'Lystern?' he said as if fearing the answer.
'Peace brokers with no peace to broker,' said The Unknown. 'They're out of it for now but . . .' He shrugged. They all understood. He turned his attention to Ilkar. The elf had not been mollified by his answer. 'But there is a chance. We have to restore the balance. Raise the Heart of Julatsa.'
'I agree.' Ilkar nodded. 'Assuming we can find a couple of hundred mages to help.'
'Jevin's going to Calaius next for cargo. We should be with him. Plenty of mages there.'
'Yes, Unknown, and they all returned there for a good reason,' said Ilkar.
'Then you'll have to persuade them to go back,' said The Unknown. 'They'll listen to you.' He stared at Ilkar until the Julatsan nodded.
'And meanwhile we let Xetesk have the run of this place?'
'What else can we do, Ilkar?' asked The Unknown. 'We can't force them to leave and, more important, their research could free the Protectors and send the dragons home.'
'But what about the other results, eh?'
'I know,' said The Unknown. 'And that's why we have to get Julatsa working as a college again. It's the only way to stop the war. I don't see we have any choice. Even if Lystern and Dordover allied, they wouldn't be strong enough. With Julatsa, they just might. But Julatsa needs its Heart. We all need to say our goodbyes and get going. Balaia can't wait. And what Erienne is carrying needs to be taken away from here. I'm sure you all understand.'
Erienne pushed back her chair and stood up slowly, shaking off Denser's protective arm.
'I'm so pleased you've got it all worked out,' she said. 'Ilkar can go and find his mages to rebuild Balaia and, by the by, you can look after poor little me and take me away from those nasty Xeteskians.'
She stopped and glared around the table, daring any of them to speak. The Unknown felt suddenly cold, knew he'd made an error and cursed himself silently. He knew what she was going to say before she said it.
'But any of you who thinks I will leave my daughter here to the tender mercies of her killers and the Dark College deserves nothing but my contempt. I'm sure you all understand.'
She strode from the kitchen.
'That wasn't your cleverest speech,' said Ilkar.
'No,' agreed The Unknown. He'd misjudged the state of her grief and her mind; and though he felt empty for her, he couldn't fathom why she hadn't moved on a day since he'd left. 'But she'll come round.'
'By tomorrow? No chance,' said Denser. 'Her mind isn't rational one heartbeat to the next.'
'Well, you've got to make it so. She isn't safe here. And we need her. She's Raven.'
Ilkar shifted in his seat and narrowed his startling slanted oval eyes.
'There's something else, isn't there? Something's got you spooked because this isn't like you. You're too careful. What is it?'
The Unknown shook his head. 'You weren't there; you didn't feel it. Balaia's dying.'
'What are you talking about?' asked Hirad.
'I can't make you understand. But every Protector here will tell you the same thing. It's like the air itself doesn't taste right. There are forces trying to impose things on Balaia and its peoples that go against the natural order. Not just Selik and the Black Wings; the colleges too. They have stood for two thousand years as deterrents against one another. But now they've turned on each other and they'll murder Balaia too. I will not let that happen.
'Now, where's Thraun?'
Hirad sighed and looked at Ilkar. The elf was staring down at his food, Ren's arm around his shoulders. The Unknown wasn't about to like what he'd hear, he was sure of that.
The Unknown didn't find Thraun until well past midnight, and even then he all but tripped over the feral man. The dark of the night, the deep shadows under the beech trees and bushes and Thraun's utter stillness had made The Unknown's lantern-lit search fruitless for hours. He'd rejected all offers of help. For reasons he wasn't prepared to put into words, he felt he'd have more joy if he found the shapechanger alone.
When at last he came across the sleeping form, he stood and looked down at him for a time. Thraun's face was creased by a frown and his teeth ground together as he dreamed, memories and anxieties surfacing to torture his rest. He lay in a close foetal position, with his hands balled into fists and his legs tucked right up to his body. He'd made a bed from blankets taken from the house, and scattered about him was the detritus of a confused mind trying desperately to find itself but not knowing where it was lost. There was an empty bottle, a book, a square of torn tapestry, a knife from the kitchen, an empty bowl and an arrow. A curious mix.
The Unknown knelt next to Thraun, the shapechanger's eyes opening as he did so.
'Not too much wrong with your senses, I see,' he said, setting the lantern down.
Thraun's eyes showed no fear, just tired puzzlement and then dawning recognition. His face relaxed.
'That's better,' said The Unknown. 'Good to see you again. Now, Hirad tells me you can understand most of what I'm saying but that you can't speak right now. Can you indicate that you've understood me?'
Thraun nodded, making an affirmative grunting noise. The Unknown stared at the ground briefly before looking back up.
'Sorry. I guess I shouldn't talk to you like you're a child, eh?'
A shake of the head.
'What's in there, Thraun? What is it that's stopping you? Part of your wolven self must be obstructing your human mind, mustn't it? What can we do?'
Thraun's face collapsed and he hunched up, eyes moistening, pleading at The Unknown. The big man reached out a hand and clasped Thraun's shoulder for a moment.
'Gods, but I understand like no one else can. Let me tell you something I've not told anyone before.' He moved to a seated position, his back against a tree. The night was quiet but for the warm breeze rustling the leaves above their heads.
'My time as a Protector was mercifully short and a brave mage gave his life to free me and return my soul to me. But in the time I was one, I felt a bond the like of which I didn't think could ever be replaced. It went beyond kinship and love. It was deeper than either though based on both, I suppose. It was something hard to express except to say that it was an utterly binding sense of belonging. No one, I thought, who had not experienced it could understand. And when I was freed, though that was what I wanted desperately, I lost something I assumed was irreplaceable. You might remember how I was in the days after I was released; I don't know.'
The Unknown stopped to gauge Thraun's reaction. The shapechanger was staring at him, eyes wide. Whether it was comprehension, remembrance or just plain incredulity that someone was talking to him this way was unfortunately not clear. At least he had Thraun's attention.
'The point is that I think you're in a similar position to me but the effects are keener because you spent five years as a wolf, not just a few days. The wolf pack gave you a similar bond; they laid their trust in you and you in them. You blame yourself for what happened to them both during the hurricane in Thornewood and on the docks in Arlen.
'And now you've reverted to human form you feel like you're running away. It isn't so. Like me and the Protectors, part of you will always be with the pack that still runs. Hang on to that, but don't let it cloud your mind. Remember it and use it.
'But what I want you to really understand, and I don't know whether you will, is that there is something that gives what you feel you have lost. It took me an age to realise it but it's undeniable. The Raven have that bond. Together we are stronger than we could ever be as a mere group of individuals. We make a difference to each other and in whatever we do. And if you look inside yourself, you know that to be true. Do you understand me?'
For a time Thraun did nothing, just continued to stare. There was a single tear on his left cheek and the frown was back, stamped hard on his forehead. But like a trickle of water finding its way gradually down a window, his face cleared and he sat up. He sucked his top lip and breathed in deeply. He made no move to nod or hint that he knew what The Unknown was talking about but it was there in his expression just the same. The Unknown felt he was struggling to communicate in another way.
'Go on,' he said. 'Try to make the words.'
Thraun opened his mouth, his eyes still searching The Unknown's face, but nothing came save a dry rasp and he snapped his jaws shut angrily.
'It's all right. It'll come. Now listen, because there's something very important I have to tell you. All right?'
Thraun shrugged and exercised his jaws again.
'I know you're frustrated but you'll get there as long as you have faith. The Raven will be with you. We're your family always, and we're your strength any time you need us. And we want you to be with us in whatever comes next, but for that you will have to leave this island.'
Thraun stopped moving.
'The Raven have to leave here to go back home and help with things there that are badly wrong. We can talk about what's happening another day, but for now I want you to think about what you're going to do. To make The Raven complete, we want you to be with us. We are stronger with you and you with us.
'Do you understand that?'
Thraun was staring at the ground and now drew his legs up to his chest, locking them there with his arms. He rocked backwards and forwards gently.
'Thraun?'
He didn't look up but The Unknown thought he saw a fractional nod of the head. It was enough.
'Good, good. I'll leave you now to sleep if you want. Think about what I've said and let me know in whatever way you can what it is you want to do.'
The Unknown pushed himself to his feet, picked up the lantern and limped back towards the house, suddenly dog-tired and craving the arms of Diera.
Chapter 6.
The rainforest was quiet. A sharp downpour had thrashed across the temple an hour before, sending the Al-Arynaar to cover under the broad leaves of a master banyan tree at the southern edge of the temple. Water still fell from the upper canopy to puddle on the ground before soaking away. Rebraal walked across the rain-slick apron with the mage, Erin'heth. It was the night following his time of contemplation in the cell of Shorth and preparations were now complete.
They couldn't afford to worry about the strangers themselves, who had to be approaching by now. All that really taxed Rebraal was whether their defence would delay the strangers long enough for Mercuun to return. An elf of his ability could make a great deal of difference.
'We can't rely on him, Rebraal,' said Erin'heth. 'Your plan is sound. We can only do what we can do. If Mercuun arrives, it's a bonus.'
Rebraal tried to smile but couldn't help but be irritated that it was Meru that had left them. But then, who else but himself commanded the elves' respect? He'd really had no choice.
'Talk me through the grid,' he said to concentrate his mind.
'We've laid as many wards as we could in the time,' said Erin. 'We have to be fresh for the fight and Sheth is already sleeping. There's no linkage but we've positioned the strike zones to herd them to the central position you want. Then it's up to you and the archers because if they move to leave the apron, the outer ring isn't going to hold them for ever even though they're FlameWalls.'
'And the temple doors?'
'It'll be carnage. Sheth spent a lot of energy on that ward. It's big. If we should die in the fight, don't touch it until you get a replacement mage.'
'Didn't you tune elves out of the triggers?' Rebraal frowned.
'In the apron wards yes, but we can't risk a smart stranger circumventing the ward by forcing an elf to open the temple doors, so anything bigger than a panther will trigger it.'
Rebraal nodded, stopped and turned a slow circle on the slippery stone apron. He could see the archer positions, he knew the ward trigger points. They'd done all they could. Yniss would see them safe or let them die for a greater purpose. He had to believe that, though it sat harsh in his mind.
The Al-Arynaar shouldn't rely on any God. They were placed here by Yniss to succeed.
'Come on. You need to get your head down,' he said, ushering Erin away to the hammocks they'd slung under the archer positions. 'I need to relieve Rourke on the path.'
But the strangers didn't delay long enough. Rebraal ran into Rourke, who was chasing back up the path, slightly out of breath and very scared. They were coming slowly, travelling by lantern light in the relative cool of night-time. Their pace would bring them to the temple apron an hour before dawn and well before the elves could expect Mercuun. The nine would take on, according to Rourke's count as he had watched them pass below him from the sanctuary of a palm tree, one hundred and thirty-two. Mainly warriors but with ten who were obviously mages.
Tension replaced quiet calm as the reality of the attack overtook the hope that somehow the strangers would be deflected, or that perhaps they were not here to find the temple at all. All the Al-Arynaar had had these thoughts but they seemed foolish now. There was nothing else of interest here for hundreds of square miles and Rebraal doubted they had come to map the mangrove swamps, the volcanic region to the south or the course of the three huge, sluggish rivers that wound their way through the vast rainforest from the northern coastal ports to the southern deltas where desert gave way to lush vegetation again after a thousand miles.
But why had the TaiGethen not found them and dealt with them? And why had the ClawBound not warned him days before?
The leader of the Al-Arynaar visited the platforms for the last time, reminding the archers to pick their targets and not to begin until the wards had caused maximum confusion. And when their stocks of arrows were exhausted, they were to wait for the signal, the threat call of the grey monkey, before moving to attack from the rear with swords, hoping to force whoever remained into the doors of the temple. To the mages, he had given the task of occupying their enemy counterparts, using spells that demanded magical shielding.
Everything else was in the lap of Yniss.
And so they waited and listened, pairs of elves in three of the four platforms that overlooked the apron, and Rebraal himself with the fourth pair, Sheth'erei and Skiriin. They took it in turn to rest in the hammocks below, while all around the forest hummed with anticipation. The denizens of the rainforest and their God, Tual, knew that evil stalked the ground and the calls were of warning and of danger.
As the very first vestiges of light were edging across the top of the canopy and filtering dimly through to the forest floor, the humidity increased dramatically, the darkness of night was abruptly restored to the sky and the rain came. It was harder than Rebraal had ever remembered; it fell in drops that tore weaker leaves apart, exploded on the ground and crashed among the broad boughs of the trees above to trigger miniature waterfalls as leaves sagged and dropped their loads of water.
On the archer platforms, with skins pulled across to deflect the worst of the deluge which was unrelenting for approaching an hour, the Al-Arynaar peered out at the wall of water falling all around them.
'Gyal is angry,' said Skiriin.
Rebraal nodded. The capricious God of the rain who could withhold her life-growing nectar at a whim was venting her fury on the strangers now. Rebraal gave a silent prayer of thanks but knew they would need much more than that.
'Rebraal, look,' hissed Sheth.
She pointed through the murk of the rain, which was now beginning to ease. Soon it would stop altogether and the sky would clear. Such was the way of the forest. There was lantern light out there. Blurred and dim but unmistakable. No torch would have stood up to the rain and Rebraal was surprised that lanterns had. Presumably, they'd been sheltered.
The call of the brown tree frog filtered across the apron. Rourke had seen them too.
'Sheth, be ready,' said Rebraal.
'I will.'
The mage sat cross-legged on the platform and closed her eyes. Through her mind she would now be seeing the mana shapes that made up the wards. So would Erin'heth. On the front of the apron, the wards would be activated only when enough of the strangers had crossed them. Every other spell was already active and waiting for the ignorant step of men who shouldn't be there and would learn that fact only in death.
Rebraal watched almost hypnotised as the bobbing lights approached. The sky was clearing quickly as the clouds dispersed, their cargo discharged. The strangers appeared as shadows within shadows, a hulking darkness in the forest growing larger with every pace. But soon he could pick out features, a growth of beard, a low forehead, the glint of weapons and mail, chains on a pair of boots.
Quickly he checked at his feet, saw his bow wrapped in leathers and his quiver of arrows, similarly protected. He stooped to remove the coverings, testing the tension in the string as he did and upending the arrows to stand their tips in a dish of blood poison. All they had to do was hit their targets. Nature would do the rest before the Al-Arynaar had to draw their swords and attack one to one.
'Now it starts,' he said.
Next to him, Skiriin, first arrow nocked and ready, nodded nervously. The first strangers broke cover and stepped tentatively onto the flags of the apron. They spread into a loose line twenty men wide, all with weapons drawn, all moving with the cautious assurance of experienced soldiers, eyes everywhere as they advanced towards the temple.
Around them the forest was hushed, but the quiet was broken by a sharp warning from one of the strangers. One of the mages. A quick exchange followed and the attackers began to scatter.
'They've divined the wards,' said Rebraal. 'Now, Flynd. It's got to be now.'
Upwards of fifty men were on the apron when the southern perimeter wards were activated and tripped in the same heartbeat. Simultaneously, the scattering force ran into areas covered by wards already set and the apron became a furnace.
Explosions ripped along the length of the stone, hurling bodies into the air, showering others with lethal flame and rippling the stone itself. A wall of flame grasped at the sky, climbing fifty feet into the air, cutting off those on the apron from any help and forcing them towards the temple. Rebraal could see figures wreathed in flame staggering blind, dying and confused, and their wails and desperate shouts echoed against the blank unsympathetic walls of the surrounding forest.
The trapped tried to flee but more explosions held them in. Bodies were littering the apron now as steam hissed in great clouds into the sky. Around the edges of the apron, the rest of the strangers were running, looking for ways to save their comrades, shouts and cries lost in the roar of another FlameWall carving at the dawn. But for those on the apron, there would be no salvation and Shorth would see them to torment in death.
'Wait, Skiriin, wait,' whispered Rebraal, hearing the elf's bow tense.