Elfsorrow

'As we can see, you are shielded,' said Selik.

'And you are not,' said Hirad. 'The next arrow is for you.'

'Unwise,' said Selik. 'You would all be killed as a consequence. I am aware of your skills but even you will see this as a situation you have lost. Put your weapons down and I might spare your lives. Erienne, it would be delightful to remake your acquaintance.'

Erienne ignored him though a shiver passed across her body.

'We don't have time for your games,' said Hirad. 'We have a sick elf here and you are holding the cure.'

'Oh, I am sorry,' said Selik. 'Ilkar off-colour, is he?'

'This is getting us nowhere,' whispered Darrick. 'Unknown, any thoughts?'

The big man shook his head.

'I have,' said Ilkar.

'Am I interrupting something?' asked Selik. 'I think I made myself clear, did I not?'

'What exactly?' asked Darrick.

'A mage can reverse the flows from any spell or construct and in doing so draw mana in from a wider area.'

'I said, put your weapons down. There's no room for debate,' said Selik.

Hirad held up a hand. 'Ren, put your bow on him. Don't shoot,' he said before turning to Selik. 'Actually, we're just debating whether to surrender or go down in a blaze of glory. You can attack now if you want but you're first to die, Selik, and we'll see fifty of your men go with us. Or you can wait and maybe we'll all stay alive.'

And he turned his back on their captor, who just shook his head at the Black Wings' questioning glances. 'Be quick about it. I am impatient for your surrender.'

Erienne looked square at Selik and put a finger to her lips, feeling the voices of ancients in her head. Something flooded from her across the space to the Black Wing captain. She wasn't sure she was in control of it but she knew it had worked.

'Wait,' she whispered. 'Wait.'

'Erienne?' asked Denser.

'Just buying us a few heartbeats. It'll wear off momentarily.'

None of the Black Wing soldiers was moving. The sounds of the world about them had faded. It was as if they were standing in a painting, looking at still life.

Hirad hadn't noticed the change. 'Are you helping us, Ilkar?'

'Look,' replied Ilkar. 'I'm dying already. But we needn't all go. I can make the difference you need.'

'You're staying with us and we're getting you out of this,' said Hirad. 'We'll get the thumb and stop the plague.'

'Hirad, you don't understand. There is no cure. I've got Elfsorrow and I will die of it. All you can do is stop more catching it. And I'd rather die trying to save my friends.'

Hirad felt stunned. He'd assumed there was hope. He'd come charging in here because he could still save Ilkar. And now he found he couldn't.

'You didn't tell me,' he said.

'Would it have made any difference?'

'Probably not.'

'So I'm going to do this.'

'What?' asked Hirad.

'Ilkar's suggesting a focussed backfire,' said Erienne. 'He can form the shape of a spell like FlameOrbs then detonate it within himself. And because the shape is within him, it will hold together for longer and draw in far more energy than it should.'

'But how…?' began Hirad.

'I'll have to be high up.'

'No way,' said Hirad. 'No way. There has to be another answer.'

'Hirad, there isn't.' Ilkar clutched his arm. 'Please let me do this. It's all I've got left.'

The reality hit Hirad like a hammer. His grip on his blade weakened and he let it fall. The thump was unnaturally loud on the packed ground.

'That's better,' said Selik from behind them.

The sudden resumption of reality made Erienne jump. She wanted to repeat the casting but realised immediately she didn't actually know how. There was so much she still had to learn.

'Shut the fuck up, Black Wing,' grated Hirad, not turning. 'You can't die, Ilkar. You were there at the start. We can't do this without you.'

'You don't have any choice,' said Ilkar. 'I am dying and you can't save me.'

Hirad fought to keep himself together. They were in a desperate situation already and Ilkar had just made it worse. He couldn't afford to lose control now. He set his jaw.

'Please, Ilkar, don't.'

'I have to,' said Ilkar. 'Goodbye, Hirad.'

'No.' Hirad could feel his throat tighten.

'You have always been my closest friend,' said the elf. 'Don't forget me.'

Hirad looked around at them all, their desperate faces. At the tears flowing down Ren's cheeks as she fought to keep her aim, not daring to turn round. He felt the briefest of kisses on his cheek, saw Ilkar caress Ren's head, heard an incantation and then he was gone, shooting up straight into the sky.

'Get back down here!' shouted Hirad. 'Ilkar, no!'

Arrows followed Ilkar skywards, none of them even close to their target.

'What's this?' Selik's voice was laden with sarcasm. 'The Raven flying away, are they, Hirad? Those that can. Some bond.' He laughed.

Hirad would have pitched after him then but The Unknown had a strong hand on his shoulder.

'Wait,' he said. 'Soon.'

Hirad craned his head high. Everyone in the compound was doing the same. He watched as the elf manoeuvred himself above a parapet and ten archers, underneath which upwards of fifteen soldiers stood ready.

'Ilkar!' called Hirad. 'Fly away. Please fly away.'

But the words caught in his throat. He leaned into The Unknown, felt the big man's hand tighten and waited.

Above the compound Ilkar hovered, the pain in his stomach excruciating and threatening his concentration.

'Just one more time,' he said to himself. 'Just one more time.'

He clung on to the ShadowWings, his body poised a hundred feet from the rampart, aiming to remove the archer threat in one go. It was the shortest side of the stockade, the one closest to The Raven and the easiest flank for them to defend. Partitioning his consciousness, he pulled the shape of FlameOrbs together, saw the lattice shape closing, felt the flows moving as they should, coursing around and over the shape, the excess filtering away into nothing.

He was ready. He began to descend, picking up speed. He sealed the shape, refusing to let the excess bleed away. The spell reacted, pulsing larger and larger as it dragged in, the flows becoming stronger and stronger. Thirty feet from the parapet, with arrows flicking past him, he lost the wings and plummeted. He opened the spell out, reversing the flows in an instant, feeling the pressure build and the shape decay as he had been cautioned against ever since his training began. The sphere flattened, became an unravelling cylinder, sucking in mana energy to accelerate its demise. There was no way he could contain it, his mind was not strong enough. No one's would have been.

He heard Selik's laughter choke in his throat and Hirad shouting words to him that he hoped he could take with him to the afterlife. They made him smile.

He opened his eyes, saw the stockade rush towards him and the men on it trying scramble clear. Too late. Much too late.

He struck.

Chapter 49

'Down!' roared The Unknown, and The Raven hit the dirt.

Hirad saw Ilkar plunge into the rampart just left of centre, the spell he'd kept within him detonating just before he connected. The explosion drove out and down with incredible force. Mana fire gouged out, destroying archers on the parapet, a great sheet of flame washing across the stockade, blasting away timbers, tearing men apart and hurling their bodies high into the air.

Below Ilkar's body, the parapet gave way, bringing timbers and planks crashing down in front of a wall of flame. The flame speared out into the compound, the swordsmen in its path vaporised. A great whoosh of hot air surged over The Raven where they lay. Timbers bounced end over end in all directions, the explosions rang in Hirad's ears and the agonised cries of the dying sounded in his head.