Текст книги "The Raven Collection"

Автор книги: James Barclay

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 88 (всего у книги 235 страниц)

Chapter 23

Aeb strode easily at the side of the mounted lead mage, Sytkan. The Protectors were resting after running through the day and into the night, after word from Arlen of the Black Wings’ expulsion earlier in the day. The suspicion had been that trouble would flare later, probably under the cover of darkness, and the Protectors, at the time still more than thirty miles from the town over rough terrain, had been forced to make up a lot of time. There had been no further Communion.

A couple of miles outside the town, they had picked up the Dordovans; foot-soldiers trailing their horse-borne comrades by half a mile and steadily losing ground. Forward scouts reported a force of two hundred foot plus one hundred and fifty cavalry and mounted mages in all. The foot-soldiers were undefended.

Sytkan had immediately called for rest pace but had requested that Aeb order battle psyche, priming the Protectors for the potential fight.

There was a decision to be made. Aeb understood there were political considerations but did not respect the reluctance to order battle. Dordover had announced its intentions days before on the borders of the Xeteskian mage lands. The foot-soldiers were a threat to the success of the overall mission. Protectors were bred to remove threat.

‘Opinion, Aeb,’ said Sytkan.

‘Engagement outside Arlen is more efficient,’ said Aeb. ‘There is more room for deployment, a reduction in the capacity of the enemy to flee effectively and minimal risk to innocents.’

‘You can surround them?’

‘Yes, my mage.’ Aeb betrayed no reaction though the tactic was clearly the most obvious to employ. It would make the battle swift. They outnumbered the enemy by almost three to two.

‘But can we justify the attack?’ asked Sytkan. ‘Opinion, Aeb?’

‘They are Dordovans moving to join their cavalry. They pose a greater threat if they do so. Here they are weak.’

‘That is not justification,’ said the mage.

‘They are the enemy,’ said Aeb.

‘Yes, they are.’

Aeb waited for the order. Behind him were the vanguard, now separated by less than a hundred yards from thirty more mounted mages and three hundred and fourteen Protectors. It had to come soon. Flanking the Dordovans would take a little time and the lights of the town were now plainly visible.

‘Will you need magical assistance?’ asked Sytkan.

‘Unnecessary. Containment is easier with weapons alone.’

‘You think they’ll scatter under magical assault?’

‘We would,’ affirmed Aeb.

‘Attack at will.’

‘Yes, my mage.’ Aeb didn’t break his stride as he issued the orders.

Flanking attack. First centile right, second centile left, third centile form crescent for rear attack. Encirclement desired, balance to protect our Given. Silent running. Execute.

Aeb broke into a run, leaving the remainder of the vanguard plus designated brothers to guard the mages. Soon, he was joined by three brothers, the first centile tracking right away from the path, their pace even and matched by those to the left. The crescent following would form a little further along the track, lining three deep and closing with the rear of the flanking columns.

The ground was flat and open and despite the dark, the noise the Dordovans would be creating and the relative silence of the Protectors, Aeb only expected to overhaul a third of the enemy column before being seen. It would be enough.

The Protectors ate up the ground, Aeb’s centile on a slight rise to the path, those of the left on a down slope. Weapons were strapped across their backs on snap fastenings and made little sound as they sped along the trail. Aeb could already see the figures of the Dordovans ahead, their torches bouncing as they moved, their formation tight, five broad, and their pace quick. But they were not expecting trouble behind them. The forward Protector scouts had reported no dropped tail guard for the marchers and no vanguard ahead. Both fatal mistakes.

Slowing, front of first and second centiles approaching the tail, pulsed Aeb. Prepare the sweep on my word.

He could hear the enemy now. Chatter in the ranks, not a Xeteskian failing. But these men believed they were already victorious and their discipline was the worse for it.

Running in deep gloom perhaps forty yards from the enemy, Aeb bade the brothers scan them for signs they had seen the attack coming in. As it was, a quarter of the way up the column an elven voice rose in alarm.

‘Left flank, left flank. I’ve got runners at thirty-plus yards. Check right.’

A voice answered almost immediately.

‘Runners right flank.’

Even as the Dordovan column slowed and the night came alive with the sound of swords whipping from scabbards, Aeb pulsed the command to break. The flanking centiles sprinted forwards, angling in towards the front of the column.

The Protectors were silent, snapping axes and blades from their backs as they came, and Aeb heard their name taken up throughout the enemy ranks and could see the fear in their faces.

Archers.

Bowmen sent a flight of arrows skywards. They were too few and too inaccurate to cause problems and only one found a home in the arm of a brother. He discarded his axe, another closed up to protect his injured side, and he pulsed that he would continue.

Centile rear, close. We meet the left. Attack spread, double rank.

Aeb curved around, seeing the brothers from the left centile cruising in to close the trap. Like a wave breaking at angles to the shore, the Protectors’ flank lines formed and attacked the Dordovans, Aeb straightening his run and smashing into the bemused enemy’s front, their panic already spreading.

First pace in, Aeb chopped his axe left to right across the body of his opponent, feeling the blade bite flesh as it beat the guard which had been placed to anticipate an overhead. Beside him, Xye blocked a blow on his axe and drove his blade through, straight and waist-high, stabbing it clear through the enemy’s body, making light of the chain-and-leather armour.

In front of Aeb, the enemy still stood and somehow struck out in an upward arc. Aeb swayed back and flat-bladed his axe into the man’s face before driving his sword up between the victim’s legs, splitting his groin and showering blood five feet in every direction.

Rear centile engaged. Back line breached.

Upper right block axe, Xye. Control, sword low, strike forward.

Xye complied. A man died.

Aeb felt the calm detachment of imminent victory. Pulsing commands left and right, he brought the Protectors in, allowing any wounded, and there were precious few, to fall back as the ring tightened. Seeing they were trapped, the Dordovan voices rose further, their blows came in harder and wilder, and their defensive formation buckled and heaved. Although noise flowed around and over Aeb, he concentrated on the pulsed messages in his mind, leaving the desperation to those he faced.

He buried his axe in the neck of a Dordovan, the man grasping at the weapon as he fell. Aeb let it go, retaining his balance and blocking high with his blade as directed by the brother behind him. He turned his attention on the astonished enemy, smashed a fist into his mouth and nose, knocking him back before reversing his blade across his chest.

The sword screamed against chain mail ringlets, sending sparks flying and knocking the wind out of the man. He was in no state to defend the next strike which tore out his throat, spattering gore on Aeb’s mask. He shook his head to clear the drips over his eye slits.

No one lives. No one goes home, he pulsed.

We will be victorious. We are one.

The Protectors drove on, their weapons flashing dully under the clouded sky as their enemy’s torches sputtered to extinction on the muddy ground. The screams of the hapless Dordovans diminished as they fell. One threw down his weapon in a gesture of surrender. Xye beheaded him in the next heartbeat.

And so it was over. Aeb’s final Dordovan took a blow through his gut and he and half a dozen comrades breathed their last.

We are one.

We are victorious.

Report, pulsed Aeb.

Three Protectors were down. Twenty-one had cuts, of which twelve would not fight again that night. Aeb felt a surge of annoyance. Somewhere, their discipline had failed them.

No, pulsed Xye. The cornered fight like two men. Desperation breeds strength in the dying.

Then we assumed too much. Learn, brothers, learn.

We are one.

Aeb retrieved his axe and cleaned the blades of both his weapons on the clothes of the fallen, before handing them to Xye to replace in their back mounts, a favour he reciprocated. Stooping and tearing a length of cleaner cloth from a Dordovan shirt, he wiped over his mask and shoulders, turning to greet the approaching Sytkan.

‘I would say congratulations but it seems a heartless statement in the face of such slaughter.’

‘We are victorious,’ said Aeb.

‘So I can see,’ said Sytkan, surveying the carnage with obvious disgust. ‘Surely they tried to surrender at some stage. Report.’

‘Prisoners are a threat,’ said Aeb.

‘And that’s it?’

‘We have no capacity to hold prisoners,’ said Aeb.

The mage sighed. ‘No, I suppose not. Retrieve any masks and have any wounded report to a mage. Leave any that can’t run and form up. The battle is not over. Problems?’

‘None. We will return this way?’

‘Of course. Let’s go, Aeb.’

The Protector chosen issued the orders and soon the army ran on into Arlen.

Darrick turned his mount and faced his cavalry, aware that whatever he said would carry to Selik too. It couldn’t be helped. His men stood expectant, quiet, their horses calm, flanks steaming in the pale light of the lanterns and torches on ship and in hand. Earl Arlen would doubtless be here before long but it wasn’t him Darrick feared. It was the Protectors. He hadn’t let it show but The Unknown’s words had struck home. He didn’t want to be seen as a coward. He nodded to Izack.

‘General speaking!’ shouted the commander. The silence became deeper. Darrick saw Selik saunter back on to the deck of the Ocean Elm.

‘I am surprised, disappointed and disgusted to confirm that the Dordovans behind me are in full support of the Black Wings on the ship to my right.’ He paused as a ripple ran through the company. He held up a hand and continued.

‘As you are aware, our Council has agreed to support the Dordovan Council in its efforts to secure the child and return her to safe keeping. But clearly the desire has changed and instead the Dordovans have willingly delivered the child’s mother, a Dordovan herself, into the hands of the Witch Hunters.

‘We are not, therefore, being invited to retake the ship, and indeed our task has become one of defence of the vessel and its current incumbents.’ Another pause but this time there was no sound. Izack would know what was coming. For many of the rest it was a hammer blow.

‘I cannot speak for any of you on this because it is for the individual consciences of you all. You know what is happening to Balaia; the elements batter us and it is magic that drives them. We all accept that this must stop but the method is apparently not so clear.

‘Here you face Dordover. Nominally our ally. Approaching are the Protectors, and Xetesk too has designs that we are, again nominally, opposed to.

‘I say again, look to your morals and your consciences, think of your families and all that is important to you before deciding your actions. For myself, I cannot and will not countenance or support the scum aboard that vessel. I therefore resign my commission, my Generalship and my command of this cavalry and withdraw my support for the actions of the Lystenan and Dordovan Colleges. This makes me a traitor. Any of you that would arrest me now, I will make no protest. If not, I take my own path. Izack, you’re in charge.’

Darrick put his heels to his horse and rode from the growing tumult, the tears already rolling down his cheeks.

‘You up to this, Unknown?’ asked Hirad as they ran for the dockside.

‘What?’ The Unknown frowned.

‘You know, dodgy sword, no armour. Hope you’re feeling quick.’

‘I’ll get by. Just you mind your new pets.’

Hirad smiled. The wolves loped easily along beside him, while The Unknown ran the other side, with the two mages a pair behind them. The Raven could see the dock ahead as they came alongside the timber yard.

‘I’ll let Thraun know you called him that.’

‘Fluent in wolfish, are you?’ The Unknown grimaced suddenly and put a hand to his head. ‘Gods, it’s started.’

‘Protectors?’

‘Like echoes of war in my head. They’re fighting,’ affirmed The Unknown.

‘Must be outside the town or we’d be hearing it. Go right at the dockside,’ said Hirad.

The Unknown nodded and led The Raven around the corner. The wind was harsh and cold off the lake and the rain, which had begun falling as little more than a blown mist, was now heavy and well set. The Unknown had to be cold but he didn’t show it. Hirad was feeling the chill across his face and wasn’t looking forward to the sweat freezing on his body when they stopped. If they stopped.

No, when they stopped. In front of them was a mass of cavalry no further than a hundred yards distant. They were fanned out in front of what had to be the Ocean Elm and beyond them, dozens more torches flickering in the downpour indicated another force they couldn’t really make out.

‘That’s Darrick’s lot in front of us,’ said The Unknown as they dived into shadow in the lee of the timber yard as much for shelter as obscurement.

‘Is he defending that ship?’ asked Hirad, peering out.

‘Either that or stopping anyone else getting on,’ said Ilkar. ‘I can see him. He’s addressing his men and judging by their reactions, they’re not liking what they’re hearing.’

Hirad watched Thraun and the pack. Initially, they’d run on but turned as The Raven stopped and now Thraun was padding in a loose circle around the pack, all of whom were on their feet, eyes fixed on the mass of horseflesh ahead of them.

‘So what now? The wolves are getting edgy.’

‘I can’t understand why you brought them, Hirad,’ said Denser.

‘Tell you what, Xetesk man, you tell them not to come and see how far you get.’

‘Quiet, you two,’ said The Unknown. ‘Save your bickering for later. We have to get to Darrick and warn him what’s coming in. Let the Dordovans take the hit as I suspect they already have outside the town. Trouble is, I think that’s Dordovan cavalry behind him and I think they’ll be even less pleased to see us.’

‘Never mind that,’ said Denser. ‘Erienne’s on that ship and we need to get her off it.’

‘Hence speak to the man whose cavalry is standing all around it.’

‘Bugger that, Unknown,’ snapped Denser. ‘We don’t need muscle on that scale, we need this.’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘Some well-positioned spells to panic them, Ilkar and I fly in, grab her and get out under smoke and night.’

The Unknown turned and looked Denser square in the face. ‘That’s why I make the plans. You’re talking suicide. Do you really think the Black Wings aren’t expecting something? Gods, there are probably sixty mages on the dock not counting you two. You don’t know where she’s being held or anything about their strength. We can’t afford to precipitate anything that will get her harmed.’

‘They are already harming her,’ said Denser.

‘Killed, then. If we are to attack it must be a surprise. We don’t know enough. That’s why I want to talk to Darrick. Look, Denser, I understand your desperation and we all want Erienne out of there as quickly as possible but now is not the time for folly. Now if you can think of a way to get us to Darrick without—’

‘No need,’ said Ilkar. ‘He’s coming this way. Alone.’

Even Thraun stopped his circling to stare.

Chapter 24

Ren’erei had ducked back behind a raised wooden jetty as riders had thundered past. She had watched, shivering violently, as a short exchange with Selik led to a deployment of the cavalry in what for all the world looked like a defensive formation. The riders weren’t Black Wings, they were a College force of some sort. It scarcely mattered, merely adding to her confusion. She pulled herself up and ran hunched along the dockside until she was out of sight behind the fish market.

Moving silently along the wall, she made to jump some sacks of rubbish before seeing the white of flesh. She stopped and stooped. The man was dead, face down in the stinking sludge that filled the guttering designed to take fish offal back into the harbour. It was not a place to lie, dead or alive.

Ren’erei couldn’t leave the man there and rolled him over to get a grip under his arms.

‘Oh no,’ she breathed. It was Donetsk. Grimly, she hefted the heavy body and dragged it slowly from the filth, Donetsk’s steel-capped boots scraping over the cobbles, and pulled him on to the shingle slope that led back into the fishers’ harbour. Better he be found somewhere clean, come the morning.

Tidying the man’s coat, Ren’erei noted the single knife wound in his chest, the lack of any wounds on his face, neck or hands and reflected that he’d not been ready for the attack. There’d been no fight at all. Ren’erei placed two fingers over the wound and uttered a short prayer for peace in the next life. All small gestures, she knew, but the man deserved something as his body chilled and stiffened.

More horses were coming. The noise grew quickly from the east and Ren’erei flattened herself by Donetsk’s body to watch. The sound of hooves, clashing metal and men’s voices echoed around the buildings and in the wan light thrown by torches, dark shadows grew as they neared. She recognised the insignia of the Dordovan College as the cavalry galloped by and heard them come to a stop by the Ocean Elm, though whether it was to converse with or confront the others she didn’t know. She couldn’t afford to wait and find out.

The cold wind would have mostly dried her by now but the rain fell instead. She looked up into the heavy sky, its clouds washing past in violent ill-humour, occasional flashes deep within its banks hinting at worse to come, and prayed for Lyanna’s Awakening.

She was at a loss. She picked herself up and ran around the back of the fish market, heading for Centenary Square. There were lights on in almost every house, people woken by the hundreds of horsemen who had descended on the docks. In the Square, others would still be drinking in the late-night taverns. If The Raven were in the town, that would be the place she’d find out.

The Unknown Warrior stepped in front of Darrick’s horse as the General broke into a trot towards their position. Hirad was kneeling by Thraun, an arm over the big wolf’s neck, half in restraint, half in comfort. The pack was clearly nervous and aggressive because of it. They’d let him lead them but now he’d stopped and they weren’t satisfied. Whatever it was they were after, Hirad hadn’t led them to it. Not yet.

In front of The Raven, Darrick reined in and immediately dismounted, his horse bucking and twisting. He let go the reins and it bolted away, galloping up a side street and into the dark.

‘Gods, I’m glad to see you,’ he said.

‘I wish we could say the same,’ said The Unknown. ‘I don’t like being locked up.’

‘Clearly.’ Darrick’s smile was grim. ‘Look, we can’t talk here. They’ll be watching,’ he said, indicating behind him.

‘So?’ demanded The Unknown.

‘So I’ve just resigned my commission. Deserted, I think the term is.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Hirad spoke and Darrick looked over, seeing him for the first time.

‘Gods falling, what the hell is all that?’

‘That’s Hirad and the wolves you so confidently said killed him,’ said Ilkar.

‘Useful as jail-breakers, as it turns out,’ said Hirad.

‘I see.’ Hirad watched Darrick get hold of himself. ‘Let’s get out of sight. I think I can help.’

‘You’d better,’ said Denser.

The Raven moved. Hirad rose and Thraun followed him with his gaze.

‘I can’t explain,’ said Hirad. ‘We’re doing everything we can. I just don’t know what you want. We’re trying to get to Erienne.’

At the mention of the name, Thraun growled. The pack followed The Raven under the eaves of the timber yard, a chorus of voices rising behind them.

‘So talk,’ said Denser.

‘I should have listened to you,’ said Darrick. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Never mind that just now,’ said The Unknown. ‘We’ve got big problems and you’re not making sense.’

‘I know. Look, don’t question this, just accept it. The Dordovans have made a pact with the Black Wings. I can’t do the same so I’ve left, deserted. My men have to make their own decisions and I think a good proportion, while loyal to me, won’t worry about the Black Wing alliance. They want to save their families and their homes like we all do, and this alliance represents the quickest and most obvious way to the child.’

‘They have no idea!’ exploded Denser. ‘These bastards will rip her beating heart out.’

‘I know,’ said Darrick. ‘Gods, I know that now. But we can’t try and take Erienne here. They’ll kill her and hope to get to Lyanna another way, I’m sure of it. Look, I don’t know much of what Dordover is planning but I do know they’ve chartered that vessel as support.’ He pointed the opposite way to the far end berth, where a large ocean going ship lay tied up, lights and movement on its deck. ‘It’ll be provisioned and ready to sail, I’m sure. After all, the Dordovans have been here two weeks at least.’

‘So we take that ship and follow the Elm?’ said Hirad.

‘I can’t see another option,’ said Darrick. ‘Not immediately. At least this way, we can see how things unfold.’

The Unknown was nodding. ‘I concur. Right, we need a plan fast. I don’t think the Dordovans will wait until morning.’

‘Well, you’re the expert, Unknown,’ said Denser.

‘And you’re still extremely funny,’ returned Hirad.

‘It’s just that I don’t see what the point of following them is,’ said Denser.

‘It’s not a question of preference,’ said The Unknown. ‘We just don’t have the opportunity in Arlen. The island, or even being out at sea, will provide that as long as we’re ready to go immediately.’

Denser shook his head and was about to speak but the bloom of a spell rose over the harbour yard, its detonation clattering around the docks an instant later. The roar of men and the stamp of hooves followed as cavalry was turned in a hurry. Orders were yelled into the cacophony and the thunder of approaching battle filled the air.

The Unknown looked at Hirad and nodded.

The Protectors had arrived in Arlen.

Ren’erei arrived in Centenary Square to find it alive with Arlen’s guards. The Earl himself sat astride a large dark brown stallion and he was addressing a growing mob.

‘. . . a peaceful town and sometimes, perversely, we have to fight to keep it that way. Our docks are invaded. All there that we do not recognise are unwelcome and must be expelled. My guard are with me and any of you who feel able are welcome to add to those numbers.’

Ren’erei shook her head. Preaching to the drunk. It was an easy sell if violence was promised and the roar that greeted his words was testament to it. The elf saw some men hurrying towards the docks in ones and twos, doubtless sailors anxious to reach the relative safety of their ships.

She scanned the crowd for The Raven but the blur of faces confused her eyes. The Earl was shouting other orders and his guards were forming up, the mob at their heels, anxious for action. Another shake of the head. Two dozen drunk men and not many more guards against trained mounted cavalry. She only hoped Arlen could talk his way out of a fight when it came to it.

Behind Ren’erei, the light of a spell tore at the night, bringing a brief fiery glow to the sky. A dull thud reverberated into the square and, following it, the muted roar of hundreds of voices raised in anger. In that instant, the mob developed a single mind and streamed towards the southern end of the market, Arlen and the guards at their centre, all pretence at order gone.

Ren’erei moved back smoothly and watched them go, grabbing at the arm of a guard sensibly bringing up the rear. The man looked round, face set, angry and determined.

‘The Raven,’ said Ren’erei. ‘Where are The Raven?’

The guard laughed. ‘Where any friends of magic should be right now, elf. Under lock and key. Join us if you want to save your ships.’ And then he was gone, running with the rest.

Ren’erei sighed and set off for the jail, fearing a slaughter.

Thraun howled and the pack leaped away around the corner and back on to the dockside, heedless of Hirad’s shouts for them to stop.

‘Raven with me!’ ordered The Unknown.

Swords unsheathed, Ilkar and Denser preparing spells, The Raven moved swiftly on to the dock. The rain was heavier than ever, pounding the street and their faces as they came, a scene of complete bedlam unfolding before them.

A warehouse by the fish market was ablaze and, beyond the Ocean Elm, heavy fighting could be heard between Protectors and Dordovans. A good proportion of the Lysternans stood off but many joined the struggle, seeing an enemy in Xetesk that they could hate, despite the fear of what they faced.

Running on, Hirad saw the pack disappear into the torch and firelit mayhem, saw horses rearing and heard Thraun’s unmistakable howl. What they thought they were doing he had no idea but at least they’d found an outlet for their pent-up aggression. He was just glad he wasn’t in their way.

‘Shield up,’ said Ilkar as they ran.

‘Orbs prepared and ready,’ said Denser.

There were shapes in the air, moving against the flaming backdrop of the burning warehouse.

‘Mages airborne,’ confirmed Ilkar, voice quiet but carrying.

‘The Elm’s putting to sea,’ said The Unknown. ‘Look.’

The foresail was running up the mast, the fore and aft lines were chopped and, with a grating that must have distressed the captain, the ship pivoted against the berth wall while the foresail filled with wind enough to drive it away from shore. The airborne mages circled high as the Elm got underway.

‘How many can you count, Ilkar?’ asked The Unknown. The Raven had stopped again, unwilling to join the battle in front of them, which raged just to the side of the Lakehome Inn, from where patrons were streaming back towards the centre of Arlen.

‘Ten, maybe more,’ said Ilkar. ‘It’s hard to be certain.’

There was another flash, FlameOrbs spattered down into the centre of the uncertain Lysternan cavalry, scattering horses and riders. HotRain fell away to the east and, despite the wet, smoke and steam were already rising from the soaking roof of the fish market. The pungent smell of burning fish offal and oil washed across the dock on the wind.

A detachment of Dordovan cavalry broke from the back of the fighting, punching through the Lysternans and riding up the left-hand side of the inn in the direction of Centenary Square.

‘That’s a bluff,’ said Darrick. ‘They’ll be coming back to the other end of the docks.’

‘We need more muscle if we’re going to take the other ship,’ said The Unknown.

‘Any ideas?’ asked Hirad.

‘Yes. Darrick, get to the ship, see if there’s anything you can do. Denser, go with him. Ilkar, Hirad, with me. We’re going to get some Protectors.’

‘And that’s why you make the plans, is it?’ said Denser.

‘Just do it.’ The Unknown turned to Hirad. ‘Let’s go.’

Running in, Hirad could see the battle unfold before him. The Lysternans were in a state of leaderless near-panic. The loss of Darrick had been a catastrophic blow and though the stand-in commander, a man Hirad recognised as Izack, barked order after order, it was clear they didn’t know whether to run or fight. As a result, the unit was disintegrating and only spell shields kept them from disaster. If the Protectors reached them, it would be a massacre.

Beyond the milling Lysternan cavalry, the Dordovans had organised a tight defence across the narrow battlefront that existed between the fish market, the burning warehouse and the harbour’s edge. After the initial surge, Dordovan mages had forced the Protectors back with a series of ForceCones and others would be shielding the cavalry from missile and spell attack.

Inevitably, the Protectors sought another route and they could be seen streaming away into the town to circle back while the Dordovans set up similar blocks to the east of the fish market and around the Lakehome Inn.

Meanwhile, Xeteskian attack mages had turned their attention to the boundary buildings. The first fall of HotRain had hit the market roof accidentally, but now Hirad watched FlameOrbs crashing again and again on to the timber and slate roof. They boiled off the rain and set drying wood alight, flames licking into the night from ten or more places along the market’s length.

‘Into the town,’ yelled The Unknown, and he took them up the right of the Lakehome Inn, away from the immediate din. Hirad could see the pack spooking horses as they nipped in and out of the Lysternans, Thraun pausing to stare at the disappearing Ocean Elm before running back into the mass.

In front of The Raven trio as they left the docks, a throng was approaching them, a mounted man at its head. Arlen.

‘Oh, that’s a mistake,’ said The Unknown.

He ducked into an alley that ran past the rear of the inn but too late to escape attention. Several men slowed and looked in, choosing to make the Raven their first targets. The Unknown and Hirad stood side by side, the big man’s blade tapping on the cobbles, metronomic.

‘Don’t do it,’ The Unknown warned the men, not Arlen guardsmen but townsmen high on alcohol and adrenalin.

‘The Earl wants your type out of here,’ slurred one.

‘We can’t do that right now,’ said Hirad. ‘Just move on, or better still go home. It isn’t safe here.’

‘This is our town,’ said another behind the front pair. ‘We say what goes, not you.’ A murmur of assent was followed by a concerted move forward.

Hirad could count six, all big but none of them natural swordsmen. He regretted what was about to happen. The Unknown’s sword still tapped its beat, the barbarian switched his grip twice for effect, but the aggressors were too far gone to notice the skill it demanded.

Behind them, Ilkar sighed.

‘What is it?’ Hirad didn’t look round.

‘I—’ The elf broke off momentarily. ‘Gods. Just grab the two in front of you now. It’s all you can do.’