Elfsorrow

'Even so, I am advised that a few days' examination by key experts in Xetesk will be of great benefit to us all.'

'Meaning you personally?' Heryst could well imagine the smug expression on Dystran's face.

'I flatter myself that I have more detailed expertise on the subject of dimensional magic than most,' said Dystran.

'And is it your understanding that what is coming will help repatriate the Kaan dragons?'

'Signs are most encouraging,' evaded Dystran. 'But, as I say, some expert analysis is still required before we can present effectively.'

'Right,' said Heryst, drawing in breath expansively. 'I will discuss your offer with Vuldaroq. He will refuse it and we will be back to square one. My offer of secure passage to Triverne Lake is one you must take more seriously. Otherwise the war will go on.'

'Thank you for hearing me,' said Dystran. 'I will confer further with the Circle Seven.'

'We can resolve this, Dystran. As long as we are all prepared to give a little. The question really is, do you want to see an end to this war?'

'It is my dearest wish.'

'Keep it so,' said Heryst, and carefully but firmly, he broke the Communion.

Lystern's Lord Elder mage sat with his eyes closed for a time, mulling over everything he had heard and considering how he would broach Dystran's offer to Vuldaroq. When he opened his eyes, Kayvel was standing waiting.

'He's wavering,' said Heryst. 'Or he's lying. Either way, we may have room to move peace a tiny step forward. But I have to make both him and Vuldaroq concede ground. But I suppose it's progress of a sort. At least there is discourse. And now I must confess to a little tiredness. Wake me for supper and I'll brief the council.' The Raven rode from Blackthorne on a sunny morning with cloud far to the north. Hirad had not slept well. Beside him rode Ilkar, an elf and one of his oldest friends, under a sentence of death.

'Can I ask you something, Ilks?'

Ilkar turned to him, his sombre face lifting a little. 'Would it make any difference if I said no?'

Hirad shook his head. 'How does it feel to be you? Your next heartbeat could bring on the Elfsorrow without warning. Not sure I'd deal with that too well.'

'Thanks for reminding me,' said Ilkar.

'I'm sorry, Ilkar. I-'

'I'm joking. Not a moment goes by when I don't think about it. The point is, I have to live with it and being scared isn't going to help. Best I can do is everything I can to repair the statue and stop this thing. And meanwhile I live every day as if it was my last.'

'I think the whole of Blackthorne heard you and Ren treating last night as if it was your last.'

'Hirad, do you mind?' It was Ren from just behind them.

'Those corridors didn't half echo, you know,' said the barbarian, revelling in Ilkar's deep blush.

'Hirad, stop it,' said Ilkar.

'Tried to get a good night's sleep-'

'Ah, Hirad, but many of us were with our loved ones last night, weren't we?' said Ilkar. 'For me it was Ren, then there's Denser and Erienne and I understand The Unknown had contact with Diera through Aeb. And you talked sweet nothings with Sha-Kaan.'

'Now who's lucky, eh, Hirad?' said Denser.

'Is it my fault if I am called by a higher intellect?'

'Wouldn't want to sleep with it though, would you?' said The Unknown.

'Too much chafing,' agreed Ilkar.

The Raven dissolved into laughter, Ilkar bent double over his saddle, Hirad taking both hands off the reins to wipe his eyes.

Fifty yards ahead, Aeb had stopped and turned in his saddle, his blank mask asking the question more eloquently than any words. It served to sober them up a little. The Unknown waved him on.

'How is Sha-Kaan, anyway?' he asked.

'Angry,' said Hirad. 'And now alone. We have a lot to hate Xetesk for, don't we? No offence, Denser.'

'None taken. I agree with you.'

'Good,' said The Unknown. 'Then let's keep focussed. We've got a job to do. If the TaiGethen can't get the thumb from the Xeteskians before they reach the city it'll be down to us to go in and get it for them. Remember who we're doing this for and remember not to speak loosely around Aeb.'

Hirad leaned over and punched Ilkar lightly on the shoulder. 'I'll take it as a personal affront if you die before we succeed in this, all right?'

'I'll see what I can do,' replied the elf.

The Raven upped the pace. Xetesk was at least seven days away. Selik stood on the ramparts inside the Understone stockade feeling deeply satisfied. Since the massacre of Anders and his pathetic garrison of frightened boys, the twelve surviving Black Wings had been busy making as much of the town as habitable as they could. Water butts were full all down the main street, boards had been removed from buildings and firewood was stacked next to the butts. The bodies of the garrison had been burned long ago and their ash blown away by the wind.

Selik saw this town as the birthplace of his new order, and though it was rotten now it would one day be the centre of his power. The foundations were already there, they just needed renewing. Perhaps it should be renamed. After him would be good, or maybe after his mentor, Travers.

But first they would have to fight, and under cloudy afternoon skies he saw his army begin to assemble. From the east came a line of men from Pontois, some riding, most walking or hitching rides on the dozens of supply wagons rattling along behind them. Later, he knew militia from Orytte, farmers from the devastated lands around Corin and Rache and refugees displaced from Korina and Gyernath would all come. He had no idea how many there would be or what sort of men he could expect, but with every person who walked into Understone he saw his power grow.

He was under no illusions. Though his captains would drill and he would speak, the thousands who marched on Xetesk would be little more than an ordered mob. They would not have the skill of those they faced but if, as he expected, battle had worn down the colleges, his numbers could surprise and overwhelm.

Hundreds upon hundreds would die, but such was the price of freedom and righteousness. Selik nodded to himself and went down to meet his recruits. Thraun cantered along at the back of The Raven formation, feeling a sense of distress invade him. His recollections of Balaia were occasionally very sharp and the scents all around him fed his lupine side. Along with the thrill of the grass and the trees they passed, the sounds of birds and animals and the fresh smells of spring life, came memories of fire and tortured howls. He saw again the betrayal in the eyes of his pack and their helpless bodies burning under mage fire, cut off from the embrace of the forest.

And in the laughter of The Raven and their close companionship were more images of death and fear. Of his best friend Will lying still beneath the sheets of an infirmary bed in Julatsa. Of his chest falling never to rise again. Blame. He was to blame. And there was nothing he could do to right the wrongs.

He had been in the body of a wolf when Will's fatal wound had been received and had eventually fled in that body to escape his grief, only to be found wanting again. And so here he was. Back in a man's body but feeling like an intruder in the world of men yet unable to face the prospect of life as a wolf. Nothing he could do would be right.

'Thraun, are you all right?'

Thraun looked up. The Unknown Warrior was dropping back to ride beside him. He didn't answer.

'You had a bit of a wobble in the saddle just then. I wondered if you were feeling all right?'

Thraun shook his head. 'No.'

'Can you tell me what's wrong?'

He could understand everything they said, everything they asked him, but just couldn't find the words to explain the hopeless divide within him. The frustration threatened to overwhelm him at times like this and it was made all the more acute because he could remember being able to speak so freely. He had chosen silence until now rather than anger himself by failing to make himself understood.