He pivoted and lunged after Darrick, threatening to break free, his rage giving him a strength to match even the big man's. But as he turned, Thraun caught his free arm and the two Raven men bore him backwards, cursing, spitting his fury and heaving against their grip.
'No, Unknown, you bastard. Don't let them do this. Let me go, now!'
'You are not helping, Hirad. Let it rest.'
The Unknown's face was red with exertion. The muscles in his shoulders were bunched beneath his shirt and the cords of his neck stood proud. Hirad's feet slithered, searching for purchase. But he had no answer to the combined power of The Unknown and the quiet, determined Thraun.
'Damn you, Heryst!' shouted Hirad as he was all but carried through a door and out into the corridor beyond. 'You're a murderer, you hear me? A fucking murderer. You should be the one dying, not Darrick. He's trying to save Balaia. What are you doing? Murderer!'
'Hirad! Enough!'
'And damn you, Unknown. Damn the lot of you bastards who stood by and let this happen.'
The voices started to echo as the unequal struggle moved away and out of sight. A curious calm descended on the hall. Darrick had given himself up to the guards who were flanking him but not restraining him. Denser was aware of Erienne's anxious breathing close by and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Across the table, Heryst and the law mages stood. Metsas and Simmac wore slight smiles while their clerks gathered around them, pale and frightened.
Heryst walked around the table to stand in front of Darrick. The Raven swordsman met his gaze squarely.
'I am sorry, Ry,' said the Lord Elder Mage. 'But you gave me no option.'
'I thought you a man of strength and vision. A man I could trust and be proud to serve,' said Darrick. 'But I saw it first in Dordover and here again today. You are weak. You would betray anything to cling on to power. What a disappointment. You are not the Heryst to whom I swore loyalty. I have nothing more to say to you.'
He looked away.
'Take him,' said Heryst. 'Give him anything he wants.'
'Yes, my Lord.'
Darrick led his jailers from the Great Hall.
'You're making the worst mistake of your life,' said Denser.
Heryst glanced over his shoulder; the law mages were watching him.
'You know, I've always respected The Raven,' he said, walking across to Denser and Erienne. 'You fight well, you're honourable and you've helped Balaia through some of her darkest days. But sometimes, I think you forget who you are and where you came from. At heart, you're mercenaries. You spent a decade fighting for money and glory. You're the best, I'll grant you that, but it does not put you above my laws. Not anyone's laws. Hirad would do well to remember that.'
'He's just trying to save his friend,' said Erienne. 'His only mistake was thinking you were doing the same.'
Heryst sighed. 'Ry Darrick refused my help and he is beyond salvation now. I cannot break the rules for anyone, and the Gods know I bent them as far as I could, or where would my authority be? I would be corrupt, favouring some and condemning others. That is not Lystern's way.'
'Darrick is Raven. Hirad isn't going to forget this,' warned Denser.
'Hirad is one barbarian. And a short-tempered one at that,' said Heryst. 'The best thing you can do for him now is calm him down, get him saddled and get him out of my college. In fact, out of Lystern. He's a nuisance that I don't need.'
Denser shook his head. 'Out of all of you, only Styliann ever really understood The Raven.'
'And look where it got him. Dead in another dimension. Dystran is in charge now.'
'Indeed,' said Denser. 'And the shame is that he, Styliann, is not here to explain to you what you should already know. Because then you would understand the gravity of your decision.'
'Like I say, sometimes you forget your place.' Heryst turned away. 'Be gone by dusk.'
Bedlam in The Raven's chambers. Denser could hear it as he and Erienne approached down the main stairs from the Great Hall and turned left through the tower doors to the senior mage and guest quarters. The Raven had been given three bedchambers leading off a high-ceilinged drawing and dining room.
Denser and Erienne shared a look of raised eyebrows before he pushed the door open. Hirad and The Unknown Warrior stood toe to toe, the former so furious he was sweating in the cool of the drawing room, his braided hair flying with every jerk of his head.
'You aren't listening to me, Hirad, you ca-'
'Why should I listen to you? We had a chance to save him then and there and you blanked me.' Hirad's finger jabbed into The Unknown's chest. Denser saw the big man's fists clench.
'Something wrong with your eyes, Hirad? Or is it the usual brain failure? I counted nine mages and fifteen armed guards. We didn't even have one dagger between us. They would have killed you. All of us.'
'I may not have your brain but at least I've got heart,' rasped Hirad. 'I'd prefer to die trying than look on like a scolded child. How about you, eh?'
The Unknown's left hand whipped up and caught Hirad's finger in mid-jab.
'Put that down or I'll break it. Don't treat me like some boy you can push around.'
'Someone's got to push or Darrick's going to die.'
The Unknown forced Hirad's hand down to his side, their gazes locked together.
'No one is dying today,' said The Unknown.
'No? Asked Darrick his opinion, have you?'
'You know better than this.'
'I know one of The Raven is about to be executed. What do you know? The sun's got to your fat neck, Unknown.'
The Unknown's arms moved in a blur. His hands gripped the barbarian's upper arms and he lifted Hirad clear from the ground, moved two paces and dumped him in a chair.
'Now you will sit there and you will listen.'
Denser recognised the chill in The Unknown's voice. Hirad didn't.
'So now I have to sit and wait for the killing cast, do I?'
The Unknown leant in, hands braced on the arms of the chair.
'You have tried my patience enough. If you want to take me on, feel free to try if it'll make you feel better. Think you can down me, do you, Coldheart?'
'Unknown, I-' began Denser but The Unknown snapped out his left hand towards him, palm raised.
'What's it to be, Coldheart? Use your fists or your head. It's up to you.'
Hirad stared at him, eyes bulging, breath hissing from his nostrils.
'Tell you what,' continued The Unknown, 'how about I get the deepest thinker of us all to tell you what you should have known from the very start? Thraun?'
The shapechanger, who had been watching the exchange in agitated silence, frowned.
'I . . .' he began. Denser could see the confusion in his eyes.
'If you wanted to rescue Darrick, when would you do it?' asked The Unknown.
Thraun tried to frame the words but as so often, the block between his thoughts and his speech remained obstinately in place.
'Now you listen to me, Unknown,' said Hirad, voice quieter but brim full of rage. 'I have just lost Ilkar and we were helpless. And if you think I'm just going to sit around here-'
'Wait,' said Thraun, instantly the centre of attention. 'Wait until the very end. Until they think we have given up.'
'What?'
'Think, Hirad,' said The Unknown, straightening, his voice pained. 'For once in your life, think.'
'What else do you reckon I've been doing?'
'Absolutely everything but,' said Denser. He walked over to the cold fireplace on the mantel of which stood a pewter jug and carved wooden mugs.
'Wondered when you'd join in the fun,' growled Hirad.
Denser poured mugs of ale and handed them round.
'This isn't fun for any of us,' said Denser. 'Heryst wants us, or more particularly you, out of the city by dusk.'
'Well he knows what-'
'Hirad!' barked The Unknown. 'Drink your ale, take a deep breath and count to ten. Slowly. You have to calm down.'
Hirad opened his mouth.
'Just don't,' said The Unknown. 'Because right now, you are the second biggest threat to Darrick's life.'
'And how do you work that out?'
'It doesn't take a genius, Hirad,' said Erienne.
'What?'
Denser almost laughed but kept it in check. He could see Hirad's anger at them all crumbling in the face of his lack of allies.
'I want to assure you of one thing,' said The Unknown quietly. 'The Raven will not abandon one of their own. It's never happened before and it isn't going to start now.'
'I-'
'Hold on, Hirad,' said The Unknown.
He walked to the door and yanked it open, looking up and down the corridor. Satisfied no one had been listening, he closed it again, looking at Denser.
'Just in case, eh?'
Denser nodded. 'No problem.'
The SoundShield was a simple casting, done in moments. Denser nodded when it was in place. Hirad, still breathing hard, tried to take them all in at once, a frown across his face. He settled on Erienne who walked over to him and knelt by him, a hand on his cheek.
'Oh, Hirad, you react in all the right ways but at all the wrong times.'
'I have to do what I feel,' he said.
'Time and place,' said The Unknown. 'Show that passion later and we stand half a chance.'
'Later?'
'Yes, later.' The Unknown walked around in a tight circle. 'Erienne, how long until the execution?'
'Midnight is traditional in Lystern. The condemned is not supposed to witness the joy of another new day.'
'Midnight,' confirmed The Unknown. 'When we all come together in the Vigil for Darrick's passing. Hirad, are you getting this?'
'Sort of.'
'Gods falling, a sign of life!' The Unknown drained his mug and sat opposite the barbarian. 'And now, at last, we can plan.'
Devun had been a long time coming to Understone. For so many days he'd feared what he would find. But the faltering Balaian army the Black Wings just about commanded needed reassuring. Selik had promised he'd join them but he'd failed to materialise. And so the army of ordinary Balaians, united against magic, had stopped in its tracks, scant miles from the walls of Xetesk. Their goal was in sight but they were too scared to approach it without their leader.
So, belatedly, Devun had ridden with a group of ten to find him. Understone had been turned to nothing more than an open grave. He dismounted fifty yards from the garrison stockade and let his horse bend its neck to crop the burgeoning plains grass. He could smell the sick taint of decay on the breeze and could see the damage to the wooden stockade which Selik had made his headquarters. A few yards later and the first bodies were clearly visible, lying in the grotesque shapes of their deaths.
Devun sent his men on down into the town and carried on towards the stockade alone, already knowing what he was going to find. A numb feeling spread across his body. He tied a rag around his mouth and nose, to guard against the stench that grew with every pace, and drew his sword, just in case. But the scavengers had been and gone. The bodies in the main street had been stripped of weapons, armour and clothes. And he could see, up towards the eastern end of the town where his men were headed, that every scrap of canvas had been taken from the makeshift site that had housed much of the army of the righteous.
Swallowing bile, Devun pushed open the gates of the stockade, a gasp escaping his lips. The ground was covered in bodies. Clouds of flies feasted on the corpses. Carrion birds pecked and tore at the festering, decomposing flesh. Every body had been stripped, just like outside, but here he could chart more easily the course of the battle. Slaughter, more like.
There had been two conflicts. One right here by the gates where a jumble of bodies, unrecognisable in their putrefaction, lay in close formation. The other had been concentrated to his right. A clear area in front of the burned remnants of a collapsed rampart was bordered by a press of bodies. Beneath them, the ground was stained black with their blood.
Whoever had been here had presumably taken their own dead away, leaving the Black Wings and ordinary Balaians to rot where they fell. Devun was disgusted. He walked on across the compound; the smell in the still warm air was staggering. He fought back the nausea, waved his free hand in front of his face to fend off the swarms of flies and stepped between the bodies as best he could.
He stopped for a while in front of the door to the garrison offices and barracks. He knew what he'd find inside, he just had to see for himself. And if not inside, he'd have to look at every corpse lying behind him.
Devun pushed open the door and the savage odour hit him like a charging horse. He gagged and coughed, leaning against the door frame until his vision cleared and the cold sensation eased enough for him to move on.
Just ahead and to the right, was the office door and an answer to his question. Scratched into it was a symbol. It was rough but there was no mistaking it. He spat on it, watching the spittle dribble down across the eye and claw of The Raven's sign. He opened the door. The office had been ransacked. Papers were strewn across the floor. The table and shelves were all done for.
By the door in the left wall a rotting head lay separated from its stripped body. Devun walked over to it, knelt and grasped the hair that still covered the skull. So much of the face was gone, eaten by rats and insects, but the bone around the left eye socket was warped and the left cheek criss-crossed by dozens of tiny cracks. IceWind had done this but that wasn't what had killed Selik. It was The Raven.
Devun placed the head carefully back on the ground, stood and walked quickly from the building.
Later, sitting on his horse in front of his men, Devun watched the flames consume the Understone garrison and give some belated respect to all those who had died within it.
'What will we do?' asked his new lieutenant. 'Without Selik, the army will break up faster than ever.'