There was more hesitation before the reply. Sol found strength in that too.
‘We are offering you and all these people salvation. It benefits you because no more of your people need die. It benefits us for the same reason. All you must agree to do is let us harvest unhindered now and at any point we choose.’
‘I trust you about as far as I would trust a madman with a rapier. How can you expect me to believe you will honour such an agreement, ludicrous though it is? Effectively to allow you free access to our lands in exchange for . . . what? A few of my people being allowed to survive in a blasted country? You have no need to make such deals if your power is so great. And we all know that should you want more of your fuel you will take it without regard for the lives of my people. Gods drowning, but power comes with no guarantee of intelligence, does it? And our dead, what of them? Their resting place is destroyed.’
There was the slightest pause.
‘The dead are irrelevant. There is nothing meaningful beyond life.’
Sol shook his head sadly. ‘You have no souls. You do not understand. ’
‘Time is precious.’ There was a note of stress in the mellow sound of the Garonin voice. ‘Your decision.’
Sol smiled, the missing piece fitting into place.
‘You’re not sure you can cover your losses, are you?’ He took a pace towards the Garonin. ‘You don’t want us to fight because you know the damage we’ll do even as we are defeated. You want me to help you stop the fighting on Balaia to leave you free to plunder the Heart of Xetesk. And you didn’t show me Xetesk because you damn well couldn’t, could you? You are not in control. They’ve held you off, haven’t they?’
Sol laughed. Again the Garonin displayed anxiety.
‘And what happens if we choose to fight, eh? I’ll tell you. You might be forced to retreat, mightn’t you? To save your forces for the battles on your doorstep. Denied victory on Balaia and denied the chance to follow me to a new realm. The mighty Garonin undone by primitives. But primitives who can harness mana in a way you can never do. Let’s see, shall we?’
Sol raised his blade and advanced further.
‘Do not choose to fight us. You cannot defeat us.’
‘Well you know what? I think I’ll give it a try anyway. After all, I’m dead and I don’t have anything better to do.’
‘You will be responsible for the slaughter of many thousands of your people. Your loved ones, your peers. Your children. You are a man alone.’
‘Don’t believe everything you see,’ said Sol. ‘A Raven is never alone.’
The Garonin susurration irritated again. ‘You are at our mercy. We know what we see.’
Sol backed away. ‘Better start getting your killing sticks ready. Things are going to get bloody.’
‘So be it.’
Sol spread his arms wide, his two-handed sword in his right hand, and began to turn a circle. He felt young, vital, like before the docks at Arlen, where he had seen his hip smashed beyond complete repair. Armour covered his chest, shining in the ivory light. And while the Garonin stood and watched, he raised his voice, gambling with his death and the life of everyone still living on Balaia.
‘Raven! For all the times all we had was our belief, join me. For every moment we stared defeat in the face and returned victorious, join me. To avenge every one of us who has fallen, join me. You, The Raven dead. To believe is to prevail. To stand by those you love and pick up your swords one more time for Balaia and for The Raven.
‘I believe in you. All of you. Hirad Coldheart, you have never run away from a fight in your life. I believe in you. Ilkar, your shield never once failed. I believe in you. And you, Thraun, who stood by us man and wolf. Belief brought you back; it can do so again. Sirendor, the warrior with a blade to mesmerise. You were stolen from us too soon. I believe in you. Auum, your whole being is belief. Your Tai will never desert you. Stand with us.’
Sol continued to turn. The Garonin continued to watch. Briefly, an image played out above. Korina under bombardment.
‘Raven, where are you!’ Sol shouted. ‘Past and present. Believe in me. Believe in you. Believe in our fight. For the dead of Balaia, for the living of Balaia, believe in victory. Hirad, Thraun, Ilkar, Sirendor, Ras, Erienne, Will, Ren, Ark, Aeb, Darrick, Richmond, Jandyr. Whoever you are, you are Raven. Wherever you are, come to me. Stand with me. Stand with me!’
Nothing but his words echoing away into the ivory. Nothing but the susurration of the Garonin as their confidence grew. Sol narrowed his eyes and clung on to his belief.
‘Don’t you desert me now, you bastards. From wherever you are gone, I call you all. The Raven dead, the Tai of Auum. I call you. Stand with me. Fight with me. Raven! Raven, with me!’
The Garonin tired of watching. Weapons were drawn. Sol could hear the buzz of the white light that ran around their blades. He brought his sword in front of him and gripped it in two hands. He glared at the Garonin walking directly towards him.
‘One at a time, if that’s what it takes,’ he said.
There was a whisper in the air. Sol felt a presence standing beside him. He breathed in a huge, glorious breath. There was no need to turn to look.
‘Hirad. Just in time.’
‘Never a truer word.’
In front of Sol the Garonin advance had faltered. Sol dared a glance at the barbarian. Hirad was gazing down at himself, his filthy, beaded and braided hair hanging in front of his deep-tanned face. The scar on his forehead and left cheek was plainly visible. His leather armour was a patchwork of repair. But the sword in his hand was sharp and held with total confidence.
‘Don’t worry about it; believe it. Work to do.’
‘Where’s Ilkar and Sirendor? Or Auum?’
‘Plenty of time, Coldheart,’ said Sol. ‘Until then it’s just us.’
‘Should be plenty enough.’
The sound of a two-handed blade tapped rhythmically on the ground echoed across Ulandeneth.
‘What do you reckon, Hirad?’ said The Unknown Warrior. ‘One more time?’
‘You know you said that to me once before.’
‘Well, this time I really mean it.’
Hirad grinned. The two men touched gauntlets.
‘One more time, Unknown. Sol.’
The Unknown’s blade ceased its tapping.
The Unknown thrashed his blade upwards two-handed. The edge ripped through his opponent’s guard, smashing his sword from his hand. The swing continued, connecting with the Garonin’s helmet. The heavy blade shattered the faceplate and tore through nose and cheek on its way out. The victim was cast back, a bubbling scream breaking from torn lips.
Before the others had a chance to adjust, The Unknown circled the blade about his head and brought its tip crashing down on the head of another. The Garonin’s helmet crumpled under the force of the blow and his arms flew up as his body was driven to the ground. The Unknown roared and brought the blade through again, left to right. It buried itself in the hip of the third Garonin with a crunch of broken bone.
Hirad stepped in to block a white-edged blade angling into The Unknown’s unguarded right flank. He forced the enemy sword down and away. Hirad adjusted his grip and reversed his blade high and across the Garonin’s neck, finding the gap between armour and helmet. He moved his blade to his left hand.
The fifth moved in fast. Hirad spread his feet for balance and beckoned the man in. He moved to Hirad’s right and struck low. Hirad turned his body sideways. The blade fizzed by his thigh. He grabbed the enemy’s arm and pulled him off balance. Hirad’s sword cut deep into the Garonin’s back, sending him sprawling.
One man standing. The Unknown had dragged his blade from where it had lodged and began to move to the right. Hirad nodded understanding and went left. The Garonin inclined his head, lowered his blade and blinked out of existence.
The Unknown didn’t pause to curse the cowardice. He ran over to his first victim and dropped down, one knee on the Garonin’s chest. He pulled away the remains of the faceplate and stared into deep, dark orbs. The Garonin was bubbling blood from the slit of his nose and his cheek pumped crimson onto the ivory floor, where it faded quickly.
‘You’re going nowhere,’ growled The Unknown.
‘Impressive,’ managed the Garonin.
‘Just wait till we’re all here,’ said Hirad. ‘And Unknown, we need to get the others here fast. The passageway is folding up behind them.’
The Unknown jerked his head round.
‘What?’
‘It started when you left. Everyone is stuck but us.’
The Unknown swore and turned back to his victim. ‘Talk quickly. You want something from me. Something more. What is it?’
The susurration again. ‘You already know, Sol of Balaia. You are a light to follow. Cursed to lead us to where we want to go.’
‘And if I refuse to open the door?’
‘Your people are already dying. It is not an option, is it?’
The Unknown stood. ‘No, it’s not. Hirad, join me. We can call them. Why did you come?’
‘Because I was born to stand at your side to fight. I could feel your soul.’
‘Exactly. Think that of the others. Bring them to us. Will you fail?’
‘I will not.’
The two men spread their arms wide and called The Raven to them.
Chapter 41
Auum watched Miirt dispatch the three Garonin and felt almost sorry for them. The elves, like all of the dead, had nowhere else to run. The collapse of the passage was inexorable and unstoppable. It was folding in on itself, chasing towards where they were packed and trapped.
The Raven’s dead had blinked away one by one and Auum had viewed this with some small satisfaction.
‘He calls them,’ said Ghaal. ‘The Ravensoul is a powerful entity.’
Auum nodded. ‘And so are the elven Gods. Do you believe Yniss would abandon three of his chosen to a fate such as this?’
‘I do not.’
‘Neither do I. Miirt. Join us.’
Miirt flew out over the heads of the dead and came to rest where her brothers were floating. The three shades bowed their heads, their arms about each others’ shoulders.
‘Tai, we pray,’ said Auum.
‘Much good will that do you,’ said a voice from the crowd.
Their agitation had long since peaked and it seemed their energy had slipped away with the approach of what they assumed was oblivion. Even the sight of the quartet of Raven shadows departing had failed to lift their hopes.
‘Humans despair before all is lost,’ said Auum, his tone stilling the crowd. ‘And you have no Gods to protect you, nothing to which to anchor your souls. For elves it is different. We will not end our journeys here. Yniss keeps us for other tasks. Any who choose to believe that might do well to form a chain of touch that begins with us.
‘Tai, we pray.’
Auum bowed his head again, hearing worthless scepticism, sarcastic comment and open insult from those about to becoming nothing whatever. Such it was with humans. Offer them their only possible means of escape and their ridiculous pride would still ensure their annihilation.
‘Yniss, hear your servants. From beyond the bonds of flesh, we call you. We seek that which all elves desire. To find a new place to call home. A place to bring our people where they might flourish in your glory. Where Tual’s denizens might run free. Where Beeth holds mastery over all that grows and where Gyal’s tears bring life. Where Shorth may speed our passing from one life to the next.
‘Hear us, Yniss, your servants ready to do your bidding. To serve the purpose for which we are chosen. Hear us Yniss. Spare us for greater tasks in your name. The enemy still fights. We will cast them down.
‘Hear us, Yniss. Use us, love us. Your servants ever.’
There was a brief reverential silence, broken by ignorance.
‘Well, that got us precisely nowhere.’
Auum raised his head.
‘If I did not respect those of your kind already fighting for you, I would cast you all aside to perish in this miserable void where your souls will find no rest for all of eternity.
‘Wait.’ Auum looked at the end of the passage, coming ever closer. ‘Believe.’
Ilkar and Sirendor came across without difficulty. The elven mage took one look about him and sat on the ground, head in hands. Sirendor stood exactly where he had appeared, staring down at his perfect chain mail shirt and fine, tailored clothes. His blade rested in a delicately carved scabbard, its hilt freshly bound and its pommel buffed to a brilliant shine.
‘Admire yourself later,’ said The Unknown. ‘We need to get Thraun out of there.’
Sirendor nodded. ‘And quickly.’
‘Ilkar. We need you.’
Ilkar raised his head. His sharp features were drawn with sadness and his dark hair lay lank across his shoulders.