'Hirad-'
'I don't want to hear it. You aren't dying on me and that's final.'
He was aware his hands were shaking. Erienne kissed his cheek.
'Keep on telling him,' she whispered into his ear.
He nodded.
'So,' said The Unknown. 'Before we all turn in, what's your plan for Understone? Would I be wrong in thinking it included a good deal of riding through the town laying about us with swords and spells until we find what we're looking for?'
Hirad couldn't stop the chuckle though the Gods knew he didn't feel like laughing. 'You forgot the bit about where I cut down Selik, but apart from that you're not far from the mark. You have something better in mind?'
'Well, actually, I do,' said Darrick. 'I know plenty about Understone, and with one small alteration and a slight detour, your plan might just work.'
Darrick sketched out his idea quickly and accurately. Later, as Hirad felt sleep steal his thoughts from him, he felt they might just pull it off. They had no idea how many there were in Understone or where exactly they'd be but they didn't have to. After all, they weren't rescuing anybody, just one object. And eventually they'd find it, no matter how many were killed in the process.
Hirad turned over, his saddle a pillow for his head, the ground soft beneath him and his cloak covering him against the night's cool. Only Ilkar's coughs and his occasional gasp of pain kept him from easy rest.
Auum and his Tai sat by the fire long after The Raven had taken to their rest. They sat in silence, listening to the sounds of sleep and those of the night around them. The Protector, Aeb, was ill at ease as he walked the perimeter, sometimes stopping for an extended period in one place, his body quite still but his lips moving soundlessly. The ClawBound pair padded in some time after midnight, the elf sitting with his back to a tree stump, the panther curling up at his feet.
'The Al-Arynaar and TaiGethen should stay,' said Auum. 'We can return the fragment and the Raven mage will facilitate the binding. We still have sacred texts that must be reclaimed.'
Duele raised his eyebrows. 'Confident in their ability, are you?' he said, scepticism in his voice.
'They are certainly . . . determined,' conceded Auum. 'And they care, that much became apparent today.'
Evunn nodded. 'They move fast and are direct. We would have been a long way further back down the trail tonight.'
'I am confident enough that we can succeed on our own with them. Moving the rest of the elves will bring trouble. Ilkar was right. We should stop the withdrawal.' He turned to the ClawBound elf. 'You are in contact range?'
A nod.
'The elves must fight on. I have asked for this. I'd rather the Sorrow took them while they fought than uselessly on board ship. We will recapture the thumb. Will you relay these messages?'
Another nod.
'Yniss will see us safe. He has given us these strangers to aid us,' said Auum. 'We should not be ungrateful.'
The light of the next dawn was still faint when the panther began to growl and roar, the alien sounds of ClawBound communication echoing over Balaia for the first time.
Ilkar felt every stride of his horse through his body as if the hooves were trampling over him. He'd demanded he ride on his own, determined not be an invalid. Against all odds, he'd had a fairly comfortable night and it was not until the panther had set up its unearthly resonant calls that the pain had gripped him again and all but taken the breath from him.
He still remembered Ren's touch and he recalled her tears as they fell asleep. He was just thankful she was still free. But his own sudden falling had been a stark reminder that in the next breath it could be her turn.
The Raven rode hard or walked their horses at a march for the whole day, once stopping briefly for a meal. Their direction would take them close to but east of Understone on a route that would keep them hidden from the town, with Darrick assuring them that ideal cover and a base for their attack was only a mile or so the other side.
Ilkar hoped and prayed he was right. At times during the day the pain became all but unbearable but he refused to cast to dull it or ask them to slow to ease it. There was fire in his veins and venom in his muscles. His stomach felt like it was being eaten from the inside, there was a rattle every time he took a breath and his heart beat off-rhythm, palpitating, slowing and pounding such that he felt it would crash through his ribs. His eyes played tricks on him while his ears heard sounds that couldn't be - his mother's voice calming him, his tutor at Julatsa chiding him for laziness, the sound of the wind in the sails.
Through it all he kept upright in the saddle and replied in the affirmative when any of them asked, and they asked so often it almost made him laugh, whether he was all right. Stupid question and they all knew it.
It was past dusk when they stopped in a river valley into which rocks had tumbled in ancient times, creating a maze of streams and a patchwork of green and grey. Darrick had been right. It was ideal cover. The ClawBound loped in an hour or so later. Ilkar only dimly heard what Hirad and The Unknown said to the pair before they settled down to rest. By the time he had eaten, his ears roared with a sound like thunder and his body shook with cold although the night was mild and cloudy.
'It's just us now,' Hirad said, more for the benefit of Ren and Darrick than the more seasoned members of The Raven. 'We have to work closely, move as one and keep on moving whatever we come up against. We faced down an army yesterday. Tomorrow we go to fight not talk. We all know why.'
'We'll be moving just before dawn,' said The Unknown. 'Take the fight to them while they're still dull with sleep. We can't rely on Ilkar's defence because we won't know his condition one moment to the next but we're all right because they won't have spell attack. We'll be fighting without the TaiGethen or the ClawBound pair. They will attack as they must, all we've agreed are start points. Don't look to them. We're The Raven; we don't need anyone else. Not to defend, and not to help us.' He watched them all for reaction. 'Now, Aeb, you have something you need to say.'
The Protector was standing at the periphery of the fire.
'You were wrong to bring me,' he said. 'The Act of Giving will soon be rescinded. It is just a matter of time.'
'It was a risk we were all happy to take,' said Denser.
'Xetesk know we are here,' he said. 'They know what we seek.'
'And when will they get here?' asked Hirad.
'Tomorrow. Morning.'
'Then,' said Thraun, surprising them with speech after another lengthy silence, 'we had better be quick.'
Chapter 47.
When The Raven camp stirred, a light drizzle was falling. Ilkar had not slept much and looked every inch the dying elf. It was awful to witness. Shivering, Erienne kissed Denser, rose to her feet and breathed in deep. She felt the cool air rush into her lungs, banishing the fog she always felt around the entity of the One at first waking and easing the thumping in her head.
The Al-Drechar hadn't spoken to her since that night in Blackthorne Castle and she was glad of it. They had opened the door a little further to power from the One and allowed her the freedom to handle it as best she could. And she had responded, working on partitioning her mind a third way to deal with the new power she alone on Balaia possessed. Further than that they had not offered questions or advice, leaving her and The Raven to do what they did best. And today was going to be a severe test of their belief. She wondered whether she dared employ what she had learned.
Windmilling her arms to smooth out the knots in her muscles, she looked at them all preparing. In so many ways like so many other preparations. While they honed the edges of their swords The Unknown, Hirad, Aeb and Darrick talked quietly, refining tactics and attack order, with Thraun standing near, taking in everything. Next to Erienne, Denser sat cross-legged in meditation, focussing his mana and examining his stamina levels. Ever since the casting of Dawnthief, he had come to a new understanding of mana. It had made him an exceptionally efficient caster.
Even Ilkar went through his routine, walking in tight circles, testing shapes and speed. Erienne wasn't sure if he was achieving anything in casting terms but it would keep his mind as far as possible from the dreadful fate towards which he marched.
Only Ren was apart from it. The bags under her eyes and the puffiness of her face told their own story and she was just sitting on the grass, her back to a rock, staring out into nowhere. Her gaze occasionally crossed them all and she would shake her head.
Erienne walked across and squatted down beside her. She had great respect for the quiet elven woman who had been such a source of strength to her in the long days that preceded Lyanna's death; when her desperation had been as keen as her grief subsequently became. Now the tables needed to be turned.
'Hey, anyone there?'
Ren'erei looked at her, a tear squeezing past her eye. 'I don't think so.'
'Time to get ready,' said Erienne. 'Have you checked your bow and blade?'
'Eh?' Ren frowned. 'Oh, yes.'
She waved her hand vaguely at her bow, which rested against the rock next to her.
'I'm no expert, Ren, but I always thought bows needed a string to work.'
The elf crumbled and threw her arms around Erienne's neck, buried her head in her shoulder and cried hard. Erienne held her, looking around at The Raven and gesturing them to stay away. Even Ilkar stared on, his face creased with a guilt he had no right to be feeling.
'Sorry. I'm sorry,' said Ren eventually, pulling away and wiping at her eyes.
'It's all right. You probably needed it.'
'Seems like I've been needing it constantly just lately.'
'I know, Ren, but you have to put it aside for now. String your bow and be ready to fight with us.'
The elf nodded and grabbed her weapon from its resting place. 'I don't know how you do it, any of you,' she said, fishing in her sack for her leather-wrapped bow string. 'He's dying and there's nothing we can do and yet you go on like nothing's happened.'
'Don't ever talk that way,' said Erienne sharply. 'You have to believe. Ilkar's not dead yet and if Hirad believes we can save him, we all believe it and you must too. We've been here before. We've seen our friends die, and the best way we can honour them, if that's all it can be, is by doing the right thing. This time it's reclaiming the Yniss fragment and saving as many other elves as we can without losing any more of our people.
'That's why we look so calm. It's because if we thought for one moment we might fail and that Ilkar might die, we'd already have lost. And The Raven do not like to lose.'
'So I've noticed,' said Ren. 'But you're not even with him, talking to him. It could be the last chance you get.'
'Fate decides that, Ren. And, who knows, he could survive the trip to Calaius. Until he dies, we believe we can save him.'
'But-'
'No buts, Ren. It's as simple as that.' Erienne pushed herself upright. 'It's the only way to think. Come on.'
She held out a hand and Ren accepted it and pulled. The two walked back to the centre of the camp.
'We all ready?' asked Hirad.
'Yes,' said Ren decisively.
'Good, then let's be on our way.'
The Raven walked out of the camp. Hirad put an arm around Ren's shoulder.
'It's all right to feel like you do. We all do. But do it later. Right now, we have work to do and we need you.'
'You do?'
Hirad shrugged. 'Of course. You're Raven.'
Behind them, Erienne smiled. Denser was beside her and they watched as Ilkar walked as easily as he could to Ren's other side and laid his arm across her shoulders too. She responded, wrapping an arm around each of their waists.
'A picture of the professional mercenary approaching battle,' said Denser.
Erienne jabbed him. 'Leave them be.'
'How's the body this morning, Ilks?' asked Hirad.
'Agony,' said Ilkar. 'But I'm walking.'
'Good. Can't spare anyone to carry you, anyway.'
'Your sympathy overwhelms me.'
'I do my best.' Hirad looked across Ren to Ilkar, and Erienne could see his expression in profile, picked out in the vague pre-dawn light. It was desperate, still disbelieving. 'Anyway, the pain won't last for ever. It's only twenty-odd days to the temple.'
Ren tensed but Ilkar laughed. 'I'll attempt to keep my insides from decomposing too much before we get there.'
'Bloody right,' said Hirad. 'I'm not sharing a cabin with you if you smell.'
Their chuckles echoed a little loud.
'Keep it down,' said The Unknown.
It was only a mile to Understone.
Auum watched The Raven go, ambling away down the slope like they were out for an early-morning stroll. He heard their talk and laughter and shook his head.
'Perhaps my assessment was premature,' he said.
'It's their way,' said Rebraal. 'We pray to ease the tension and fear, they talk to keep their minds from it until the moment arrives.'
'I will never understand strangers,' said Auum.
The TaiGethen bowed their heads and prayed to Yniss to keep them strong for the fight to come. Auum murmured offerings to Tual while he painted Duele's face, and when all three were ready they stood with the ClawBound.
'Fight with us, Rebraal. You are our link to The Raven so keep close. This day we will start to right the crimes committed against us. This day I will hold the thumb of Yniss in my hand or I will be travelling to meet him to account for my failings in this life. This I swear.'
The TaiGethen jogged from the camp, heading for the eastern edge of Understone, Rebraal with them. The ClawBound, swift and sure, were just ahead. Auum felt no thrill, just a sense that Yniss might once again be prepared to look their way.
And the god would be looking down when the desecrators and thieves and those who thought to kill his people paid.
The Raven looked down on Understone. It was quiet. Along the single street the ramshackle buildings still stood: the inn, the grain store, the boarded-up traders' offices, the whorehouses, a few homes. Elsewhere the ground was covered with tents and shelters, all dark and silent. There were over a hundred of them. The only life was in the stockade at the western end of the town. Fires burned around the rampart and lanterns shone from barracks windows. They could see figures walking the raised platform. After the end of the second Wesmen wars, the town had been rebuilt in the image of the old in the hope of renewed trade with the west and just as quickly abandoned again. Only the stockade had remained staffed.
'That'll be where Selik is,' said Hirad.
'All in good time,' said Darrick. 'We'll do this in the right order and be the safer for it.'
They moved quietly now, heading for the first tents. Spread panic, Darrick had said. Target the tattoos. Let them make the moves and see who is prepared to fight. Not many, guessed Hirad, but time would tell.
Fifty yards from the tents and all was according to Darrick's plan. The bulk of the Black Wings were looking after themselves in the stockade and the innocents, if you could truly call anyone that who had travelled here to fight with Selik, were unguarded in their tents. They didn't understand conflict. Didn't realise the vulnerability of masses of men to targeted magical attack. Why should they? They were tradesmen.
'He'll have paid mercenaries too,' said The Unknown. 'We'll know them when we see them.'
'Paid,' mused Hirad. 'An unfamiliar idea for us these days.'