'I do not feel we need them, do you?'
Sha-Kaan inclined his head.
'Your trust is welcome and is reciprocated.'
'Speak, Sha-Kaan, though I think I know your subject.'
'I will speak plainly. It is my belief that you have allied with the Naik in a battle that is not your concern nor which could possibly benefit your Brood.'
Tanis looked away, a cough rippling his chest, the dulling scales a sign of his great age. He was far older than Sha-Kaan but in the tight Brood structure that was the Veret way, his authority and ability to lead would never be questioned. Only in death would a successor be appointed. For the Kaan, mind strength was critical and Sha knew that one day Elu-Kaan would beat him and he would take his place among the Elder-Kaan, revered but peripheral.
'Sha-Kaan, this is a time of great peril for the Veret. Our birthings have slumped, protection for our carrying females has to be our primary concern and this leaves too few to defend our borders against attack.'
'So I was right.' Sha-Kaan's anger flared. He felt some small pity for Tanis but it was overwhelmed by contempt. 'Why didn't you come to me?'
'The Naik were already here. They had the strength to finish us there and then. We had no choice.'
'Naik!' spat Sha-Kaan, a gout of smoke firing from his mouth. 'But after. Why not send a flight to me after?'
'They would know. They knew of our trouble. They knew we would have to furl wing to them.'
Sha-Kaan stared hard at Tanis-Veret, disappointment now burying his contempt. The Veret Elder was broken and bowed. He had not even the strength to try and free his Brood. Surely the Naik would finish them anyway. He said so.
'Perhaps,' said Tanis. 'I have to trust they will not.'
'You are letting your Brood die,' said Sha-Kaan angrily. 'I came to offer help. Maybe I should just leave you to fade away.'
'How can you help? Your Brood is stretched, a gateway to your melde-dimension hangs in the sky for all to see. You fight for your own survival.'
'And you add to the struggle by aiding the Naik. Do you not see?'
'I must protect my Brood above all others, please respect that.' Tanis looked skywards, his eyes nervous.
'No one is near.'
'They are always near.'
'Last light was the most painful I have suffered for many cycles,' said Sha-Kaan. 'I killed one of your Brood who chased down and fired my Vestare. Another of my Brood died in a diving embrace, punctured by a Veret. Others of my Brood either chased off or killed more Veret. We are not at war with you, Tanis; why must you fight us?'
'Because if we do not, we will be extinguished.' Tanis would not look at Sha-Kaan.
'I understand your problem and the confusion it must cause you. But I am here now and my Brood will protect you if you break your alliance of fear with the Naik.' Sha-Kaan moved for the first time since he landed, extending his wings and rising up on his hind legs in a gesture of intent. His massive bulk dwarfing the smaller Veret, his wings casting a broad shadow over the island and his claws dragging scars in the rock beneath him.
Tanis stretched his jaws, his brows furrowing, the spikes across his skull ridge catching a reflection off the water.
'You do not have the Brood strength to protect us from the Naik.'
'But it's like this, you see,' said Sha-Kaan very calmly. 'We are at war with the Naik, as we are with a number of minor Broods, because they determine to fly through our gateway. They have allied with you and, we expect, other Broods they can threaten successfully. We have no choice but to be at war with these Broods too. Break your alliance. Trust me. Trust the Kaan.'
'Sha-Kaan, I cannot.'
'Then we will continue to destroy your Brood wherever it is a threat. And if that threat grows, then the next time you see me here, it will be at the head of an echelon. Try to avoid us where you can. I will not see the Kaan fail.'
'I am sorry it is this way.'
'It is in your power to change it, Tanis-Veret. Should you do so, you know I will hear you.'
Tanis met Sha-Kaan's eyes again at last. 'You should leave. I will not relay your message until you have cleared my skies.'
'Fair winds, fair tides be with you,' said Sha-Kaan.
'Beat the Naik.'
'I will,' said Sha-Kaan. 'The tragedy is that you do not believe I will.' He took to the air, calling his farewell and rose back to the relative safety of the upper layer where the winds blew the anger from his mind.
Chapter 19.
Trees jutted into the path three hundred yards from the camp, the elbow they created obscuring the onrushing cavalry. Aware that the sound of their hoofbeats must be clearly audible, Darrick roared the order to split and charge.
In front of him, the horse archers increased their pace, a dozen swordsmen flanked them and five mages trailed them, each invoking a HardShield. They kept to the outside of the path, aiming to attack the watch-towers as Darrick brought the rest of the cavalry into the main body of the camp.
The General dug his heels in and his horse responded. He tore around the elbow at the head of his cavalry just as the first volleys of arrows were exchanged, those of the Wesmen bouncing, while those of his men hit home. He never ceased to wonder at the skill of horseborne archers. Gripping only with their thighs they compensated for the movement of a galloping horse and still managed to shoot accurately. He saw four Wesmen fall in the first volley.
The encampment was in no way prepared for an organised cavalry charge. Not for any attack, come to that. There were no close furrows of tentage, no narrowing path down which an enemy might be driven and no killing ground. Though the camp was roughly organised, it was with one goal only - to facilitate the storage and onward movement of supplies across the Bay of Gyernath. It was paradise for the tactically aware General and, in Ry Darrick, the Wesmen were facing the best.
Darrick ordered the split, holding up a gloved hand and pointing first left, then right and backing it up with a yelled command. He galloped down one side of the stores, a mirror force taking the other. Swords flashing in the afternoon sun, they rode through the camp, hacking aside the ineffective defence, slashing at rope, canvas and beam, collapsing tents on to helpless Wesmen and simply riding down any who got in their way. Clear through to the beach rode Darrick and his cavalry, wheeling in the shallow surf and pausing then to assess the damage they'd caused.
The watch-towers were home to corpses now, his archers waiting for their next orders. In the main body of the camp, cries for aid mixed with those of anger as Wesmen struggled to come to terms with the whirlwind that had engulfed them, those trampled by hooves picking themselves up if they could, the defence beginning to gain shape. But they were too few and too late.
'Mages, fire please.' Sounding like an invitation, the order was met by two dozen FlameOrbs arcing across the sky to fall among the defenders, igniting their camp and stirring the chaos. Barely had the screams of the burning reached his ears than Darrick called the second charge and melee.
Almost two hundred cavalry rode into the middle of the Wesmen, trampling scorched canvas under hoof, bloodied swords rising and falling on the confused workers and warriors whose easy peace had been so effectively shattered. From the path, archers picked off any threat and mages using MindMelt, ForceCone and concentrations of DeathHail smashed fence, flesh, brain and stone. It was all over in no time.
Darrick sat at the head of his whooping, cheering cavalry, surveying the damage he had wrought. Just like old times, he thought.
He hadn't lost a man.
They waited for him, three of them, downwind but not closed of mind. They had thought to surprise him but their thoughts were crystal to the Great Kaan.
He had been flying steadily in the upper strata, the winds against him as he returned to Teras. The Naik had apparently been advised of his journey and from the right and below, he felt them coming before their challenges to battle rang out in the cold sky.
Sha-Kaan turned quickly and dived on the trio, using his altitude advantage to give him speed and angle. The Naik saw him coming and split left, right and down in an attempt to confuse but he had seen too many battles and his eyes were already fixed on his target. The Naik was small, perhaps little more than fifty feet in length, less than half Sha-Kaan's size, but used his body badly.
As Sha-Kaan closed, he saw the attitude of the enemy's wings was all wrong, body shape at odds with the direction of his travel and legs splayed. The Naik was either a clumsy flier or . . . Sha-Kaan curved away from his dive and angled back up, a breath of flame scorched the air just under his belly, a second missed by a wingspan. Roaring their disappointment, the Naik who had sprung the trap passed each other beneath him and he flipped on his back into a steep dive after the decoy who had not yet regained his shape.
Plunging through the line of the two attacking Naik, Sha-Kaan opened his mouth and poured flame down and to his left, searing the flank and wing of the struggling Naik. The beast shivered away, howling pain, a tear evident in its right wing, wind whistling through the rent in the membrane and damaged flank scales bubbling.
Not waiting for the response, Sha-Kaan furled his wings briefly, barrel-rolled away, then arced steeply right and up, head looking behind him. He could only see two of the Naik.
He rolled in the air again but a fraction too late. His snapshot all round vision picked out the third attacker bearing down from above, aiming for his exposed underbelly as he rolled. Knowing he couldn't hope to avoid the flame, he spun half circle, collected his wings and waited for the pain, his momentum carrying him on up. The gout caught him high on his shoulder and seared low across his neck. He felt scales tear and skin contract, knew he had lost some movement but refused to yield his position, knowing where the Naik would complete his move.
With the breeze of the enemy's passing very near him, he opened his armoured outer eyelids, deployed his wings and snaked his neck down his body, ignoring the yank of pain to clamp his jaws on the Naik wing. The younger dragon had great strength and threatened to break away but Sha-Kaan's balance was born of long years of fighting and his opposite pull tore muscle and membrane. He breathed fire over the ruined wing and let the crippled dragon take the long spiralling drop to its death.
Roaring in pain and triumph, Sha-Kaan beat his wings wide. In front of him, the undamaged Naik hovered, looking for a point of attack. At right angles the injured but very mobile second enemy circled tightly.
For a time, they stood off but Sha-Kaan knew what was coming. At a signal, the dragons flew, one up, one down, before angling in to the attack. It was a well-worn manoeuvre and exposed their lack of real fight experience.
Armour was for a purpose, and in a pincer attack, more dragons died forgetting this simple fact that anything else. Sha-Kaan had no intention of trying to dodge both dragons. Accepting the fact of new pain but able to minimise its damage, he reverse-beat his wings to slow his forward movement, furled them, lay his neck along his belly and dropped straight down.
Above him, the Naik adjusted quickly, steepening the angle of his dive and sending flame rushing over Sha-Kaan's back. Below him, though, the injured dragon failed to react and Sha-Kaan, lucky for the first time in the battle, struck the enemy's body, his tail a whip for the unwary, lashing around the Naik's neck where it established a choking grip.
A strangled gasp of flame coughed from the enemy's mouth as he fought for breath but Sha-Kaan was in total control. Continuing his plummet, he dragged the young Naik off-balance, stretched his neck and beat fire into its face from close range. He dropped the corpse and dived away, wings spread, neck and back stiffening as the damaged muscle below the scales protested. He roared again but this time the enemy didn't respond.
Seeing the battle lost, the one remaining Naik turned and fled, Sha-Kaan watching him dwindle in the lower cloud, a dark shape against the pale background. He didn't follow, choosing instead to drive back into the heights where he flew, more slowly now, back to Teras, his Broodlands and, most importantly, the welcome dimensional streams of the Melde Hall.
The Raven didn't move on until mid-afternoon. Hirad's contact with Sha-Kaan had left him temporarily fatigued but extremely hungry. Thraun and Will had disappeared into the brush, returning impossibly quickly with a quartet of rabbits and a brace of wood pigeon. These, Will prepared and cooked on the stove's hot plate, bulking the small animals with grain from The Unknown's pack, root vegetables from the river's edge and a fresh herb preparation.
It all made a decent stew but Hirad found himself missing the hunk of bread he'd normally enjoy it with. He also missed the ale and wine.
'It's a depressingly long time since I've had a drink,' he said.
'Yes, my profits are surely in tatters because of your absence from my inn,' said The Unknown. Hirad looked at him, hoping this was an attempt at humour but seeing it was not. They all missed Korina and The Unknown certainly missed The Rookery, the bar he part-owned with Tomas, the resident innkeeper. And at this precise moment, Hirad would have given anything at all to have his feet up in front of the fire in the back room, a goblet of wine at his hand, a plate of meat and cheese in his lap.
But memories of The Rookery were tinged with sadness. The last time The Raven had been there, Hirad's oldest friend, Sirendor Larn, had been murdered. The fact that he had given his life to save Denser was scant comfort despite the Dark Mage's importance to the future of Balaia.
As he chewed a slightly gristly piece of rabbit, Hirad thought back to their fateful meeting with Denser in the grounds of Taranspike Castle and all to which it had led. So many had died, so much had been achieved and yet, as he sat hidden by the banks of the River Tri, Hirad felt their insignificance. The Raven were just seven people, and himself, The Unknown and Ilkar apart, not even particularly experienced people. But to them lay the task of closing the rip before the Balaian sky was flooded by dragons.
In normal days, it would have been difficult to persuade the doubters of the necessity of their task and their demands for open house in at least two College libraries. Now, with the invading armies of the Wesmen swarming all over the mage lands, it was a task rendered practically impossible. The Wesmen certainly wouldn't believe them and that was no surprise. Despite the fact that they were as much at risk as any Balaian, why should they believe the stories of a band of mercenaries, albeit famous ones? No one could see the rip yet. When they could, it would probably be too late. The tale was just too far-fetched and even Darrick and Styliann's words wouldn't add the necessary weight.
So The Raven were left having to hide the reasons for their actions from all they encountered simply because they hadn't the time or the patience to make people believe them. In fact, as far as Hirad could make out, the only people who would take their story seriously, besides those Styliann could convert should he choose to do so, were the Dragonene mages. But that sect was so secretive that their ear, sympathetic or otherwise, was of limited use. Not one among them would reveal themselves as Dragonene to the wider mage population, let alone to non-mages.
Hirad spat out the gristle. There was no doubting the injustice of their position but mulling on it solved nothing. The stew pot was empty and The Raven had all but finished the meal.
'It's time we were moving,' said Hirad. 'Will, cool the stove please. Unknown? A route if you would be so kind. Anybody needing to relieve themselves, now is the time. We aren't stopping till nightfall.'
Denser grumbled, hauled himself to his feet and crackled away towards the water's edge.
'Cheerful soul, isn't he?' said Ilkar.
'Hmm. Just like his old self, unfortunately,' replied Hirad. 'Erienne, are you sure you want to hang around with him when you're old and grey?'
Erienne smiled. 'Who says I'll go grey? At this moment, he's a little hard to love but, well, you know . . .' Hirad nodded. 'But I'll tell you something,' she continued. 'You could help by being a little more tactful. His fuse is short.'
'You're telling me,' said Hirad.
'Him, tactful?' Ilkar jerked a thumb in Hirad's direction. 'You might just as well ask Thraun to have slightly shorter fangs. It's not going to happen.'
'Thanks for your support, Ilkar,' said Hirad. He turned his back on the mage and grinned over at The Unknown who didn't respond in kind. 'Which way, Big Man?'
The Unknown Warrior moved fluidly to his feet and helped Will kick dirt over the stove.
'I could be flippant and say "east" but no one would laugh,' he said. 'If we've decided Triverne Lake isn't an option, that leaves us with few alternatives. My view is that we should drive straight for Julatsa. Given Denser's announcement of our dwindling time, we have to chance running into some Wesmen. Now the only reason I think that's a risk worth taking is that Thraun will almost certainly give us ample warning. We should strike away from the river now and head for the city. The ground is flattish and the cover most of the time is adequate.'
'Whatever you say,' said Hirad. Denser came back into the small clearing. 'Bowels empty?'
'Yes, thank you, Hirad,' he replied somewhat testily.
'Let's go.' The barbarian gestured for The Unknown to show them the way. Thraun loped off on his own towards the river. Will, the stove tied into its leather, shouldered the burden for the time being and brought up the rear behind the trio of mages.
It was, Hirad thought, a long way to Julatsa on foot and he found himself hoping for an encounter with some unwary Wesmen.
Thraun lapped at the cool water of the slow-flowing river, feeling the liquid chill his throat as it rushed to his belly. His mind was confused but he didn't remember a time when it wasn't.
Earlier he had felt fear and he hadn't enjoyed it. He could find nothing to strike out at so he had crouched, defeated, while the huge animal power caused such pain to the man who led. The man had cried out, the power in his head and filling the space around him, flowing over the ground and covering the leaves of trees and the flowers of the bush.
Thraun had felt it before any of the men had done. They knew too little even to show fear of the power but they should have done. Because it came from nowhere. It had no face, no shape and did not breathe. Yet it was still animal. Thraun knew that and knew also that because it had no form, it was to be feared.
Only the one man had felt it and though he had spoken pain, he had not been harmed. There were no marks on his body and his mind kept its sharpness - Thraun had established that himself.
But he wasn't sure the man who led was safe. The power could return at any time. And Thraun had to watch over man-packbrother. He would suffer no threat to him. He was the man, the only man, whom Thraun truly recognised though the others around him were lodged in his memory. And man-packbrother was calm in their company, which was good. While he protected man-packbrother he knew he would protect the others. The woman who had life within her, the two men with mists around their souls and the one man whose soul was uneasy, yearning for another time though his heart resisted it.
Thraun would watch and Thraun would protect. Thraun would hunt and Thraun would kill.
He lifted his muzzle from the water and sniffed the air. The scent of the pack was strong in his head and the call of the forest lured him, its ties around him hardening, pulling him back to its heart where he would be free of man.
Julatsa's Council room was a cold place. Around the oval table, Kerela, Barras, Seldane, Torvis, Endorr, Cordolan and Vilif listened to General Kard outline the battle to come.
At least he and Barras had been successful in persuading Senedai to hold from his killing of innocents. The Wesmen commander had, though, promised to sacrifice every one of those he still held if he was double-crossed. It was a gamble worth taking - when the fighting started, a full day before the Wesmen believed the Shroud would fall, the odds were stacked very heavily in favour of Senedai concentrating all his effort on the College walls. If that was so, the prisoners had a chance.
The brazier behind Kard's chair guttered suddenly, throwing his face into shadow. The breeze, no more than a whisper of night air, spent itself and the flame brightened.
'It is critical that we cause as much damage as possible to those immediately outside the walls before Senedai's army can be mustered. The sequence will be as follows. An hour before dawn, the DemonShroud will be dispersed. Assuming the guards in the tower don't sound the alarm immediately, eight mages will attempt Communion with our forces outside the city. We have no idea how successful this will be but we can cover all points of the compass with eight. There are also some more obvious places to hide a camp and we'll target those specifically at the outset.
'To a certain extent, we will be driven by the tower guards. Should they see us quickly, the whole process will happen that much faster. If not, we will hold our attack until the alarm is raised. At this time, a dozen mages will FlameOrb the tower and both North and South Gates will be opened. Archers and the balance of mages will be sent to the ramparts while my entire College and city Guard force will get outside.
'Their job is to cause as much damage as possible to Senedai's defences and guard posts before the balance of his army arrives. At this time, they will fall back, the gates will close and be strengthened by craftsmen and WardLock and the siege can begin again.
'Finally, I've hand-picked a dozen men to attempt to find and free the prisoners. It's all in the cause of creating confusion. Any questions? ' Kard leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. Around the table, nods greeted his summary.
'We can augment the Communion by having the casting take place in the Heart,' said Vilif.
'Non-Council and senior circle members are expressly forbidden to enter the Heart,' remarked Endorr. Kerela chuckled.