Ravensoul

Chapter 16

Sha-Kaan soared back into the clear blue heavens above Beshara and looked down at the devastation below. A line of seven vydospheres travelled the plains of Dormar, driving towards the steaming forests of Teras. His forests. Home of the Kaan.

The vydospheres spanned a huge swathe of the once-beautiful plains. Flush with Flamegrass, dense with life and the dwellings of the Vestare, human servants of the Kaan and all of Beshara’s multiple broods of dragon. The war-torn world had known peace for many cycles and now this threatened to destroy all that had been built.

Behind the vydospheres, Dormar was a wasteland, worse than the ancient blasted lands of the Keol. The Garonin had already visited destruction upon the homelands of the Naik, the Skoor and even the ocean-going Veret. Now, closing on the lands of the largest brood, they were meeting significant resistance. Sha-Kaan could still see the wilderness expanding, the fires burning, spreading and consuming on a wider and wider arc.

Away to the south, the smoking ruins of an eighth vydosphere littered the ground, sparking fire here and there as it slowly disappeared. From the funnels of the others belched smoke and ash while above them the ground was occasionally obscured by the clouds formed as mana was burned for collection.

Sha-Kaan roared his flight to him. Thirty dragons, climbing hard into the sky, beyond the range of the tracers of white fire and the looping, smoking explosive projectiles. The Garonin had flooded the plain with men and weapons. They crushed Flamegrass underfoot, powdered the homes of the Vestare in their path and rendered all that was living to pale dust.

Yet they were still vulnerable. Six flights of dragons were in the air above them, awaiting the order to strike. Others from allied broods were on the way. The sky was filling with the massive shapes of dragons and the deafening noise of their calls and barks.

Sha-Kaan twisted his long, slender neck to check the damage to his one-hundred-and-twenty-foot-long body. Russet gold scales, some warped with age, others blistered by the heat of enemy weapons. Those blackened by the lick of dragon fire were trophies earned in forgotten conflicts.

He snapped his wings to their fullest width and executed a long, graceful turn, bringing him round behind the centre of the Garonin advance.

‘Hold your shape. Breathe only on my command. Do not break, do not falter. Escape at best speed and angle.’ Sha-Kaan’s pulsed orders were greeted with thoughts of acknowledgment, determination and assurances of victory. ‘Kaan. Dive.’

Sha-Kaan’s bark was a shattering cry that echoed over the clanking, thundering noise of the Garonin invaders and their machines. In their harnesses, the dim-witted hanfeer tossed their heads and shuddered. The dragons dived. Wings tucked in tight, necks stretched out, the wind whistling over the mounds of their bodies. Their tails stabilised their lightning descent.

Sha-Kaan led them screaming towards the ruined plains. He snapped his wings out to brake and turn barely a hundred yards from the ground. He swept up to the horizontal, dipped even closer to the dust, and forged in. Garonin weapons were trained. They fired. A hundred teardrop streams of white light rattled out.

Heat blossomed on Sha-Kaan’s body. Scales were burned and ripped from his belly, from his back and flanks. To his left, a Kaan was struck square in the muzzle. The dragon roared agony. The head, engulfed in fire, was torn apart and the body dropped to the ground to impact the dust and roll over and over. Sha-Kaan ignored the pain in his body and the tears in his wings as fire drops clipped them. He urged his dragons to hold and they did. Up and to the right another was caught in a crossfire of six weapons. The vast body exploded under the pressure of the impacts. Flesh filled the sky, knocked dragons aside. A wing spiralled down, folding in on itself and colliding with another Kaan below it. The dragon lost his bearings and, temporarily blinded, ploughed into the plains.

Sha-Kaan opened his mouth and felt the flame ducts swell. He swept through the line of Garonin soldiers. His jaws beheaded one, his claws dropped and tore up four more, breaking them and casting them aside. Around him his Kaan exulted. Sha-Kaan tasted blood in his mouth and sniffed more revenge.

He focused on the rear of the vydosphere. Huge before him, a billowing metal shell, vibrating as it built to another combustion. He let the fuel from his flame ducts enter his mouth. Through his nostrils, he inhaled the air of his land.

‘Breathe.’

Twenty mouths disgorged super-heated flame. The dragon flight split around the body of the vydosphere, pouring flame across its surface. Funnels collapsed. Antennae shrivelled and melted. The skin darkened, blistered and bubbled. Sha-Kaan breathed again, coming over the spine of the machine. His flame ate into the vydosphere. Rivets popped and plates buckled. The whole skin heaved.

Sha-Kaan crested the apex of the vydosphere. In their harnesses, the hanfeer were burning, screaming impotent rage. One had fallen sideways. The other still tried to move forward.

‘Clear, my Kaan. We are done.’

The vydosphere gouted smoke and steam through torn plating. Huge areas of the skin were sucked inwards. Sha-Kaan did not look round to see the explosion. He used the wave of force to drive him over the ground at even greater speed and into the forward lines of Garonin already engaged in fighting the dragons clouding the air above them.

Sha-Kaan dropped until his claws were brushing the ground. He opened them and scooped enemies into each before angling his wings and beating away high into the sky. Safe in the heavens once more, he snaked his head down to his claw and brought one of the writhing, struggling figures to his eye. He set his wings to a lazy glide.

‘All will go the same way,’ he said. ‘Take your machines and leave our lands.’

‘We will take what we must,’ said the Garonin. ‘You will not stop us.’

‘Wrong,’ growled Sha-Kaan. ‘Beshara will not fall to you.’

‘Even you are vulnerable and we know how to hurt you.’

‘You will not find them.’

The Garonin laughed. ‘You are mistaken, Great Kaan. We already have.’

Sha-Kaan closed his left claws and let the blood flow over them. His other claws he opened, letting his victim drop.

‘Puny foe.’

But there was anxiety in his mind. He needed to know they were lying. He flew to the upper skies and sought the mind of his Dragonene while the battle raged on below him.

Jonas was awake when Sol looked in to see him that morning. Or rather he was vaguely conscious. Sol hurried to his bedside and knelt by him, smoothing the hair from his face and putting a hand on his sweating brow. Jonas’s eyes were moving rapidly below fluttering eyelashes. The rest of his body was utterly still.

‘Diera!’ he called. ‘Jonas is speaking with Sha-Kaan. He’ll need you. Hirad, go and get dressed and washed. Wait in our bedroom.’

‘But I want-’

‘Hirad, please. Be a good boy.’

Diera appeared in the bedroom doorway and held out her hand. ‘Come on, Hirad. Let’s find a game. I’ll be back, Sol.’

Sol nodded and turned back to Jonas.

‘Jonas, can you hear me? I’m here right by you.’

‘Fire…’ mumbled Jonas, a line of dribble coming from the corner of his mouth. ‘Burned scales. White fire. Ahh!’

The gasp was accompanied by an opening of his eyes. He stared about him for a moment before settling on Sol. His face cleared a little and a hand moved to grip his father’s arm.

‘Are you seeing or relaying?’ asked Sol.

‘Seeing,’ whispered Jonas. His bottom lip trembled. ‘The enemy are there. Garonin. The dragons are fighting. I think they are losing.’

‘Jonas, it’s important. I have to know if we can escape to Beshara. Can I speak to Sha-Kaan? Will you channel for me?’

Jonas frowned and his teeth grabbed at his upper lip. ‘Father.’

‘I know I’m asking you to endure pain. Believe me, I wouldn’t ask unless I thought we had no other choice. I need answers and I don’t think you can ask the questions, even if I’m here. I need to hear Sha-Kaan. Jonas?’

Jonas’s eyes had closed but his mouth had curved up into a smile.

‘The Great Kaan says you had better be careful with me or…’

Sol laughed. ‘Or he’ll crush me like a twig, I know.’

The room filled with a new presence. A smell of oil and wood and the weight of great age and power. Jonas’s mouth hung open. He breathed deeply but otherwise was completely still.

‘Sol. It is good to feel you though the times are our darkest yet.’

‘As ever, your presence honours me.’

‘We can dispense with that. Your family gives so much that the Kaan value. You have questions. I have questions. Jonas is strong but he still cannot support this for long. He is young yet.’

‘Then ask, Great Kaan.’

‘Jonas relates that you are attacked. Is it the Garonin?’

‘They destroy everything in their path and leave an expanding disaster behind them. We have hurt them but I do not think we can stop them. I have to know. Can we escape to Beshara? Can you protect us?’

There was a heavy silence. Sol could feel Sha-Kaan’s concern in the air. He could all but taste the tension.

‘No. They would combine forces and we could not repel them. The damage they have caused is extensive but I believe we can turn them if they do not reinforce. But not if we lose Balaia. Not if I lose Jonas.’

‘You will not lose him. Not while I still draw breath,’ said Sol. ‘But we are on the verge of losing Balaia already. Only Julatsa and Xetesk still stand and both are weak.’

‘You have questions. You need another way to fight.’

‘Yes. Sha-Kaan, I was taken by the Garonin. They wanted to negotiate a peaceful end to our existence. They took me to a place beyond anything I have known and yet it was familiar. Something they said made me wonder. They said they saw all that passed through the place. I got the impression it was outside everything else, every other dimension but perhaps a route to each one. Something like that. And I travelled from there by force of will to appear back here. This is vague, I know, but you are a dimensional traveller. Do you know of this place?’

‘It is impossible,’ breathed Sha-Kaan, and for the first time in their long association Sol heard awe and fear in the great dragon’s voice.

Sol’s heart sank. ‘What is?’

‘I know of where you speak,’ said Sha-Kaan, his voice rumbling but quiet, his tone reverential. ‘In your language we would describe it as the top of the world. It is not a place any should be able to travel to by choice.’

‘But it is a place we can fight them, I’m certain of that.’

‘That may be so but there are two things you should know. If indeed you were there and the Garonin can travel there at will, they are more powerful than even I imagined. And for them to have taken you there speaks even more highly of their abilities as travellers and more dangerously of their capacity to rape any dimension they discover. Because from all the lore I know, only the soul free of the body may travel there, and even then only to pass through on the journey to ultimate rest.’

Sol felt another door close on their chances. Diera laid a hand on his shoulder. He covered it with one of his own and squeezed.

‘Diera,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘Your son bears up well.’

‘He looks weak,’ she said. ‘But it is good to hear you.’

‘We have little good news. Sol, should you wish to pursue this path, speak with me again. But tell me. Jonas said the dead have returned. No doubt pursued by the Garonin into Balaia through the top of the world. Who has returned? Only the strong bonded souls?’

Sol relaxed a little. ‘So it seems. Much of The Raven though we have already lost many of them again. Hirad is here.’

‘Ahhh. I would love to feel his mind again.’

‘I’m sure it can be arranged. He has not changed.’

The Great Kaan chuckled. Pictures vibrated on the walls.

‘Is Septern returned? His soul would desire it and his ego would bring him back, I am sure.’

‘There is a man in Xetesk claiming to be him,’ said Sol.

‘Then speak to him of where you were taken. He knows much he did not commit to parchment. Jonas is unsteady. I must tend to his mind and return him to you.’

‘We will speak again, Great Kaan.’

‘Remain strong. We will fight, you must fight too. If you should flee, do not leave us in the dark.’

‘Never.’

Sha-Kaan’s presence left the room. Jonas was still for a moment before screwing up his face and opening his eyes.

‘Mama!’

Sol left them to their embrace.

Hirad had been clutching at his stomach while the pain threatened to swamp him and the wind threatened to tear his soul from its anchorage and cast him into the void. Neither Ilkar not Sirendor was in any better shape. Yet abruptly the pain had eased, returned to what Ilkar would describe as a manageable level. He blew out his cheeks and straightened in his chair. To his left and right he could see the other two were feeling the same. Across the table Denser paused in his reading and looked at the three of them.

‘What just happened?’ he asked. ‘Something good, I’m hoping.’

Hirad could not keep the smile from his face.

‘He’s back. I told you he wasn’t dead. I told you.’

‘What?’ Denser was gaping. Hirad knew how he felt. ‘Where?’

‘Close. Right now that’s all I care about.’

Denser smiled. ‘That is good news. We need him on the streets.’

Hirad nodded. News of the losses of Xeteskian mages and soldiers had spread quickly through the city. The confidence the departing force had inspired had dispersed like dust on the breeze with the returning stragglers. The populace was nervous and the returned dead were beginning to have a serious impact. People were leaving.

‘And what do you expect him to be saying?’ asked Ilkar. ‘I’d have thought he’d be showing the way to the west, not trying to shore up morale.’

‘There is no need for this panic reaction,’ said Denser.

It was dawn now and a pale light was streaming through the window of the dining chamber, where an early breakfast had been laid and ignored by all but the Lord of the Mount.

‘Where does that opinion come from? The catacombs? The destruction of one machine shouldn’t give us rash confidence about saving Balaia,’ said Ilkar. ‘You heard Sharyr. They just rolled into Lystern and rolled out with the Heart. We are down to two functioning colleges and Julatsa is likely to fall within days. You know where that leaves us.’

‘Yes, with Xetesk still standing and not even under threat because we turned them away.’

‘But that is not victory,’ said Sirendor. ‘It is delay at best. Don’t revise what you know you saw out there. It was slaughter. And your mage team that broke the machine? All dead.’

‘And your second salvo of spells was useless because they learned how to defend against them,’ added Ilkar. ‘Come on, Denser. You know it as well as we do. We cannot win here.’

Denser’s face reddened and the bread in his hand remained halfway to his mouth.

‘No? I’m looking at facts, not suppositions. We now have proof that Gresse’s theory holds water. Those machines are initially incapable of sucking in the mana density from an attractor as big as a Heart. They have to reach a critical mass first. That means if we time our attacks well, we can keep them at bay indefinitely.’

‘Your logic is seriously flawed,’ said Ilkar.

‘I’d have put it differently,’ said Hirad.

‘That’s why I jumped in before you. We can do without your version of tact right now.’

‘Please explain the errors of Xetesk to me, my dead friend,’ said Denser.

‘Enough sarcasm, Denser, we’re talking about the lives of everyone here. And the deaths of everyone too. We cannot afford any errors, don’t you see that?’ Ilkar cleared his throat. ‘Isn’t it obvious how they will react to another machine or two being destroyed? They’ll just appear here with everything they’ve got and level this place.’

‘Why haven’t they done that already?’ asked Denser. ‘Where’s your logic for that?’

‘They want to achieve their aims with minimal manpower,’ said Sirendor. ‘Just as we would. I have no doubt they have the capacity to do whatever they want but why commit it until necessary?’

‘I’ll tell you why. It’s because they can’t,’ said Denser. He pushed a scorched parchment across the table. ‘Sharyr found this. It refers to these Garonin and talks about an unending conflict beyond the boundaries of our known dimensions. Unending. And this was written by Septern. That’s well over three hundred years ago. All we have to do is chip away and we will turn them for good. They’ll give up and go somewhere easier to exploit.’

Hirad closed his eyes. ‘How can you read this so wrong? Denser, you’re a Raven man. You know Lystern is gone. You know Calaius has gone the same way. That leaves plenty of enemy to focus on Xetesk. We have to concentrate on finding an escape, not on futile defence.’

‘Ah, and there’s the rub, isn’t it?’ Denser leaned back in his chair and picked up his coffee mug. He cradled it in his hands. ‘Neither my mage teams nor you have any idea where we might escape to. I mean, you have come back here — and I love you for it — to tell us to run, but you cannot tell us where. You say nowhere on Balaia is safe but you cannot supply a single ship, so to speak, to transport us to sanctuary. What is this desire to head for the west? What will it gain us?’

Hirad sighed. ‘All right. Admittedly, we don’t know. But we are drawn there. The Wesmen will be able to help us. I know this sounds flaky but their paths to the dead are different from ours. We think they can open the door to a new home. But we can’t prove it.’

‘Right. And until you can, my streets will remain unsettled by your divisive presence and your scaremongering, and my efforts will necessarily have to be focused on defending my people. Keeping them from running to an uncertain future when they should be standing and fighting. If I do not, I am derelict in my duty, am I not? Do you really feel I have a choice?’

Hirad shook his head and stood. ‘You believe them, don’t you? You believe the word that we are here to chase the living away and have this place for ourselves. Be straight. Do you think the Garonin are here at our behest? Is that what you actually believe?’

‘Gods drowning, of course I don’t. Bloody hell, Hirad, I have locked Dystran up in his rooms precisely because I don’t believe that rubbish.’

‘But you still visit him, don’t you?’ said Hirad, feeling his skin getting hot. ‘You still hear what he says.’

‘Who I visit and what I ask and listen to is my business and not yours, all right? And yes, I do listen to him because he is smart despite his unfortunate views in some areas. And one thing we do agree on is that we don’t know what more good you can really do. The dead as a whole, that is.’

Hirad reached across the table and hauled Denser from his chair by the collars of his shirt.

‘I’ll tell you what we can do. We can stop you from signing away the lives and deaths of everyone who ever came from Balaia. We can help you find a place where we can all start again.’

Hirad’s breath fired into his face. Denser’s face deepened into a scowl.

‘You will unhand me, Hirad. Right now.’

Hirad did not.

‘You have to listen to him, Denser,’ said Ilkar, coming to his feet also. ‘There is only one way to delay the Garonin and give us the time and chance to find a way out of here. Surrender the Heart. Do a deal.’

Denser stiffened. ‘Surrender the Heart of Xetesk? Never.’

‘Then they will take it from you,’ said Ilkar.

‘That you could utter such… heresy, here in this tower,’ said Denser, his face blazing with his rage. ‘I am the Lord of the Mount and you will release me, Hirad. Perhaps Dystran was right. Guards!’

The door opened but it was not guards who entered, it was Sol.

‘Fantastic,’ he said. ‘This is the face of unity, is it? Gods drowning, Hirad, put him down. And all of you calm down. I could hear you half way down The Thread.’

Hirad shoved Denser back into his chair.

‘I want-’

‘Denser, shut up. We’re in big trouble but there might just, just be a way out. We need to talk to Septern. I presume you’ve verified it is him by now. And first you need to hear an old friend.’

Sol pushed open the door. Hirad sat back in his chair, unable to believe his eyes.

Standing in the doorway was Auum.