The Raven Collection Part 192

'Ilkar?'

'Jevin,' Ilkar gasped. 'Better . . . better get a boat over the side. Don't think Denser can float for too long.'

The order was given. 'Where have you come from?'

'Shorth Estuary. Flew all night.' He struggled to a sitting position. 'Explanations later.'

He stopped to gasp in more air. His hair was plastered to his skull and his face was drawn and exhausted.

'Xeteskians have desecrated Aryndeneth. They've destroyed the harmony. But we can stop them. Tell all the s.h.i.+ps. They've got to take the elves to Balaia. A stranger is holding part of Yniss's statue. And we've got to get it back before the plague takes us all.'

'And me?'

'You're coming with us. Got some friends to pick up at the Shorth.'

Jevin nodded. Answers were before him and his desire to help was satisfied.

'Bosun!' he called. 'Signal the s.h.i.+ps. I need to see the skippers and it has to be now.' Turning back to Ilkar, he grasped the elf's shoulder. 'Let's get your wet colleague on board safely, then you can both tell me over a goblet of wine just exactly what is going on.'

The trio of Xeteskian vessels was under full sail, moving well across a swell of six to eight feet. The wind was strong and constant beneath thin rolling cloud and the acres of canvas billowed dirty grey.

Captain Yron sat beneath the mainmast of the lead vessel on some netted crates, turning the fragment of the statue's thumb over and over. No one had dared come near him all morning. He must have looked a frightening sight with his hands and face covered in balms and bandages, but it wasn't that which kept them away.

Throughout the night he had prowled the deck, unable to sleep despite his fatigue. Healing spells had been cast on him as he moved and the bandages were only there because Erys had made him stop for long enough. After the eighth or tenth man had congratulated him on the success of the mission he had exploded with vehemence enough to wake the slumbering on all three half-empty s.h.i.+ps. It needed saying. As if any bounty could justify this loss, let alone the pathetic collection of parchments and texts Erys had brought out.

One hundred and fifty men had journeyed into the Calaian rainforest, wreathed in mirror illusions of enormous complexity to obscure their progress from TaiGethen and ClawBound. And until they had reached the forward camp, it had worked. Now only two of those one hundred and fifty were alive to tell the tale and a further forty had perished in the defence of the estuary.

Success? He had failed. Xetesk could go hang. The Circle Seven would greet his return with broad smiles and grasping hands. He had no doubt Erys's a.s.sessment of the importance of the doc.u.ments he had retrieved was accurate.

No. It was Ben-Foran. Ben, who had trusted him so completely and believed in him utterly. And Ben who lay dead because right at the last, he, Yron, had believed they were safe and had failed to take into account how fast a panther could run.

Yron had never had a son, a family. He had never married. He was the cla.s.sic soldier, too engrossed in his career to realise the swift pa.s.sage of years. But in Ben he had seen a way to release the regret and frustration he felt. To take the boy and make him the man Yron knew he could be. To give himself something of which he could be truly proud.

But he had failed. And the boy who could have rivalled the Lysternan, Darrick, as Balaia's most talented soldier . . . all that potential would remain tragically unfulfilled. The only thing that could possibly give meaning to his death was the stolen writings. Otherwise it would all have been a waste. And Yron hated waste.

The netting s.h.i.+fted to his right and he looked across. Erys had sat down next to him. He sat in silence, the only companion Yron would tolerate, the only one who could possibly understand. And he waited for Yron to speak, if he wished. After a time that was exactly what Yron wished.

'It's not over, Erys. Not by a long way.'

'The guilt will pa.s.s,' said Erys.

Yron shook his head. 'That's not what I meant and no, I don't think it will. Not completely.'

'Oh.' Erys was silent for a moment. 'Don't worry about The Raven, Captain,' he said, getting it at the second attempt. 'We'll be safe inside Xetesk before they've even set sail. Where's their s.h.i.+p? Ysundeneth at best.'

'How old are you, Erys?'

'Twenty-five, sir.'

Yron chuckled. 'Thought so. Still at the young-and-talking-b.o.l.l.o.c.ks-at-every-turn stage, then.'

'Eh?'

'Don't look hurt, boy; we've all been through it.' Yron turned to face the young mage. 'Thing is, when The Raven got going you were only ten. I know you'll have heard a few stories but, locked away in the college like you were, you missed the reality.'

'So explain it to me then, Captain.'

Yron paused and looked at the mage to make sure he wasn't being made fun of.

'First thing you should have asked yourself is, why in G.o.d's name are they here? And, more unbelievable, why did they show up at the Shorth Estuary fighting for the elves? I mean, you're sitting there saying, "Oh look, it's The Raven but we've escaped them". You've got to think harder than that.'

'I'll concede it was a big coincidence, but the point remains that we got away, so it doesn't matter.'

'And that's what I mean by missing the reality. It always matters what The Raven are doing. Everywhere they've gone and everything they've done in the last decade has changed things. Not always world-shaping but significant. Always significant. And they aren't used to failing.'

'Didn't stop the Nightchild dying though, did they?' Erys was still plainly sceptical.

'Yes, but she died; she wasn't killed by Dordovans. There's a difference.'

Erys shrugged. 'If you say so, Captain.'

'You're young, Erys. And you think old warriors like The Raven can't hurt you. But you're wrong. Ask the people who faced them yesterday. They are awesome. And they aren't on our side. Mark my words, boy, it will worry the Circle Seven. When you report to Dystran, he will want to know what they were doing on Calaius. Because they sure as h.e.l.l weren't taking a holiday. You got an answer to that?'

Erys shook his head. 'None of us have. But then none of us should lose sleep over it either. I'm not going to be barring my bedroom window.'

Yron sighed and pushed himself off the crates, feeling a growing sense of irritation. He'd thought more of Erys but he was just as blind as the rest.

'So leave your window open. But I for one am worried because Denser knows me and The Raven are after us. And I want to know why he said what he said. And before you smirk, think on this. The Raven don't fight for money any more; they don't need to. They fight only when they believe they have to. And they never give up until they've completed their task. Never. It tells me that what we've started is bigger than Dystran would have us believe. If I'm going to be a target, I want to find out why and I strongly advise you to do the same.'

'You're scared of them, aren't you?' said Erys, apparently surprised by his own statement.

'b.l.o.o.d.y right I am. But I'm also worried about the elves. We don't know why The Raven went to Calaius but they've ended up allies with the elves. Think about it, Erys. The Circle Seven will. Don't make yourself look a fool in front of them. Not after what you've achieved here.'

Erys nodded but said nothing, his expression thoughtful. Yron walked away towards the bow of the s.h.i.+p, his anxiety growing now he had given it voice. He looked over the rail down into the frothing bow wave. Thirty yards off the beam, dolphins tracked their progress, sleek bodies sliding effortlessly through the waves.

He understood Erys's scepticism. The Raven were after all only a tiny band. But, as had been remarked upon countless times and even noted by students of warfare, The Raven alone or as part of something larger made things happen the way they wanted them to. Erys hadn't seen them in action but Yron had. And he knew what would happen if he ever faced them, sword in hand. He'd die.

Chapter 34.

By the time The Raven left the Shorth Estuary and put to sea they were three full days behind the Xeteskians. The Calaian Sun would make up some of that time but, with the best will in the world, they would reach Balaia at least a day and a half adrift.

However, the enforced inactivity was not without its benefits and The Raven had time to rest, heal, train and talk. But any thoughts that the elves travelling with them would thaw in their att.i.tude were consigned quickly to the desert of dreams.

True, they sparred with the Al-Arynaar on deck, but their opponents were reluctant and there only because Rebraal had told them to be. But the six ClawBound pairs and ten TaiGethen cells who had come tentatively aboard with the thirty-eight fully fit Al-Arynaar were not so much aloof as invisible. They exercised at night, ate in their bunks and refused The Raven's offers of discussions on tactics. Hirad was minded to let them stew and was insulted at their lack of grat.i.tude. The Unknown, however, was more circ.u.mspect and ensured Rebraal was present early one morning when The Raven spoke about the days to come, knowing he would report back.

'We've got to do this right,' said The Unknown. 'From mooring to travelling, to negotiating, to-'

'Negotiating?' said Hirad, as if he'd just popped rotten fruit in his mouth.

'Yes, Hirad, negotiating,' repeated The Unknown. 'You may be happy taking on the considerable might of Xetesk but I'm certainly not.'

The Raven and Rebraal were in the Captain's room, sitting round a table covered with plates and goblets. A steaming jug of herb tea rested against the raised lip by Denser's right hand. Aeb was in a room forward, bathing his face and talking to his brothers in the Soul Tank.

'So, your plan is for us to walk up to the gates of Xetesk and ask for the thumb back.'

'In a nutsh.e.l.l, yes,' said The Unknown. 'You have an alternative?'

'Not necessarily, Unknown,' said Hirad, 'but I think you're being misty-eyed about Xetesk's motives for wanting all the stuff they stole. It's hardly going to be so they can enhance their relations with the elven nation, is it? They are at war and they want all the advantages they can get.'

'I understand that but I can't believe they knew what they'd be unleas.h.i.+ng by taking the thumb. Surely they'll just hand it straight back. Even if they do want to dominate Balaia, there's no reason to exterminate the elven race.'

'But look what they did to get it,' said Ilkar. 'We have to ask the question, could they have known? And so was the theft deliberate?'

They all looked at Rebraal. Ilkar repeated the question in elvish and waited for the reply, his brother not yet confident enough to always express his thoughts in Balaian.

'He says it was impossible for a stranger to know the effects of desecrating the statue. Most elves don't, and that includes me. But then he'd also have said the same about the location of the temple. He and all the servants of Yniss think it a deliberate act designed to harm the elven race; they are just finding it hard to believe anyone would do such a thing to them.'

'We gathered that,' said Darrick. 'But that means Xetesk actually intends to destroy the elven nation, or at least deal it a catastrophic blow. I'm not sure I believe that.'

'I'd like not to,' said Denser. 'I really would. And Xetesk may not have known the effect the theft of the statue fragment would have. But I'm afraid that things are rather falling into place.' His voice was leaden and low. Hirad stared at him, feeling for his sense of betrayal.

'Would you care to expand on that?' asked Ilkar quietly.

'Whatever Xetesk wants to learn from the writings and the artefact won't be for anyone's benefit other than Xetesk. They'll be looking to gain an advantage over the elves, some knowledge of their inherent magical ability and make-up. Something like that.

'They're on Herendeneth too. I know we had to bring them there to have any chance of learning enough to release the Protectors and repatriate the Kaan but they have shown their true colours now. What we wanted was a by-product. What they want is access to their dimensional magic again. Don't forget, Dystran is a specialist in inter-dimensional theory.

'And, if all we hear is true, then Xetesk do want to rule magic on Balaia. Let's face it, they haven't offered any help to Julatsa, have they?'

Denser stopped for a moment, his frown deepening and his shoulders slumping even more.

'What I'm trying to say is that although they might not know what they've caused by their theft, I don't think Dystran will stand in the way of a plague wiping out the elves, should he discover that's what the theft has caused. After all, no elves, no Julatsa.'

Hirad saw Ilkar's jaw drop as he took it all in.

'And dimensional magics will make them almost unstoppable,' said Erienne.

'Particularly if they continue to neglect to free the Protectors,' added The Unknown.

'Still want to get the thumb by asking for it?' asked Hirad.

The Unknown shook his head. 'I really hadn't seen all these possibilities. Even if Denser's wrong, we can't afford to take the risk. No, this changes everything.'

'You really think Xetesk would willingly preside over racial genocide? ' asked Ilkar.

'Not Xetesk,' said Denser. 'Dystran. He's thirsty for power and wants to see Xetesk the dominant magical force, perhaps even the only magical force, no matter what he says to the contrary. And he won't even have to see or acknowledge the destruction his actions have caused. All he has to do is not listen to the truth. Something he finds very easy, believe me.'

The door to the Captain's room opened and Aeb walked in. Behind his mask his eyes sought Denser and The Unknown. He walked round the table to sit between them. Denser poured him a mug of tea.

'Thank you.' He sipped.

'What's up?' asked Hirad, seeing the tension in the Protector's shoulders.

'I am uneasy,' admitted Aeb. 'I need guidance.'

He looked square at Denser, who nodded. 'I understand you may have conflict in the Soul Tank. But remember you have done nothing bar protect me as you are directed and The Unknown Warrior as you desire. And while I remain your Given I will ensure you have all the lat.i.tude available to you.'

'I am humbled,' said Aeb.

'Don't be,' said Denser. 'We understand you, The Raven that is. We know something of the bond you share and the pain that you suffer every day.'

Aeb inclined his head and took another sip.

'My brothers know I travel with you. Soon they will know we fought Xeteskian forces on Calaius. They will not reveal what they don't have to, but at any time a mage might ask the question of my part in The Raven's actions.'

'Your unease is clear,' said Denser. 'We will have to keep you from direct conflict with Xeteskian forces on Balaia. But remember they cannot invoke punishment through the DemonChain unless the Act of Giving is rescinded from me. You are safe at the moment. We'll talk later.'

'All right,' said The Unknown. 'The central point to it all is this. We cannot risk Dystran finding out just how important the thumb is to the elves because if he is intent on damaging them, he'll simply keep it. Rebraal, you've got to impress that on your people. If they must fight, let it be for the writings. That means we have to get the piece back by some other means, the best bet being to capture this Yron that Denser recognised and hope he has the information that can help us.

'Bear in mind that once Yron reaches Balaia, or maybe before, he will be able to tell Xetesk that we are involved in some way and that will make us targets. Aeb is right to be concerned for himself and we will all have to tread very carefully. I suggest that we land near Blackthorne because at least we'll get a friendly reception there. I'd expect to know by then where Yron made landfall, although I believe we can a.s.sume he is heading for Xetesk via Arlen.

'The TaiGethen will help us by their actions whether they want to or not. Again, remember we're all on the same side here. Hirad, that means don't antagonise them, whatever the provocation. Anyone with any ideas, we'll talk again at dinner. We know what we're after, we know what the man we want to catch looks like and we know where he's going. That at least is good news. I-Erienne, are you all right?'

Hirad looked to Erienne, as did they all, and it was clear that she wasn't. Her face was sheet-white and she was rocking in her seat. Denser hastened to her side.

'What is it, love?' he said, as she half collapsed into his arms.

'I feel awful,' she mumbled.

'Your head?'

She nodded. 'Sorry to spoil the meeting.'

'Don't think about it,' said The Unknown. 'Denser, you know what to do.' The Xeteskian nodded and helped Erienne from the room. 'Look, I think we've done all we can here. Hirad, can you contact Sha-Kaan? I'm anxious for news. My family could become hostages in all this and I want to know if the Al-Drechar are still strong enough. Darrick, I want to ask you a few questions. Ren, Thraun, Aeb, hang on here. When we're done we need to go out on deck and work on our moves to get Ren into the line to fight. All right?'

Hirad nodded and stood up, catching Thraun's eye. He smiled. 'How much of that did you get, I wonder?' he asked.

'All,' said Thraun. 'Erienne has too much pain.'

It was a comment that took Hirad by surprise. 'What do you mean?'

'She must open to those she hates. It is hard.'