'We are one,' murmured the rank of Protectors, and Hirad felt the completeness of their union.
He looked left towards the sounds of shouting and horses. Four men, cloaks flying, were riding their way.
'Time to go,' he said. 'We need to find the others.'
'Incoming,' said Ilkar distantly.
Fire flared over the SpellShield, venting harmlessly across its surface and into the ground.
'Our Given mages are close,' said a Protector from the middle of the line.
'Too close,' said The Unknown. 'We wait.'
'What?'
'Trust me. They'll need some administrative guidance, as Ilkar calls it.'
The quartet of mages cantered up, riding between The Raven and the Protectors.
'Why aren't you attacking them?' one of them screamed at the Protectors. 'Why aren't they dead?'
'Because I am here,' said The Unknown. His voice was quiet but carried total authority. Hirad felt a shiver along his spine. 'And they will not strike me.'
'Ah, The Unknown Warrior,' said one, turning to them. 'They can protect you but you cannot protect them.'
'That is true,' said The Unknown evenly, taking the quartet in with his slow stare, a slight and dangerous smile on his face. 'But if a single one of these men is subjected to punishment for his actions today, I will know. And then your lives, all of them, will be forfeit.'
It was why Hirad loved him. He didn't have to shout or posture. He just had to speak and people listened and, more important, they believed.
'They have prevented us catching those we want,' said The Unknown. 'Their task is therefore successfully completed and that is enough. Are we clear?'
Almost as one, the mages nodded. Hirad almost laughed.
'We've done what is required,' said one. 'We can leave it at that, I think.'
'Good answer,' said Hirad.
They watched while the Xeteskians wheeled and trotted away, the Protectors following them in close guard.
'It's what the Master wants,' said Aeb suddenly.
'I beg your pardon?' asked The Unknown.
'For the elves to die,' explained Aeb. 'It is more than he dreamed of.'
'How do you know that?' asked Hirad.
'The Soul Tank knows it,' said Aeb.
'Think we've got a good deal to talk about tonight,' said Hirad. 'Come on, let's go and find the others.'
The Raven rode into the dusk.
Heryst was surprised at Vuldaroq's calm as he joined Communion.
'Vuldaroq, I'm sorry,' began Heryst.
'What did I tell you?' Vuldaroq said. 'Gods burning, I warned you. He lies to us all. He played you for time, pure and simple. Kept you off your guard and from formal military alliance. It is I who should be sorry. Sorry that your ideals, naive though they are, are misguided. The research is through and on its way to Xetesk and there is nothing we can do about it. Now will you join me and save our country?'
'What do you intend to do?' Heryst felt so weary. He'd clung to hope and yet Vuldaroq was right. He had been taken for the fool he was.
'We have to strengthen our defences south of Lystern, we have to block any route to Julatsa and we have to abandon the southern blockade to do it. And when we are assembled, we will march on Xetesk.'
It was a nightmare, pure and simple. Everything that Heryst had sought to avoid was coming to pass. Everything he feared for Balaia would happen. The war would engulf them all. He had failed. Dystran wanted dominion; he had to be stopped and war was the only way.
'I will issue the orders to Izack and my field commanders immediately. '
'We have battle plans,' said Vuldaroq. 'You must fight to our design. You must let Dordover run this war as we have been for a season now.'
Heryst would have said no but Darrick wasn't here to improve Dordover's plans. And Heryst was not a student of the military.
'I will grant you overall field command but I will not have my forces committed to suicide. There will be discussion on the ground at every front.'
'Of course,' said Vuldaroq.
'One thing I want to make very clear, Vuldaroq. This war must not go so far as to destroy Xetesk. This country needs magical balance and so it needs the Dark College. This war removes Dystran and the current Circle Seven and nothing more. Do I make myself clear?'
'I had planned for nothing more,' said Vuldaroq. 'You won't regret this.'
'I don't doubt that I will,' said Heryst.
He broke Communion and put his head in his hands. Lystern was at war with Xetesk.
Selik stood on the ramparts of the Understone garrison and looked down over the army assembled before him. The sun was warming the earth from a clear blue sky and a gentle breeze ruffled his cloak. Men, women and youths from two dozen towns and villages were standing looking up at him. Refugees scattered across the land had come to his side to avenge what had been done to them.
Most of them were tradesmen or farmers. There was a scattering of militia and soldiers but the vast bulk of the estimated two thousand seven hundred would be holding swords in anger for the very first time. Some would run, others would be heroes and many would die. That was the way of war. He scanned the pinched and hungry faces, the eyes looking to him for leadership, for a way out of their darkness. They had come to the right man.
'My friends,' he said, his voice loud, carrying across the silence. 'You are all standing here because the time has come to right a great wrong. The time has come to win back the land of Balaia for its God-given people. To take it from the mages who destroy it so casually. To make it pure again.
'Because make no mistake, our land is riddled with the disease of magic and only the righteous can purge that disease. And I am looking at the righteous here and now.'
A great roar erupted from the crowd below, fists and weapons punched the air. Selik held up his hands for quiet.
'You have all seen the war spread. It has torn down our peaceful towns and is destroying our beloved land. And now it is our turn to strike. Last night Lystern joined the war, as we knew they would. Even those who preach peace have betrayed us now. What more evidence do we need that, if we let it, magic will kill us all? So we will join the war. We will fight on one front only and that front will be Xetesk.'
A murmur ran through the crowd.
'They are the dark heart of magic and they must be thrown down. And once the surviving colleges see our power and the righteousness of our fight, they too will fall before us. We are on a march to victory. Nothing can stop us.'
Another roar.
'My friends, this is a great day to be a Balaian. Return to your commanders, strap on your swords and prepare to march!'
Selik turned to face Devun, a smile broad across his ruined features.
'It's finally happening, my friend. What Travers began a decade and more ago, I will finish. When will you reach your positions south of Xetesk?'
'Three days, Captain.'
'Excellent. I will join you in the field as soon as I can. There are more reserves coming in and I need to be here for a while yet. Meanwhile, you know the plans and the people trust you. It's beautiful isn't it?'
'Sir?'
'Light will dawn on a new order, an order not dominated by the evils of magic. We will all live outside the veil of fear. We are the righteous.'
'So what happened to you last night?' said Hirad to Denser as they rode from their camp the following morning, heading to the west of Xetesk, aiming to throw any pursuit off the scent.
'Some of their mages were sharp. As we flew in to drop the HotRain, I could see them casting. I veered away when Erienne cast but got clipped by the edge of a ForceCone. The jolt knocked my concentration all to pot and it was all I could do to hang on to the shape until a few feet from the ground. We were lucky.'
'That's what you call luck, is it?'
'Could have been DeathHail. Then we wouldn't be riding with you at all. As it was, I managed to get my legs under me as we landed but I was going way too fast.'
'Bad moment,' said Hirad. 'How's Erienne?'
'Well the arm's not broken but it's sore. It's a good job we're a couple of days from more action or she'd have trouble casting.'
Hirad was silent for a moment. He didn't feel in control of the situation and that made him uneasy. There were too many variables. Too much to go wrong.
'Are you happy with this hare-brained scheme we cooked up last night?' he asked.
Denser shrugged. 'I don't really see any alternative. If we're going to try and snatch Yron, then we have to have accurate information on his location in the college or we'll fail before we start.'
'But Aeb . . .'
'I know,' said Denser. 'It's just a matter of time before he's found out and he knows that. But he's the only one who can talk to the Soul Tank and get us what we need. Other Protectors are going to risk themselves too. Funny, isn't it? All these years and then you find Protectors have a collective conscience.'
'Yeah, and all these years and we find they're actually so vulnerable. '
'I suppose, but none of them have ever gone against Xetesk before, so a punishment for that crime has never even been considered. ' Denser paused and looked across at Aeb, who rode between him and The Unknown. 'We could still get away with it though. With the war escalating every day, rescinding the Act of Giving for one Protector isn't going to be top of anyone's agenda.'
'I hope you're right.'
'Xetesk have more important things to worry about. Lystern have been forced into the war alongside Dordover and that changes the balance against them. Blackthorne will be in Lystern in a couple of days to effectively pledge baronial support. Rebraal is going there too and the elves will be fighting alongside the other colleges. It's nasty out there.'
'I can't quite believe Dystran wants what Aeb says he does,' said Hirad. 'It doesn't make any sense.'
'Like I said, no elves, no Julatsa,' said Denser. 'But we've got to be focussed, not get caught up in the war. For us, saving Ilkar and Ren is all that matters.'
Hirad chuckled. 'So strange. Remember when we first met?'
'You wanted to kill me.'
'Sorry about that.'
'No offence taken,' said Denser, smiling.
'I hated you. So did we all. But now, a few years down the line, you'll attack your own college to save Ilkar.'
Another shrug. 'He's Raven. That's all there is to it.'
Chapter 41.
Yron strode through the halls of Xetesk towards his meeting with Dystran, Erys scurrying to keep up, an escort of four mages and two Protectors around them. His anger had sharpened throughout the ride across Xetesk's mage lands to the city of his birth, and the immediate summons to Dystran's audience chambers at the base of the Tower had done nothing to calm him.
Filthy from the road, he swept through the doors as they were opened for him by a servant. The audience chamber was small but welcoming. Fires were lit on opposite walls and the sun shone in through a large arched window in front of him. Chairs were spaced around the room, all unoccupied. Leaning on the mantel to the left was Dystran, and standing next to him, supported by a stick, Ranyl, gaunt and sick.
Dystran came forward, his face alight with a smile.
'My dear Captain Yron and the excellent Erys, may I welcome you at the end of your fantastic journey.'
'Too many men are dead for any celebration, my Lord Dystran,' said Yron. 'And only by luck am I here at all.'
'Yes, I heard you had trouble with elves,' said Dystran.
'Trouble? My Lord, there is an army of them out there. They are well trained fighters. Their mages are skilled and all are utterly determined. Don't underestimate them. They are fearless and can take on Protectors because they are quick enough to beat them. And they will be coming here, though why the theft of some parchments, however holy, should inspire such a reaction, I'm not sure.' Yron could see Dystran was barely interested. He bit his tongue to be silent.
'Indeed,' said Dystran. 'But please, don't worry about it. We have the situation well in hand.'
'In the same way you have The Raven well in hand?' Yron said sharply. 'I am sorry, my Lord, but they came within twenty yards of catching me and I was assured they would be taken care of. Never even found them, did you? I say again, why are they and the elves so desperate to recover these texts?'
Dystran's smile thinned. 'Captain, Captain, Captain. Please calm yourself.' Had he not been the Lord of the Mount, his patronising tone would have earned him a punch in the face. 'It is true some of the efforts made to track The Raven have been less than effective but you have my personal assurance that they will shortly be dealt with decisively. Meanwhile, you are a returning hero. You have suffered terrible loss but all those who died have done so for the greater glory of Xetesk. And you have been on the trail too long. Look at you; clothes torn, axe blunted. I must apologise for dragging you here now but I would have sight of your treasures.'
Yron nodded, managing to relax a muscle or two. He turned to Erys, who passed over the leather satchel. Yron unclasped it and drew out the four texts that had made the trip. So many men dead, so little to show. He handed them to Dystran, who laid them immediately on a table near him and spread them out.
'The one in the middle there, my Lord,' said Erys, pointing at a bound volume with intricate embossing on the cover and gilt-edged pages. 'That is the Aryn Hiil unless I am sadly mistaken. In there are the secrets of elven longevity.'
Dystran brushed his hand across the cover reverentially and looked up. 'No mistake, Erys,' he breathed. 'If there was one text I needed, this was it. You two have no idea of the rewards Xetesk will heap on you for what you have done. This will bring us what we desire.'
'My Lord, we live to serve,' said Erys, bowing.
Yron looked at the young mage and shook his head.