Ilkar looked into the dining room and could see what had driven them to come here. It was dry. Probably the only room in the house that was. There was a fireplace opposite which still put out residual heat and the windows had been battened shut, shutters over fractured glass.
The dining room table had been pushed most of the way to the left and in the centre of the room, four beds, all occupied; at least one of which had to contain a corpse. He walked into the room, the stench almost overpowering. His eyes watered and he gagged suddenly.
He had to get some air through. Hurrying to a door to his right, he pushed it open and found another bedroom, its single small window torn from its frame. He took in a huge deep breath, wedged the door open with a sofa and walked quickly over to another door which swung on creaky hinges, letting him into some kitchens. He was halfway back with a chair to wedge open the swing door when he stopped, straightening and frowning.
He put down the wooden kitchen chair and walked back to the ovens. They were hot, flames flickering inside the grills. There was no food ready for preparation and no water ready to place on the hot plates but unless he was mistaken the ovens had been fired up recently, the flames were bright, and the grates looked full.
'Hello?' he called, walking across the kitchen towards a pair of doors opposite the entrance to the dining room. 'Hello?'
He drew his sword and put a hand on the leftmost door, pushing it open. A cold store. Empty of life. He let the door swing back and paced right, turning the handle of the other door which swung in. He took half a pace back.
'What, by all the Gods, do you think you're doing?' he asked in low, plain elvish, not believing what he was seeing.
A male voice came out of the mass of huddled bodies; he could count six and there might be more.
'Waiting for the end. Praying for deliverance.'
'From who?'
'Lyanna.'
Chapter 36.
Ilkar persuaded the group of elves to leave their hiding place and move into the kitchen. He had been forced to explain exactly who he was and what he was doing here before any of them would so much as look at him, let alone do his bidding. There were eight of them. He hadn't seen the two small children. While one of the young elf males put on water for hot drinks, Ilkar sat the others down, all the time mindful that in the next room, the Al-Drechar were dead and dying. He had to get these people moving.
'I'm finding it hard to understand what's going on,' he said, addressing himself to a couple who seemed the most willing to speak. They were an old pair, had probably been with the Guild two hundred years or so and yet their confidence had been completely shattered.
'You haven't been here,' said Arrin, the husband. His wrinkled face held piercing blue-green eyes and his hair, once black, was thin, grey and straggled. 'It's all happened so quickly.'
'But what? You're the Guild of Drech,' said Ilkar.
'And no power of this magnitude has ever visited us,' said Arrin's wife, Nerane, a slim elf, hair long and silver grey, tied back in a pony tail. 'Or become as uncontrolled.'
'Ah,' said Ilkar. He'd had visions of Lyanna terrorising them somehow, a malign force bent on their destruction.
'She's just a little girl,' said Arrin. 'And that's the problem. She doesn't understand what she's doing. She should still be enduring her Night under the Al-Drechar's shields.'
'But she's come through it, obviously,' said Ilkar.
The water began to steam on the hot plate. An elf moved to fill some mugs. He looked weary, like he'd been awake three days. Perhaps he had.
'No,' said Arrin. 'She broke the shield three days ago. She walks, talks and eats but she has no real concept of acceptance or control, though her subconscious is more than capable of shaping mana. And she certainly has no idea what her mind is creating. Or destroying, to be more accurate.'
'I'm not sure I get this,' said Ilkar. He looked up as a mug of leaf tea was placed at his right-hand. 'Thank you.'
'It's like this,' said Arrin, sipping at his drink. 'Her Night has been different to that of other mages. She's too young to accept the forces within her and assume responsible control without damaging herself and others. So there's an element of the mana controlling her. Every feeling or reaction she has carries an echo of expression in the mana she's holding.
'When she's angry, lightning strikes the island; when she's sad, it rains; when she's happy, the sun shines. Simple metaphors. Just as you might expect of a five-year-old.'
'In a perverse way, I suppose so,' agreed Ilkar. 'There's a "but" in here somewhere, isn't there?'
Nerane nodded, almost smiling. 'There are a couple. Most predictably, the mana events are more violent as the depth of the emotion increases. But with one or two exceptions, we can deal with those. Our main problem is that her subconscious shapes mana in very dangerous ways in order for her to get her way. She manipulates it and us and her anger, for instance, hasn't just been limited to lightning since she awoke.'
Ilkar nodded. 'Mental attacks?' he suggested.
'Yes. If her target is an individual. But you've seen the west wing of the house. That was a tantrum that manifested itself as an earthquake which cost the lives of seventeen Guild elves. We're all that's left,' Arrin said, looking away to his companions. Nerane put an arm around his shoulders.
'I'm sorry,' said Ilkar.
Nerane shrugged, a gesture expressing her despair. 'And right now she's using the Al-Drechar as a conduit for that beacon she's placed in the orchard though she doesn't know it, of course. We don't dare ask her to remove it. That makes her so angry.'
'And you were hiding from her just now?' said Ilkar.
'Yes,' said Nerane. 'It's silly, I know, to be so scared of such a small child but she can't deal with being told no and she wanted to wake Ephemere. When we wouldn't let her into the room, she flew into a rage and brought down half the roof in the ballroom. That was yesterday. We're lucky she hates the kitchen or I don't think we'd be here.'
None of them would catch Ilkar's eye, their embarrassment was acute. But he didn't blame them or think any less of them. Non-mages had absolutely no defence against magic and there was little else they could do but hide. Responsibility was a critical element in a mage's training. Lyanna had a great deal to learn.
'And none of you have been through that door since?' He indicated behind him.
'No,' said Arrin. 'We know Aviana's dead. She's been gone for two days but Lyanna didn't want us to move her.'
'All right,' said Ilkar, holding up a hand. 'Now look, there's things we really have to do now. Lyanna is with Erienne and out of the house. You have to get the dead mage out of there and tend to the ones still alive. Then you have to show me the state of this house. I've got more friends coming, about thirty, but there are Dordovans coming too and they want Lyanna dead. You have to help me make sure that doesn't happen. What do you think?' Ilkar felt like he was addressing children. 'Please, you have to trust us. Erienne will persuade Lyanna to disperse the beacon and maybe the Al-Drechar can recover. I need to know if they'll be able to help at all.'
Arrin frowned. 'Why would they want her dead?'
Ilkar sighed. 'What you've experienced here has been visited on Balaia for seventy days and more. Thousands are dead, so many more homeless and the country is coming apart. Some think Lyanna's death is a way to stop that. Erienne and Denser think there's another way.
'So, will you help?'
'You don't even have to ask,' said Arrin. 'We are the Guild Of Drech. We are pledged to the cause of the One.' He turned to take in the surviving Guild. 'You've heard what needs doing. Finish your drinks, then two of you attend to Aviana. Two more to check Ephy, Myra and Clerry. Another two to begin a meal for thirty - see what you can find, and bake bread if it's all we have. I will go with Ilkar to view the house.'
Murmurs of assent ran around the table. Ilkar nodded and smiled.
'Thank you,' he said.
'No, thank you,' said Arrin. 'Your coming has saved us all.'
Ilkar raised his eyebrows. 'Not yet, my friends, not yet.'
Erienne let Lyanna lead her away from the house, away from the stench of death and into the fresh, wind-blown air of Herendeneth. The light misty rain swirled in the sky but it was warm, though not humid, and the sun was trying to break through rapidly thinning cloud.
Lyanna was content and she skipped occasionally as she urged her mother along the path that led to the hidden landing point.
'Daddy won't know which way to go,' she'd said and Erienne realised with a jolt that she was absolutely right; there was no obvious entrance to the small landing beach.
Most of the trees along the gently sloping and stepped pathway had blown down, some having been dragged or cut from where they had obstructed the path. Most though, had been pushed into the arms of those around them, and every gust sounded with the ominous creaking of trunks gradually slipping their grip.
Just before the path made a right turn to lead down to the beach, Lyanna led Erienne towards a steepish rock scramble of about twenty feet. She could hear waves below and the wind picking at the exposed shore.
'I'll show you, Mummy,' said Lyanna, slipping her hand from Erienne's and trotting to the rocks, which she climbed with considerable agility and surprising confidence.
'Who showed you this?' asked Erienne, standing anxiously below her and ready to catch her if she fell.
'No one,' said Lyanna, slightly breathless as she clambered, her little body straining to reach hand and footholds.
Erienne went cold. Who had been looking out for her child? She felt a twist of anger. She'd left Lyanna in the care of people who'd claimed she was too precious to leave anywhere else in the world. But they hadn't stopped her climbing rocks apparently unsupervised. One slip. Just one.
'Didn't anyone watch you?' asked Erienne.
'I wouldn't let them,' said Lyanna. She reached safe ground and stood. 'See, Mummy, it's easy. Now you try.'
Erienne had no choice. She shrugged and started to scramble, finding it a good deal simpler than she had anticipated, her reach and strength making light of the climb. Lyanna watched her, the smile broadening on her face.
'You're clever, Mummy,' she said when they stood together.
'Not like you, my sweet,' said Erienne. 'It's difficult for little girls.'
Lyanna preened briefly. 'Come on,' she said.
They walked a few steps across an uneven, pock-marked surface and found themselves staring out at the sea. To their right, the rock outcrop fell away to the landing beach, and to their left on to the unforgiving stone shores. Directly ahead, they looked over the reefs and into the channel that led ultimately to the Southern Ocean.
The rain had ceased for a while and the sun finally broke through the clouds. Away in the middle distance, the blue-grey sea, backed by stark black rock, had a splash of colour. A sail.
'Do you see the boat, Lyanna?' Erienne pointed.
Lyanna nodded. 'Will Daddy be here soon?'
'Yes, he will,' said Erienne, an arm around Lyanna's shoulders as she crouched. 'And all our friends who will help us.'
'Like the elf man inside?'
'That's right.' Ilkar's words echoed in Erienne's ears and the memory of the dining room returned to send a shiver through her body.
She sat down on the damp rock, her legs stretched out, her feet hanging just over the edge.
'Now, Lyanna, I need to explain something to you. Sit down, darling, there's a good girl.'
Lyanna sat on Erienne's lap and looked up at her. Her eyes held a depth that Erienne found disquieting. They removed the innocence from her otherwise perfect face.
'There are bad people coming here,' said Erienne. 'And they would hurt us if they could. Take us away from here.'
'I know,' said Lyanna simply. 'We would all die. Me and you and the old ladies.'
Erienne was quiet for a moment, digesting what she'd heard. Lyanna was only five years old, for god's sake. Too young to understand the concept of death, let alone accept it so readily.
'But we can stop them,' said Erienne. 'And you can help.'
Lyanna brightened. 'Can I?'
'Yes, it's easy. Your light that helped me find you. You should take it away or the bad people will find you as well.'
Lyanna thought about it a moment, her bottom teeth chewing at her top lip.
'And Daddy can find his way, even if you take the light away now,' urged Erienne.
'When I can see him. Then I'll let them go,' said Lyanna.
'Who?'
'The old ladies. They are helping me.'
And so Erienne understood the Al-Drechar's stillness. She prayed Denser got that boat here quickly. Lyanna understood on so many levels but they were uneven and unconnected. It made talking to her a challenge and understanding what she knew about her own capabilities impossible.
'Perhaps you should let them rest now. We're all here with you. We won't let you go.'
She hugged the little girl to her body, opening herself to the joy of the feeling and knowing it couldn't go on for much longer. Lyanna looked away to where Denser's sail grew slowly larger.
'He'll be here soon,' she said.
'Yes, he will,' said Erienne.
She relaxed with her child in her arms and tried to forget how little time they had left together.
By the time The Raven arrived, Ilkar had seen the Guild elves remove the body of Aviana, wrap her in light cotton and place her in the otherwise empty cold store. There had been no talk of burial. That was a ceremony which would have to wait and Ilkar feared that many more would be joining her below the ground when this was all over.
His tour around the house had left him depressed at its ruin and at the prospects of defending it. He hoped that The Raven's warriors would have more idea how to plug the gaps than he had.
He was seated in the kitchen, nursing another mug of tea when the Al-Drechar awoke. A wave of excitement and relief swept over the Guild elves and he was soon ushered into the dining room where the Al-Drechar had been made comfortable.
Walking in, Ilkar was faced by one of the old elven women sitting propped up in her bed, a long pipe in her mouth. It was an incongruous sight but he recognised the smell of the smoke immediately and understood.
'Lemiir,' he said as he approached. It was rare that Ilkar felt overawed but, walking towards the Al-Drechar, that was exactly how he did feel. He was in the presence of history, of great power and of living myth. It increased his pulse and made his throat go dry.
'It is a wonderful infusion but also has great restorative powers when taken in the bowl of a pipe,' said the Al-Drechar, her voice rough and deep.
Ilkar was ushered into a chair near the bed of the Al-Drechar. He looked into the taut, fleshless face framed by her long white hair and was captivated by her glittering, piercing eyes. In beds flanking her, the other two were watching him, both tended by Guild elves but not sitting up, their faces drained and sallow.
'I am Ephemere,' she said. 'To my left is Cleress and to my right, Myriell. It is a great regret that you did not arrive soon enough to meet our dear sister, Aviana. For her we will grieve but not just now, I fear.'
'No,' said Ilkar. 'I'm sorry for your loss. I am Ilkar, mage of The Raven and Julatsa. I take it since you're awake that Erienne has persuaded Lyanna to disperse her beacon.'
'Yes. She is a girl of staggering talent. It's a great shame we weren't strong enough to keep her shielded in her Night for longer. I'm afraid she has no idea of the consequences to others around her of what she does.'