Moving across open ground and making for one of the few surviving forest areas five miles south of Xetesk, they were seen by a group of twenty riders galloping across the tufted muddy plain crossed by a lattice of narrow streams. The horsemen had been heading north but turned when they saw the TaiGethen, moving to intercept. Immediately, the Tai unslung bows.
'Leave it to me,' said Yron. 'They could be friends.'
'They could be Xeteskians,' said Merke evenly.
'They don't have the look,' said Yron.
'We will be ready.'
'I don't doubt it.'
Yron faced the riders, the elves standing behind him in a loose group, bows pointing to the ground. The horsemen came to an orderly halt, one man trotting a little further forward. He took in Yron and the elven trio. Their faces were still covered in deep brown and green paint, having had no chance to clean them under prayer.
'Hunting?' said the rider abruptly.
'Escaping,' said Yron, knowing immediately they were not Xeteskians. 'Xetesk is an unpleasant place.'
'We are in accord there,' said the rider. He was a black-haired man, youngish, with heavy brows and a hard face. Yron didn't like him. 'Tell me your purpose.'
'It isn't my way to state my business to total strangers,' said Yron. 'Perhaps you'd like to tell me who I am addressing.'
'My name is Devun and these are men from the army of the righteous. We are the vanguard of thousands.'
Yron cursed under his breath. Black Wings. Not promising.
'Pleased to make your acquaintance, Devun. Now I would ask you to move aside and let us continue. My friends and I have pressing matters away from your battles with the colleges.'
'Not so fast, one of only four,' said Devun, and there was threat in his voice and posture. 'The only innocents fleeing the colleges now are refugees, hungry from seasons of deprivation. None of you have that look.'
He was looking past Yron again at the TaiGethen.
'And these are neither refugees nor college representatives,' said Yron, and he walked a little closer to Devun. 'My friend, you are among those who hate Xetesk with the same passion as you do. Let's not cause trouble here. These elves are not used to people standing in their way. It makes them nervous.'
'Well, since we are friends, there is no harm in you telling me both your name and your business.'
Devun had no interest in letting them go. Yron could see his posturing impressing those with whom he rode. But there was no harm in the truth; it might just do the trick. He drew himself tall, ignoring the blood running down his leg and the dull ache of the wound.
'I am Captain Yron, late of the Xeteskian college guard, now on the run for desertion and treachery. These are members of the TaiGethen from Calaius. Take me if you must but don't get in their way. You'll live to regret it. Or rather, you won't.' He spread his arms. 'Your move.'
Devun didn't even pause to think. 'Commander Selik will want to talk to you all.' He signalled to his men. 'Hold them.'
Yron sighed and ducked to the ground, rolling over and out of immediate trouble. Riders heeled their horses, moving to surround them, others began to slide from their mounts, drawing swords. The TaiGethen exploded into action.
All three elven bows drew and released, knocking three men from their saddles. The cell split. Merke threw a jaqrui ahead of her, drawing her sword, running and leaping in a blur of movement. She caught a rider feet-first in the stomach, knocking him from his horse to hang by one stirrup. She landed smartly, rose and slashed out his throat. More jaqrui wailed, more men died.
Vaart was surrounded by four. He feinted and ducked a straight blow, punching his sword clean through the eye of his attacker and following him as he went down, rolling over the corpse and dragging his blade clear. The other three came at him. He lashed a kick out front, winding one, caught a blow on his sword from another and swayed away from a reckless swing.
He rolled right, coming up and stabbing into the thigh of the nearest man, whose sword lashed out and caught him a glancing blow on his left shoulder, biting deep before swinging clear. Vaart rolled again with the blow, fending off the two who still came at him. He stood, drop-kicked one in the windpipe, a killing twist of his foot as he landed atop the Black Wing. He spun on his heel, hurled a jaqrui into the face of the man with the thigh wound but the last was just quick enough to bury his sword in Vaart's chest. The elf died silently.
Yron pushed himself to his feet, running to Merke's aid. To his left, Inell was backing away from three bowmen, eyeing up which to take first, the bodies of two in front of his dripping blade. Yron ignored him, drawing his axe and thrashing it into the back of a man attempting to flank the cell leader. At the same time, Merke thrust her sword up into the belly of a swordsman still on his horse, spun and almost tore Yron's throat out, just pulling her blow. She nodded and half turned but then stumbled forward, falling into Yron and bringing him down, an arrow deep in her back, puncturing her heart.
Yron fell flat, winded, his head thrown back, his gaze passing across Inell, two arrows in his chest, punching flat-palmed into the nose of the man who stood over him, driving bone into his brain. The man fell twitching to the ground, Inell following him, a blade driven through his lower back.
On top of him, Merke moved, her hand pressing on one of his. He opened it and the thumb was pushed into his palm.
'You know what to do,' she said, drawing a final ragged bubbling breath.
Rough hands pulled Yron from beneath her body, he making a play at struggling in order to slip the fragment into his pocket. His axe was taken from him and cast aside. Devun was in front of him, looking open-mouthed at the scene of carnage. More than a dozen men lay dead or dying.
'I told you,' said Yron thickly.
Devun swung round, his fist connecting with Yron's front teeth.
He felt them give and pain flared in his head as blood started to flow from his mouth and down his throat. He spat to clear his breathing.
'Don't you say another word, Xeteskian. The only reason you're still alive is that Selik will not thank me for killing you before he's interrogated you.'
'I'm already looking forward to it.'
'But I'm damned if I'm going to listen to your filthy college tongue all the way to Understone.'
He nodded. Yron felt a sharp blow to the base of his skull. It didn't hurt for long.
Chapter 44.
The Raven rode hard throughout the day, aware that Aeb's injuries and the lack of casting power of all three mages made them vulnerable. Denser would be sporting new scars on his face and neck from the Familiar's attack but was otherwise not physically damaged. Ilkar had drained himself completely through healing, shielding and Communion, while Erienne was struggling with her concentration as the Al-Drechar fed her power from the One magic and asked her to cope with its increasing ferocity.
All the way across the south of Xetesk, Dordovan forces had pulled out, leaving Xetesk's search for Yron and the TaiGethen cell unmolested. Their threat had forced The Raven further south than they had anticipated and, towards the south-west, they saw the disturbing sight of clouds of dust hanging in the air, the unmistakeable sign of an army on the march.
The smart money was on the Black Wings but it wasn't something they could worry about unduly as they sought the allied college lines and information on the whereabouts of the elves and, most particularly, Rebraal and Auum.
They pushed their horses as far as they dared, hearing the battle very clearly long before they got close enough to begin identifying the forces engaged in heavy fighting to the south-east of the city. From their initial positions on the borders of the Xeteskian mage lands, Hirad estimated the Dordovan and Lysternan forces had driven in over thirty miles and were encountering Xeteskian resistance some five miles from the walls.
The Raven encountered several perimeter patrols, mainly Lysternan cavalry. These meetings gained them crucial information but the rumour mill would start too and its outcome was not necessarily positive. Although The Raven were a sight most allied forces could only dream of seeing, one of their number was the former commander of Lystern's army and wanted for desertion. Another was a Protector.
There were two hours of light left when The Raven rode into the forward camp of Lystern and Dordover's joint command. They were only a mile behind the battle lines, on a rise that gave a good view of the whole front. The Unknown and Darrick led The Raven to an observation point and they looked down on the extraordinary spectacle of college warfare.
The fighting was concentrated in an arc around a quarter of a mile across though other fronts were evidenced by smoke and light further to the east and north-east.
Below The Raven, the main allied force pressed a sword and spear attack. Behind both lines, ranks of archers fired at each other and the knots of offensive and defensive mages, while the flanks were protected by pikemen and the more mobile cavalry.
Izack was here, so they were told, directing battle and rotating his cavalry to keep them as fresh as he could. They harried the flanks of the Xeteskians, engaged their cavalry, feinted charges deep behind the enemy and rode hard in defence of any weakening areas of their own line.
The roar of battle was deafening, even from here. The desultory thud of spells punctuated the yell of orders, the cries of panic and pain, the whinnies of horses and the constant clash of metal.
Reinforcements ran in from both sides, groups of fighters moving under questionable mage protection. Shields flared under the bombardment; those that cracked leaving their charges helpless to the merciless mana power. And older men, women and youths were everywhere - supplying arrows, water and food where they could and carrying the injured and dying from the battlefield.
All around The Raven the air smelled of blood, sweat and fire. HotRain sluiced out of the sky over the support and reinforcements, ForceCones smashed out, DeathHail sliced away at groups of cavalry. Across the lines, ruptured earth and heaved stone were the residue of EarthHammers.
The Unknown turned to Darrick. 'How do you see it?' he shouted over the din.
'Xetesk can't outflank.' Darrick pointed away west. 'They must be fully committed on all fronts. We need to get down there onto the field. Speak to Izack.'
'Got a couple of ideas for him?'
Darrick nodded, smiling, and The Unknown could see him yearning to be there in the midst of the confusion, a snorting horse under him, blood-slick sword in hand.
'We'll also get the best intelligence on the elven positions.'
'I don't see any Protectors here,' mentioned The Unknown.
'No, interesting, isn't it?'
'Raven!' The Unknown turned. 'We are leaving.'
The big warrior led them back to their horses, the animals tethered in a group fifty yards from the observation point. They looked tired and forlorn, eyeing their riders with weary resignation.
'Hirad, Thraun, flank positions,' said The Unknown as they mounted, the noise of battle diminishing just enough for normal speech. 'Mages, inside the arc, and if you have enough for a SpellShield, now's the time. Darrick, centre with me. Ren, Aeb, you've got the rear.'
The Raven kicked away, drawing cheers from some they passed. The Unknown took them quickly down the slope and into the maelstrom. Among the fighting, the untutored eye saw nothing but a storm of blood, mud, men and steel. Immediately to their left, a pair burst from the mass, Xeteskian tumbling over Dordovan in the mud, punches flying, each man desperate to get a blade round for a killing blow. But the Xeteskian was lost in the midst of the enemy. He was hauled up by Dordovan hands, stabbed half a dozen times and dropped face down.
Far out on the right flank, The Unknown saw a man who had trained under the best. Izack was leading a charge into a confused area of fighting. Xeteskian spells had crashed through one too many SpellShields and allied reinforcements had died before they reached the line. Archer support was weak and it was all the remaining mages could do to shield those who still stood.
As the Lysternan cavalry galloped in, Izack's booming voice could be heard across the battlefield. Foot soldiers pushed away and disengaged, giving the horsemen maximum space to move through.
'Tight!' roared Izack. 'Tight!'
The cavalry kept close form, dodging their own men as best they could, angling in steeply to avoid the worst of pike and spear to thump into the Xeteskian lines, driving men back, trampling those who failed to react, using their swords to fend off and scatter.
Behind them, the allies regrouped as arrows peppered the momentarily disordered Xeteskians. Izack's cavalry withdrew and both sides ran in again, marshalled by the calls of field captains and lieutenants. Izack was now clear, cantering past the next section of Lysternan horsemen who took orders, wheeled and rode hard on a flanking manoeuvre.
The Unknown led The Raven across the back of the fighting line, cloaks flowing, arrows falling around them but bouncing off the HardShield lattice covering much of the allied rear.
'Izack!' bellowed Darrick as they approached.
The cavalry commander hauled his horse around, his face splitting into a broad smile in recognition of the voice of his erstwhile general. He leaned out of his saddle and clasped hands with Darrick. The Raven stopped and surrounded him, well out of spell and missile range.
'Dear Gods, General, it lightens my heart to see you!'
'And I you, though I'd wished for kinder circumstances.'
Izack nodded, glancing quickly over The Raven, his eyes never straying too far from the battle.
'What brings you here?' he asked. 'I'd heard The Raven were near. Blackthorne told us as much but I thought you'd be headed back south again by now.'
'So did we,' agreed Darrick. 'But we need to find the elves. We believe one of the TaiGethen cells has recovered something vital to them.'
'I've heard nothing,' said Izack. 'The elves are all fighting further east. They're with a Dordovan force trying to reach Xetesk's east gate. They're incredible fighters, so they say. The painted ones particularly.'
'You'd better believe it,' said The Unknown. 'One to one as good as Protectors, in my opinion.'
'And in Xetesk's too,' said Izack. 'The Protectors are heavily committed against them.'
'Are you in contact?' asked Darrick.
'Only by riders. Can't spare mages for Communion.'
Darrick nodded. 'We have to get to them. How's the land in between?'
'Safe enough,' said Izack. 'Don't stray too far west, Xeteskian cavalry is moving out there.' He smiled. 'Go on, tell me what I'm doing wrong.'
'Nothing,' said Darrick. 'But weight your left. Keep cavalry out there. We've seen an army on the march north. Don't get caught.'
'Know about it already,' said Izack. 'Black Wings. They're here to attack Xetesk, I think. They might even help us.'
'Not by choice,' said The Unknown. 'Don't underestimate them.'
'One other thing,' said Darrick. 'Their cavalry commander here isn't confident. He sees things too late. Next time you see a breach, you might try riding through it, but take half of your men with you.'
The two Lysternans shook hands again.
'You know I'm supposed to arrest you,' said Izack. 'Pity I didn't recognise you.'
'Another day,' said Darrick. 'I'll come back, answer for my actions.'
'Raven!' Hirad took up his reins. 'Raven with me!'
Taking The Unknown's place at the head of the arc, he galloped away towards the east gate of Xetesk.
The dusk was deepening when The Raven finally rode into the allies' forward camp on the eastern battle front. With the coming of night fighting had ceased, and the echoing memories of the battle clashed with the enforced calm of the aftermath.
The Raven had been forced to move slowly. Their horses' exhaustion, marauding bands of Xeteskian cavalry and the deep suspicion of Dordovan patrols had all made for a circuitous and difficult passage. But a sympathetic finger had pointed them the way to the mess tents and the elven encampment. And although they drew glances that ranged from awe to open hostility, they had eaten and their horses were picketed, rubbed down and fed.
With Ilkar leading, they walked into the quiet of the elven camp. Most were already asleep, stretched out under the cloudy sky, but those still awake displayed the signs of people who had experienced their first day on the battlefield: shock, deep weariness, disbelief.
Hirad sympathised. They would have feared for their lives every heartbeat, and finished the day bruised, deafened, exhausted and guilty that they lived when their friends had died. And worse was to come. It would have to be faced all over again as dawn broke, but with every muscle screaming for rest and the risks as great, if not greater. But for these elves, there was also the fact that they would never have seen such a mass of humanity in one place all trying to kill each other. Never mind their willingness to fight and die for their cause and never mind their skill and mental strength. Nothing prepared you for that first day of mass battle. Nothing.
They found Rebraal and Auum together, cuts bathed and bound, sitting cross-legged near a fire discussing the day gone and the day to come. As The Raven approached, Ilkar ushering tired elves out of the way to let them sit to talk, Auum looked up, his distaste undisguised and eyeing Hirad with what amounted to contempt. The Unknown put a calming hand on Hirad's shoulder and sat him next to Ilkar, who Rebraal had been plainly happy to see.
The conversation began, Ilkar translating the elven words.
'So what brings you here, little brother? We thought you were in the city by now.'