Nightchild

Chapter 17

Hirad made a hasty camp between the trunks of a trio of young oaks, lashing his treated leather sheet to them at an angle to give him some protection from the weather. On leaving the Raven camp, he'd gathered his saddle and unhitched his horse, unsure of how far he'd travel. In the end, he'd walked for a mile, maybe a little more, while the rain pounded down, soaking him through his furs and completing his miserable but unforgettable evening.

With the wind at his back, beating the rain on to the leather, which thrummed and pulled, he set a fire with the dry sticks and kindling he habitually carried inside the leather, before collecting a few more to dry by the small blaze on the sodden ground.

He let his horse wander, knowing it wouldn't stray unless endangered and, with his saddle as a pillow of sorts, lay back to contemplate the mess in which he found himself. There was a pit in his stomach that stole any appetite and a burning in his throat that had nothing to do with his earlier shouting. But above it all in his mind rode a deep sense of unease and wrong, coupled with loss. He'd walked out on The Raven, the only family he'd ever really known. This was nothing like the sad, if inevitable and certainly amicable parting of the ways they'd shared a few years before. This had been an act of finality.

Hirad sought fruitlessly for a comfortable position on the soaking leaf mould, his mind distracted by the howling wind that tore at his sheet, threatening to rip it loose; the incessant heavy rain that poured from the leather, pooling on the ground before running downhill and away.

He wasn't a deep and clever thinker like the others, never had been. He just reacted to what he saw, heard and felt. It was his strength and his curse. He had no idea what had snapped in him

earlier. It would have been easy to blame Denser completely but he had to shoulder much of the blame himself.

It was a culmination of things. The way he was always expected to jump to and help other people though, when matters were reversed, those others always found reasons not to bother. And Denser was the worst of them. He'd been acting very strangely since they'd met him in Greythorne.

But still, Hirad knew he shouldn't have done what he did. Clearly, the man was scared for his family's lives and it unbalanced him. Made him say stupid things; and bringing the Kaan into it had been a mistake that had triggered so much.

Once more, Hirad brought the image of The Unknown's blade to his mind, saw its unwavering point and the intent in the grip. It had been no warning and although Hirad knew The Unknown's reaction had been purebred instinct, he also knew that the Big Man would have killed him had he threatened the Xeteskian further. It was, after all, what he had been born to do; and even though he had been released from Protector thrall and had his soul returned, the legacy remained.

And now Hirad didn't know how to feel. Angry at Denser, yes. Sad for what he had pushed The Unknown into, certainly. Disappointed he had walked out without solving the problem as well. That had always been The Raven's way until now. Not to run. But he had.

There was nothing more to be done that night. Ilkar would know he wouldn't come back immediately and there was no way The Unknown would sanction a search for him until dawn. But there was one question he wanted to answer before he slept. Did he want to be found? Actually, as the hours slipped by and he drifted in and out of sleep, disturbed by wind, rain and the odd rumble of thunder, the answer had become rather obvious.

Hirad awoke in a tight position that was scant protection from the chill. The dawn brought with it a strengthening of the wind but a welcome cessation of the rain. Hirad opened his eyes and stared at the taut leather bivouac vibrating against its ropes. He frowned as he blinked back the brightness of the morning, surprised he hadn't woken sooner. But that wasn't all that was amiss. Despite the wind, he should have been able to hear the sounds of forest birds, only it

was very quiet and the wind rushed through what to the ear was a dead wood. Like Thornewood.

He stretched where he lay before rolling over and sitting upright, rubbing his face and scratching at an itchy scalp. It was time, he thought ruefully, for Ilkar to clear his head of mites.

Pushing himself up, he ducked out from under the edge of his shelter and stretched again, his eyes coming to rest on his horse.

'Hello, boy, I-' he began but faltered. The stallion was standing stock still, eyes wide, legs quivering, too terrified to move. Hirad looked left, following its stare to where five wolves stood, partly hidden by shadows.

'Oh dear Gods,' he said. His sword lay by the ashes of the fire. He could grab for it but if he triggered a charge, he'd be killed in moments. So he stood, hoping against the odds that they would move on.

'Easy boy,' he said to his horse but the words were as much to himself.

The wolves stood in a close pack, the leader in front of two pairs. They didn't growl, didn't threaten and didn't give any indication of intent. Like Hirad, they stood and waited. It wasn't normal behaviour and Hirad, not blessed with patience, was anxious for an outcome. Any outcome.

He took a pace forwards, ignoring his blade, knowing that open aggression could be fatal.

'So what is it?' he demanded of them. 'Do something. We're not going anywhere.' His gesture included his horse, who suddenly pissed on the forest floor.

The lead wolf sniffed the air and then, with a low growl to its fellows, padded out into the dappled sunlight. It was a huge beast, four feet at the shoulder, its eyes yellow-tinged and its coat pale brown but for a sprinkling of grey flecks and an absolutely unmistakable white stripe down the front of its neck.

Hirad felt momentarily weak at the knees.

It was Thraun.

The Unknown, Ilkar and Denser rode in resentful silence but it could have been worse. The Dordovan mage guard had wanted the Raven mages bound but Darrick had instructed them otherwise.

The Unknown had smiled at that, a fleeting amusement. The instruction had been little more than thinly veiled threat.

And so the trio rode weaponless but not helpless in the midst of a Lysternan cavalry force heading at good speed towards Arlen. It had become clear to The Unknown that none in the column had any idea what they might find at the busy but sleepy fishing town whose docks had latterly attracted profitable attention. All they knew was that Erienne was due in on an elven ship and that The Raven weren't to be allowed access.

The big warrior could see confusion in many eyes, including Darrick's but he could also see loyalty and the drive to follow orders. As every soldier knew, not every action had an immediately obvious motivation. So long as the war was won, battles were immaterial. Achieve the desired objective, that was what was expected and required.

The Unknown Warrior recognised and deferred to it, as did Ilkar, who'd seen enough battles to understand every nuance of conscript obedience and the unquestioning respect a fine general commanded. Denser was another issue and his hostility wasn't merely directed at his captors.

T understood you to be pledged to protect me,' he said, riding a little closer.

'Pledged, no,' said the Unknown. 'Not any more. Protect, yes. You're Raven.'

T saw how you reacted last night. Don't make me remind you.'

The Unknown regarded him evenly. 'You don't have to, I remember it perfectly well. I experienced an unfortunate throwback. It's a reaction that will pass eventually. However, I will always be your friend. And Hirad's.'

'Unknown, he's dead,' said Denser, a heaviness in his tone.

'Believing it on seeing it.'

'Come on, Unknown, you heard Darrick-'

'Who saw nothing,' said Ilkar. 'Until we have confirmed sighting of a body, he's still alive. And there's something else. He's Dragonene and I don't see any Kaan.'

'Whatever you say.' Denser shrugged.

Ilkar shook his head.

'What have I done now?' demanded Denser.

'All these years and you still miss the point sometimes, don't you?' said Ilkar.

'Get what? Hirad lost it and now he's gone, dead, missing or whatever. I get that. What else is there?'

'He's angry, Denser. He feels betrayed by you and he's going to be confused and distressed by what happened between him and The Unknown last night. But he's Raven. We've been his whole life's focus despite his work with the Kaan and he won't walk out on us. He agreed to help you, under duress I know, but he agreed and he'll never fail a contract until it kills him. That's what being one of us means.' Another shake of the head. 'You should know that by now.'

'But we haven't been The Raven for almost six years.'

'It doesn't make any difference. Not to Hirad,' said Ilkar.

The Unknown listened to the exchange and wondered if Ilkar was right. He wanted to believe it but he had seen the look in Hirad's eyes before he left and it hadn't been distress, it had been shock. And if the barbarian couldn't rationalise what had happened, he wouldn't come back because The Raven as he understood it would have ceased to exist.

'That doesn't change the fact that we're caught, I haven't been able to attempt another Communion and he,' – he stabbed a finger at The Unknown – 'was supposed to be on guard. Some Protector you turned out to be.'

'Is alienating the only people you can trust just a recent hobby of yours?' Ilkar's ears pricked and reddened. 'Because you seem pretty well practised.'

'True, though, isn't it?' said Denser, glaring back at Ilkar.

T am no longer your given Protector, Denser,' said The Unknown, his voice low and menacing as he attempted to disguise the hurt inside. Perhaps he had failed them all. It was a thought not simply quashed though he had ample justification. 'None of us could have suspected this lot would have ridden all night to get to us – why would they?'

'But you didn't hear them,' insisted Denser. 'How could you not? There are two bloody hundred of them.'

'But only Darrick entered the camp.'

'So why didn't you kill him?' asked Denser.

'Because I was protecting you,' replied The Unknown calmly.

'And because I didn't fancy becoming target practice for the elven archers Darrick would have had positioned out of my sight. You may consider yourself able to outwit archers, two hundred cavalry and two dozen mages with range spells prepared but I'm not. You are alive because I chose not to fight.'

'But to what purpose? It's pretty clear your good friend Darrick is fighting on a different side to ours. He's hardly likely to let us go once we reach Arlen. What good can this do? Haven't you been listening to a word I've said? Only I can stop this.'

'Patience,' said The Unknown. It was easy to see how Hirad had lost his cool. But The Unknown could see further than that. He could see the desperation in Denser's eyes and had watched him fidget and heard him sigh, frustrated though they were still going in the right direction.

And what Denser hadn't seen was Darrick's unhappiness. The General was plainly not in favour of holding The Raven. But the ability to follow orders was just one reason he was such a fine soldier.

When they reached Arlen, the situation might well be very different and The Unknown planned to talk with his captor, fairly sure that he could turn the unhappiness to doubt and the doubt to insubordination.

The Unknown always liked to think there were options. If nothing else, he was riding with two of Balaia's more powerful mages. That couldn't hurt their chances. Deciding to say no more, The Unknown smiled instead and turned his eyes, as ever, it seemed, to the sky.

Thraun stared long at the human he recognised as a man-packbrother and bade the pack spare him. They would also spare the prey though the scent of the meat had them all drooling. The night before, he had howled into a tempest, his voice lost, drowned by the rain and tattered by the wind. It was a bad wind. It had scared him.

Others had been stalking those he needed. Whether to kill them he couldn't be sure so he had watched the forest until man-packbrother had left the fire, taking his horse with him. And when the stalkers found the others, and he knew the pack couldn't help them, he had left them and watched the one.

Man-packbrother had been scared but now he was not. He would

help them. And they would help him. Alone, he was surely vulnerable. He was alone no longer. Thraun licked the man's hand, then sniffed the sky again, hoping for comprehension.

Hirad knelt in front of Thraun, feeling the roughness of the wolfs tongue on his hand and watching as he pushed his snout into the air. The barbarian ran a hand across Thraun's head and looked briefly to the other wolves. All four sat alert, staring at him, animal confusion written across comically expressive faces.

'You can feel it, can't you?' he said and pointed skywards.

It was fascinating and it was an immense relief that the shape-changer was still alive, though the term didn't necessarily apply to Thraun any more. But, Hirad reasoned, if he were truly a pure wolf, his behaviour would have been very different.

Hirad supposed The Raven had been followed all the way from Thornewood. And the only possible reason Thraun would have done that was because he remembered them somehow. After almost six years, he should have been wild, with almost no vestiges of his human life to trouble him, but that was plainly not the case.

'There's something still going on in there, isn't there, Thraun?'

Thraun growled gently in his throat and locked eyes with Hirad at the sound of his name. The barbarian saw recognition there, and something he was sure wasn't lupine. It was a calmness, an assurance of purpose. And knowledge. Hirad understood wolves to be animals of instinct but Thraun knew things. That meant he had to retain memory.

Hirad leant towards him. Thraun didn't flinch.

'Remember.'

The wolf pawed at the ground and shook his head, actually backing up a pace.

'You can understand me, can't you?' said Hirad. 'But can I reach you to bring you back? And do you want to come back?' He remembered the spark in Thraun's eyes the times before when he'd assumed his wolven form. That wasn't in evidence now, so many years later, but he still had intelligence, there was no doubt about that.

Hirad pushed himself to his feet and looked around at his horse. The animal was still badly scared but would have some sense by now

that its life wasn't immediately threatened. Walking back to his camp, Hirad untied and rolled the leather, strapped on his sword and scooped up his saddle. Placing it on his horse's back, he felt the animal calm further and the stallion even managed to nuzzle his back as he bent to tie the girth strap. Attaching bit and bridle, Hirad planted a kiss on the top of its nose.

'Good boy. Now then.' He put his head close to its left ear and stroked its cheek gently, his voice carefully soothing, in the tone he knew would work. 'Remember you're the one that shares a home with dragons. These are just a few wolves. You aren't going to let me down, are you?'

The horse snorted softly and nickered, trying to turn its head to him, to look at him through a big dark eye.

'I knew you wouldn't. Come on then,' he said.

Never leaving his position close to its cheek, his free hand now caressing the front of its face, he led the still reluctant horse gently towards the wolves, speaking to Thraun as he came. 'We need to get to the others. To The Raven.' He pointed the way he wanted to go but Thraun growled and immediately the pack stood in his way. He stopped, grip tightening on the bridle, his horse digging in its back hooves.

He frowned and shook his head. All five wolves were looking at him, almost pleading. It wasn't a threat, it was a warning.

'What is it?' he spread his arms wide, bridle hand slipping down the reins. As if in answer, Thraun trotted past him towards the risen sun and in the direction of Arlen. He paused and looked back at Hirad, the growl in his throat sounding like an order.

'Come on, Thraun, the camp's that way.' Hirad pointed away into the forest. Thraun barked once and changed direction, the rest of the pack hesitating momentarily before following.

Hirad hauled himself into the saddle and goaded his unwilling horse after the wolves. He leaned forward and stroked the stallion's face, whispering words of encouragement into his ears.

He had only half expected The Raven to be at their campsite but was still disappointed to find it empty. But as he rode in, it was clear something was badly wrong. The fire hadn't been doused and cleared. A small pile of dry branches still sat near it. Surely they

should have been taken for the next blaze. He dismounted and looked around.

There were no signs of any struggle but The Raven had left in a big hurry, the mud churned by hoofprints as if horses had been galloped out. Hirad squatted down, his frown deepening. He dragged gloved fingers through the mud and looked over at Thraun. The wolf was standing with the pack, watching him.

'What happened here, Thraun?' he asked.

He walked along the route the horses had taken out of the small clearing. Then he saw it. The churning wasn't down to galloping. It was because more than three horses had been in the camp when The Raven had left. Many more. Hirad could see the widening column of prints as it drove away, back to the edge of the woodland.

They had been taken, surely. Ignoring the growls of Thraun, he remounted and rode along the trail carved into the sodden ground. Wherever they had gone, he would follow them and free them. He couldn't leave them as prisoners. They were Raven.

And so was he.