'Gods!' he shouted, getting to his feet and looking for the mage with the broken nose but Denser had seen him first.
'Bastards!' shouted Denser. The Xeteskian swept by Hirad, bloodied sword raised to bring it down, again and again.
'Stop! Stop!' The Unknown was shouting.
By Hirad, the other mage lay writhing, clutching his side, screaming his agony. Hirad lashed a foot into his face to quiet him while behind, the dull thud of metal on dead meat sounded in his ears.
'It's over. Denser, it's over!' The Unknown again.
'No!' shouted Denser.
'It is over!' The Unknown's voice had finality about it and quiet reigned.
Hirad dusted himself down. He flexed his fists, feeling the knuckles and rubbing at the soreness he found.
On the ground near him, the body of one mage lay twisted in the
rubble. His kick to the face had snapped the man's neck but given the gaping wound in his back, it was probably a blessing. A few paces away, a second body. There was blood everywhere. In the garish light of the fire, it glistened on seemingly every stone, trailed over the churned mud and slicked in pools by the bodies. The third was nowhere to be seen and Hirad drew his sword, staring around into the night.
'The third one's still out there somewhere,' he warned.
'He won't be back,' whispered Denser. 'He knows we'll be waiting.'
Denser still stood over his second victim, blood dripping from the blade he clutched, dragging in huge breaths, his head down, face blank. The Unknown and Ilkar stood near each other and to Denser's left. Neither had drawn a weapon and both looked on in almost comical shock at the carnage Denser had so quickly wrought.
'Denser, it's time to clean and sheath,' said The Unknown quietly.
The Xeteskian nodded and knelt to wipe his sword on the dead mage. They watched him make his very deliberate movements and walk back to the fire to retrieve his scabbard, refusing to catch their eyes. He sat on his bedroll and stared into the fire.
'Who were they?' asked Hirad.
'Dordovans,' said Ilkar.
'Assassins,' grated Denser.
T don't think so,' said Hirad. 'Or it'd be your blood on the ground, not theirs. What the hell happened to you?' He gestured at the bodies and walked back into the warmth of the fire, Ilkar and The Unknown joining him. T can't believe you did this.'
Denser shrugged. 'They attacked, we defended.'
'Interesting angle,' said Ilkar. 'Someone else might say you ran after an unarmed man and hacked him half to pieces.'
'They didn't attack,' said Hirad. 'They wanted something from you.'
Denser looked at Hirad, his fury still burning. 'And they didn't get it.'
'Didn't get what?' asked The Unknown.
'It doesn't matter,' said Denser, hand reflexively touching his stomach.
'No?' Hirad saw the wildness in Denser's eyes and chose to keep himself calm. 'It mattered to the Dordovans. And it mattered enough for you to kill them.'
'That's not why I killed them.'
'Then tell us,' said The Unknown. 'You're keeping secrets from us again and, again, we couldn't be prepared. You're putting us at risk and that's not The Raven's way.'
'Gods, you sound like Hirad,' said Denser.
'That's because, on this, he's dead right,' said Ilkar, adding his weight. 'We need to know, Denser. And we'll sleep easier if we know now.'
The Xeteskian raised his eyebrows and nodded, somehow making it a grudging gesture.
'The Prophecy wasn't all translated. And I was curious. So I took the pages that weren't translated to Xetesk and found out Dor-dover's intentions, all right?'
Hirad breathed out sharply and looked down into the town. Lights were weaving through the streets, heading their way. Not surprising. The screams of the dying mage were bound to have been heard despite the wind. At least it would keep the third mage away. He sheathed his sword and sat down.
'And you thought this little snippet not important enough to mention?' said Ilkar, voice quiet but angry. 'You've put us at risk ever since we left Dordover and didn't bother to mention it. Thanks very much.'
T didn't think they'd find out,' said Denser.
'That isn't the point,' said Hirad. T hope it was worth it.' He looked over at Denser and could see that, to him, it was.
'If they get hold of my daughter now, they'll conduct a ritual spell sacrifice. They'll murder her but they won't do it quickly. She'll die in agony. And I won't let that happen. Enough for you?' Denser stared back into the fire.
'For now,' said The Unknown.
Hirad looked at the big man. He suspected there was more. Time would tell but he was seldom wrong. Right now, though, with the lanterns bobbing nearer, there was some explaining to do.
Erienne knew they had made good speed but to her their passage still felt so slow. She knew it was her anxiety but the nagging feeling wouldn't go away. She'd have blown into the sails herself but the stiff wind whipping white horses across the surface of the water, and without doubt a product of Lyanna's mind, was obviously power enough. Indeed at times, the captain of the Ocean Elm could be seen frowning out from the wheel deck, confused as to the direction of the wind which didn't necessarily accompany cloud or follow its direction.
But he was a skilful sailor, used to the vagaries of the Southern Ocean and the tides around Calaius; and though clearly irritated by the conflicting information he could see and feel, had enough faith in his judgement and kept the sails full.
Erienne had risen with the first signs of dawn, as she had each morning, marvelling at the sight of light breaking across the eastern horizon as she stood at the bow, dressed in thick woollen breeches, shirt and cloak. This morning, she could see Balaia on the horizon. It was a clear, bright day without a hint of haze and the sight boosted her spirits, quelling the impatience that Ren'erei had found both funny and frustrating.
'Be calm,' she had said. 'There's nothing you can do. The wind and the ship are beyond your control. If you relax your mind, the days will pass more quickly.'
Erienne smiled and half-turned to see the pretty young elf standing on the wheel deck next to the captain. She had tried to teach Erienne mind-calming exercises which were surprisingly similar to those taught at the Colleges to mages suffering severe mana drain. Ren'erei asked her to think of her tensed mind as a muscle, cramped by fatigue, before imagining it slowly unwinding and stretching, then feeling the cool wash of blood begin to flow again.
She knew she could do it, she just didn't want to, and her smiling admission had caused Ren to throw up her arms and stalk away.
Now, of course, Erienne wished she'd tried harder. She was tired, having not had a solid night's sleep since leaving Herendeneth. Lyanna's cries of pain and fear still echoed around her skull in the dead of night and her own anxiety surfaced to wake her a dozen times from her rest.
She'd survive. The coastline was looming large and the trip up the
river to Arlen quick, if the captain timed the tide well. Erienne had no doubt that he would.
Her emotions were so mixed. She was desperate to see Denser but feared his reaction after so long out of contact. She needed his strength and thought but disliked the admission of failure it had come to represent within her. And she still thrilled at the prospect of standing with The Raven once again despite knowing the confidence it would give her was entirely unfounded. After all, how could they possibly help? She had to smile at that. They had achieved enough against the odds to make the question ridiculous. The fact was, they'd find a way.
There would be problems, though. She knew Ilkar would be ethically opposed to a return to the One and she could well understand the conflicting thoughts that would be running through his mind. Perhaps he wouldn't even be with them. But somehow, she thought he wouldn't miss it – if only to ensure right was done by his College. As for Denser, well, Denser's College had a vested interest and they'd no doubt be irritated he wasn't working directly with them. But he was a father before he was a Xeteskian and he'd fight his own College if he thought they threatened Lyanna. And in that, as in so much, Erienne and he were one.