Текст книги "The Raven Collection"

Автор книги: James Barclay

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Текущая страница: 152 (всего у книги 235 страниц)

Chapter 20

Nyam looked on, his mouth moving soundlessly. Surely, here was the evidence he needed. But whether he should take action was something else entirely. To his left, Cleress slept, so deep that nothing of the past few moments had disturbed her. In front of him, Myriell sat bolt upright in a chair, her head cushioned, tended by a Guild elf. Her eyes were closed but she was not asleep. He could see her eyes moving beneath their lids. Her hands occasionally teased at the air and, like him, her mouth was moving and her brow furrowed deeply but with concentration, not confusion.

He had misjudged Diera badly. The woman was far stronger than he had thought and that had led to the stand-off in which he now found himself. The moment he had threatened her life, she had snatched up her child and screamed for help, bringing the Guild elves into the bedroom. Almost immediately, Protectors had forced their way past the guards.

And now, Protectors ringed the entrance to the chambers, keeping the rest of the Guild elves away while Nyam studied the Al-Drechar. But more Protectors guarded the door to Diera’s bedroom too, underlining their split loyalties and the fine line Nyam was treading. His colleagues, he noticed, were either unwilling or unable to join him. Perhaps they were giving thought to the morning and how they would save their own pathetic lives when Sha-Kaan inevitably came to exact his retribution.

‘Why did you do it?’ asked Nerane, the elf mopping Myriell’s brow. ‘We were helping you every way we could. We answered your questions.’

‘Not all of them,’ said Nyam. ‘And now I have the answer I need for my masters in Xetesk. You should not have hidden the fact that another One mage was alive and under your protection. We want to perpetuate the order, see it grow again.’

‘You would take it for yourselves.’ Myriell’s voice was cracked and exhausted. ‘We will not allow that.’

Nyam looked at the old elf again, saw her eyes open and staring at him with unfettered disgust.

‘That assumes you have a choice,’ said Nyam.

‘We always have a choice.’

‘You are protecting her now?’

‘I am doing what I must. You risk what you covet by your intrusion,’ said Myriell, her eyes closing again.

‘You must let us help you,’ said Nyam.

‘We will never let our secrets fall into the hands of any college,’ she said, voice faint. ‘Get out.’

Nyam felt torn between his respect for the Al-Drechar and his need to exert his authority. Threats weren’t working. He heard footsteps behind him and turned his head to see a Protector approach.

‘You must hear me, my mage,’ he said. ‘I stand in communication with Myx.’

Myx. Dystran’s personal Protector.

‘Speak.’

Nyam listened and his heart began to charge in his chest.

Rebraal took up a position in the lee of one of the two pillars that flanked the entrance to the dome complex. As The Raven ran out in their trademark angled chevron, with the mages in a quartet just behind them, he stretched his bow again and assessed the state of the college defence.

Ahead of them, the ornamental gardens opened out into the courtyard before the west gates of the college, currently closed. Men were running towards the gatehouse from either side along the walls. More were gathered in the courtyard itself and The Raven were facing about four times their number of swordsmen, mages and archers.

To his right, the way they were planning to run, there was activity by both stables and barracks. Again, soldiers were gathering, some running away east in the direction of the Mana Bowl, others forming to move up to the tower complex. They would have to fight fast, keeping the path open for the TaiGethen who should be advancing from his left, having swept through the library. Assuming they hadn’t encountered too much trouble, of course.

Spells arced out to strike both forces as they closed. Rebraal searched the enemy for the shield mages. Light glared. Al-Arynaar Orbs flashed against the Xeteskian shield, which dipped under the pressure. Denser followed up with an IceWind. Clouds of supercooled air banked against the deepening blue of the enemy defence. From within it, Xetesk’s reply flashed hard against the Al-Arynaar barrier. Again, he could see it flex but hold firm, keeping The Raven safe.

The fighting lines came together, The Raven with typical force. The Unknown flicked his blade inside the guard of his first attacker, splitting his face from chin to forehead. He followed it with a dash to the side of the head to cast the man aside, giving him space to fight free. Beside him, Hirad switched his sword grip at the last moment, confusing his enemy, who tried to adjust the strike that was already on its way. Succeeding only in unbalancing himself, the guard watched helplessly while Hirad swayed left and whipped his sword into his undefended left flank.

Rebraal’s bow tensed. Xeteskians were rushing up from the courtyard to flank. There were archers and swordsmen, five of them in a tight squad. He loosed a shaft; it tracked slightly right, taking the front swordsman in the shoulder, spinning him round and dumping him on the ground. The others ignored their fallen comrade, running on. Hirad was going to be in trouble.

The Al-Arynaar leader plucked another arrow from his diminishing supply and nocked it even as he headed down the steps at a dead run to join the barbarian. He lined up another target, tensed and fired on the run. He missed the swordsman, the arrow nicking the cheek of an archer and doing nothing but drawing attention to himself.

Time to fight. He crouched low a pace, laid his bow on the ground and came on, drawing his short sword as he closed on The Raven’s line. Hirad hadn’t seen the risk to himself, caught up as he was with a skilful and quick opponent.

‘Hirad, your right! Guard your right!’ he called.

Arrows flew by him forcing him to duck reflexively. He needed to get under Erienne’s HardShield fast. Elsewhere in the line, Darrick and Thraun were forming an excellent partnership, the raw bludgeoning power of the shapechanger counterpointing Darrick’s slick swordplay and solid defence.

‘Flanking right!’ shouted The Unknown, taking up Rebraal’s warning and thrashing his blade at the guard confronting him. The man blocked the blow but staggered back under the impact. The Unknown saw him to the ground with a blow from the hilt of his dagger.

Hirad swept his blade in hard and low, his opponent blocking it aside, twisting away and licking his blade into the barbarian’s left arm, slicing leather and flesh. Hirad growled and sent in a riposte, chopping a cut high up on his enemy’s thigh. He backed away a pace and the move saved his life.

At the very last he saw the pair of swordsmen bearing down on his right flank, and wrenched his sword out to drive away the first strike though for the second time in quick succession a blade nicked his arm, this time his right. He ducked under a wild sweep from the other flanker but was helpless in the face of his original attacker. The quick man lashed in a killing blow but found The Unknown’s blade blocking his way and the big man’s dagger punching into his temple.

Rebraal took off in his last three paces and planted a two-footed kick into the chest of the second of Hirad’s flanking attackers. He landed atop the man, heard ribs crack and turned to get the barbarian’s grateful nod before the pair of them carved into the last standing swordsman, putting him down in a heartbeat.

The archers backed off in a hurry, taking the defending mages with them towards the courtyard. From around the side of the library, Auum led the TaiGethen into view right on cue.

‘Raven, let’s go!’ called The Unknown.

But from across the college to their right, from the barracks and stables, came more of the enemy. And simultaneously, the western gates of the college swung open and men poured in, heading straight for them.

‘Oh dear Gods,’ said Hirad, breathing hard, the muscles in his arms protesting, his thighs burning with exertion.

The Raven’s move faltered almost before it started, the TaiGethen gathering around them. From everywhere, it seemed, Xeteskian forces converged on foot and even on horseback. Arrows and bolts filled the air, clattering against Erienne’s HardShield.

‘We aren’t going to make it,’ said Darrick. ‘They’ve got us trapped.’

‘Ideas?’ demanded The Unknown. ‘We’re out of time.’

‘Only one place we can defend,’ said Denser and he was already moving back towards the tower complex. ‘Follow me.’

‘Back to the dome, back to the dome!’ yelled Hirad. ‘Rebraal, bring your people.’

The raiding party turned and ran headlong for the steps up to the open doors and relative safety. The shadows shortened right in front of Rebraal, Xeteskian spells rushed through the air, crashing down on the rear of the group. He heard Gireeth scream in pain, turned his head and saw the mage’s shield go. There was a wash of heat, hard cobalt light flashed and the lone FlameOrb burst on to the TaiGethen below.

Elves, burning and dying, were driven to the ground, their cries lost against the fire that rushed up the steps, biting at all their heels.

‘Faster!’

Hirad, breathing in gasps, upped his pace in front. The doors were within a couple of paces. Auum led his Tai cell in, The Raven charging in behind, the survivors of the collapsed shield in their bootprints.

Thraun and The Unknown bent their shoulders to the doors, shoving the well-oiled and counterbalanced side fast closed, hearing arrows rattle against the wood.

‘Denser, WardLock now,’ ordered The Unknown.

‘Ahead of you there.’

The casting was quick and efficient. Pale blue light crackled across the lock and through the veins of wood-and-iron binding. Rebraal slid to a stop in the blood of the fight so recently played out. He turned and took them all in, elf and Raven alike. Three TaiGethen and two Al-Arynaar mages hadn’t made it. And alive though the rest of them might be, the same thought ran through all their minds.

In the centre of the Dark College, they were trapped.

‘Ah, gentlemen, so glad you could all make it on this quite unbelievable evening.’ Dystran smiled thinly from his seat in Ranyl’s dining chamber on the second landing of the tower.

The dying lord himself was upstairs resting. The remainder of the Circle Seven were seated at the table.

‘You’ll note there are no refreshments,’ continued Dystran. ‘You’ll also note that despite my request, Captain Suarav has so far been unable to join us. Would you like me to summarise why that is?’

He looked around the table, seeing the group of men, all of whom were at least twice his age. None of them would look him in the face. There was a phrase concerning ivory towers. He’d have to look into ways of seeing they saw more of the world beyond their noses.

‘It is because this college is under attack by a few ageing mercenaries and some extremely impressive elves.’ No meaningful reaction. He slammed his fist on the table. ‘They are tearing up my college! Surely even you heard the odd shout or the odd spell marking our once pristine walls?’

‘My Lord,’ acknowledged someone though Dystran was barely listening.

‘Tell me, Myx, where are The Raven and their elven friends at this moment?’

‘They have just run into the dome, my Lord,’ said Myx. ‘The doors have been WardLocked.’

There was a stirring around the table.

‘Yes, gentlemen, they are scant feet below us. Fortunately, there is a small bright spot I can apprise you of. On Herendeneth, a proactive young mage by the name of—’ He clicked his fingers.

‘Nyam, my Lord,’ said Myx.

‘Nyam has confirmed beyond reasonable doubt that the Al-Drechar are shielding a One mage. As you know, we feel that mage to be Erienne of the same Raven who are currently trapped beneath us. Here is what we will do.

‘First of all, we need to send a message to some old friends. Then, I intend to prove that Erienne is that mage, and you must be ready to act on the mana spectrum the moment that proof is clear. We have always said that we should be able to adequately protect a One mage from his own mind while the awakening process completes, then school that mage in the art as laid down in certain of our more precious texts.

‘It is time for us to make good on that assertion.’ He turned to Myx. ‘Your brothers, how close are they to their positions outside the Tower complex?’

‘Before the hour turns, they will all be ready, my Lord.’

‘Good. In that case instruct our new friend Nyam that when the hour turns, he is to kill the Al-Drechar currently shielding Erienne.’ Dystran turned back to the table and examined the ends of his fingers before looking up into the blank faces of his Circle Seven. ‘That should give us our proof, don’t you think?’

‘We can’t stay here,’ said Denser.

‘No, really?’ snapped Hirad. He rubbed a bloody hand through his hair. ‘And there was me thinking we’d set up camp here, wait for the trouble to die down.’ There was an impact on the doors. Timbers creaked but it seemed half-hearted, an act of frustration more than a serious attempt to break in. ‘Gods, this is just like Lystern, except we don’t have horses waiting saddled and this city has walls.’

‘Quiet, Hirad,’ said The Unknown. ‘Denser, facts and quickly. What do you have in mind?’

‘This is an indefensible position, despite how it might look. Outside, they’ll be waiting for instructions from the Circle Seven who will be in here somewhere. Look, it’s grim. Our escape route is blocked. Right now, I don’t think there’s a way out for us. At least in here, or rather, in the catacombs, we can achieve something and hold out longer.’

‘Like what?’ asked Hirad.

‘Got a dragon to send home, haven’t you? I know where the research is held. Maybe we can last long enough to effect the casting. Depends how simple it is.’

‘You aren’t confident about our chances, then?’ said The Unknown.

Denser shook his head.

‘It’s the best plan we’ve got,’ said Hirad. ‘Rebraal, you hearing this?’

The elf nodded. ‘I’ve relayed it to the TaiGethen. We all knew it was a risk coming here. We’re with you.’

‘And the Aryn Hiil?’ asked Denser.

‘It will not fall back into their hands. We’ll destroy it first.’

‘Good, then let’s go,’ said the dark mage. ‘One last thing, Unknown. Where we think this research is, and the lead mage. It’s near the Soul Tank. I’m sorry.’

The Unknown nodded. ‘I’ll be all right. Just don’t ask me how I’m feeling, any of you. You already know.’

‘Follow me, then,’ said Denser. ‘I—’

A high-pitched sound flashed round the dome. Loud and piercing, it dug at the ears and vibrated through heads. Hirad clapped his hands to the sides of his head, grunting involuntarily. Across the dome, swords clattered to the floor and the elves were dropping to their knees, their pain written on their faces.

Abruptly, the sound ceased, leaving behind it the impression of great space. A voice, amplified by every surface and clear as a bell, filled the space.

‘Now I have your attention, I have a proposal for you. You can hear me, can’t you, dear Raven, dear elves?’

The voice echoed away. Hirad picked up his blade and scanned around, looking for the source. He saw Thraun breathing hard, his eyes closed, face pale. The elves were faring no better. The Unknown was glaring at the ceiling, chest puffed out, sword once again in his hand. Darrick was rubbing at his ears, face carrying that expression of irritation that was becoming a trademark, while Erienne stood close to Denser, looking to him for an answer which he duly provided.

‘Dystran, how unnecessarily loud to hear your voice.’

‘I rather thought you’d be impressed by it. You should be. You have gathered in the most perfect place for Intonation. Bear that in mind. I can be much, much louder.’

‘Yes we are all duly impressed by your ability,’ said Denser, his tone bored. ‘What do you want?’

‘I want to end the bloodshed,’ said Dystran. ‘You have proved your prowess fighting my people but that’s over now. You are caught, you know you are. But you need not die. I have a deal for you. Surrender yourselves now and none of you will be harmed. The elves we will guarantee safe passage back to Calaius once this siege is broken, assuming they let us have back what was taken from our library. And The Raven will remain here as our guests until this unseemly conflict is over. General Darrick, as a man under sentence of death in your own college, I should think that a very happy solution. Denser, you can reacquaint yourself with the place that made you. Sol, you can be sure your family are safe, talk to them through your Protector brothers whenever you like and Erienne . . . Erienne, with us you can fulfil your potential.

‘It is tempting, I know. But you’ll want to discuss it so I give you a short time to do so. Then open the doors. The other way is pain and suffering, believe me.’

Dystran’s voice echoed away to nothing. Hirad opened his mouth but saw Denser put a finger to his lips and point up. Then he spread his arms wide, asking the question. Every head shook. Denser smiled, put his finger back to his lips and beckoned them all on, pointing to Rebraal to come close.

‘They’ll have the entrances to the catacombs guarded. Perhaps Auum could do the honours,’ he said into the elf’s ear.

Rebraal nodded. ‘We will see to it.’ He walked over to Auum and relayed the message.

Led by the TaiGethen, The Raven entered the catacombs of Xetesk.

Pheone walked alone around the crater that hid the Heart of Julatsa, her mind torn between grief and hope. Her people had reached the Xeteskian siege lines and contacted the Al-Arynaar. Communion had confirmed what she wanted to hear. They would come but had a mission to perform before leaving the lines and heading north. The news had filled her with an optimism she had never thought to feel again. But so quickly, her heart had been crushed again.

The Raven were in the game, it seemed, though their location was a closely guarded secret because of trouble with both Lystern and Dordover. But she hadn’t really listened to the reasons why. Because when she had asked after Ilkar, she had been told of his death. The Communion had broken then and there, and the loss and emptiness had swept through her like a gale that had no end.

She had run from her friends, where they had been conducting the linked Communion, and they had been respectful in turn, leaving her to herself and her thoughts.

She had cried long for Ilkar, his smile, his energy and his sheer presence. The touch she would never feel again, the pain that must have accompanied his death from the Elfsorrow. She thought of The Raven too. Such a close friendship now destroyed by something they couldn’t fight. Helplessness. She knew how that felt all right.

Finally, she pushed the images of the elf she had loved from her mind and tuned in to the mana spectrum. The shadow was there, covering the Heart, smothering its colour, dulling its power. And the effect they’d noticed in the last couple of days was there, and growing too. The shadow was sending out flares of gloom like spears into the mass of the spectrum. She wondered what that meant. So far they had come up with nothing.

At least it hadn’t led to any further failures of the Julatsan focus. But it was inevitable that some would come. Every spell they cast took so much more effort, left them that much more drained than they should be. And the problems would be amplified for those casting outside of the college and city.

Pheone stopped walking and gazed down into the perfect blackness that the moonlight could not penetrate, letting her tears fall into its depth. Like the dark below, the shadow was intensifying, little by little, day after day. And every day, the chances of being able to raise the Heart when the elves arrived diminished a little more.

She prayed they would not arrive too late but the abyss was yawning wide.

Chapter 21

The most feared place on Balaia without question, the catacombs beneath the towers of Xetesk were told of in legend and myth, in dark tales and to keep children in bed. They inspired extraordinary exaggeration based on ignorance but some of the invention was shot through with truth.

Here was where the research to which the students weren’t privy was carried out. Where experiments on human subjects dragged there by Protectors had been carried out in years gone by. Where contact with the demon dimension was first established and the power of Xetesk enhanced. Where the Circle Seven had exclusive run with their teams of talented adepts in the neverending race for political influence through spell development. And where the Soul Tank lay.

But as they hurried past the guards so easily killed by Auum and Evunn and on into the labyrinthine passages designed to confuse the unwelcome walker, Hirad noted that the descriptions of jagged rock tunnels, narrow and dripping with water feeding underground pools stocked with hideous monsters were far from accurate.

‘What do you think we are, savages?’ said Denser. ‘Left here, Rebraal. Take the stairway down, then left again.’

‘Well no, but still. It’s a bit smart, isn’t it?’

Denser shrugged and followed Rebraal and Auum down the stairs. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never known it any other way. Just because it isn’t the way you heard it was . . .’

Far from the dank, rough underground horror he’d been led to expect, Hirad was walking through carefully constructed passages the quality of which wouldn’t have been out of place in a mansion house. Wide enough for three people walking abreast, the roughly circular corridors had been smoothed with plaster and painted in pastel colours. There were even a few paintings hung on the walls.

The whole place glowed with a gentle blue light and air circulated, keeping the passages fresh.

‘Mind you,’ continued Denser. ‘We haven’t reached the depths yet. This is just the upper level. Rebraal, straight on, then hard right. More steps. Wait at the bottom. That’s where the fun starts.’

‘How do you mean?’ asked The Unknown.

‘Hold on. Wait until we reach the bottom of these stairs.’

‘Ever the man of mystery,’ muttered Erienne.

‘Yeah,’ said Hirad.

The base of the stairs marked a change in the catacombs. Although the light remained, gone were the pleasant decorations, replaced by stark murals and smooth, unpainted rock faces. They stood in a domed chamber, the ceiling eight feet or more above The Unknown’s head. Passages led off it in four directions and the air was cooler. It was the first open space they’d encountered since they’d entered.

‘We need to stop,’ said Denser.

‘Why?’ asked Hirad.

‘Because you all need to understand how this works as far as you are able.’

‘So talk,’ said Rebraal.

He stood at the head of a group of confused and irritated elves. They were uncomfortable here below ground, beyond anything they could readily recognise.

‘I think we’ve bought ourselves a little time. It’s best spent here,’ Denser said. ‘Rebraal, please relay this as best you can.’

‘Whatever you say.’ His face betrayed some anxiety.

‘All right, listen,’ Denser said instead. ‘You have to understand the nature of the catacombs. They’ve been built over fifteen centuries, no one knows exactly what area they cover because there’s never been any organisation to their building. Generation upon generation of Circle Seven mages have built as they saw fit, extending their predecessors’ areas, digging their own, sealing off what they don’t want. Where I have brought you now is the full extent of my knowledge.

‘This is what we call a hub room. It’s the central point of a Circle Seven mage’s catacomb chambers, in this case, Dystran’s. Looks to me as though he hasn’t spent too much time on decoration recently. There are hub rooms all over the catacombs, dozens. Some mages own several. Dystran undoubtedly does.

‘Right, directly ahead of us is the place we want to be. You can expect alarm wards across most passages in the hub areas but we may not have time to look for them all and disarm them. Doors we need to worry about. Traps are as common as mistrust down here.’

‘Isn’t there a map of the catacombs at all?’ asked The Unknown.

‘There’s a map room where we’re going but it’s incomplete because Circle Seven mages are unwilling to admit to everything they’ve developed. It’s like a different country down here. There’ll be mages researching down here who barely ever see the light of day. I’m sure Kestys is among them right now and he won’t be undefended, though whether it’s by magic or muscle, I don’t know.

‘I just want to get across to you what it’s like. We could be attacked from any direction, it depends on the knowledge of the mages sending forces against us.’

‘Sounds completely ridiculous to me,’ said Hirad.

Denser shrugged. ‘It’s just the way it is in Xetesk. The way to the top is through influence and influence comes from new magical knowledge. That’s the currency of political power. Dystran is top dog because he has always been central to the development of dimensional magic and chosen his aides because of their limited life expectancy.’

‘I like nothing more than a history lesson, as you know,’ said Hirad. ‘But right now, all it means to me is that we have to secure whatever area it is you say we have to and keep it secure until you do whatever it is you do. Then we fight our way out.’

‘What could be simpler?’ said Denser. ‘This way.’

He trotted over to the passage directly opposite the stairway. The Raven gathered around him with the elves spreading naturally into the space behind, watching and listening. He held up a hand and crouched, closing his eyes to tune in to the mana spectrum. While he waited, Hirad looked up the corridor.

He could see half a dozen ways off it, up to what looked like a junction a couple of hundred feet away. It looked so harmless but the atmosphere that poured from it felt anything but; he turned to mention it and was confronted by a set of expressions that chilled him to the bone.

Thraun was staring straight ahead down the passage, his pupils huge in his yellow-tinged eyes. Sweat stood out on his forehead and he looked tensed to run. Beside him, The Unknown Warrior had a hand to his head. His mouth moving slightly, his eyes screwed tight shut. He was swaying. And Erienne, like the big man, was clutching at her head, her frown deep and her eyes, boring into the barbarian’s, small and scared. Only Darrick looked anything like himself.

‘Gods under water,’ breathed Hirad. ‘Darrick, see to The Unknown. Thraun, hold on there.’ He stepped up to Erienne and cupped her face in both hands. ‘Erienne? What’s wrong?’

‘It’s Myriell. They know, Hirad. Xetesk knows about me. It’s not a bluff any more. They’ve seen her shielding me. I’m the only one it can be. Hirad, there are Protectors in her chambers.’

‘Oh no.’

‘What are we going to do?’

‘It’s worse than that,’ said The Unknown.

Hirad swung round. The Unknown’s face was drawn and pale, as if he had a pain right behind his forehead.

‘How?’

‘I can hear them, Hirad. This close to the Soul Tank I can hear everything. They’ve been ordered to kill Myriell when the hour strikes. That’s any time now. A mage will order it; he’s standing in front of her now.’

‘Tell them not to, Unknown. You’ve got to stop them,’ said Hirad.

Next to him, Denser was moving his hands in an intricate motion, like picking strands of a web on each finger and moving them against a breeze.

‘I can’t, Hirad, I can’t speak to them. I can only listen,’ he said. ‘They’ve been recalled from the siege too. They’re coming here to the catacombs. They won’t fight us but they will fight the elves.’

‘The TaiGethen can take them,’ said Hirad.

‘There’s over fifty of them. Down here they are more awesome than anywhere else, despite how badly they’ll all feel. Believe me, it won’t go well for us. We are threatening the Soul Tank.’

Hirad drew breath, thinking for a moment. ‘One thing at a time. Thraun. Snap out of it. Thraun!’

‘Up there,’ said Thraun, indicating the corridor with a jerk of his chin. ‘It’s rotten. I can smell it, like ten days’ dead flesh.’

‘Not now, Thraun. Look after Erienne, you know you can help. I’m going to talk to Sha-Kaan, see what can be done. Unknown, Darrick, you’ve been here before. We need a defence tighter than a rat’s arse. Rebraal, we’re in trouble. Be ready. Darrick will have instructions, please don’t let Auum question them, we’re good at this. Denser, are you through?’

‘Almost there,’ said Denser, and Hirad respected the man’s concentration, given what he must just have heard. ‘Can’t trigger it. It would blind and deafen us all. Just for a while but long enough, if you know what I mean. Don’t rush me.’

‘We’re running out of time.’

‘I heard.’

Hirad smoothed Erienne’s cheek. She was badly frightened. ‘It’s all right. Sha-Kaan will stop them and Cleress is still there.’

Erienne shook her head, tears forcing themselves from her eyes. ‘She can’t do it alone, Hirad. My mind. They’re going to destroy my mind like Lyanna’s was destroyed. Please don’t let them.’

Thraun pushed Hirad aside firmly. ‘Talk to your dragon,’ he said, pulling Erienne to him. ‘I am here.’

Hirad dropped down to sit with his back to a wall. He closed his eyes and felt the presence of the great dragon deep in his mind. He was resting, unaware of the potential disaster unfolding before The Raven.

Great Kaan, I must disturb your rest.

I am tired, Hirad Coldheart. Tell me good news. Hirad could feel the dragon’s irritation.

I have none, Sha-Kaan. Please listen. Xetesk threatens us here and on Herendeneth. Mages on the island have been ordered to kill the Al-Drechar. It would leave Erienne unshielded.

Sha-Kaan’s growl reverberated through Hirad’s head causing him to gasp in pain.

I warned them, said the dragon. I told them the consequences of such action. I will attend to it. Tell me your position, your mind is in turmoil.

We are trapped inside the catacombs. Xetesk’s forces are coming for us but we are close to the research that can send you home. We want to hold out for long enough but if Erienne is hurt we will struggle.

Then don’t delay me. Tell The Unknown Warrior I am mindful of his family.