‘Of course,’ he said. ‘You have never killed anyone in your work with The Raven.’
‘That is completely different.’
‘Is it? Your killing spells stink of righteousness and that makes them all right, I suppose.’ There was a sneer on Denser’s face. ‘You are a mercenary mage, Ilkar. Your moral is money and your code is that of The Raven. Forget my allegiance; my deeds are no worse than yours. In Julatsa you see yourselves as the white knights of magic, and yet, individually at least, you are no higher than any College’s mage. We should have stayed talking to Lystern and Dordover.’
‘You say that and yet you thrive on blood and the chaos in dimensional space. Your College has consistently ignored pleas to moderate and that’s why Black Wings hunt you. And me. I—’
‘For God’s sake, will you two shut up? I’m trying to rest.’ That voice drained the anger from Ilkar and he smiled. So did Denser.
‘Ah, Hirad, you’ll never know the angst that brought about your salvation,’ said the Dark Mage.
Ilkar found it hard to suppress a chuckle. He looked down and the humour died on his face. Hirad’s eyes were black-rimmed and sunken, and his expression spoke everything of recent events.
‘I heard you,’ said the barbarian. ‘We’d better bury The Unknown. I understand that a WarmHeal surge doesn’t last for long.’ He scrambled to his feet.
Denser nodded. ‘You’ll be asleep in less than an hour.’
Talan retrieved a shovel from his pack. ‘I’ll dig. Richmond can dress the body. We’ll observe the Vigil in the morning.’
Ilkar nodded his thanks. He was more tired than he cared to admit. The exertion of the WarmHeal was weighing on his mind as much as on his body. In saving Hirad, he’d committed a crime against the Julatsan way that would see him shunned by his brothers. He shuddered. At least none of them was ever likely to find out.
Hirad squatted outside the barn by the mound of earth that covered The Unknown. His sword was drawn and held in his hands, point driven into the ground and hilt by his face. His sorrow wasn’t as keen as that he had felt for the loss of Sirendor, but something lurked in the back of his mind that his exhausted body couldn’t register. He felt empty and useless. Again. It was a feeling he was becoming too familiar with. His eyes smarted and he turned them to the darkening heavens, as the mist that had bothered their journey all day deepened and stole the stars from the sky.
They were all asleep. Richmond and Talan had taken the early watches and snored in unison, lying on their backs on either side of the barn. Ilkar, his energy gone, was stretched on a patch of loose earth, his hands thrust deep in the soil, replenishing his mana stamina slowly as he slept. Denser smiled. If only he knew how easy it was. All you needed was peace and a victim or a prayer and an opening.
Finally, his eyes came to rest on Hirad, sleeping so deeply his breath hardly registered. He had been lucky. For all his confidence, Denser had no idea whether Julatsan-shaped WarmHeal mana would mean anything to him, or whether Ilkar’s reluctance to channel the mana would affect the flow. It was a sudden source of interest to Denser that, give or take the odd spike, the WarmHeal shapes of the two opposed Colleges were identical. Again the smile. He wondered if Ilkar would ever open his eyes to the truth his Masters had buried from him and all of his brothers.
One magic. One mage.
Denser was sitting close to the door, listening to the wind rattling the sparse brush against the base of the barn. He filled his pipe from his belt pouch, frowning as he felt around the dwindling supply.
‘Hmm.’ He lit the pipe, letting the flame he produced on his fingers warm his face for a moment. Within his cloak, his Familiar shifted, its head nestling against his stomach.
Outside, there was another sound; a whispering on the wind. Something gliding. It was a sound Denser knew very well, as did the Familiar, who poked its head from his cloak to look at him, nose and whiskers twitching, ears pricked.
The whispering came closer, the gliding changed to an idle flap and there was a landing just to the right of the barn door. Claws scrabbled briefly at the earth, the wings flapped again and the whispering became distant and was gone.
Denser and the cat stared deeply into each other’s eyes.
‘Well, well, well,’ said the Dark Mage. ‘That’s why you did it. You knew they were coming.’ He shook his head. ‘And I never suspected a thing.’
Chapter 10
Hirad awoke to sounds of movement and organisation. As he opened his eyes, he could hear Ilkar demanding someone ready the horses, while the crackle and smell of a fire told of Richmond preparing a meal. Light streamed in through the barn’s open door and any remaining shadows were crisscrossed with light that shone through gaps in the planking. Hirad shifted. He felt a dull ache in his back but the pain he remembered had gone.
‘Good morning, Hirad.’
Hirad turned his head and pushed himself up on his elbows. ‘Bugger me, Talan, but I pity the woman who wakes up staring at you.’ He offered an arm and Talan hauled him to his feet. Once up, a look around the barn brought reality back with unpleasant force.
There weren’t enough of them. No way. The gap left by The Unknown was enormous. Unbridgeable. Hirad felt his heart thumping in his throat, and his eyes swept the barn once more as if he’d somehow missed the big man, sitting on a bale of straw behind the horses perhaps. His eyes pricked and he set off for the door to give himself the confirmation he had to have.
Sure enough, the grave was there, and by it, Denser and the cat, the mage staring at the low mound of earth in a kind of sombre surprise. As Hirad watched, he shook his head slowly.
‘I know how you feel,’ said the barbarian.
Denser smiled thinly. ‘Probably not.’
‘What’s causing all this?’ Hirad waved an arm at the view in front of them. The air was no clearer than on the previous day. Despite the sun riding into the sky unchallenged by cloud, Septern’s estate shimmered in a light mist, keeping anything further than thirty-odd yards away just out of plain focus. At least today there were no dark shapes moving against the horizon. Not yet, anyway.
‘I think it’s either another after-effect of all the spell casting around the house, or the rip is causing eddies in the atmosphere. We don’t know how dimensions interact but it may be that they can’t mix.’ He glanced back down at The Unknown’s grave. ‘Perhaps we should talk.’
‘Yes, I think we should. We’re in trouble.’
Denser indicated they walk away from the barn, and the two men moved off together in the direction of the house.
‘I’m not—’
‘I think—’
A brief pause. Denser gestured for Hirad to speak.
‘We’ve got to take stock,’ he said. ‘The Raven isn’t used to its people dying. Not for years.’
‘I appreciate that,’ said Denser. ‘And I know we didn’t start off right—’
Hirad laughed, a contemptuous sound.
‘I’ll say we didn’t.’ His voice was low and cold. ‘First of all, your damned secrecy about what you involved us in almost killed me and ended in the death of my best friend. Then, because of that, we end up in this nightmare country and the second of my friends dies. To save you.’ Denser opened his mouth to speak but Hirad glared him down. ‘Your life is forfeit and I want you to know that the only reason you aren’t dead is that Ilkar seems to believe you are the only chance Balaia has got.’
The wind gusted, picking at Denser’s cloak. The cat’s ears appeared briefly at his neck line, twitched and withdrew. The mage pulled his pipe from a pocket, made to put it in his mouth and decided against it.
‘That’s all I really need to know. You of all The Raven have to believe in me even if you hate me for what has happened.’