Elfsorrow

'Rebraal, I understand your anger. But my destiny changed. There was other work I had to do. But it doesn't stop me being your brother.'

'You betrayed me. You betrayed the Al-Arynaar. You are not my brother.' He turned his head away. 'Go back to your other destiny.'

Ilkar put a hand on Rebraal's back.

'Please, Rebraal. I can help you. I've brought people with me. We'll take the temple back.'

'I want nothing that you can give. We don't need your help. Go.' Ilkar felt Kild'aar's touch on his shoulder. He looked up, his brief joy at seeing his brother extinguished. There was a lump in his throat and he shook his head to clear his mind, a cascade of emotions surging through him. His parents were dead, as he had expected, and he felt little grief at their passing. But Rebraal. Rebraal was only a little older than him and Ilkar's love for his hero had never dimmed though his brother had often been far from his thoughts. And now he had been dismissed. Disconnected. He stood and strode from the house.

'What did you expect?' asked Kild'aar after him. 'He thought you'd abandoned him. You were supposed to join the Al-Arynaar. It's why you went to train in Julatsa.'

Ilkar rounded on her. 'No, it isn't!' he shouted, then checked his voice. 'It's what you all assumed. You, him, my parents. You never let me speak my mind, you never considered what I actually wanted. I never, ever wanted to follow Rebraal and my father into the Al-Arynaar. I admired them for their sacrifice but I didn't want to do the same.'

Kild'aar frowned. 'So why did you go to train?'

Ilkar almost laughed. 'Because I wanted to be a mage. Because I felt the calling so strongly I could never deny it. You have no idea the release I felt when I left here and the elation I felt every day I was training. I knew what you would all feel when I didn't return but I couldn't come back to explain because you'd never have let me leave.'

'Didn't you believe in what the Al-Arynaar represented?'

'Of course I did,' said Ilkar. He pushed a hand through his hair, searching for the words that would help her understand. 'But I was never driven enough to spend my life defending something I thought would never be attacked. I know how hollow that sounds now but I wanted more.'

Kild'aar shook her head. 'How can there be anything more than the honour of defending your faith?'

'It wasn't what I wanted. Why can't you understand that? Why can't Rebraal?'

Ilkar felt like telling her his life story, or at least the last decade of it. But she wouldn't want to hear about how his and The Raven's search for Dawnthief halted the Wytch Lords, or how their sealing of the Noonshade rip stopped Balaia being overwhelmed by dragons. Both actions had done more to protect the elven faith than guarding Aryndeneth. The trouble was, they were too isolated here. To Kild'aar, and to so many rainforest villagers, events on Balaia were of no importance.

All they knew or cared about the Northern Continent was Julatsa and the training it could give elves who felt the mage calling. And even then, most village elders would shrug at the demise of the college, blaming the elves who had stayed there for their stupidity in doing so. It was a paradox, but one the elven elders would face comfortably.

'Your head was turned from true sight on Balaia,' she said. 'And Rebraal will blame you in part for the loss of the temple.'

'Then persuade him to let me help put it right,' said Ilkar. He pointed at his father's house. 'You don't know it, but in that house you've got the most talented warriors and mages on Balaia. They are The Raven and they can make a difference.'

'We have heard the name,' said Kild'aar, unimpressed. 'Our mages who did return as they promised brought word of you. We don't need the help of mercenaries. We need believers. Rebraal is right, you should go.'

Ilkar felt his cheeks colouring, very aware that his paler skin tone from decades on Balaia now set him apart from his own roots. It was useless talking to Kild'aar. And while to a certain extent he could understand their sense of betrayal, he couldn't fathom their obduracy in the face of a genuine offer of help.

'Let me tell you exactly how it's going to be,' said Ilkar, his frustration getting the better of him at last. 'We're here to take mages back to Julatsa, because if we don't there will be no college for you to send your precious defenders to train at. Then where will your Al-Arynaar be, eh? And we will find mages with or without your help. Secondly, we are going to help the sick in this village and we are going to help return the temple to the hands of the Al-Arynaar. We are The Raven and this is what we do. Now you can try and stop us, but consider who is betraying the elven race and faith then.

'Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some organisation to attend to.'

He turned and strode back to his father's house, his desire to prove Kild'aar wrong, to prove that those he loved were not mere strangers to be despised, burning hot within him. Heryst rubbed his hands over his face and leaned back in his chair in the great hall in the tower of Lystern. He seemed to have spent most of his time here in the last few days, meeting senior mages, desperately seeking a solution.

He felt the weight of responsibility bearing him down. In the many clear and frightening moments he experienced when he was alone, he saw himself as the only man truly capable of halting the appalling spiral of the war. But the chances for peace were slipping through his fingers and there was seemingly nothing he could do. His delegation in Xetesk was making no progress and all he heard from Dordover were demands to ally to save Balaia. And they were demands he was finding it increasingly hard to refuse.

'You're tired, Heryst,' said Kayvel, who sat next to him, an unfailing support. 'You should rest.'

'It's not even dark yet,' he replied. 'How can I be tired?'

'It might be something to do with the fact that, to my certain knowledge, you haven't slept for three days, my Lord,' chided Kayvel gently. 'Take an hour. It won't hurt.'

'I'm afraid there isn't time,' said Heryst.

He could feel war advancing like a virus. The hideous events in Arlen were still so fresh. The spell Xetesk had used was a statement, if any such was still needed, of their intention to crush Dordover. And would they stop? Vuldaroq was sure they would not. Heryst was scared he was right.

The violent clearance of the refugees from the gates of the dark college was another clear message and now there were reports of the fighting moving into college lands. Dordovan and Xeteskian supply hamlets and farmland were being fired, college militias were strung out defending vulnerable lands and the opportunities for conflict were growing by the day. And behind it all was that nagging feeling that Selik and the Black Wings would be the only real beneficiaries if the four colleges were dragged into all-out conflict.

It was time for big decisions.

'I'm going back to Dordover,' he said.

'My Lord?'

'I want you to contact Rusau in Xetesk, make sure he keeps up the pressure to meet the Lord of the Mount. But mind him to leave the moment he feels he is under threat.'

'And what will you be saying to Vuldaroq?'

'That we have to look to protect what is left of the balance of the colleges. That we must despatch forces to the defence of Julatsa and that we must consider a blockade of Xeteskian lands. It may be the only way to force them into negotiation. We all understand what they are trying to do and we cannot let them have free run of everything they need through Arlen. And that includes the return of the mages from Herendeneth. We are not strong enough to take them on alone.'

'You will ally?'

'I will take practical steps to ensure Lystern is not destroyed.'

'Ever the politician.'