‘Shield up,’ said Ilkar. It sent a shiver through Hirad even now, ten years on. And the reality was that he couldn’t actually feel anything. But it was there; a net of security from magical attack, a momentary shimmering in the air. The Unknown ceased tapping his sword point, and a beat later, The Raven joined battle.
The Unknown brought his sword up in a right-to-left arc, making a nonsense of his opponent’s defence. The man’s blade was knocked aside and his face split from chin to forehead, blood spraying up from The Unknown’s weapon as it exited.
The man was hurled backwards, crashing into two of his colleagues, not even raising a scream as he died.
To the right, Sirendor caught a blow on his kite shield before sweeping his sword through the enemy’s ribcage and Hirad evaded a clumsy overhead with ease, swaying right then jabbing two-handed into the neck of his opponent. Others were hesitant to fill the gap. The barbarian fighting man grinned and stepped forward, beckoning them on with a hand.
To The Unknown’s left, the going was less straightforward. Ras and Talan were trading blows with competent shield-bearing warriors while Richmond, distracted, was on the defensive, his quick, fluid strikes causing his enemy great difficulty nonetheless.
‘Spellcaster moving. Our left,’ he said. He parried a blow to his midriff and shoved his opponent back.
‘I have him,’ said Ilkar, his voice distant with the effort of maintaining the shield. ‘He’s casting.’
‘Leave him to Ilkar,’ ordered The Unknown. His blade thudded against the shield of an enemy. The man staggered.
‘Still moving left,’ said Richmond.
‘Leave him.’ The big man slashed open the stomach of the man in front of him as Talan, immediately adjacent, finished his first victim, taking a cut on his arm.
The enemy mage barked a command word. Heat scorched the air and in the moment’s ensuing silence, both sides paused, falling back half a pace.
‘Ward!’ yelled the mage, and buildings along the back wall exploded, clouding the air with splinters and hurling broken planks to spin and tumble across the courtyard.
Chaos.
Half a plank thumped into Hirad’s standing foot. His balance gone, he sprawled forwards, trying to turn on to his back even as he fell. To his left, The Unknown took the force of the explosion on his broad back with barely a flinch. Thundering his blade through waist high, he cut the man in front of him clear through to the spine.
‘Shield down!’ shouted Ilkar. The shock of the detonation had pitched him to the dirt, breaking his concentration. He was up on his feet immediately. ‘I’ll take the mage.’
‘I’ve got him.’ Richmond, who had all but fallen into his opponent’s arms, recovered the quicker of the two and rammed his sword into the man’s midriff. He turned from the battle.
‘Stay in line!’ roared The Unknown. ‘Richmond, stay in line!’
Hirad was staring straight into the eyes of the man who was about to kill him. Hardly believing his luck, the man swung his sword towards the helpless barbarian but the blow never reached its target. Instead, it clattered against a kite shield. Legs straddled Hirad, and Sirendor’s sword uppercut into the man’s neck. Sirendor stooped and helped Hirad clear.
The half-dozen paces Richmond took away from the line before he realised his error were fatal. Ras, engaged with one man, was not aware that his left flank was totally exposed. Seizing his chance, the second enemy stepped quickly around his companion and buried his sword in the Raven warrior’s side.
Ras grunted and collapsed, clutching at the wound as blood soaked through his armour, falling against Talan’s legs with enough force to unbalance his friend. Talan just about defended one strike but was in no position to avoid the next.
‘Shit!’ rasped The Unknown. He set his blade horizontally across Talan’s path, fielding two blows aimed at the struggling warrior, and kicked out straight with his right foot, connecting with his opponent’s lower abdomen.
Richmond crashed back into the battle. At the same time, Talan recovered to stand across the stricken Raven man, skewering another enemy through the chest and wrenching his blade free, the man’s screams turning to gurgles as he drowned in his own blood.
And behind the battle, Ilkar could only watch as the Xetesk mage, running towards the wall he’d exposed by destroying the wooden buildings, paused, turned to him, smiled, said one word and disappeared on his next pace forwards.
Ilkar gritted his teeth and switched his attention back to the fight. Ras was lying curled and motionless. The Unknown hacked down another man, and to his right, Sirendor and Hirad killed with practised efficiency. Only Richmond’s blade flailed, the whole set of his body giving away his feelings. Ilkar strode forwards, forming the mana shape for a holding spell. It was enough. The remains of the enemy unit saw him, disengaged and ran back the way they had come.
‘Forget them,’ said The Unknown as Hirad made to chase the fleeing enemy. The barbarian stopped and watched them go, hearing the jeers of the castle garrison help them on their way. Elsewhere, cheers rose from the ramparts as horns sounded retreat across the battle ground.
For The Raven, though, victory was hollow.
A pool of silence spread across the courtyard from where they stood, and as it reached out, others fell quiet, turning to see what few had ever seen. When Hirad looked around, all but Ilkar were crouched by Ras. Hirad joined them.
He opened his mouth to ask the question but swallowed his words hard. Ras, his hands still clamped to the horrible wound in his side, was not breathing.
‘All day sitting around and now this,’ said Hirad. ‘We’re never taking a reserve force job again.’
‘I don’t think this is the time or the place for this discussion,’ said The Unknown softly. He was aware of a crowd beginning to gather.
‘Why not?’ Hirad rose, arm muscles bunching beneath his heavy padded leather armour, his braided russet hair bouncing as he jerked to his feet. He jammed his sword back into its scabbard. ‘How much more evidence do we bloody well need? If you spend a day up on the ramparts you aren’t sharp enough when it comes to the fight.’
‘There’s a few here that wouldn’t agree with you,’ snapped The Unknown, gesturing at the slain enemy.
‘We’ve lost three men in ten years, all of them in contracts we shouldn’t have taken on. We should be hired to fight, not to sit around watching others do it.’
‘This was a good money contract,’ said Ilkar.
‘Do you think Ras cares?’ shouted Hirad.
‘I—’ began Ilkar. He put a hand to his head, his eyes losing focus. He squeezed The Unknown’s shoulder.
‘This discussion and the Vigil will have to wait. The mage is still in here,’ he said. The Raven were on their feet in a moment, each man ready.
‘Where?’ growled Hirad. ‘He’s a dead man.’
‘I can’t see him,’ said Ilkar. ‘He’s under a CloakedWalk. He’s close by, though. I can sense the mana shape.’
‘Great,’ said Sirendor. ‘Sitting targets.’ His grip tightened on the hilt of his blade.
‘We’re all right. He’ll have to lose the Cloak before he casts again. I just want to know what he’s doing here.’ Ilkar’s face was set, his frown deep.
Hirad switched his gaze up to the keep and round the ramparts. A closing of the cloud hastened the setting of the sun and the fading light washed grey across the castle. A light rain had begun to fall. All activity had ceased and a hundred eyes stared at The Raven and at the body they encircled. Taranspike Castle was quiet, and even as victorious soldiers walked back into the courtyard, their voices caught and faded when they saw the scene.
The Raven’s circle moved gradually outwards, with Ilkar separate from it, always with one eye on the newly exposed wall.
‘How could he miss us with that spell?’ asked Talan, indicating the debris of wood and grain scattered about them. ‘He was practically standing on top of us.’