The shouts from the estuary entrance became louder and more urgent. The thrum of bowstrings was plain. Arrows arced across the sky, falling behind the runners, slicing into the swamp waters. After them came FlameOrbs, four pairs, their orange glows like dying suns, throwing shadows into sharp relief and lighting up the faces of the TaiGethen, who scattered instantly.
'Ward!' shouted Denser.
The Raven stilled. FlameOrbs spattered down on them, fizzing and crackling over Ilkar's shield. It held. It always did.
In the afterglow of the spells, the runners saw their plight all too plainly. One threw a bag to another, the mage. He stood stock-still, desperately trying to cast. His three companions gathered in front of him as the TaiGethen tore into them. The first leapt high, left leg snapping out, taking his opponent in the chest. The man staggered back, sword swiping at empty air. The TaiGethen drove through his unbalanced guard, piercing his neck. The second and third elves flung jaqrui. They were knocked aside but their targets were distracted. With incredible swiftness, the TaiGethen blades whipped in. The expanding slick of blood was black in the moonlight.
ShadowWings sprouted at the mage's back. He shot skywards, a laugh of relief on his lips. Jaqrui wailed after him, none finding its target. He turned in the air, flying for the enemy line.
'Damn!' yelled Hirad.
Behind him, a bowstring twanged. The arrow speared the mage between his shoulder blades. He juddered forward and shouted briefly, arms clawing reflexively at his back. His wings vanished and he fell, momentum taking him just beyond the swamp edge. No-man's-land.
Hirad turned. 'Good shooting.'
The smile was back on Ren's face but there was no time for self-congratulation.
'We must have that bag,' said Rebraal in halting Balaian.
He set off, TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar two hundred yards behind him but sprinting through the swamp and gaining quickly. 'Leave the water,' he said over his shoulder. 'Piranha.'
But The Raven were already chasing after him. Hirad saw more arrows arc towards them and the elves from the estuary defenders. HotRain fell from the sky. Here was where it would happen. The sides closed on each other, the mage's body marking where the lines would clash.
'Watch that left flank!' he shouted as he raced on, sword raised high, running for the enemy.
Erys hadn't the stamina to cast Communion again but ClearSight was far more simple. He'd related to Yron everything he could see through the darkness. TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar were on both sides of the Shorth, some closing in behind them now. As Yron had hoped, their reserve force was spread across the entrance to the estuary, unfortunately split by the Shorth and its channels, but so were the elves.
Yron, Erys and the miraculously still living Ben-Foran were an agonising three hundred yards from safety in the hands of the reserve. But Yron smelled a trap and he'd been alive too long to ignore his instincts. He put a hand on Erys's shoulder, staying the mage, who was preparing to run in.
'Wait,' he said.
'But . . .'
'Wait,' he repeated. 'This isn't the stroll it seems. Trust me.'
Almost at once he was proved right. A commotion on the other side of the Shorth shattered the relative peace of the rainforest. They could hear footsteps splashing through water and the shouts of men and elves. Arrows and spells flew, the TaiGethen pounced, panthers sounded from every angle. The ClawBound were near.
Erys grabbed Yron's shoulder and pointed into the sky.
'Stenys,' he breathed.
Yron followed his arm and saw the mage climbing into the sky. 'Go on.' Yron clenched a fist. 'Go on.'
Stenys wheeled and moved towards the estuary, getting higher all the time. Jaqrui wailed but missed. Yron's heart beat harder.
'Nearly there,' he whispered. 'Shit!'
He saw the arrow plunge into Stenys's back. Saw him fall from the sky and saw the elves move towards his body. Erys's grip on his shoulder slackened.
'Sorry, Erys.'
Erys shook his head. 'So close.'
'And we'll get closer still. Our chance is very soon.'
Yron focussed on the coming battle. He knew there were Al-Arynaar very close but in the confusion they might just get enough of a head start. If their luck held. He smiled grimly. This would not be a good time for it to falter.
The reserve waited, just as they should. Hidden from view. Arrows and spells arced into the moonlit night. He saw flaring as shields took the brunt of the magic and explosions on the ground where the Orbs fell directly to earth. Behind him he thought he could sense something but he couldn't see any movement. Perhaps the elves this side of the Shorth were distracted. He had to hope so.
With a clash of steel, the two forces met. It had to be now or never.
'Ready, Ben?' Ben-Foran was propped against a tree. He looked dog-tired but nodded anyway.
'Erys, you're flying.'
'No, sir. I'm carrying. I don't have the stamina or the nerve for wings anyway.'
Yron nodded. 'If we falter, run on. Don't hesitate. We need those writings safe.'
The two men lifted Ben between them, balanced his weight and stood, breathing hard, pulses tripping fast, every nerve alive. In front of them, three hundred yards of forest, swamp, water and then safety. It looked a terribly long way.
'Don't look back, don't cry out, don't even blink,' Yron said. 'As soon as we break cover, run like you've never run before.'
They manoeuvred Ben to the very edge of the forest. Right in front of them, the swamp waters glimmered darkly. Yron prayed the piranha were too busy feasting on the bodies of the others by now. And the crocodiles. He shivered.
'All right, you two bastards,' he whispered, then almost laughed as he said words he never thought he'd hear himself utter. 'Run for your lives.'
Chapter 32.
Denser ran behind Hirad and The Unknown Warrior in what was surely the safest place on the battlefield. Beside him Ilkar and Erienne, minds deep in concentration, ran steadily, their consciousnesses divided using a skill only the finest truly mastered.
The Raven kept hard to the left flank, leaving the fight for the mage's body and the bag he carried to the elves in the left centre. The mage had fallen close to the bank. While The Raven held the flank and pressured the centre, the elves would have to contend with the enemy in front of them and possible fire from across the river. So far, the elves on the right bank hadn't moved to attack. Instead they continued moving up slowly, trying to flush out anyone that might be hidden there.
As he ran, Denser prepared again, this time the same spell as Erienne would choose once The Raven were engaged and she could drop the HardShield in safety. They would cast together so, for now, he fine-tuned his mana shape and scanned the enemy no more than twenty yards ahead as they splashed out of the swamp. More arrows came in, rattling uselessly on the HardShield, spots of HotRain fizzing over Ilkar's rock-steady casting.
The scene had a distinctly surreal quality to it. The afterglow of spells burned a halo in the air above, the moon ebbed and strengthened as cloud passed across it, and the forest animals were silent under the sudden barrage of violence unleashed in their midst.
In the curious half-light, Denser saw the faces of those they were about to fight. Men who had been hiding for a pace too long, believing they would have the element of surprise but now having to charge at their enemy. And as they came Denser could see they recognised who they were about to fight. Mouths spoke The Raven's name and more than one faltered in his stride while grips shifted on weapons and eyes betrayed growing fear.
They shouted orders and encouragement as they came, closing with Hirad Coldheart and The Unknown Warrior, The Raven's heart for fifteen years. With Ry Darrick, Balaia's most famous soldier and now deserter. With Thraun, the shapechanger. And with a blank-faced Protector. Men who gave you an edge even before a blow was struck.
Hirad roared to clear his mind, energise The Raven and inspire more fear, his sword crashing down right to left across his chest, his legs already moving to balance him for his defence and next strike. He sheared his enemy's blade, sending the man stumbling back, then reversed his sword up into the unprotected chin, hurling his corpse back into his faltering comrades.
'HardShield down,' said Erienne. 'Preparing offence.'
Next to Hirad, The Unknown caught a strike on the guard of his dagger, twisted the enemy weapon aside and swept his sword into the ribs of his opponent. Not waiting for him to drop, he stormed forwards, headbutting the man behind and punching his dagger into his temple.
Beside him, Aeb slashed a path, his wide-bladed axe scything through helmet and bone, his sword stabbing forward like a rapier. He made no sound, just exuded control and destruction. And at his side, Darrick ducked and twisted, his blade held in two hands, now in one, never letting a sharp edge get close to him, death and injury in every strike he dealt out. At the opposite end of the line, with Ren behind him firing shaft after shaft into the defending mages, Thraun powered his way into the line, his howls like those of the wolves he had left behind, his animal side allowed free rein.
'Ready, Denser?' asked Erienne.
'I am,' he replied. 'On your command.'
'Hirad, Unknown, Aeb,' she shouted. 'On my word.'
Denser saw each of them nod his understanding, never breaking the rhythm of their blows.
'Down!'
The trio dropped as Denser and Erienne took a half pace and cast. IceWind savaged over their heads and scourged into the line ahead. The strangers' SpellShields screamed as the cold hit, those under the Shields shrinking back, mist and gale filling the air in front of them. In the background a mage cried out in pain. Someone shrieked at him to hold firm. Still the IceWind raged, its edges reaching out and chilling everything it touched.
Ren's bow sang, the screaming mage crumpled, the shield collapsed and the awful spell ripped into the helpless enemy, freezing flesh and bone, blinding, cracking and breaking. Cries cut off as mouths were paralysed. Metal shattered, men fell, the line fractured and The Raven ploughed on.
'Come on!' yelled Hirad, and Denser knew it was as much for the elves on their right as The Raven themselves. The barbarian hurdled a frozen body, chased into the vegetation and began the fight again, his friends left, right and behind as he knew they would be.
Denser glanced along the line, saw the TaiGethen weaving their swift death, the Al-Arynaar providing mage and blade support. More FlameOrbs soared out, casting their ghastly light. Across the river, he could see more of the enemy, looking on helplessly as their companions were taken apart. And there, splashing through the swamp and caught in the moonlight, were the other runners.
Almost straight away, Ben's legs had given way. Erys and Yron scooped him into a chair lift, the lad gasping in agony as rough hands and leather scraped at his raw infected wounds. Yron had his arm high up around Ben's chest, Erys supporting his lower back, as they splashed into the shallows of the swamp.
Yron tried to hear everything around him above the sound of his own breathing, of his feet hitting the water over and over. He strained for the sounds of pursuit, of the wail of jaqrui and the whistle of arrows. But with every pace he took he heard none of it. He began to dare to believe they might actually make it.
A hundred and fifty yards to go and he saw men standing up, beckoning them on, urging and encouraging. Others of the reserve ran to join them, some carrying bows. Shouts went up, increasing in their urgency as Yron and Erys pounded across the swamp, dragging their calves through the deepening water.
'Keep going,' gasped Yron.
'I hadn't thought of stopping,' replied Erys.
Ben's breathing was ragged and tortured.
'Nor had I,' he managed.
Arrows started to fly. The shouts of encouragement became a clamour for more pace and men ran towards them. Faces looked desperate now, exhorting them to greater effort. FlameOrbs soared high over their heads, heading for the pursuing pack. And now Yron could hear them. A flurry of feet rushing through the swamp. Not far behind. Perhaps not far enough.
More arrows arced over them. The elves replied in kind, shafts fired on the run hissing past, slapping into the water around them. Jaqrui wailed and whistled. Yron ducked reflexively.
'Faster,' he said. 'We've got to go faster.'
Erys responded and the two men upped their pace. Yron felt the water become shallow again and relief flooded through him. He looked forward, seeing naked fear on the faces of those only seventy yards in front of them now and he thanked the Gods he had no time to look round. He didn't need to. He knew how fast an elf could run.
'Stay with us, Ben, we're so nearly there,' he said.
Ben's words were little more than grunts of pain. 'If our luck holds.'
'It's holding,' said Erys. 'Keep going.'
On they ran. More arrows splashed around them, others flew past seeking elven targets. Jaqrui fizzed and keened. A panther roared.
'Oh dear Gods,' muttered Yron.
He could hear his men now. Yelling at him, pleading. The second roar was close, so very close. Some of his men moved further forward and began to form a line. Thirty yards to go. Twenty.
A huge impact sent them all sprawling. Ben screamed. Yron felt his left arm torn half out of its socket. He rolled over and came to his haunches.
'No!' he bellowed. 'No!'
The panther had leapt on Ben's back and taken him down. Yron ran forward, hitching out his axe; the animal looked up, yellow eyes boring into him. It made to spring again.
Erys was shouting. 'Yron, no!'
Very deliberately, the panther bit down, snapping the boy's neck. 'Bastard!' Yron made to move but felt arms around his shoulders, forcing him back.
'We've got to go, now!' Erys's face was right in his.
Yron could see the elves closing in just a few yards away. He saw his reserve running in to block their path. He saw more arrows and spells, FlameOrbs lighting up the sky giving him a last look at Ben-Foran. His strength abruptly went and his men dragged him away, his gaze locked on the body.
'I'm sorry, Ben,' he said, the tears misting his vision. 'I'm so sorry.'
Rebraal had seen the action on the right bank of the river and came running up from the elven line, which was driving the enemy inexorably back. The Raven were trading blows with more competent soldiers now, progress slow but still sure.
'Runners are through,' he shouted.
Denser turned, losing the shape he'd been creating. In front of him, Hirad blocked a strike to his chest, shoved his attacker back with a grunt and rained down blow after overhead blow, swearing as he bludgeoned.
'We'll push hard,' said Denser.
'You must get to the estuary. We must catch them.'
'Hirad!' shouted Denser. 'Runners broken through right.'
Hirad nodded. He crashed his blade down a final time, smashing the weakened defence aside and crushing his opponent's skull, blood and brain spraying into the air.
'Raven! Pushing right. Go!'
Darrick and Aeb responded immediately, arcing in, driving the defenders back towards the river. Aeb upped the rate of his strikes, delivering overhead with his axe and sweeping horizontally with his sword. Around the back of them TaiGethen came running, forcing themselves into the gap, sprinting away behind the strangers' lines, dealing mayhem and death.
'Let's give them space!' shouted Hirad. 'Denser, the archers!'
'Got you. Erienne, ForceCone. I'll carry you.'
Denser uttered a short incantation. ShadowWings appeared at his back. Erienne nodded and he swept her into his arms and straight up into the night sky. He could see a group of half a dozen archers kneeling in a circle, loosing off shots at the TaiGethen elves.
'Ready,' said Erienne.