Ravensoul

Chapter 27

Auum led his Tai to the city walls. Leaping and climbing, rolling and dodging, they had easily kept ahead of the Garonin sent to chase them down. Yet the vydosphere had not changed its course. Indeed, it had not moved, and Auum worried what that might mean. Threads of comfort sprang from the knowledge that despite all their might, the Garonin were still prey to feelings of revenge. It was the reason they were chased and the reason the Ravensoul was sought.

The enemy knew that harm could be done to them. Men could be lost, perhaps enough to affect their battles elsewhere. This deflected their attention only minutely, but minutely could be enough to buy the time they so desperately needed.

Once on the walls, the TaiGethen ran free, putting real distance between them and their pursuers. Auum tore around the battlements and through abandoned watchtowers. He scaled the outer sides of the south gates and dropped onto the roof of the gatehouse. Only here did he pause. He climbed onto the crenellations.

From here he could see across the city to the walls of the college. The towers within stood proud and he could make out a solitary figure on the uppermost balcony of the central edifice. Auum whispered a short prayer to Shorth. He let his eye wander to the east, to the deserted streets of Xetesk bathed in a watery sunlight.

Auum could pick out figures running across rooftops. In amongst them, he could make out the bulk of Sol and the flashing shapes of wolves. And he could see the Garonin advancing too. In the skies above, the vydosphere sucked up its fuel. The clouds still darkened and the swirl still gained pace. He wondered briefly when Densyr would realise the appalling mistake he had made.

‘Auum.’

It was Ghaal. He was perched on the crenellations looking out over the west of the city. Auum followed his gaze and his heart fell into his boots. When you saw one, suddenly, thousands were revealed. People. Ordinary Xeteskians with their faith in a college that would inevitably fail them.

‘Cattle awaiting slaughter,’ said Ghaal.

‘Enjoying the dawn of their last day in this or any other life,’ said Miirt.

‘And we will free them when we can,’ said Auum. ‘Now, my friends, it is time to break into the college.’

‘Can it be done?’ asked Ghaal, he and Miirt jumping back onto the roof.

Auum put a hand on each of their shoulders. ‘With Yniss to guide us, we must believe it so. Tai, we pray.’

Densyr had been staring straight at where he had left The Raven when it happened. He watched the single blue orb fly skywards and did not even consider why it had travelled in that direction, so consumed was he with watching it fall to the earth. No time to get Septern to deactivate the cell. Time only to pray the wards would not trigger.

A prayer that went unanswered.

Ten wards. He knew the number so very bloody well though it was impossible to count them going off individually, such was the force and speed of the multiple detonations. Flames lashed from both sides of the narrow street on shallow angles, incinerating everything taller than a house cat. God’s Eyes pounded the enclosed area and EarthHammers shoved their fingers of stone high into the sky, ripping apart buildings and standing as insulting gestures in his mind. He was stricken with a sudden regret.

Last night, he had been so cocksure that leaving them trapped was the best way to neutralise them until he decided to free them. So sure that they would not attempt an escape. Ilkar might have been shorn of his college’s Heart but he was no fool and would be able to detect active wards given the amount of time he had.

‘What did you do, my old friends?’ whispered Densyr. ‘Why did you try to outwit the master? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry it had to end like this.’

Densyr took one last look at the dust cloud that covered the scene of their deaths and closed the balcony shutters on his crime. In his deep armchair by the fire, Septern was studying the ward lattice. The sheen of sweat on his face didn’t encourage Densyr’s confidence.

He sank into the chair opposite and sipped at the tea his servants had left them. All the way down the line, he’d made the right decisions. He was certain of it. What the dead had told him really did make no sense. There was no other home. No escape route. Just like every time before, Balaia had to stand up and fight for herself. And win. Just like every other time.

Maybe he had been a little heavy-handed with those he once counted as close friends and allies. But decisions had to be made and some people always had their noses put out of joint. Not everyone would ever be happy. And at least his people, the Xeteskian people, knew he was doing all this for them.

Should it have worried him that Auum claimed to have seen all this before? Surely not. If indeed he was thousands of years old as he claimed, things move on. The elves had had no magic back then, no defence. Densyr had the might of Xetesk and the unexpected advantage of Septern. Balaia had to survive, and for that to happen, Xetesk had to remain strong. The right decisions still had to be made.

Even if it meant his friends had to die.

‘Septern, can you hear me?’

‘Of course,’ said Septern, his voice clear enough though a little strained.

‘You needn’t concern yourself with The Raven now.’

‘I know. I felt it. Saw it. Doesn’t feel so much like casualties of war now, does it?’

‘No,’ whispered Densyr. ‘Tell me what you can do.’

‘The news isn’t too good.’

Densyr’s heart skipped a beat. ‘What do you mean?’

‘The enemy is cleverer than I thought.’

‘Smarter than you?’

‘Let’s not give them too much credit. The problem lies in shutting off the mana flow.’

‘Not doing so isn’t an option I’m prepared to entertain.’

‘I know, Densyr. But the risk to the Heart is greater than I thought. It is possible that they intend us to shut off the flow, triggering an explosion in the Heart. Mana will be pumped up into the atmosphere…’

‘To be collected by the machine hanging up there for just that purpose, if it can collect mana that way.’

‘Precisely.’

‘But you can stop that, Septern, can’t you?’

Septern’s face held the first element of doubt Densyr had seen.

‘Probably,’ he said.

‘Probably isn’t good enough.’ Densyr leaned forward in his chair. ‘You know the stakes here. We cannot fail. Not now.’

‘Now your friends are dead.’

‘Indeed.’ Densyr pressed his lips together. ‘And anything you do, do quickly. We don’t have much time.’

‘I shall attempt the cell-by-cell closedown. That way, I can isolate surges in mana being fed back and dissipate them through harmless areas of the grid.’

‘If you say so. And what if it begins to go wrong?’

‘A mage can always act as a buffer if necessary,’ said Septern.

‘Get going.’

‘They know what we intend, I’m certain of it,’ said Sol. ‘Brynar. Hirad needs attention. Ilkar, Sirendor. Assess the next jump and the bridge the ClawBound has left. Thraun, let’s see if we can’t find ourselves a better route than the one we already have. But don’t go far. Quickly. The enemy are closing.’

He stood with Diera and his boys. All four of them in a huddle and he at least realising that it could be their last. The Garonin still came on. He had counted eight of them. Moving carefully over the rooftops, no doubt aware of the capacity of the TaiGethen and hopefully unaware of their current whereabouts.

The rooftop to which they had jumped from the collapsing building was a work in progress. They were standing amidst the debris of a building site. Half-built walls, piles of stone, sand and barrels of water. Pots of whitewash, brushes, trowels and even a couple of straw hats. A block and tackle had been hanging from the near edge of the building but the ClawBound elf had stripped it for its rope. Every tool of the trade was scattered about, evidence of a hurried evacuation or perhaps merely a poorly run site.

‘Why do you say that?’ asked Diera.

‘Because while the bulk of them stand and guard their machine, these eight are heading right for us. Raven, I want an ambush plan. Here or at the next intersection.’

Sol looked after the ClawBound, who was still creating a path to the college gates. He had laid ropes and even knotted sheets where he could and left markers for jump points, so Thraun had reported. The Garonin were less than a hundred yards away now and would soon be in weapons range. Sol pulled away from his family.

‘Time to move. Brynar, how are you doing?’

‘Hirad is all right to walk now.’

‘Good. Freedom’s Wings for you again if you don’t mind. Brynar.’

‘Yes, my King.’

‘Not “king”, just Sol. And thank you for not abandoning my family.’

Brynar shrugged. ‘What sort of man would I be? Besides, Auum made it clear the fate I would face if I ran.’

‘I’ll bet he did.’

A short incantation and gossamer wings appeared at Brynar’s back. He held out his arms and Diera placed young Hirad in them. It was several hundred yards to the apron in front of the college gates. They had to traverse another four intersections and get across the heavily trapped open space.

‘I could take him all the way,’ said Brynar.

Sol paused on the verge of agreeing. ‘But they wouldn’t let you leave. We need you.’

‘Keep out of sight of the college as long as you can,’ said Brynar. ‘I’ll open the postern gate for you.’

‘There isn’t a postern gate any more,’ said Sol.

Brynar raised his eyebrows. ‘Trust me on this.’

Sol nodded. ‘Diera?’

‘Gods drowning, yes, take him inside the walls. All right, Hirad? You go with Brynar to the college and he’ll keep you safe.’

‘Yes, Mama.’

‘I’ll be there very soon.’

‘Go, Brynar,’ said Sol. ‘And thank you.’

Brynar took to the air, skimming low over the rooftops. Sol watched him, a lump in his throat.

‘We need to get out of here,’ said Sirendor.

Sol glanced back at the Garonin and shook his head. ‘No. I’ve had an idea. The next roof is too open. Pretty garden but too open. Plenty of places to hide here.’

‘Good thought,’ said Sirendor. ‘The Garonin will have to drop out of sight of us before they reach the adjacent block.’

‘Good,’ said Sol. ‘Diera, Jonas. Time to go.’

‘Father…’

‘Don’t argue with me, Jonas. We don’t have the time.’

Sol stooped to pick up a shovel. It was a satisfying weight in his hands.

‘The rest of you, I suggest you pick up your choice of implement. I will stand centre to make sure they know where to come.’

‘Sol…’

‘Diera, it’s all right. This is what I do. Did.’

‘Remember you aren’t thirty any more.’

‘Just take Jonas and run. And be careful on the ropes. Raven, hide where you can back me in a hurry. I know we wouldn’t normally lower ourselves to such tactics but today I make an exception for any underhand attack from the rear without warning. All these Garonin have to go down. You all know the attack signal.’

Ilkar took no weapon but hid himself on a narrow ledge behind a wall that was to hold a dormer window. Sol heard him begin to mutter as he attempted to draw mana from the chaos around him. Sirendor picked up a crowbar, hefted it in one hand and picked up a cement trowel in the other. He moved forward of Sol and crouched by a group of three barrels.

Hirad picked up a pickaxe, smiled and lay flat behind a stack of wooden beams to Sol’s right, pulling a canvas sheet over his body. Thraun had not yet returned but Sol was in no doubt that the dead shapechanger was keeping an eye on them. He looked forward to a few wolves entering the fight.

The Garonin, just as Sirendor had said, had dropped briefly out of sight, forced to take a slightly different path due to the collapse of the building through which The Raven had escaped. Sol could hear them though, their heavy footsteps like metal sheets clanging together, the impact of their jump landings echoing against the surrounding blank, deserted buildings.

‘I hope my hip stands up to this,’ he muttered.

‘I think you’ll find it’s your head they’ll be aiming at,’ came a voice from beneath the canvas.

‘Thank you, Hirad. Here they come.’

Sol tensed. The risks of his strategy became depressingly apparent and his words to Diera sounded awfully hollow. Eight giant soldiers in full body armour landed on the roof in a semicircle around him and began to close, their weapons trained exactly as Hirad had said.

Sol hefted the shovel, patting the shaft into his open left palm. The Garonin closed, stopping only when they could almost reach out and touch him. Weapons dropped very slightly. Diera and Jonas were way too close but getting more distant with every passing moment.

‘Fascinating weapons,’ he said. ‘You must show me round one.’

‘Sol,’ said a voice full of beguiling melody. ‘How disappointing. You stand alone. All your subjects have deserted you.’

Sol shifted his feet, taken aback. ‘You. You’re joking with me? I killed you.’

‘Not so. Some among you are fascinating and worthy of some small investigation to further our knowledge of your world. You are one such. No other has demonstrated understanding and belief. No other has been able to leave our domain by an act of self-will.’

‘Your domain? I’ve heard from several reliable sources that it is no one’s domain but a transit to everywhere. A place you have infiltrated and where you can be beaten.’

Sol considered he might have shown too much of his hand.

‘The risk of such an eventuality is small. But we do not deal in small, we deal in nil. And so your journey ends here, Sol. As it will for all your people in this city, your other major population centres and for those you think are escaping beyond your western mountain range.’

Sol’s face must have betrayed him. One of the Garonin cocked his head.

‘Did you think we were not aware of those running west? Elves mostly. We concede that your people are brave and resourceful. We concede that we underestimated you and have been forced to move our vydospheres into the air, an inefficient use of vydos that we cannot afford but one that conserves our equipment.’

‘So why are you talking to me? If you intend to wipe us out, why bother to tell me all about it? Seems a waste of time.’

‘Not for us. Respect is a ritual.’

‘But all rituals are finite, aren’t they?’

Sol tapped the blade of the shovel on the ground, once, twice, three times.

‘It is time,’ said the concerted voices of the Garonin.

‘Yes.’ Sol ceased tapping the shovel. ‘Time for you to meet The Raven.’