Nightchild

And Tomas chose to believe in Sol.

Diera rocked her crying child against her chest, finding comfort in sharing the same belief. After all, he'd never let Balaia down yet.

The Catalan Sun struggled to make real headway. The winds that had taken the Ocean Elm out of sight had backed and now blew straight up the Arl to the lake.

With the night full and dark and the destroyed town behind them, The Raven, in dry clothes provided by the crew, had time to take stock while Jevin, their reluctant skipper, deployed as much sail as he dared and tried to read the difficult conditions. He had already reported the likelihood of having to short tack the length of the river and warned The Raven that if the Elm had been lucky, they would enter open water as much as half a day behind.

While Darrick organised food and drink from the galley, Hirad, Ilkar and Denser stood between the narrow twin beds on which lay The Unknown and Thraun. Hirad felt helpless. He replayed over and over what had happened, searching for any ways he could have helped. He found none.

And so the rock of The Raven lay unconscious under a Warm-Heal, alive but badly damaged. Hirad wiped the corners of his eyes with his right thumb and forefinger, and felt a hand squeeze his shoulder.

'It wasn't your fault,' said Ilkar. 'I cast the ForceCone.'

Hirad looked at the elf. 'It's not that. There's no blame to anyone. I just thought that there would be more you could do.'

'If Erienne, were here, we could. She's a BodyCast master.'

'But I thought…' Hirad gestured uselessly.

'WarmHeal can only do so much. Knitting tissue, promoting muscle growth and sealing fractures. He needs more than that. Much more,' said Ilkar.

'So what's the situation?' Hirad hadn't even wanted to ask the question, as if not knowing would make things better.

'The axe has smashed his hip and cracked his pelvis,' said Denser. 'And that's apart from the mess it's made of his tendons, muscle, skin… We were able to fuse the pelvis and that will knit. But the hip is crushed and there are shards of bone everywhere. We aren't physicians, Hirad, and we don't have the skill to reforge in the way a BodyCast can.'

Hirad shook his head, grasping for a conclusion. Both mages were looking studiously away from him.

'So, will he walk?'

Ilkar nodded. 'After a fashion. The joint will stiffen and he'll be in constant pain. He'll limp heavily but he'll walk.' The elf shrugged.

'Oh Gods,' said Hirad, the ramifications obvious. 'He won't be able to fight.'

'With a two-handed sword, no,' said Ilkar. 'He won't have the balance or the strength in that leg. But he'll get by with a long sword if someone shadows his left side.'

'He's lucky to be alive at all,' added Denser. 'He's lost a massive amount of blood.'

Hirad looked down at the big man. The mages would keep him asleep on the rolling ship for days, perhaps the whole voyage. And when he awoke, it would be as a cripple, the power and grace that were his trademark gone forever. Except there still had to be something that could be done. Hirad wasn't about to give it up.

'Could Erienne help him?' he asked.

'If she got to him before the muscle grew back around the joint and the bones fused completely, yes,' said Denser. 'But so what?'

'How long before it's too late?'

'Well, we can retard the healing a little, I suppose, but the spells are already doing their work,' said Ilkar. 'Three days perhaps?' He glanced at Denser, who shrugged and nodded.

'Then we'd better get her off that ship, hadn't we?'

For a while, all Hirad could hear was the sound of the ship ploughing through the rough river waters, the sails snapping on the masts and the timbers creaking and settling. And all he could see were Ilkar's and Denser's stunned expressions.

'What?' he demanded, his hands spread, palms up.

'Well I think we're both just waiting to hear how you propose to achieve this miracle,' said Ilkar.

'It's simple,' said Hirad, the plan crystallising in his head. 'Captain Jevin catches up with Elm, we fly across under cover of darkness, rage below the decks, grab Erienne and fly out. We can bring Protectors too. They can hold ShadowWngs, can't they?'

'Yes, but-' began Denser.

'But what?'

'When I suggested something similar back in Arlen, I was shouted down.'

'That was different,' said Hirad.

'Oh well, that clears it all up, thanks,' said Denser, beginning to turn away. Hirad clamped a hand on his shoulder and hauled him around.

'I'd do it for you,' he said. 'I'd do it for any of us. This time it's The Unknown.' He glared into Denser's face. 'Take a good look at him, Denser. He left his wife and child behind to help you find yours. He didn't even question it. And see what it's cost him.

'Now we will help him. I won't see him a cripple. He's Raven.'

'So is Erienne,' muttered Denser.

'And we're getting her too. The time wasn't right then. They were ready for attack back in Arlen. They won't be now.'

Denser regarded him solemnly for a time before his mouth turned up into a wry smile.

'You're right. We'll probably die, but you're right.'

'Good!' Hirad clapped him on the shoulder. 'Now, you need to commune with Sytkan in Arlen so he knows who of the Protectors we have on board, before punishment is invoked. Then see if you can get to Erienne. Ilkar, with me. We'll speak to Ren'erei, see what we can persuade Jevin to do. Then you can talk to me about Thraun.'

He turned and opened the door but Denser's voice stopped him.

'Hirad?'

'What?'

'I'm sorry. In the forest, you know…'

Hirad shrugged, finding in Denser's face a genuine sorrow. He shrugged.

'Me too. But it worked out didn't it? If we hadn't scrapped, I'd have been captured by Darrick too. So let's forget it, eh? Now let's get your wife, fix The Unknown and save your daughter. Then maybe we can work out how to send the Kaan home and I'll forgive you anything. Get communing.'

'I'll be in here,' said Denser.

Hirad nodded and led Ilkar out of the cabin.

*

The small Protector force was quartered in the forward hold where the Dordovans had been due to billet themselves for the uncomfortable crossing of the Southern Ocean. Twenty-four had survived more or less unscathed. None that were too injured to fight after the journey had come aboard.

They stood in a circle, hands clasped in front of them, masked heads bowed, swaying with the motion of the ship. The silence of their contemplation was matched far away in Xetesk, where the Soul Tank, deep in the catacombs, was dormant. Every surviving Protector grieved for the souls that had departed but celebrated their freedom from thrall.

Every death lessened the whole but every released soul gave hope. For Aeb, it was a confusion of emotion, suppressed for the most part but finding voice in the silence. He knew it was the same for them all. They craved the companionship of the tank while hating the forces that had put them there, ripping their living souls from their bodies and inserting the linkage that kept them alive. The DemonChain.

Every Protector wanted freedom from the DemonChain. None wanted to lose his brothers in so doing. Sol was the only living example and in him were all the dangers of freedom. The brotherhood could feel him and he, them. But they could not connect. He was, and would always be, one of them but outside of the net of support they shared. Yet he stood as an icon of hope, and they revered him.

'We are one,' said Aeb, his voice filling the hold, speaking rather than pulsing as was their right when not in battle psyche.

'We are one,' the Protectors intoned.

'Sol lies grievously injured, his condition closed to us as is his soul. We move away from our Given. I have requested that we be assigned to Denser, the Dawnthief Master. It will be an honour we will celebrate in the Soul Tank with our brothers.