Elfsorrow

Hirad nodded. 'Must be.'

'Can we? Please?' Ilkar's raised voice caused Kayloor to shift in his slumber, but he didn't wake and it served as a timely reminder.

'Another long day tomorrow,' said The Unknown.

'Yes,' said Ilkar. 'Look, can I suggest that you put the nets over your hammocks. It'll feel a little odd but you'll thank me in the morning.'

With a little grumbling, The Raven and Ren took to their beds, leaving Aeb to take the first watch and bathe his face. After him, they'd watch in pairs.

Lying in his hammock, shifting to try and find a modicum of comfort, Ilkar felt the anxious silence around him as an alien night closed in around the group. He could sense his friends straining to hear danger now that the camaraderie of the campfire was broken. But all they'd be hearing was the rasping, croaking, buzzing, rustling and cawing clamour that came from every direction.

'Doesn't this ever stop?' asked Hirad.

'Never,' said Ilkar.

'Wonderful. Could have told us to bring ear bungs or something. I don't want to have to sleep with my fingers rammed in my ears.'

'Believe me, Hirad. Not hearing things is altogether worse than hearing them.' Ilkar smiled to himself. 'Sleep tight.'

'Fat chance.' In the grey light of dawn, Selik could see the smirk on Devun's face. He'd been wearing it ever since they'd ridden out of Understone, like a child who'd escaped punishment for some misdemeanour.

'So,' he said, finally addressing Devun. 'You've been itching to tell me ever since we rode out of that slum. What was it you did to that mage that so changed his mind?'

Devun laughed. It was an uncomfortable sound, without humour or soul. Selik sighed inwardly. Like most of the Black Wings Devun was useful muscle but eminently dispensable. Of Callom and Edman, he hoped for better things.

'The threats weren't working,' said Devun. 'He didn't believe us, I don't think he ever would have. So I told him the truth.'

'Which was?' asked Selik, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

'That Xetesk was so intent on control of Balaian magic that they would march on Julatsa when and if they beat Dordover.'

Selik looked at him with a little more respect, wondering if he'd misjudged the man. 'Well, it's a view rather than the definite truth,' he said, smiling a little. 'It's not exactly the message I had in mind for him to take to Julatsa, but still.'

'Oh, I don't think he'll be taking it there.'

'Why not?' The doubt was back.

'Because I advised him that he needed to tell the people best able to do something about it. So he's going to Dordover.'

'Are you sure?' Selik had to admit to himself that this was a far better solution than he'd planned.

'The look on his face,' said Devun. 'He believed me. I said they wouldn't believe us, but they'd believe a mage. I left it up to him how he said he learned the information.'

Selik scratched his neck with an index finger. 'I am genuinely impressed. Let us hope he doesn't get cold feet at the gates of Vuldaroq's college, eh?'

'Always a risk.' Devun shrugged.

'Indeed.'

Selik spurred the Black Wings on, his spirits lifted in a way he had not anticipated. The Blackthorne Mountains glowered down at them from his right as they rode, heading through the Varhawk Crags and then Blackthorne Town. He knew it would be a difficult meeting, but the warming early dawn sun on his face effectively masked the problems of the future.

Chapter 17

It was almost dawn. A violent cloudburst, accompanied by spectacular lightning and resounding thunder, had doused the watch fires and woken everyone from nervous sleep.

Yron called for the guards to be relieved and fresher faces trotted out to the two camouflaged elven platforms still standing and to four other concealed positions a few feet up in the trees. Anything to give them even a hint of warning.

The captain hadn't slept at all, standing at the door of the temple all night, feeling his anxiety grow as the inevitable attack drew closer. Four quartets of men had left camp hours before, skirting well away from their established path before heading north for the boats they'd left a couple of days downriver or on the longer walk direct to the ships moored in the Shorth Estuary.

With them they carried critical information from the temple. It was a gamble but, not knowing exactly who and what they faced, Yron felt he had no choice. He had entrusted the most valuable information to the group containing Erys.

His quick briefing of those left behind had been both poignant and uplifting. He hadn't sought to fool them, to lie or to soften the blow. They were there to hold on as long as they could and die for the greater glory. The elves they would face, he had told them, would be few but extraordinarily lethal, and he had cautioned them against being mesmerised by the speed or grace of what they saw.

And their fight would be entirely without magic. Stenys had also been sent with a group of runners, his magical skills better used in ensuring survival of the booty than staving off the inevitable at the temple.

Yron took Ben-Foran on a last tour of the hurried defences they'd set. Thorn traps dug perhaps a little shallow, twisted woodpiles positioned in the hope of driving their attackers down certain overlooked ways and a couple of snap nooses. Little more than glorified animal traps, these last were strung using tensioned saplings on the approach to the apron. Yron was surprised that they had not been attacked during the night. It was a blessing of sorts. Bought them and their runners precious time. Always assuming they hadn't already been hunted down. If he was honest, he expected only one of the groups to succeed and Erys's was the most likely.

'You should have left, Ben,' said Yron, more proud than he would ever admit that the young lieutenant had refused to leave his commanding officer.

'I'm a soldier,' said Ben-Foran. 'I'm not stealthy, I'm clumsy if anything, but I fight well. My skills are better used here.'

'So you keep saying.'

'So stop reminding me, Captain.' He sipped from the mug of tea he carried.

'You could have chosen life.'

'I chose soldiering,' said Ben-Foran. 'That sometimes includes death. It's an occupational hazard.'

Yron bent to check the snap mechanism on one of the nooses, wondering if Ben-Foran was as calm as he appeared. Gods knew, Yron wasn't, but then he had a greater knowledge of their enemy and still couldn't quite believe they hadn't arrived yet.

The noose was excellent. He didn't expect it to trap anyone but it would certainly give the elves pause for thought. He drained his own mug.

'Very good,' he said. 'Who set this?'

'I did.'

Yron smiled. 'Bloody waste of time teaching you though, wasn't it? Who're you going to pass it on to, some sub-deity in the afterlife? Gods, but I should have been a career drinker. It's so much simpler when you're pissed.'

'Teaching is never a waste,' said Ben-Foran. 'You never know when it's going to be your time to die.'

'Not a waste, eh? Then come and see this and learn. Unless you've something better to do.'

'Nothing pressing, Captain,' said Ben.

Yron led him away from the apron to the small natural clearing where they'd taken the elven bodies after the assault on the temple. He heard Ben take in a sharp breath.

Not four days ago, they'd left nine bodies there. None had questioned Yron on why. What was left were a few scattered bones and remnants of clothing. Everything else was gone.

'The forest takes everything back,' said Yron, his voice quiet and reverent. 'They deserved that respect from us.'

'I don't understand,' said Ben.

'It's an elven belief. One of many. All life returns to the forest in death. Everything is used. We owed them the respect of not burning them.'