Текст книги "The Raven Collection"

Автор книги: James Barclay

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Текущая страница: 216 (всего у книги 235 страниц)

Chapter 18

‘I should have beaten you with the cudgel while I had the chance,’ said Sol.

‘I’m sorry, Unknown. Truly. We all are.’

Denser had largely cleared the room. Sharyr and Septern had returned to the catacombs. Auum had gone to rest. The Raven, such as they were, were alone in the dining chamber.

‘Why did I let you in and listen to you?’

‘Because it’s me!’ Hirad spread his arms and smiled.

‘It certainly was bloody you. Mayhem from beyond the grave. Who else could it be?’

Sol slumped into an armchair. His body felt strange, like he was in the grip of a fever. He wanted to be furious. He wanted to shout and scream at them about the injustice of it all. That he had a wife and children and had sworn to protect them.

‘And that’s just it, though, isn’t it?’ he said.

‘Sorry, Unknown?’ said Sirendor. ‘I didn’t quite catch that.’

‘Just thinking aloud. Denser, pour some wine, would you? And let’s all sit. Like we used to do in the back room of The Rookery all those years ago.’

He waited until they had all taken seats by the cold fireplace. Hirad’s feet were on the low table in front of them. Sirendor and Ilkar both leaned forward, forearms resting on their thighs. Denser sat upright, tense and uncomfortable. And Sol, well he sprawled like he always had.

‘Remember when we first met Denser? How we all felt it was a long, hard and probably fatal journey ahead even before we heard he was after Dawnthief? And how when he talked to us in the back room that sinking feeling took over for a while before we decided we just had to face what was coming? Sorry, Sirendor, I know you don’t.’

‘But you were there,’ said Hirad helpfully. ‘We put your body on the banquet table and covered it with a cloth.’

‘I am thus reassured,’ said Sirendor. ‘I trust I looked my best.’

‘Well there wasn’t much blood or anything, except what you coughed up when you were dying.’

‘Can we leave this until later?’ said Sol.

‘Sorry,’ said Hirad.

‘Me too,’ said Sirendor.

‘You’ve ruined my moment,’ said Sol. ‘Forget it.’

‘No,’ said Hirad. ‘Go on.’

Denser leaned forward. ‘I do not believe you are seriously entertaining this prospect.’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘Because it is preposterous and the ultimate act of selfishness on the part of the dead to demand you kill yourself to save them.’

‘But if it is the only way to save the Balaian people? My people?’

‘If. Yes. If.’ Denser sipped at his wine. ‘And I say what I am about to say with due deference to all the quite unbelievable things I’ve seen and places I’ve been with The Raven. Isn’t this just a little bit far-fetched? ’

‘You’re joking, right?’ asked Hirad. ‘A load of dead people walking about and Calaius evacuated and destroyed being normal business, I suppose?’

‘No, Hirad, I’m not joking.’ Denser pulled his skullcap off his head and rubbed a hand through his close-cropped grey hair. ‘Look, I’m not playing down the threat we face. I’m not pretending the situation isn’t desperate. But you’re expecting Sol, The Unknown Warrior and King of Balaia, might I remind you, to follow you into the Wesman Heartlands and commit suicide to open a gate to somewhere so you can head somewhere else and open a gate back? It’s madness.’

‘It’s the only possible solution,’ said Ilkar.

‘It quite clearly is not,’ said Denser.

‘Your solution will lead to our annihilation,’ said Hirad sharply.

‘Big word, barbarian. Who taught you that one?’

Sol was out of his chair and between them before a blow could be landed. He felt a perverse sense of comfort and satisfaction.

‘That’s what I was thinking about. Real Rookery debate.’ He allowed the smile to leave his face. ‘Now sit down, both of you.’

Denser threw up his hands and sat heavily. ‘It wouldn’t be so bad, Sol, but they are offering you no choice, no alternative. This is blind faith at best. It was never the way we did things.’

‘Oh, you misunderstand,’ said Sol. ‘It was always the way we did things. The Raven’s way was trust even in the face of ridicule. Nothing has changed bar the fact that there is no chance I will survive versus a very slim chance.’

‘But isn’t that it? We always believed that somehow we would escape and survive.’

‘I’m not sure that’s true either,’ said Sol. ‘I had no thought that we would survive the demons. I was certain we’d be trapped there, weren’t you?’

‘But there was always the tiniest chance,’ said Denser.

‘All right, you’ve made your point. Now I want to speak. It is me after all who is being asked to die in this rather inglorious manner.’

‘Could be Denser,’ said Ilkar, his eyes twinkling. ‘Any man of free will can make the sacrifice.’

Denser scoffed. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Neither did I,’ said Hirad.

‘The thing is, Denser,’ said Sol, beginning loudly before letting his voice drop a little. ‘The thing is, that there was never really any hope of surviving this one, was there? And so any chance to save Balaia’s living and dead must be taken. However small and however far-fetched it may appear.

‘When we were at our best, it was in pretending that the only option open was in any case the best one and that others would present themselves if needed. But we never had choice, not really. There was never the option to stand aside and let someone else do it because there was no one else. And it is the same now.

‘I am king, you are right. And as king I am responsible for all the people of Balaia. Right now they are being slaughtered, and I don’t see that we can defend against this enemy. That means we have to go elsewhere to live. It’s something you have to learn, Denser. Sometimes you cannot win. And you have to choose the next best option. In this case, survival.’

Denser slapped his hands on the table. ‘But you won’t survive, Sol. Win or lose, you’ll already be dead.’

‘But if by my death others live, that is enough. If I can save my wife and sons by this action I will do it in a heartbeat, don’t you see that? Wouldn’t you do the same?’

Denser’s shoulders sagged. ‘Well, yes. But I’d have to believe. Do you believe?’

‘When The Raven assure me that something must be done, I believe them. When that assertion is backed up by Auum, I believe them even more. But when I’ve been to the place where we must go, where we can fight the Garonin if we must, there is no room for doubt in my heart.’

‘Yes. You’ve been there. And come back. Alive. Why not again?’

‘Because the Garonin are not going to take me there again.’ Sol finally sat down again. ‘Denser, if I face the Garonin here again, I will die. If I am to fight them and help my people live, I need to take the chance to even the odds.

‘It just makes perfect sense. In Ulandeneth you can do anything you believe you can, I’m certain of it. And who else to travel with but those in whom I believe the most. The Raven. I wish you’d come but I understand if you feel you can’t. Decision’s made, my dear friend and Lord of the Mount. I will do this thing and we will prevail.

‘Denser. Denser, look at me. Thank you. I respect your objections. Gods drowning, I love you for your caution and your pragmatism. But the time for both has passed. And I need you to support us in what we are about to do. You may be Lord of the Mount now but you are still Raven. In spirit it may be but we need you with us. What say you?’

Denser studied his wine goblet and sucked his bottom lip. When he looked up, he was shaking his head.

‘I cannot,’ he said. ‘I cannot because you are my friend and I think you’re making a colossal error. And because you are king and first warrior, and your people need you to stand with them, not disappear off to converse with Wesman Shamen. And because your head is turned by the thought of fighting with The Raven one more time. Only it won’t be how you remember. How does a soul fight, do you think? I’m sorry, Sol, but I can do nothing but repeat my strong objections. I can’t let you do this.’

‘Can’t?’ said Hirad. ‘Exactly how are you going to stop him?’

Denser said nothing. He sipped at his wine and stared out of the window.

The Raven quartet descended the long spiral stairway in silence. They found nothing to say as they walked across the floor of the tower complex and out into the warm of the morning sun.

‘Fancy a walk, anyone?’ asked Ilkar.

‘Not if it’s like the last one we took,’ said Hirad. ‘How is dear Selik, by the way?’

‘Raging in his cell. We’re wondering whether to put him out of his misery and let another soul take the body.’

‘Pointless now, I should think,’ said Ilkar. ‘No one else is going to make it here now. The void will have taken them all. We just can’t hang on to anything without a body and the dead dimension is utterly destroyed. We can feel it. Let him rot.’

‘I’ll put your opinion to the Circle Seven,’ said Sol. ‘Look, I really need to go and talk to my wife and children. Stop by later, why don’t you? Pick up the pieces of my teeth perhaps.’

‘She’ll understand, Unknown,’ said Hirad.

‘Don’t be stupid, Hirad. She will neither understand nor accept it. And neither should she.’ Sol tried a smile but it didn’t come off. ‘See you later. Don’t drift too far; I know how much it hurts.’

Ilkar, Sirendor and Hirad watched him go before a shrug from the latter and a point towards the eastern quarter of the city sent them on their way. Just beyond the apron outside the gates of the college Ilkar saw, through the passing hubbub of a nervous day on The Thread, three figures detach themselves from the shadows ahead. He touched Hirad’s arm.

‘Seen them,’ said Hirad.

The three old friends carried on walking across the stone of the apron and made their way across The Thread itself. The figures were waiting for them, watching. There was no point avoiding them. And no need. Hirad took his hand from his sword hilt.

‘I thought you’d gone for a lie-down,’ he said.

‘There are more pressing matters,’ said Auum. Ghaal and Miirt stood close behind him. ‘This city is on the verge of tearing itself apart.’

Ilkar felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Not a pleasant experience in this body. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Come.’

Auum didn’t wait to see if they were with him. He spun on his heel and trotted away into a wealthy residential area of Xetesk. Much of it was empty of its usual occupants. All senior mages and administrators had been closeted in the college for many days now. It gave the area an eerie feel.

An angry shout rang out close by. Abruptly, Auum and his Tai broke into a run, leaving the Raven trio trailing in their wake. Ilkar recognised the tenor of the shouting. Violence hung in the air. Breaking out into a square bordered by tall houses and centred by a fenced garden, Ilkar saw a handful of figures in pursuit of something or someone with Auum’s Tai hard on their heels, eating up the distance between them.

Ilkar, running a few paces behind Hirad, couldn’t quite see the head of the chase through the trees and hedges bordering the garden. He heard a scream and the sounds of combat. He upped his pace. Ahead of him, Hirad and Sirendor drew their swords. Ilkar began to prepare a HardShield, or whatever it was Denser called it these days.

A mob of Xeteskians was attacking at least one poor unfortunate. Ilkar was in time to see Auum fly into the aggressors two-footed and at head height. One of them took the force full on the side of his skull. Auum dropped in amongst them. Ghaal and Miirt splitting left and right behind him.

The TaiGethen’s leader blurred. He flat-palmed a second in the chest, sending him sprawling. A third had his legs taken from under him, and before a fourth could react, Auum had bounced back to his feet and round-housed his target in the temple. He finished his move standing astride the single victim, both short swords drawn and ready.

Ghaal and Miirt pulled others away but in truth they had lost all desire for a fight. Hirad and Sirendor trotted into the circle of angry locals and Ilkar joined them. It was the safest place he could think of.

‘Ilkar, see what you can do,’ said Auum, nodding down at the prone form.

Ilkar knelt by the woman. Blood from repeated blows matted her head. Her arms were held up to shield her face and she had drawn herself into the foetal position. She was not breathing. Ilkar shook his head and stood. Auum looked up at the attackers. All of them just normal citizens of Xetesk. They held clubs, knives, axes and shovels. There were about twenty of them standing. Three others moved on the ground, groggy and moaning. The fourth was still and by the set of his head would remain so.

‘This is how you treat those who return among you, love having guided them here,’ said Auum.

‘Leave us to our business, elf,’ said one, a young man, face fired with rage and carrying an axe in a way that suggested he knew how to use it.

‘Which would be what, exactly?’ asked Hirad. ‘Beating innocent people to death?’

The young man pointed at Hirad. ‘Only your sort. Dead men. Time you all went back where you came from. You’ve brought bad luck to Balaia.’

‘Simpleton,’ muttered Ilkar.

‘We brought you a message, idiot,’ said Hirad. ‘Pity you weren’t listening.’

‘You’ve stolen bodies. Now you sleep in our houses and eat our food. You have brought war to our doorsteps.’

Ilkar rubbed his forehead, already tired despite the time of the day. He made to speak but Auum got there first.

‘You will disperse and take this body with you to be returned to her loved ones. Now you have rendered her unrecognisable, I am sure her family will be delighted by your efforts.’

‘This is our city. You do not tell us what to do.’

Auum stepped up to the young man, who immediately brought his axe to the ready in front of him. Auum planted both of his swords in the dirt by him.

‘Then mete out your justice. Strike me down if that is your will. I am unarmed.’

The man swallowed, confused. His lower teeth rubbed on his top lip.

‘You are of the living. Our fight is not with you.’

‘But I side with the dead. Strike one and you strike at me.’

Silence had fallen around the group. Somewhere a bell was ringing and there was the sound of running feet approaching from the south, across the gardens.

‘You will trick me if I try to strike you,’ said the man.

‘No.’ Auum’s head shook fractionally. ‘I will kill you.’

Hirad cleared his throat. ‘Aren’t you getting this? He’s giving you a chance to back away and leave. I strongly suggest you take it.’

‘I—’

But the youngster did not get a chance to speak further. Auum broke the grip on the man’s axe, moved inside his guard and had placed a finger on his lips before he blinked. Auum’s other hand held a blade to his eye. The axe clattered to the ground.

‘Not another word,’ he said quietly. ‘Take her and your fallen friend and go.’

A tear spilled down the man’s cheek as he nodded.

Auum stepped back and away, leaving a path to the dead woman. He watched as the two bodies were lifted up by a few of the mob and carried away.

‘I see what you mean,’ said Ilkar. ‘What do you intend to do? What’s down here?’

‘Allies. Many of the dead too.’ Auum began walking again, sheathing his blades as he went. ‘We need to get them away from here. Out of the city and to the west. Now. Tonight.’

‘But they can’t stray that far from their loved ones. You know that,’ said Hirad.

‘Some of them are here too. The rest we must find and persuade to our cause.’

‘Denser is not going to like this,’ said Ilkar.

‘If I have my way, he won’t even know about it.’ Auum stopped and turned to them. ‘Will you help me?’

‘What do you need us to do?’ asked Hirad.

Auum smiled and walked on. ‘Keep Denser busy. Keep his eyes from the north and south gates. We’ll move them out those two ways a few at a time as often as we can.’

‘No problem,’ said Hirad. ‘And who are these allies so we don’t hit the wrong people?’

Auum chuckled. ‘The two old barons. Seems they don’t much like the way Xetesk leans either. They are very useful. Money still turns heads on Balaia, even now when disaster comes.’

‘Good for them,’ said Sirendor.

Auum stopped once more and the humour had gone from his face.

‘I respect Lord Denser more than any other living human mage. But his mind is wrong. You can see it in his eyes. He will not be turned from his action. Look to your friends and see they escape, and look to Denser for he may betray you yet though he means you no harm. Someone has poisoned his thoughts and this will bring only death to any who stand with him. I have seen it before. Only those who run will live.’

Chapter 19

Sol did not go home immediately. Sitting there in Denser’s tower, brave words were easy. Out here on The Thread, just a few hundred yards from his family, they sounded so hollow. So he walked while he gathered his thoughts. And he did many of the things that Denser wanted him to do.

He spoke to his people. He spread calm and confidence though he felt none himself. He answered the questions of the fearful and calmed the anxieties of the desperate. He reminded any who would listen of the help the dead were bringing. Of the strength they added to the defence of Xetesk and the belief they brought to the beleaguered and the weary.

Words. Easy. And all the while his wife was organising the day in the inn. Almost normal but for the fact that nothing was normal here any more. Trade was stuttering. The prices of food and drink were rising sharply. Only the caravans coming through Understone Pass from the west still arrived every day. It was not only word that was scarce from Korina, Blackthorne, Gyernath and any other place he cared to name.

How comforting it would be to get lost in the affairs of state. To sit with Denser and organise messengers and scouts. To plan rationing and discuss defensive tactics. He envied Denser. Right now the Lord of the Mount would be heading to a meeting with Septern where the peerless genius was going to impart his knowledge on building a ward grid to protect the city.

‘But you have to stop running, old man,’ he said to himself.

Sol sighed and turned around. He walked back along a couple of side streets and back onto The Thread. The college and its great ornate gates, open to all comers, was just to his right. He paused a moment to look at it. Imposing walls fifty feet high and with the Circle Seven Towers visible as they were from every point of the city, fingers of power thrusting into the sky. Foreboding and awe-inspiring.

‘But they won’t save you, Denser. Not this time.’

Glancing to his left, he could see the sign of The Raven’s Rest swaying gently in the breeze that seemed forever to be blowing up Xetesk’s main street. The Thread ran from the north to the south gates. As colourful a street as any in Balaia. Packed with history, filled with the dark times of the old college, which were only just washing away in the face of the new Xetesk. A place of which they could all be proud.

‘And soon to be so much rubble.’

Sol chided himself. The king muttering to himself as he tried to avoid going home to his wife. No better than the midnight drunks he ejected from his inn every closing time.

He took a deep breath, calmed himself and strode down The Thread, nodding and smiling at all he passed though there was only anxiety on the streets. There was an ugly undercurrent too and he felt eyes on him, not all of which were friendly.

Sol walked down the alleyway to the side of the inn and opened the gate to the yard. In the stables to his left Jonas was grooming his horse. The other two mares were turned out into the small paddock at the back of the inn. There were the clattering sounds of work going on in the kitchens and someone was whistling tunelessly to the accompaniment of a sweeping broom.

‘Jonas, how are you feeling?’

Jonas turned a beaming face on Sol and ran over. Sol hugged him and ruffled his hair. He was going to be every bit as big and powerful as his father. Sol hoped he got his hair from his mother’s side.

‘I’m fine, Father. Did you tell them what Sha-Kaan said? What are we going to do? He’s in danger, Father, I can feel it. Despite what he says. We have to help him. What’s going to happen?’

Sol fought the urge to crush his son to him and burst into tears. A wound opened in his heart and the ache was unbearable.

‘Everything will be all right, Jonas. I promise.’

Jonas pulled back and looked up at Sol, his head cocked to one side and his eyebrows raised.

‘I’m thirteen, Father, I’m not stupid. That doesn’t mean anything. Only little Hirad would be satisfied with that sort of answer. What are you going to do? It hurts in here.’ Jonas placed his hand on his chest. ‘The Kaan are fading.’

‘What do you mean?’ Sol crouched down and took Jonas’s arms. ‘Fading how?’

‘Their link to Balaia, to me and all the Dragonene. The melde. It’s weakening. I can feel it.’

‘Then you aren’t fine, are you? Why didn’t you say this before?’

‘I didn’t know before, Father. Or I wasn’t sure what I was feeling.’

‘And I’m fifty-one and I’m not stupid either. Tell me what happened. ’

Sol stared into Jonas’s eyes. The young man was frightened beneath the bravado, and to see it in him was a sword to the soul.

‘It was the last fleeting thought Sha-Kaan gave me. The melde is attacked directly. Dragons resting in their Klenes have been killed where they lie. Inter-dimensional space is filled with enemies. What happens if they kill Sha-Kaan, Father?’

‘They won’t. He’s too smart and too powerful. But this is big information for our fight to come. Why didn’t you tell someone?’

‘Because I was waiting for you to come home. Don’t be angry with me.’

Sol pulled Jonas into another embrace. ‘All right, son. You’ve done the right thing.’

‘What happens now?’

‘We get you sorted out. I’ll speak to Denser. There will be others in your situation after all.’

‘What about the enemy? What about what you told them?’

Sol stood. ‘That’ll have to wait.’

Jonas followed Sol into the inn. The kitchens were a-buzz with activity but there was none of the usual humour in the voices he heard. Diera was wiping down tables in the bar, and when she turned to see who it was, her face turned his heart to dust.

‘What’s up?’ he asked. ‘Somebody die?’

Diera threw her cloth into the pail. Water slopped onto the floor.

‘You, apparently.’

‘Wait outside, Jonas.’

‘What does she—?’

‘Jonas!’ Sol caught himself. ‘Please, son, just for a moment.’

‘All right.’

Sol waited until Jonas had closed the door behind him.

‘Denser’s been here, has he? Doesn’t waste much time, I’ll give him that.’

Diera turned her back on him. ‘Yes, he has. At least there’s someone in this ridiculous city who still has a steady head on their shoulders.’

Sol moved towards her. She wrapped her arms around herself and stiffened.

‘I need you to understand why there is no choice for me.’

He reached out a hand.

‘Don’t touch me, Sol.’ She rounded on him. ‘And I understand perfectly well, thank you. Your dead friends want you to join their merry band of lost souls, and you’re too stupid and blinded by your wonderful Raven past to see you’re being sold serpents for firewood.’

‘I can hear Denser in everything you say, Diera. So let me speak. Do you really think I’d be doing this if I felt there was any other choice? It’s a long shot, granted, but we are truly desperate. Denser has no answers and the Garonin will tear this city down stone by stone. Come with me to the west. I can protect you all the way and you can be first to follow me to our new home.’

‘Follow you? You’ll be dead, damn you! What good is that to me?’

‘There is no other way to save you and the boys.’

Sol hadn’t seen her arms tense and he felt the full force of the slap across his face. The sound ricocheted about the bar and Diera was screaming at him.

‘How dare you say that to me. Your death does not save us, it damns us. What will I say to the boys when nothing comes of it? That their father threw his life away after people long dead but still more important to him? You can’t do this to me, you can’t. I can’t do this without you. It isn’t life without you.’

Sol resisted the urge to reach out to her again. She stood tall and resolute despite her words. He chest was heaving and her cheeks were damp but she would not crumble.

‘What will you tell them if, by my actions, countless thousands are saved?’ he asked quietly. ‘What then? Would that be throwing my life away?’

Diera put a hand to his face and stroked the red mark she had made.

‘No, of course it wouldn’t, my darling. But you don’t do this any more. It’s all just a memory. You have to listen to Denser, to reason. The place to stand and fight is here. Chasing heroic deeds won’t work. Look at me. At Jonas and at little Hirad. Can you really bear to know you have seen us all for the last time? Can you die knowing you are depriving your children of the father they worship? Can your sacrifice really be worth such loss?’

‘What I cannot do is follow a path in which I do not believe and have that cause your deaths. This isn’t about being a hero, Diera. It never has been. It’s about doing the right thing. The only thing.’

‘Oh dear me, they really have done a number on you, haven’t they?’

Sol spun round. Denser had appeared from nowhere and was walking the last couple of paces to the front door.

‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ demanded Sol.

‘Determining the state of mind of my king,’ said Denser. His hand rested on the door bolt. ‘And I don’t like what I hear.’

‘I don’t have to explain myself to anyone who eavesdrops from behind a cloaking spell.’ Sol turned to Diera, sure she had knowledge of Denser’s presence, but the look on her face told him otherwise. ‘I suggest you leave, my Lord of the Mount.’

Denser nodded. ‘I will, Sol. And I’m sorry, I really am.’

He opened the door, stood back and began to cast. Six men were running in. Big men.

‘What the—’

Diera screamed Sol’s name. No time to think. Sol picked up a chair and threw it at Denser. It caught him around the waist and knocked him into the wall just below the painting of Hirad, disrupting his casting preparation. Sol strode towards the six, reached above his head and grabbed the cudgel from the beam mounts on his way past.

‘Come on then, boys. Let’s see you take an old man, eh?’

The college heavies fanned out, shoving tables and chairs aside to give themselves clear space. Sol moved into the centre of the room and tapped the end of the cudgel on the timber floor of the inn. To his left, Denser was getting back to his feet.

‘Diera, keep on poking that bastard; don’t let him get a spell off.’

‘With pleasure.’

‘Who’s first? You?’ Sol pointed his cudgel at a squat man with a barrel torso. Pasty skin, flabby arms and a thick powerful neck.

The man grunted but didn’t move forward. Sol cursed under his breath. He knew what was coming. They rushed him as one. Two dived forward, aiming to grapple his legs. The other four went for his upper body. Sol jumped, bringing his legs up under him. He swung the cudgel, feeling a satisfying thud as it connected with a long-haired skull.

He landed on top of one of the divers, forcing the air from his lungs. He brought the cudgel round again, meeting the gut of a third man. Below him the diver moved, sending Sol off balance. He fell backwards, already beginning to turn before he hit the floor. He thrashed the cudgel above his head, missing this time.

Someone was on his legs and he kicked out hard, feeling his boots pummel soft flesh. But the arms clung on. Three others dived on top of him. Sol dropped the cudgel and smashed his left then right fist into the face of the closest heavy. The man’s nose and lips burst, showering blood everywhere. Sol took a punch to the stomach. And another. Someone else was on his legs now and he couldn’t move them.

He heard the splash of water, plenty of water. Denser swore. Sol managed a smile. He cocked his fists again but this time his shoulders were forced back onto the ground and his arms pinned by his sides. Sol bucked and twisted under the weight of the men on top of him. He glared up at the nearest, who set his fist above Sol’s face.

‘Don’t make me, Sol. Relax. Relax.’

Sol let the tension flow out of his body. The college men did not let up their pressure and they would not. He was beaten. For now.

‘Stand him up,’ said Denser. ‘And one of you get Diera off me, please?’

A slap of hand on face. Another expletive from the Lord of the Mount.

‘Don’t any of you so much as lay a hand on her,’ growled Sol. ‘Diera, it’s all right. It’s over.’

Sol allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. He pushed the college men away and tried to shake off restraining hands. Diera retreated towards the bar. He saw her hand go over the counter but he shook his head and she withdrew it. He let his eyes play over the six in front of him. One had blood pouring from the side of his face where the cudgel had struck him. Another was resting on a table, hands on his belly. A third stared balefully at him while the blood continued to run from his nose and mouth.

‘Don’t worry, you were ugly already,’ said Sol.

‘Don’t push your luck, my King,’ slurred the man.

Sol turned his head to stare at Denser. The Lord of the Mount was soaked through.

‘And you.’ Sol spat on the ground. ‘You have betrayed me, Xetesk, Balaia and most of all The Raven. I no longer know you.’

Denser stalked in to stand a few feet away.

‘I am doing what is right for our city and our country. You will not be allowed to fragment our defence by running off on your fool’s errand. No one is leaving Balaia. No one needs to. I know what Auum and those foolish old men are planning even if you don’t, and they will be stopped. We have the power and the strength to beat these Garonin. Xetesk will prevail.’

‘You will all die and I will laugh in your faces,’ said Sol.

‘Lystern has fallen. Julatsa is under attack. Dordover is long gone. And that leaves Xetesk as the one power on this continent. Do you think I or any mage of my college would pass up the opportunity for us to take up our natural position as rulers of Balaia?’

Sol felt numb. He stared at Denser and searched his eyes.

‘What’s happened to you, Denser? All that we’ve done in the last ten years. Does it really mean that little to you? The deaths of your friends?’

‘Until the Garonin came, it meant everything. But it’s all been washed away now and I cannot have dissension. There is a single purpose, and it is the protection of this city and its college. You need to spend some time alone thinking about that and about why you should be protecting the living, not seeing them into the hands of the dead and a fool’s march west.’