Ghaal and Miirt pulled others away but in truth they had lost all desire for a fight. Hirad and Sirendor trotted into the circle of angry locals and Ilkar joined them. It was the safest place he could think of.
‘Ilkar, see what you can do,’ said Auum, nodding down at the prone form.
Ilkar knelt by the woman. Blood from repeated blows matted her head. Her arms were held up to shield her face and she had drawn herself into the foetal position. She was not breathing. Ilkar shook his head and stood. Auum looked up at the attackers. All of them just normal citizens of Xetesk. They held clubs, knives, axes and shovels. There were about twenty of them standing. Three others moved on the ground, groggy and moaning. The fourth was still and by the set of his head would remain so.
‘This is how you treat those who return among you, love having guided them here,’ said Auum.
‘Leave us to our business, elf,’ said one, a young man, face fired with rage and carrying an axe in a way that suggested he knew how to use it.
‘Which would be what, exactly?’ asked Hirad. ‘Beating innocent people to death?’
The young man pointed at Hirad. ‘Only your sort. Dead men. Time you all went back where you came from. You’ve brought bad luck to Balaia.’
‘Simpleton,’ muttered Ilkar.
‘We brought you a message, idiot,’ said Hirad. ‘Pity you weren’t listening.’
‘You’ve stolen bodies. Now you sleep in our houses and eat our food. You have brought war to our doorsteps.’
Ilkar rubbed his forehead, already tired despite the time of the day. He made to speak but Auum got there first.
‘You will disperse and take this body with you to be returned to her loved ones. Now you have rendered her unrecognisable, I am sure her family will be delighted by your efforts.’
‘This is our city. You do not tell us what to do.’
Auum stepped up to the young man, who immediately brought his axe to the ready in front of him. Auum planted both of his swords in the dirt by him.
‘Then mete out your justice. Strike me down if that is your will. I am unarmed.’
The man swallowed, confused. His lower teeth rubbed on his top lip.
‘You are of the living. Our fight is not with you.’
‘But I side with the dead. Strike one and you strike at me.’
Silence had fallen around the group. Somewhere a bell was ringing and there was the sound of running feet approaching from the south, across the gardens.
‘You will trick me if I try to strike you,’ said the man.
‘No.’ Auum’s head shook fractionally. ‘I will kill you.’
Hirad cleared his throat. ‘Aren’t you getting this? He’s giving you a chance to back away and leave. I strongly suggest you take it.’
‘I—’
But the youngster did not get a chance to speak further. Auum broke the grip on the man’s axe, moved inside his guard and had placed a finger on his lips before he blinked. Auum’s other hand held a blade to his eye. The axe clattered to the ground.
‘Not another word,’ he said quietly. ‘Take her and your fallen friend and go.’
A tear spilled down the man’s cheek as he nodded.
Auum stepped back and away, leaving a path to the dead woman. He watched as the two bodies were lifted up by a few of the mob and carried away.
‘I see what you mean,’ said Ilkar. ‘What do you intend to do? What’s down here?’
‘Allies. Many of the dead too.’ Auum began walking again, sheathing his blades as he went. ‘We need to get them away from here. Out of the city and to the west. Now. Tonight.’
‘But they can’t stray that far from their loved ones. You know that,’ said Hirad.
‘Some of them are here too. The rest we must find and persuade to our cause.’
‘Denser is not going to like this,’ said Ilkar.
‘If I have my way, he won’t even know about it.’ Auum stopped and turned to them. ‘Will you help me?’
‘What do you need us to do?’ asked Hirad.
Auum smiled and walked on. ‘Keep Denser busy. Keep his eyes from the north and south gates. We’ll move them out those two ways a few at a time as often as we can.’
‘No problem,’ said Hirad. ‘And who are these allies so we don’t hit the wrong people?’
Auum chuckled. ‘The two old barons. Seems they don’t much like the way Xetesk leans either. They are very useful. Money still turns heads on Balaia, even now when disaster comes.’
‘Good for them,’ said Sirendor.
Auum stopped once more and the humour had gone from his face.
‘I respect Lord Denser more than any other living human mage. But his mind is wrong. You can see it in his eyes. He will not be turned from his action. Look to your friends and see they escape, and look to Denser for he may betray you yet though he means you no harm. Someone has poisoned his thoughts and this will bring only death to any who stand with him. I have seen it before. Only those who run will live.’
Chapter 19
Sol did not go home immediately. Sitting there in Denser’s tower, brave words were easy. Out here on The Thread, just a few hundred yards from his family, they sounded so hollow. So he walked while he gathered his thoughts. And he did many of the things that Denser wanted him to do.
He spoke to his people. He spread calm and confidence though he felt none himself. He answered the questions of the fearful and calmed the anxieties of the desperate. He reminded any who would listen of the help the dead were bringing. Of the strength they added to the defence of Xetesk and the belief they brought to the beleaguered and the weary.
Words. Easy. And all the while his wife was organising the day in the inn. Almost normal but for the fact that nothing was normal here any more. Trade was stuttering. The prices of food and drink were rising sharply. Only the caravans coming through Understone Pass from the west still arrived every day. It was not only word that was scarce from Korina, Blackthorne, Gyernath and any other place he cared to name.
How comforting it would be to get lost in the affairs of state. To sit with Denser and organise messengers and scouts. To plan rationing and discuss defensive tactics. He envied Denser. Right now the Lord of the Mount would be heading to a meeting with Septern where the peerless genius was going to impart his knowledge on building a ward grid to protect the city.
‘But you have to stop running, old man,’ he said to himself.
Sol sighed and turned around. He walked back along a couple of side streets and back onto The Thread. The college and its great ornate gates, open to all comers, was just to his right. He paused a moment to look at it. Imposing walls fifty feet high and with the Circle Seven Towers visible as they were from every point of the city, fingers of power thrusting into the sky. Foreboding and awe-inspiring.
‘But they won’t save you, Denser. Not this time.’
Glancing to his left, he could see the sign of The Raven’s Rest swaying gently in the breeze that seemed forever to be blowing up Xetesk’s main street. The Thread ran from the north to the south gates. As colourful a street as any in Balaia. Packed with history, filled with the dark times of the old college, which were only just washing away in the face of the new Xetesk. A place of which they could all be proud.
‘And soon to be so much rubble.’
Sol chided himself. The king muttering to himself as he tried to avoid going home to his wife. No better than the midnight drunks he ejected from his inn every closing time.