Ravensoul

Chapter 15

Sol was seated. Not uncomfortably though he could not move his arms or legs to any great degree. Looking down he could see no ties or chains binding him yet the chair sucked his body into place, it seemed. He could recall little from the moment the Garonin had spoken to him and Balaia had vanished. A vague sensation of movement was all. And now he was here, wherever ‘here’ was. Sol looked about him.

His first thought was that he recognised this place, yet that was plainly ridiculous. It had no memorable features whatever bar the fact, he supposed, that it was completely featureless. The ground, if such it was, ran away endlessly. He could see no walls. Everything about him was the same pale ivory in colour. Even the chair on which he sat, though that at least had solidity. He’d have clung to it had he not been secured to it.

Dark motes wandered across Sol’s vision. He blinked but they remained. It was a while before he realised that they were not dust in the air close to his eyes but figures moving in front of him. Distance was impossible to gauge and the figures were all faint, shimmering as if only partially there. Some were tiny and he assumed them far from him but it could be a trick of the even, gentle light.

Sol felt no fear. He was beyond that particular emotion. The enemy had not killed him and so they wanted him alive, temporarily at least. Curiosity, then, that was what drove him. And frustration. He wondered how long he would be made to wait.

Not long.

Figures resolved from the emptiness. Three of them, walking slowly towards him. They wore no armour and appeared the epitome of three friends out for a stroll. Long robes covered their huge, powerful bodies. Hands the size of Sol’s head hung from thick wrists. Their heads were large and covered in bone ridges. Their eyes were bulging and black. They had no noses, but slits in the centre of their faces opened and closed in what he assumed to be a breathing action. And when they opened their mouths, he could see no teeth. They reminded Sol of a lesser strain of demon but it was plain enough that they had infinitely more power than those dangerous creatures.

The three came to within a few feet and towered above him where he sat. They fell silent, the melodious tones of their voices echoing away into the vast space, bouncing from whatever it was that formed this place. They studied Sol, their gazes so intent he turned his head away until a force he could not resist turned it back.

‘You have achieved that of which few are capable.’

The words flowed like music about Sol’s head. He fancied he could see symbols flashing to brief life in the air in front of his eyes. Sol did not answer. In truth he took a while to realise he was being addressed.

‘Speak. You are worthy.’

How words sounding so beautiful could issue from mouths so ugly was a mystery. Sol stared up at each one of them.

‘I will stand as an equal,’ he said, his own voice sounded harsh in comparison, like fingernails scraped on metal.

He heard a ripple as of water over pebbles.

‘But you are not equal. We are Garonin.’

‘Then I will say nothing. You want my information, I presume. I demand your respect.’

‘If you did not have that, you would not be here.’

Sol felt as if they were talking in concert. Their voices flowed over one another.

‘I will stand,’ he said.

And he stood, the chair no longer able to bind him. It faded away and now the four of them were truly alone in a barren land.

‘You learn quickly. That is… advantageous.’

‘To who?’

Sol was only half talking to them. He was trying to hide his amazement at what had just happened. The simple act of standing. Impossible moments ago. Achieved through what? Belief? Will-power?

‘To all of us.’

Sol focused back on the Garonin. He gazed up at their faces. Ugly they might have been but there was no malice in them. There was nothing in the dark orbs of their eyes. Nothing in the set of their jaws that Sol could read.

‘Why have you brought me here? Where is here?’

What probably passed for a smile appeared fleetingly on all three faces.

‘People are drawn to you,’ said one. ‘Why is that?’

‘I-’ Sol paused. ‘I’m not sure what you’re getting at.’

‘We want you to bring all the people to you. To make it an easier passing for them. We have no wish to inflict unnecessary suffering.’

‘You could have bloody fooled me. Last thing I remember seeing was one of my dearest friends dying in a wreath of flame.’

‘We will take what we need. The mode we employ is the only variable.’

‘And what is it you’re taking? Mana, we presume.’

There was a shrug. A very human gesture.

‘If that is what you call it. The element your world possesses in such abundance is useful when combusted. We have need of considerable quantities.’

Sol scratched his neck under his chin. He hadn’t shaved in days and the stubble was beginning to itch. Something didn’t ring true here. They had no need of any negotiation, surely. Still, an opening was an opening.

‘Let me tell you what I understand,’ said Sol. ‘I understand we’ve caused you a problem you didn’t anticipate. That’ll be the achievement you talk about. The destruction of your machine, perhaps. And while I accept you are far more powerful than we are, no one has infinite men and resources to fight. Eventually you reach breaking point. And I think we are delaying you, and you cannot afford that.

‘How am I doing so far?’ Sol smiled up at their hesitation. ‘Pretty well, eh?’

The three Garonin turned their heads to one another, conversing without words.

‘You must see that you cannot beat us,’ said one eventually.

It was Sol’s turn to shrug. ‘I see that we have not yet perfected a way to defeat you.’ A thought occurred. ‘And in any event opinion is split as to whether we should be attacking you at all. There are those recently returned to us who believe we should run.’

‘There is nowhere to run. Nowhere you have the means to go.’

The reply was just a little too quickly spoken.

‘You fear us, don’t you?’ said Sol

‘Preposterous.’

‘You fear what we might become, where we might end up. You even fear that what we do now is enough to cause you serious damage. You say you need some element that is created from burning mana. Why?’

‘We all have those we fear. Be assured that you are not among them.’

Yet they paused and spoke again, came to another agreement though it was clearly not unanimous.

‘Verrian. That is what we call the element you term… mana. Its combustion yields vydos, an element central to the construction of our weapons, armour and projectiles. Without it, our enemies would roll over us as simply as we roll over you. That is our situation. We fight a war that claims the lives of countless millions. We must be victorious. You will not stand in our way.’

Sol raised his eyebrows. His heart was beating hard in his chest.

‘So you need something we possess. So there is a negotiation to be had here.’

‘No!’ It was the first hard sound any of their voices had made. Sol flinched. ‘We take from the weak; we do not negotiate.’

‘We lie down for no one,’ said Sol.

‘We appeal to your sensitivity as a ruler of men. To die in fear is needless. Die in sleep. Die painlessly. This we can guarantee. But die you must, to provide us with what we need.’

‘I cannot. I will not ask my people to close their eyes and be slaughtered,’ said Sol. ‘You must understand that. We fight to defend our lands. That is our right. Our duty.’

The merest hints of light appeared in the eyes of the Garonin. A transitory tightening of their faces.

‘People come to you. Trust you,’ said one. ‘Your living… and your dead.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘We see all that passes through this place.’

‘What?’

But they would not elucidate.

‘You will tell your people to lay down their arms and die with dignity.’

The tone was more strident now.

‘I will do no such thing. I don’t even understand why you want us dead. If it is the mana you want, take it. But leave us alive. We know where you are headed. The Hearts of our colleges are thick with mana. Why must we die for you to take them?’

‘Every soul possesses verrian. We will take what we must.’

‘Then you must fight for it,’ said Sol. ‘ We will not surrender and become extinct to satisfy your desire for simplicity.’

‘Then do it knowing an acquiescent soul holds more verrian than one in torment. That your chosen way of death can help others to live, to win their battles.’

Sol stared at them open-mouthed.

‘You have one fucked-up morality, my enemy.’

‘We will take what we must.’

‘And you will pay for it in your blood every step of the way.’

‘Destruction in agony, death in peace. It is your choice.’

Again the flashing in the eyes, the hardness of tone. But this time Sol was ready for it. He jabbed a finger into the chest of the centre Garonin, feeling great solidity beneath the robe.

‘You have made a huge mistake bringing me here. You reveal your fears and you attempt desperate, ridiculous bargains to cover for them. No deal. No surrender. I repeat: your blood on our lands every step of the way. Unless you guarantee the lives of every man and elf in my world. What is it to be?’

‘We do not need to make bargains with the weak.’

‘Then our business is concluded. And now I will return to my people. Those I love and will protect with every mote of my strength.’

‘No. You will not.’

‘You think you can stop me? Then you underestimate just how quickly I learn and what I understand about this place.’

‘You cannot hope to go against our wishes, human. You have neither the wit nor the means.’

The three of them stared at him and he heard that sound again, water over pebbles. Laughter. Sol’s head cleared and he felt a satisfying coolness in his body. Releasing himself from the chair had been merely the first step. He held his hands in front of him, imagined his old two-handed blade, its weight, its every nick, its pommel and grip. And there it was in his grasp, as real as the breath in his lungs. Sol was moving before the Garonin had registered their surprise. The blade moved easily, as if wielded by his younger self.

Sol punched the blade straight forward, piercing the middle enemy’s stomach. He dragged it clear and swung it up and left, catching the second Garonin’s right shoulder and hurling him from his feet. Sol squared up to the third, in whose hands a weapon now lay. But there was fear in his face and a tremble in his arms. Sol brought his blade back to a cocked position under his chin and buried it in his enemy’s chest.

Sol stood over the man as his blood soaked into the ground, leaving no trace. They locked eyes.

‘Two things. One, I have learned enough to defeat you here. Second, it is rude to laugh.’ He let his blade go and it had disappeared before it hit the ground. He felt terribly tired. ‘And now I will go home.’

Sol pictured Balaia. He pictured The Raven’s Rest and he pictured the empty place beside Diera’s body in their bed.

And the next thing he knew was Diera screaming into his face where he lay.

Sol grabbed her arms and dragged her close to him. She was incoherent, a quaking shuddering through her body. Her face was wild, terrified. He tried to calm her but his own terror was beginning to bite. Delayed, kept under control while he had been gone from Balaia but now given licence.

‘Diera. Stop. Stop. Please.’

Sol was choking up. His throat was tight and the tears were welling in his eyes. Diera’s fists were balled and she was thumping them into his chest. He was still dressed in the bloodstained clothes he had been wearing on the battlefield. Even down to his boots.

‘How can you be here!’ she screamed. ‘How can you just appear like that?’

The dark was complete. It was night in Xetesk. Outside, there was quiet. In The Raven’s Rest peace was shattered. Sol could hear his boys crying, frightened by the explosion of noise from their mother. One of them was already banging on the door to the bedroom.

‘It’s all right, boys,’ said Sol. ‘Go back to bed. Just nightmares.’

‘Of course it’s not bloody all right,’ Diera shouted into his face. ‘Their father has been missing for three days. Dead for all we knew. And then you appear in the blink of a cat’s eyes. They lost their father and I my husband. How can you be here?’

Sol pushed her away, held her at arm’s length.

‘Three days?’

Diera sagged in his arms. The door to their bedroom opened and in the gloom he could make out both Jonas and young Hirad, standing fearful in the frame. Hirad was crying and clutching a small soft toy to his mouth.

‘When did you get back?’ asked Jonas.

‘Just now,’ said Sol quietly. ‘Look, I’ll come to see you in a little while, all right?’

‘Why is mother shouting?’ asked Hirad, mumbling through the toy.

‘I’m sorry, darling,’ said Diera. ‘Your father gave me a shock. It’s nothing. Go back to bed. We’ll see you before you know it.’

The two boys hesitated. Diera pulled her arms from Sol’s grip and went to them, hugging both of them to her.

‘Everything’s all right, I promise.’

‘But my friends say an enemy is coming. That we’ll have to run and that there are dead people everywhere and they are helping the enemy,’ said Jonas.

‘That is a lie,’ said Sol sharply. ‘You tell your friends in the morning that the dead are here to help us. I know they scare you but they mean you no harm. We will keep you safe. Nothing will happen to you. I will not let it.’

‘See?’ said Diera brightly. ‘Your father will protect you. Now run along. We’ll come and tuck you in. Go on now.’

She shooed them away and closed the door, turning an angry, pale face on Sol.

‘Tell me it is going to get better. Explain to me what I do with our children. Make me understand what just happened. This is too much for me, Sol. You know that, don’t you?’

Sol nodded. ‘Just tell me one thing. Did anyone say how far the enemy are from Xetesk right now?’

‘They are not heading this way at all at present, so Denser said when relating your heroics. Stupid old man that you are. If and when they turn, we will have four days, maybe five. How is your hip, anyway? ’

‘A little stiff.’ Sol smiled.

Diera did not respond in kind. She came and sat on the side of the bed. She gestured at him, his clothes, and she shook her head.

‘Where have you been?’

Sol swung his legs over the side of the bed to sit next to her and brushed dust and dirt from the sheet. The blood of the Garonin was still wet on his clothes and would stain.

‘Sorry about that.’

Diera shrugged. ‘Doesn’t really matter now, does it?’

‘I suppose not.’ Sol leaned forward. ‘I don’t know where they took me. The enemy, that is. I hope Denser and the college can help me with that. Somewhere beyond our dimension… any dimension come to that. But there was familiarity there that I can’t explain.’

‘Why didn’t they just kill you?’

‘They wanted to make me agree to passive genocide, if you can believe it. But I made them see that we would fight them to the last man.’

Diera smiled at last. ‘The mighty King Sol. Still fighting the good fight though this enemy is by all accounts too powerful to defeat even if we had a dozen colleges and a million soldiers.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘Hirad. Old Hirad, that is.’

‘Survived, did he? That’s good.’ Sol felt a little warmth for the first time since he had returned. ‘And you believe him to be the soul of Hirad in another body now, do you?’

The nod was fractional. ‘The weight of evidence suggests that he might be telling the truth. His shadow completely freaks me out. Why does that happen?’

‘Because the soul remembers the body it once inhabited, I suppose. It just goes to show that whatever skin you’re in, you’re still the same.’

Diera chuckled. ‘And you can stop your lectures on the nature of man right there. And how did the enemy respond?’

‘Garonin, that’s what they call themselves. They didn’t believe me. Showing them resulted in the three of them dying.’

‘Back to the old methods of negotiation, is it?’

‘You have been my wife for too long. Is my face really that revealing?’ Sol shook his head. ‘They made me angry. Wanted to stop me getting back to you. I can’t have that, can I?’

Diera stroked his face. ‘You never could. Lucky for me you always make it, isn’t it?’

‘I tell you one thing though. They mean to drain us of every drop of mana we possess and they will not stop until they get it. They are too powerful here on Balaia. We can’t turn them away forever. And that means for you, for ordinary Xeteskians, it is time to leave.’

‘And go where? If they are determined to kill us all, then nowhere is safe.’

‘We’ll find an escape,’ said Sol. ‘Things the Garonin said to me, mistakes they made. This isn’t over, not by a long way. The dead will help us.’

Diera threw her arms around his neck and they clutched each other tight.

‘Why does it always have to be you?’ she said, her face buried in his shoulder.

‘I’m just lucky, I suppose.’

She broke away and punched his arm. ‘Bastard. What happens now?’

‘Well, we get a few hours more sleep. Then I go to the Mount and we work out how to turn the Garonin away once more and where to run in the time that gives us. As for you, my love, I mean what I say. Take the boys. Take anyone else who believes enough to go with you. Head west. Find Tessaya. He knows you. The Wesmen will guard you until I get to you again.’

Diera nodded and sighed. ‘All right. But you know Jonas is already talking about Beshara. He’s not stupid. If we have to run, why not to a place where dragons will guard us?’

Sol blinked. Beshara. Realm of the dragons and inextricably linked to Balaia by the mental connections between Kaan brood dragons and selected human mages. And Jonas was a Dragonene. The Dragonene of Sha-Kaan, leader of his brood.

‘How can I have been so stupid?’