Nightchild

Chapter 28

It had begun days ago but no one had taken any notice, not really. Despite the floods, there had been no one killed, indeed not many injuries at all. They had heard the stories from the undefended farmsteads, the coastal towns and the lakeside villages as refugees had poured in. But here in Korina, they had always thought themselves impervious to real damage. Now the refugees were flooding out, not in.

Diera ran from her room, the screaming Jonas clutched to her chest as her window blew inwards, the force of the blast shaking the whole inn to its foundations. And this was worse than a mere hurricane. The force of the wind had slammed the shutters so hard, they'd snapped in, tearing frame and glass from the sturdy brick walls as they came.

Hurrying down the stairs, she came upon a scene of panic in the bar as The Rookery's drinkers tried to escape the roaring tempest scouring the market square. Half of the front of the inn had been torn away, books and papers flashed through the air, tables slid and tipped, the fire blew in all directions showering hot embers and over the ringing sound of the smashing of glass, the cries of terror and pain rose like spectres.

'The cellar, the cellar!' someone was bawling in her ear while pulling at her arm. She turned. It was Tomas, his face white, forehead cut and blood pouring into one eye. He pointed to one of the doors behind the bar, then pushed past her and out into the wreckage of his inn, kneeling by a man whose legs had been crushed by a falling beam. She watched, mute, as Tomas spoke words to the trapped man, nodded and cut his thigh deeply above the artery, holding him as his life blood flowed on to the floor and he died.

Screams filtered in from the outside. People ran past, heading

west, glancing over their shoulders and running harder. A great roaring filled the air, a deafening painful sound that beat at the ears. Diera pushed Jonas' head into her chest and covered his exposed ear with her free hand.

'Tomas!' she screamed. 'Tomas!'

The roaring took on a deeper intensity. A cart flew by the torn front of the inn and smashed into a wall nearby, timbers and springs scattering. The remaining people inside ducked again, clinging on to whatever they could. Tomas was shouting at them but they couldn't hear him.

He crawled, hand over hand, back to the bar, grabbed her and pushed her to the cellar door. He wrenched it open and she stumbled down the lantern-lit stairs, hearing the door shudder shut behind them.

In the sudden relative quiet, she could hear her own breathing, her baby's whimpers and Tomas' cursing. Below them, the space was crammed with people. She saw Maris and Rhob hugging each other, and many others she only dimly recognised, their fear written in their expressions, their limbs quivering with exertion, and those that could still stand tending those that could not.

Above them, a terrible rending sound was followed by a thunderous impact that shivered beams and shook dust into the air in clouds.

'It's the inn,' gasped Tomas. 'Gone. Gone.'

Diera saw agony in his slim, blood-smeared face.

'What can we do?' she asked.

He turned to her and put a hand on her cheek, stroking gently with his fingers.

'Pray,' he said. 'Pray this cellar roof holds. Pray the floods don't reach here. Pray you see tomorrow's sun and that your husband finds a way to end all of this before we are all killed.'

Diera looked at him. She understood it was all down to magic. The word had spread through the city days ago. One part of her wanted to demand what one man could possibly do. But another, deeper and more spiritual part knew they all had to believe in something.

And Tomas chose to believe in Sol.

Diera rocked her crying child against her chest, finding comfort in sharing the same belief. After all, he'd never let Balaia down yet.

The Catalan Sun struggled to make real headway. The winds that had taken the Ocean Elm out of sight had backed and now blew straight up the Arl to the lake.

With the night full and dark and the destroyed town behind them, The Raven, in dry clothes provided by the crew, had time to take stock while Jevin, their reluctant skipper, deployed as much sail as he dared and tried to read the difficult conditions. He had already reported the likelihood of having to short tack the length of the river and warned The Raven that if the Elm had been lucky, they would enter open water as much as half a day behind.

While Darrick organised food and drink from the galley, Hirad, Ilkar and Denser stood between the narrow twin beds on which lay The Unknown and Thraun. Hirad felt helpless. He replayed over and over what had happened, searching for any ways he could have helped. He found none.

And so the rock of The Raven lay unconscious under a Warm-Heal, alive but badly damaged. Hirad wiped the corners of his eyes with his right thumb and forefinger, and felt a hand squeeze his shoulder.

'It wasn't your fault,' said Ilkar. 'I cast the ForceCone.'

Hirad looked at the elf. 'It's not that. There's no blame to anyone. I just thought that there would be more you could do.'

'If Erienne, were here, we could. She's a BodyCast master.'

'But I thought…' Hirad gestured uselessly.

'WarmHeal can only do so much. Knitting tissue, promoting muscle growth and sealing fractures. He needs more than that. Much more,' said Ilkar.

'So what's the situation?' Hirad hadn't even wanted to ask the question, as if not knowing would make things better.

'The axe has smashed his hip and cracked his pelvis,' said Denser. 'And that's apart from the mess it's made of his tendons, muscle, skin… We were able to fuse the pelvis and that will knit. But the hip is crushed and there are shards of bone everywhere. We aren't physicians, Hirad, and we don't have the skill to reforge in the way a BodyCast can.'

Hirad shook his head, grasping for a conclusion. Both mages were looking studiously away from him.

'So, will he walk?'

Ilkar nodded. 'After a fashion. The joint will stiffen and he'll be in constant pain. He'll limp heavily but he'll walk.' The elf shrugged.

'Oh Gods,' said Hirad, the ramifications obvious. 'He won't be able to fight.'

'With a two-handed sword, no,' said Ilkar. 'He won't have the balance or the strength in that leg. But he'll get by with a long sword if someone shadows his left side.'

'He's lucky to be alive at all,' added Denser. 'He's lost a massive amount of blood.'

Hirad looked down at the big man. The mages would keep him asleep on the rolling ship for days, perhaps the whole voyage. And when he awoke, it would be as a cripple, the power and grace that were his trademark gone forever. Except there still had to be something that could be done. Hirad wasn't about to give it up.

'Could Erienne help him?' he asked.

'If she got to him before the muscle grew back around the joint and the bones fused completely, yes,' said Denser. 'But so what?'

'How long before it's too late?'

'Well, we can retard the healing a little, I suppose, but the spells are already doing their work,' said Ilkar. 'Three days perhaps?' He glanced at Denser, who shrugged and nodded.

'Then we'd better get her off that ship, hadn't we?'

For a while, all Hirad could hear was the sound of the ship ploughing through the rough river waters, the sails snapping on the masts and the timbers creaking and settling. And all he could see were Ilkar's and Denser's stunned expressions.

'What?' he demanded, his hands spread, palms up.

'Well I think we're both just waiting to hear how you propose to achieve this miracle,' said Ilkar.

'It's simple,' said Hirad, the plan crystallising in his head. 'Captain Jevin catches up with Elm, we fly across under cover of darkness, rage below the decks, grab Erienne and fly out. We can bring Protectors too. They can hold ShadowWngs, can't they?'

'Yes, but-' began Denser.

'But what?'

'When I suggested something similar back in Arlen, I was shouted down.'

'That was different,' said Hirad.

'Oh well, that clears it all up, thanks,' said Denser, beginning to turn away. Hirad clamped a hand on his shoulder and hauled him around.

'I'd do it for you,' he said. 'I'd do it for any of us. This time it's The Unknown.' He glared into Denser's face. 'Take a good look at him, Denser. He left his wife and child behind to help you find yours. He didn't even question it. And see what it's cost him.

'Now we will help him. I won't see him a cripple. He's Raven.'

'So is Erienne,' muttered Denser.

'And we're getting her too. The time wasn't right then. They were ready for attack back in Arlen. They won't be now.'

Denser regarded him solemnly for a time before his mouth turned up into a wry smile.

'You're right. We'll probably die, but you're right.'

'Good!' Hirad clapped him on the shoulder. 'Now, you need to commune with Sytkan in Arlen so he knows who of the Protectors we have on board, before punishment is invoked. Then see if you can get to Erienne. Ilkar, with me. We'll speak to Ren'erei, see what we can persuade Jevin to do. Then you can talk to me about Thraun.'

He turned and opened the door but Denser's voice stopped him.

'Hirad?'

'What?'

'I'm sorry. In the forest, you know…'

Hirad shrugged, finding in Denser's face a genuine sorrow. He shrugged.

'Me too. But it worked out didn't it? If we hadn't scrapped, I'd have been captured by Darrick too. So let's forget it, eh? Now let's get your wife, fix The Unknown and save your daughter. Then maybe we can work out how to send the Kaan home and I'll forgive you anything. Get communing.'

'I'll be in here,' said Denser.

Hirad nodded and led Ilkar out of the cabin.