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 assessment of the importance of the documents 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 classic soldier, too engrossed in his career to realise the swift passage 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 shifted 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 pass,' 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 ship? Ysundeneth at best.'
'How old are you, Erys?'
'Twenty-five, sir.'
Yron chuckled. 'Thought so. Still at the young-and-talking-bollocks-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 God'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 hell 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.
'Bloody 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 ship, 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 attitude 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 gratitude. The Unknown, however, was more circumspect 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.'