unapproachable rock, but all over its grey face, green poked out as if
through part-open doors, fronds cut off unnaturally though the remnants waved in the wind.
Erienne drew sharp breath. 'The illusion's breaking up everywhere. They'll be able to see the house from above, I'm certain of it.'
'We need to know the situation,' said The Unknown.
'Why don't you fly up there and take a look round now, love?' suggested Denser. 'Let them know we're coming, spend a little time with Lyanna before we have to get busy.'
Erienne beamed. 'What a lovely idea.'
T am known for them occasionally,' said Denser.
Erienne half-stood and flung her arms around the Xeteskian, kissing him passionately.
'Disgusting display,' said Hirad, mouth wide in a grin.
'Certainly is,' said Denser, disengaging himself and pulling the tiller back towards him from where Erienne had pushed it with her body.
She steadied herself, prepared the spell and took to the air, hovering behind and above Denser, and leaning down to kiss the top of his head.
'Don't be too long,' she said.
He reached up and cupped her face in one hand. 'I'll see what I can do.'
She flew away south, keeping low and out of the worst of the wind that blew hard above the cliff line, soon becoming a small dot in the dull sky. Denser watched her go, jealous that anyone should have the benefit of her love bar him. Even his daughter.
'Tell you what,' said The Unknown, looking down on an increasingly green Ilkar. 'Fancy a look behind us, Ilkar? We need to know if there's anyone coming after us and how far they are away.' ij
Ilkar nodded. 'Anything to get off this rickety assortment of bobbing logs.'
'Don't get too close,' said Hirad.
'Don't worry,' said Ilkar pointing at his eyes. 'These are very good.'
Jevin sailed down the right of the channel as Ren had advised. His lookouts kept watch fore and aft and when the shout came and the sign was relayed from the crow's nest, he wasn't surprised. But the sight saddened him.
There she came, emerging from the periphery of his vision in the lowering dark afternoon, the Ocean Elm slewing from side to side like some giant drunkard. At her helm, someone with no notion of the rudder in relation to the wheel, the strength or direction of the wind or the inertia of the beautiful vessel. It was no elf that steered and in that moment he and his crew mourned the dead on their sister ship.
Jevin acknowledged their passing and led a prayer to the Gods of the Seas and the winds to keep their souls safe in the bosom of the ocean. And then he watched and waited for the inevitable.
He shook his head time and again as he observed the Elm's progress. Saw her wander this way and that under full sail. No one stood ready in the rigging, no one swung lines. Not one of them would be ready and in that he would take some satisfaction. Perhaps most of them would drown and spend eternity in a twilight of pain, just too far from the surface to draw breath. He wished for it.
He briefly feared collision but in truth, the fools on the Elm could not steer well enough to orchestrate any such thing. He wondered. whether they had paused to question why he travelled under such little sail, content to amble while his crew took soundings from every part of his ship. He wondered whether they had even seen him at all.
So he watched, and when it happened he heaved a sigh. Beauty destroyed. The sight came to him before the sound. Perhaps only a mile distant, the Elm slowed suddenly as if the hand of a God had grabbed her prow. She rose up, still driving forward, then toppled sideways, still coming, the holes in her hull awful and mortal. It was a horrible sight.
The sound came a heartbeat later, a rending, tearing, grinding sound. The death wail of a helpless ship. He imagined… he hoped, he could hear the screams of those onboard as they pitched into the merciless sea or were dashed against rock and timber. The water around her boiled as she foundered, sinking quickly.
'Bows ready!' he ordered.
A dozen crewmen lined the port quarter, arrows nocked, ready to draw and fire.
They came like he knew they would. Cowards too scared for their own skins even to attempt the launch of a boat. And while their surviving ship-bound companions made desperate attempts to save themselves, the mages flew. He tracked them, his gaze skipping across the sky, one carrying another like Denser had done Hirad.
'Don't let them close,' warned Jevin. 'None of them will touch my deck while they still breathe.'
Strings were drawn, longbows bent, arms strained. Jevin waited while they approached, aiming to fly along the channel, presumably in the hope of finding their Dordovan friends. Jevin found that, although they presented no danger to his ship, he couldn't let them fly free from what they had done to the Elm or her crew.
'Shoot them down.'
The volley of a dozen arrows flashed away into the sky. Five dropped screaming, their magical wings gone, the sea closing over their thrashing limbs, the gods helping them to hell. Three remained, including the carrier, wheeling away. More arrows nocked, the thrum of bow strings again, the sight of the black shafts whipping out after their prey.
Another mage fell and the carried man cried out. Jevin couldn't quite make out where the arrow had struck. He trusted the wound would bring him a slow death. Perhaps a lung. He nodded.
'Stow the weapons!' he called. 'Lookouts to port. Let's see if any elves survived.'
But the looks on the faces of his crew told him that they felt what he knew already.
Ilkar flew back towards the skiff which carried The Raven. He'd seen all he needed to see. He let the wind blow full into his face and felt
the first drops of new rain start to fall. At least he'd soon be on solid ground.
Although he hadn't actually been seasick after the first couple of days on the Catalan Sun, knowing he could avoid vomiting didn't make him any happier about sailing and he had no intention of landing on the boat.
He came alongside, matching speed and flying next to The Unknown just as the intensity of the rain increased and began to sting in the blustery wind.
'How's it looking?' asked The Unknown.
'Well, there are three Dordovan ships still coming,' said Ilkar. 'They won't make it all the way down this channel by nightfall, they're going too slowly, but they'll make it to where we left our ship.'
'Hmm.' The Unknown stared back, gauging distances. 'We can expect attack after dark, then,' he said at length. 'They can sail skiffs down here in darkness, particularly if there are any elves in the crews. They can also send mages in by air. Pity we can't shut off that bloody beacon.'
'We don't know we can't,' said Ilkar.
'No indeed,' replied The Unknown. 'Well, seeing as you're clearly not about to get back in with us, why don't you go and see what you can do?'
'The thought had more than crossed my mind,' said Ilkar. 'I'd take one of you with me but I think I'd better conserve stamina.'
'See you in a couple of hours, then,' said The Unknown.
'Any sign of the Kaan?' asked Hirad.
Ilkar shook his head. 'No. Nor Jevin, nor the Elm. Not from where I was, anyway. Sorry.'
Glad to be heading for cover, Ilkar shot away towards Heren-deneth.
Erienne's pulse was thudding in her throat by the time she neared Herendeneth. She had been away for less than fifteen days but so much had changed. So much had been damaged.
The Raven's long view of the cliffs was more shocking close to. The illusion was decaying almost before her eyes. It swirled, fragmented and reformed indistinctly, almost mosaic-like at the weakest
.
but still existing points. Elsewhere, it had gone altogether as the extraordinarily complex mana structure unravelled and destabilised. There would come a critical point where it collapsed completely but that hardly mattered now.