done a good job with a low strength WarmHeal and the elves had soothing balms that caressed the flesh and numbed the pain. He'd be all right by the time they landed.
The ferocity of the storm the night before had diminished and the pitching and yawing of the Calaian Sun was calm by comparison. Above them, the cloud had thinned, allowing occasional watery sunlight between squally showers of rain.
Jevin had ordered full sail and they were moving well across the ocean, trailing the Ocean Elm by several hours though Hirad could still make out its shape on the southern horizon.
'Why is he still going south?' asked Hirad.
'Because he's showing us the way,' said Ren. 'And when we can't sail any further in, he'll let us know if he can and we'll have to take to the boats.'
'And if he doesn't let us know?' asked Hirad.
'I won't let this ship run aground,' said Ren.
'And neither will I,' growled Jevin.
'How long do we have to go?' asked Ilkar.
'Three days, maybe a little more. We lost time last night,' said Ren.
'Think I might sleep the rest of the way, then,' said Hirad, smiling.
'You deserve to,' said Ilkar.
'You too, Ilks. Good fun, though, wasn't it?'
Ilkar stared at him for a moment. 'No, it wasn't. Unless you consider searching black, heavy seas for a fool in the dead of night, after a scrap on a ship miles from nowhere, good fun. What the hell were you doing in the water anyway? I almost had you and you sank, messing about with your scabbard.'
'I was sheathing my sword.'
'Oh, how stupid of me not to realise. Why didn't you just drop the bloody thing? You could have drowned,' said Ilkar. His voice softened and he punched Hirad on the arm. 'I thought you had. Don't take that sort of risk. I don't want to lose you like that.'
'I'm not losing that sword until I've driven it through Selik,' said Hirad.
'Think you'll get the chance?' asked Ren.
'I know it,' said Hirad.
The window in the bedroom blew in and Aviana screamed, her anguish echoing through the minds of all the Al-Drechar. Myriell had been dressing, preparing to take over as the dawn broke but now they were all awake, thrust to consciousness by a cry for help that went on and on.
Myriell called for her helpers and they ran into her room.
'Get me there now. Carry me and run. Bring the others.'
'Yes, Myriell,' said one. The two picked her up in an armchair lift and hurried from the room, calling others from their beds.
The wind howled along the passages, driven by Lyanna's mind, blasting into their faces. To their right an enormous crashing resounded in the air and across the orchard the west wing of the house shuddered and dropped, the roof caving in, wooden beams splitting, brickwork shattering and tumbling, the vibrations rocking the ground beneath their feet.
'Dear Gods, she's broken free. Faster, faster!' urged Myriell.
The Guild elves ran on though the ballroom and into the dining room, not pausing on their way to Lyanna's makeshift bedroom. They set Myriell down and opened the door into a howling gale. Aviana lay on the ground, Lyanna was upright, her hair twisting about her head, her doll clutched in her outstretched hands and her eyes open but seeing nothing.