It took Dystran a while to work out what it was that had alerted his subconscious and caused him to look up and through his closed balcony windows.
'What has just happened?' he asked, pushing his chair back.
'You were struggling to decipher this word and wondered where it was they went, whoever they were, and if there are any of them left,' said Vuldaroq, a half-smile on his thin face.
Dystran glanced sideways at Vuldaroq as he got up. How strange the fortunes of Balaia had revealed themselves to be. Vuldaroq was a man that Dystran would gladly have seen swinging from a tree in the college courtyard before the demons had invaded. But without losing any of his trademark bite, the head of the Dordovan college had revealed himself to be a man of depth and strength as well as possessing a sharp analytical mind. It had taken him some time to throw off the memories of his flight from Dordover but he and his few mages had proved a tonic in the college of their erstwhile enemies.
If only they could break down the terminology contained in the texts Sharyr had brought back. Something important was eluding him and it was based around an allusion to a people called the Charanacks. They held knowledge, so the text maintained, that had been the basis of the first deal struck between demon and Xeteskian mage well over a millennium ago. Dystran was frustrated. He'd have loved to know who they were. They would almost certainly be worth talking to.
'I don't mean that,' said Dystran. He walked to the balcony doors and opened them, standing inside while his guards gathered about him. 'Just listen.'
Everyone in the chamber did so. Dystran saw a frown cross Vuldaroq's face.
'Quiet,' he said.
'Silence more like,' said Dystran.
He indicated his guards accompany him and he walked out into the fresh air of his balcony. Every day since the gliders had finished their search of the mana trails that identified the positions of their ColdRoom casters, demon activity had been incessant.
They had suffered a number of quick attacks from the reavers that they had been lucky to repel without losing any of their mages and only three swordsmen. And when the attacks weren't coming in, the creatures swarmed the shell, probing and teasing. They kept up a barrage of sound, hoping to distract their targets, and further away, any who cared to look would see enslaved Xeteskians being herded from one area of the city to another. There seemed no discernible purpose to this barring the sapping of morale.
But now the shell was deserted. Dystran couldn't see a single demon flying above the college or walking the outer walls. Further afield, he could see no slaves in the streets, no clusters of demons hovering over them as they worked. He could hear no cries of the exhausted, terrified and dying. There was no smoke from cook fires. Nothing.
Far in the distance, he could see the shapes of demons clustered in the air to the north. Confident, he walked the circle of his balcony. Away to the south, the fires of the Wesmen signified their confusing and continuing presence. Dystran wished they'd join one side or the other. Or indeed return to the Heartlands. Occasionally he had seen demons hovering near to the Wesmen. Attacking, talking or simply watching, he couldn't tell. There were none there now. In the distant east there were more demons. West towards the Blackthornes too. Dark patches in the sky at the edges of the city and beyond.
Dystran completed his circuit and looked up into the sky above the college. In the blue, the vibrating white slash hung. If he tuned in to the mana spectrum he knew he'd be able to see the pure mana flooding into Balaia, strengthening the demons with every passing heartbeat. And occasionally, more demons would travel from wherever it was their homeland lay across inter-dimensional space, swarming into the sky before dispersing about whatever tasks they had been summoned to perform.
There was a crowd at the balcony doors.
'A trap, do you think?' asked Vuldaroq.
Dystran shook his head. 'It isn't their style, is it? I just don't understand it.'
'We should take advantage,' said Chandyr, who never left Dystran's side. 'Bring some of our people into the college.'
'No,' said Dystran.
'My Lord-'
'No,' he repeated. 'Think, Chandyr.'
'I am,' said the commander, bristling. 'We have a chance to save some of our own.'
Dystran ushered them all back inside. He shared the urge to do exactly what Chandyr desired but he knew it was folly. 'Whether it is a trap or not is immaterial. For one thing, I don't think you will find any Xeteskians within a mile of the college. Wherever those demons are hovering, that is where our people are, believe me. But even should you bring them in, it is impractical. We can barely feed and water ourselves, let alone any more mouths.'
Chandyr relaxed a little and inclined his head. 'I know you're right, it's just . . .' He gestured out towards the city.
'I understand,' said Dystran. 'There is no one in this room, in this college, who does not want to save every man, woman and child in our city. But we have to liberate them when we can truly help them. That isn't now but we will do it.
'But you're right, we must take advantage. So don't stand there. Take the fastest runners you have and let's get something more from the library, assuming it didn't all burn. And Chandyr, we don't trust these bastards, right? So make sure some of your sprinters can cast, won't you?'
The Raven had enjoyed a peculiar rest. They, plus Kas, Ark and Eilaan, had camped on the idyllic shores of Triverne Lake for three days and four nights. They had seen no sign of demons. They had seen no sign of anything barring forest creatures, in truth. Curious. They'd sparred and trained, talked and rested but it all had a surreal quality. None of them could ever ignore the fact of what was to come.
If they'd been in a storm before then surely this was its eye.
Understanding Rebraal and Auum's likely timescale for evacuating Julatsa, they ate a quiet breakfast on yet another cold and clear morning before heading back for the longboat to row themselves to the main shore of the lake. No one spoke the whole way across the placid water either. Hirad had wanted to break the ice but had seen the look in The Unknown's eyes and kept himself quiet.
He shook his head. He found it absurd that in this one longboat the future of Balaia and at least three dimensions rested. To him, it felt like a funeral procession. Prophetic perhaps. Hirad left them all to it for the row but couldn't keep himself quiet when they'd reached the eastern shore, hidden the boat and moved to shelter.
'Brooding doesn't suit you, Unknown. Thinking about the family? '
'Not this time, Hirad.' The Unknown shook his head.
'So? I'm not going to guess just to amuse you. Tell me.'
The Unknown smiled briefly and looked across at Hirad to gauge his expression. Hirad mugged at him, stretching his eyes.
'This is serious. Think about what we're about to attempt. Think about the weight we carry, the lives of those reliant on us. Like never before, this is no game. We need to watch ourselves, Hirad,' he said. Hirad didn't reply. 'We need to watch what we do, how much we take on ourselves and how much we rely on those around us. Not overstretch.'
'Right.'
'Hirad, we are not sharp. How can we be? It'll take time even to get close and that means we cannot rely on each other the way we could.'
'I'm not with you.'
'I can't say it much plainer, Coldheart. What we were five years ago is a memory. What we were two years ago is probably unattainable. If we fight on those memories, we won't survive.'
Hirad frowned. 'We knew we weren't enough on our own. That's why we've brought a crowd with us.'
'You aren't listening to me.' The Unknown took a quick glance behind him and hushed his voice. 'I'm just asking you to wise up and understand that The Raven we all remember isn't the one walking here. It's got nothing to do with belief in ourselves. But we've sat around for two years. You know what that does and Darrick has seen its effects in our stamina, in our speed and team-work. It's a matter of degrees but it's critical.'
'Unknown, in case it escaped your attention, I spent my time running with the TaiGethen and Thraun with the ClawBound. I am faster than I have ever been.'
'Fine!' The Unknown slapped his hands against his thighs. 'But I am not and nor is Darrick, Denser or Erienne. Nor are Ark and Kas come to that. Remember your little spin move outside Blackthorne? It almost got you killed. I was only just in time.'
'But you were there.' Hirad felt confused and a familiar anger grabbed at him. 'So what's the problem?'
'The problem, Hirad, is that you cannot rely on us as you did. And that means that for now at least, you have to slow down. Stay in line and in touch.'
'If you think I'm going to ignore an opening to kill because you think you're too old and slow you're wrong. I fight my way. Like I always have. And you yours. And we look out for each other. Like always.'
The Unknown stopped and faced Hirad, his eyes hard, face reddening slightly. 'Why do you always have to be such a stubborn bastard? I'm trying to help you stay alive here.'
Hirad could sense The Raven bunching around them. He thought to walk away but stayed. 'No you aren't. You're trying to clip my wings. Undermine my belief in you all and I can't understand why you'd do that. Where we're going, we'll need every advantage we've got and what I've learned from Auum is a big one.'
'And stopping any of us dying is another,' growled The Unknown.
'All I know is, we survive because we don't compromise. Because we do things our way. We're The Raven, Unknown.'
'Think it had slipped my mind? Gods drowning, it's because we're The Raven you need to understand this. Face reality. We're too old to be doing this but there is literally no one else. And we have to stay alive. We have to.'
'It's a tactic I like to employ myself,' snapped Hirad. 'Don't you stand there and tell me you can't watch my back. Don't ever say that.'
'When did I say that, Coldheart? What I recall telling you was that if you persist in trying fancy elven moves I'm not ready for, I might not be fast enough to save you if you get in trouble. Big difference. My hip is weak. You have to be aware.'
The Unknown was standing very close now and shouting into his face. Hirad could feel his heart beat and hear their voices echoing from the bleak faces of the Blackthorne range foothills. Hirad should have backed away, he knew he should.
'You're always there. That's why I have the courage to fight.'
'And what if I'm not, eh?' The Unknown's eyes searched his face. 'It'll be too late to realise I might have been right when you're lying in a sludge of your own intestines.'
'You're giving up, Unknown. You're giving up.'
The Unknown grabbed Hirad's face and pulled him close enough to kiss. 'No, dammit, I'm being real because if I ever let you down I could never live with myself. What are you being?'
Hirad stepped back a pace, The Unknown's admission rattling through him, shuddering his every nerve. He had no answer to it, how could he? The Unknown had begun by trying to advise him and had ended baring his soul.
Hirad became acutely aware of the silence that surrounded them, punctuated by the swirls of wind across hillside and lake. He stared into The Unknown's eyes, still at a total loss.
'This is it for us,' said The Unknown. 'I so want us all to live.'
'Movement,' said Kas abruptly.
Hirad bit down on his response, on his shock and confusion at what The Unknown was saying. Instead, he and the big man gave themselves room and drew their swords. Thraun and Darrick moved easily alongside them while Denser and Erienne took station behind, already preparing to cast.
'Direction,' said The Unknown.
'Due north, moving against the low ridge,' said Kas. He, Ark and Eilaan were slightly detached from The Raven but working as an individual unit as they had trained.
'Running?' asked Darrick.
'Yes,' replied Kas.
'Good,' said Darrick. 'Probably not demons, then.'
'Let's hope you're right,' said Hirad.
The Raven moved north along the lake front. Presently, they could see shapes moving against the horizon. Three of them, quick-stepped and sure. Auum's Tai. It wasn't long before Hirad could see Auum's expression, one of irritation and exasperation.
Hirad smiled and put up his sword, waiting for them to approach.
Auum, Duele and Evunn ran up to them, barely breathing hard.
'This is your idea of concealment,' Auum said to Hirad.
'We've only just rowed over here.'
Auum tugged at his ear.
'And you are fortunate there are no others to hear you,' he said. 'Gyal's tears, but humans are noisy when they argue.' He appraised them all. 'You can all travel now.'
It was not a question. The Unknown inclined his head.
'We've said what needs to be said right now.'
'Keep it so,' said Auum. 'Threat closes.'
He turned to his Tai and spoke quickly. Duele and Evunn jogged away. When he switched his attention back, his face held familiar contempt.
'We move,' he said. 'The caravan is in trouble as it approaches Xetesk. Rebraal feels your presence will aid belief. I am at a loss why.'
Denser grabbed Hirad's arm.
'Just don't say it,' he said. 'We already know.'
Chapter 28.
Baron Blackthorne stood in his banqueting hall and battered the demon about the head again and again. Gore splattered across the filthy stone flags, oozing into cracks and puddling under the creature's body. And with every blow, Blackthorne roared his defiance.
'You . . . will . . . never . . . take my castle. You . . . will . . . never . . . take me.'
He felt a touch on his free arm and swung round, ready to hack at another enemy. He raised his dripping blade but halted his strike when he saw it was Luke.
'It's over,' said Luke, holding his gaze. 'It's dead. The demons have withdrawn.'
Blackthorne became aware of the heaving of his chest and the heat in his face. His eyes would be blazing and wild, he knew. He took a few moments to calm himself, laying his sword on a table and smoothing down his hair. He nodded.
'I'm all right,' he said. 'Thank you, Luke.'
But he could see that Luke wasn't. The young man's face was crossed with cuts that bled freely. His leather armour was torn and his right hand was covered in a makeshift bandage, already stained dark and dripping. He was shivering violently and leaning heavily on his long-handled mace.
'Gods falling, Luke, you need attention,' he said. 'Come, lean on me. I'll take you to the infirmary.'
'There won't be room,' said Luke. 'But I'll lean on you gratefully. Show you what we have left.'
Blackthorne turned to walk back through the banqueting hall and stopped in his tracks. Ten days since he had hosted The Raven here and felt such hope. Now it had been reduced to a battlefield and almost all of that hope had been extinguished.
The main table was strewn with demon and human bodies. One end of it had collapsed under the weight of the fighting, spilling dishes and candelabra onto the floor. And that was only the half of it. Across the length of the two-hundred-foot room, those who could still walk moved among the bodies of those who could not, trying to help where, how and if they could. A quick count told Blackthorne that at least forty of his people lay dead, dying or incapacitated. Should that weight of numbers be replicated throughout the ColdRoom shell . . .
'How much do we have left?'
Luke's face was grim through the sheen of blood.