It was a kitchen. He was by a double door. More doors were ahead of him. Jandyr and Thraun stood in front of a third.
‘See how it works? See how it works? Now we split, one each way. Shout loud and keep moving or you’ll die.’ He turned, kicked open the doors by him and charged inside, another scream forming on his lips, the cat hard on his heels.
Talan hammered through the door in front of him and saw a windowed opening right and a door left. He pointed right, not pausing in his stride as he took the left route, yelling Will’s name as he went. They burst into a large room with fireplaces and windows down the far wall. Double doors occupied the bottom right-hand corner and Talan ran at these, howling as he went, kicking over chairs and tables and clashing his sword on the stone-clad wall. Will did his best to keep up, his initial self-consciousness lost in a wave of excitement.
On Talan’s signal, Richmond crashed through the windowed opening, showering glass and wood into an enclosed quadrangle. Richmond exulted, crushing shrubs and plants underfoot and sparing a brief glance at the night sky above as he moved towards doors he could see in the glass-panelled wall to his left. Alun was hard on his heels. Halfway there, the doors opened, and a swordsman stepped into the quad. Richmond bellowed and increased his pace; the swordsman merely smiled and stood his ground. Battle was joined in a clash of sparks and the clamorous ring of metal.
Jandyr and Thraun exchanged a look of near disbelief as Hirad smashed his way through the double doors. The elf shrugged, drew in a huge breath and shuddered a guttural noise from deep within himself, his fists clenched about his bow. Thraun nodded, turned on his heel and ran for the doors in the far wall, his yell, truly animalistic, bouncing from the walls.
Jandyr nocked an arrow, kicked open the single panel next to him and looked on to a flight of stairs heading down. Now his hunter instincts cut in and, bow ready before him, he slipped soundlessly on to the first step, his eyes piercing the gloom easily, his nose twitching at a smell of stale sweat tinged with urine and blood.
There was a dim light below, coming from under a curtained opening. He took the stairs one at a time, absolutely silent as he progressed. There was at least one person behind the curtain, a stifled cough giving him away, and Jandyr moved to the right-hand edge of the curtain as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Satisfied that the man wasn’t close to the opening, the elf swept the curtain aside with his bowstring hand, keeping the arrow primed with the other. The sight before him all but made him laugh.
Thraun slapped the doors aside, moving through with an animal fluidity. A single guard stood outside a set of double doors to the right; and when the man’s bloodied corpse thumped to the floor he took in the rest of his situation. The entrance hall he found himself in was empty. In front of him, main doors. Left, more doors. He swung around, found stairs rising above him and, with a brief glance to the right from where he could hear fighting, climbed the flight three at a time.
The yell died on Hirad’s lips as he saw the scene in front of him. It was a huge room, draped and cold, and halfway down it, Ilkar was chained to the wall by his wrists. His head, hanging on his chest, lifted.
‘Hirad, thank the Gods.’
The barbarian sheathed his sword and ran over to the mage. ‘You’re alive at least,’ he said, slapping aside the catch on Ilkar’s right arm. The elf winced as he was released.
‘Careful,’ he said. ‘My ribs aren’t so good.’
‘Anything else?’ Hirad paused, looking into Ilkar’s eyes. Ilkar managed to turn up the corners of his mouth.
‘Legs, stomach, arms . . .’
Hirad nodded. ‘Lean into me,’ he said. He turned, back towards Ilkar, and felt the mage lean his head on his right shoulder. Reaching over his left, he slipped the catch on the other manacle. Ilkar had to cling on not to fall.
‘All right?’
‘No. But let me get my left arm round you and you can help me to one of those chairs over there.’
Hirad looked and saw Denser. He was lying flat on his back in front of the chairs, the cat burrowed under his right arm. His chest rose and fell, shuddering. The Raven pair edged over to the chairs, Hirad lowering Ilkar as gently as he could into one of them, turning his attention then to the Xeteskian.
Richmond fell back, breathing hard, clutching briefly at a cut in his sword arm just below the shoulder. He flapped behind him, hearing Alun move away.
‘Not so big now, eh, Raven man?’
Richmond said nothing.
‘You should have gone home. Nothing here but death.’
Richmond switched his sword to his other hand and squared up. His enemy raised his eyebrows, impressed in spite of himself. The Raven man edged to the right, hearing the whisper of sword from scabbard behind him.
‘Keep away, Alun, this doesn’t concern you.’
‘Yes it does. It’s my family they’ve got.’
‘The doting father, eh? What are you doing here?’ jibed the Black Wing. ‘Come to collect the bodies?’
‘Bastard,’ grated Alun. ‘Bastard!’ He lunged forwards from Richmond’s left. The Raven man reacted instantly, closing off the Black Wing’s route to Alun, only his enemy wasn’t there. Anticipating what Richmond would do, he moved the other way and plunged his sword into Richmond’s chest.
Richmond breathed his pain and fell to his knees, the metal hot between his ribs. It was yanked clear and he collapsed on to his front, his blood soaking his clothes and hair. He heard a short laugh of triumph, the sound of running moving into the dim distance, and then the world went silent.
Talan burst into the hallway, Will right behind him. Opposite them, a body lay in front of a set of double doors. To their right, stairs led up. Talan paused to listen and could hear Thraun, who had evidently gained the upper level already. He frowned. There was not enough noise and he couldn’t hear Richmond or Hirad.
‘Let’s go! Let’s go!’ he shouted and clattered up the stairs. Will joined his cry and chased after him.
Alun watched Richmond drop to the ground, then turned and fled back the way they had come. His heart quailed in his chest, sweat crawled over his body and he was quivering. He was alone in a castle full of steel and death. He paused back in the corridor, about to run out into the night. Not quite alone. His blood still pumped life somewhere in this place. He chose the route back into the house - he had to find Will.
Isman, a smile on his face, saw Alun run. He would have chased him but there were others more deserving of his attention. And before them, he thought he might attend to the mages.
Travers staggered along the upper level, hammering on doors as he went, yelling for wakefulness. The sounds of The Raven filled his castle, and his solitude and condition hastened his step. He didn’t stop to check that his men had heard his cries, there was no time. Should the enemy reach the boys first and release them a blight would be unleashed on Balaia. Twin sons of a mage - there could be little more dangerous than that. And once they were dead, it would be time to terminate his association with their mother.
Denser lay back as the cat bit into him, feeling it draw power, knowing it regained its strength even as his ebbed still further. But there was a balance. There would always be balance. He was dimly aware of voices around him, one at least was directed at him, but he could not answer. Not yet. His right hand stroked the cat from memory as the animal sucked in his blood. There would be enough and the Badge would be his. Travers was doomed. He smiled.
The cat ceased its feeding and looked at him with eyes newly aflame. Their minds locked and he pushed an image of the Captain into their consciousness. Seek and return, he said. Bring him to me. You know what you have to do.