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They hauled him to a chair and set him in it, holding his shoulders to stop him falling to the ground. Travers laughed and Ilkar turned to find the Captain staring at him.

‘That’s the trouble with this drug of ours. A touch too much and you don’t want to wake up. And we had so much we needed to ask Denser, and he needed such persuading to wake up and talk to us.’ Travers’ expression became one of mocking solemnity. ‘I’m afraid he didn’t agree with us for rather a long time.’

Ilkar could imagine the pain Denser was feeling. He could see harsh red marks on his upper body and, here and there, weals brought up by a whip or belt. He only hoped the Xeteskian was still numbed by the drug.

Travers drank directly from the bottle and stood up, swaying. He staggered back a step and would have fallen over his chair had not a soldier removed it smartly from his path. The Captain’s face was bright red, his eyes hooded but wild and his chest heaving.

‘And now we come to the first of two choices.’ His speech, now slurred badly, would soon be unintelligible. He moved to stand between Ilkar and Denser, contriving to look at neither of them.

‘One.’ He held up a finger. ‘Do you answer my questions honestly or do I have to carry on convincing you it is the only way? And you will bend to my will eventually.’

Travers looked from one to the other. Ilkar stared at Denser, who showed no reaction at all. The elf could see his chest moving though it juddered from some very imaginable pain.

‘Nice try, Travers,’ said Ilkar. ‘Seems as though you’ll have to carry on.’

‘Two!’ barked Travers, holding two fingers aloft. He drank from his bottle again, spirit dripping from his slack mouth, which he wiped with the back of a hand. ‘In that case, which of you wants to see the other one die?’

Ilkar almost felt relieved. At least it would mean an end to the agony. He regretted not seeing Hirad again but he was beginning to believe the barbarian was indeed already dead. He would have volunteered to die but it was obvious that Travers had dragged Denser in here for one reason only. Ilkar doubted he could close his mind to Denser’s torment.

He gazed over at the Dark Mage, feeling genuine sympathy for the first time.

‘Goodbye, Denser,’ he whispered.

Denser’s body jerked violently and he clasped under his right arm with his left hand. He lifted his head and the sight made Ilkar flinch. He was all but unrecognisable. Blood matted his features, his nose skewed to the right, his mouth was a swollen bubble of raw red and his eyes mere slits behind the swelling. He coughed and stared straight at Ilkar, and his mouth, incredibly, spread into a grin.

‘They’re here,’ he croaked.

From beyond the hall, there was a shout of warning, then something more bestial, and mayhem moved to reign in the Black Wings’ castle.

Chapter 15

Hirad was already having to concede, to himself, that Will could be useful. Useful enough to stay with The Raven after they’d dealt with the Black Wings, in fact. Fate was a curious thing, he concluded. He had to admit that he had thought of no one he’d want to recruit and yet now he’d literally bumped into three. Assuming they survived, of course. And then assuming he could persuade them to join The Raven. It wouldn’t be as easy as it once was.

He could no longer offer people guaranteed work, well paid, and a reputation they could carry before them. Now the deal was almost certain death in pursuit of a cause of which only half the country seemed convinced and the other half looked to disrupt or destroy. And then maybe some reward. Hardly an enticing prospect.

Alun was not of the right calibre and Hirad doubted he’d care to travel with them anyway. But Thraun, with his solid muscle, and the elven bowman Jandyr would make ideal additions. It made Hirad wonder what The Raven would have been like with them as members in earlier times. Better times.

And then there was Will. Surly, sneering and ungrateful he seemed to be, talented he certainly was. It wasn’t only his swift and accurate scouting of the area around the castle that impressed Hirad, but the way he had just climbed the wall behind the stable block as if it were a ladder. One end of the rope the wiry man had carried with him sailed back over the wall and dropped at the barbarian’s feet. He glanced at it, then at Thraun, who smiled.

‘Good, isn’t he?’ he said. Hirad nodded, hauled the rope taut and began climbing. In less than two minutes they were all in the grounds of the Black Wings’ castle.

‘Right,’ whispered Will. ‘The only guards outside the house are by the main gates. I couldn’t see any signs of a roving watch but that’s no reason to get careless. As you can see, the main building is about thirty paces away. We’re in deep shadow here and safe from the house. I estimate the house to be a good one hundred and fifty feet on the longer side and maybe ninety feet on this side.’ Will pointed behind him, then looked squarely at Hirad. ‘And now it’s up to you.’

‘Nothing to it,’ said the barbarian. ‘I’ll decide directions when we get inside, and the way in is through the nearest window.’ He set off for the corner of the house. Reaching it, he looked left down the short side which led to the front before peering in through the darkened window before him. He shrugged and was about to speak when he felt Jandyr at his shoulder. The elf leaned in close and nodded.

‘Empty,’ he whispered. ‘It’s a study or something like that. Definitely small and definitely empty.’

‘Excellent,’ said Hirad. He drew back a fist.

‘What are you doing?’ hissed Will.

‘Getting inside,’ said Hirad.

‘I’ve got a better way.’ Will fetched a thin strip of metal from his belt and fed it between the windows. He foraged briefly, found the catch, jerked the metal up and popped it. The window swung gently open. ‘After you,’ he said, stepping back.

Hirad glared at him before climbing over the sill and padding towards the room’s only door. He listened as the others made their way inside and could hear nothing. He turned back to the room.

‘Right. When there’s opportunity, Talan, Richmond, take Alun and Will and get upstairs. I’ll stay down with the others.’ He cracked the door a fraction, enough to know it was dark inside. He beckoned Jandyr over. The elf looked in briefly then withdrew and closed the door.

‘It’s small. A drawing room or something. There’s a curtained opening ahead and right and a door at the top of the left wall.’

Hirad nodded and removed his cloak, the cat dropping to the ground and looking around itself, ears and nose gathering further information. ‘Good. We’ll split here. Talan, take the left.’ He opened the door and moved inside. ‘Anyone not sure, take a lead from a Raven man. Ready?’ Murmurs of assent told him they were. He drew his sword from his scabbard and grinned at Richmond and Talan. ‘RAVEN!’ he roared. ‘Raven and Rage!’

He strode to the opening and swept the curtain aside, allowing light to spill in from beyond. He howled, a sound immediately taken up by The Raven, and marched down a short passage, clashing his sword against the stone wall, feeling a high as Will and the others joined the discordant chorus.

The bestial screams and shouts, the sound of metal on stone, heavy boots on timber echoed about him. He could feel the blood surging in his veins, feel his muscles empowered, his ears ringing and his eyes wild. He broke from his walk, moving into the light at a dead run, only dimly aware that the cat had streaked away in front of him.

There were men in there, two of them. He laughed, his teeth bared, and rushed them. The first froze and Hirad barely paused in his stride, hacking the man down on his way to the second, whose token resistance was swept aside like a stray hair from his face. He roared again, deep in his throat, stopping to take stock.