She turned back to her sons and Densyr heard her ask a question though he only heard Hirad’s over-loud reply.
‘Thraun told them to take care of us. And he told us to make sure they got home,’ the boy said proudly.
‘What now?’ asked Sharyr.
Densyr gazed about him. There seemed to be bodies everywhere. Hirad and Sol in here, the other three in the antechamber. His gaze alighted on Vuldaroq, who was bending over the kneeling forms of the TaiGethen cell.
‘Poking them isn’t usually advisable,’ said Densyr.
Vuldaroq looked round. ‘I don’t think they’ll notice. They’re dead. All three of them.’
Densyr started. ‘They’re what?’
‘Dead,’ said Vuldaroq. ‘Check if you doubt me.’
‘What happened to them?’
Try as he might, Densyr couldn’t get himself around this. First Sol and now Auum. Two of the finest warriors ever to grace Balaia. Both gone in moments.
‘They are Ynissul,’ said Vuldaroq. ‘The long-lived of the elves. Immortal, actually. I mean that in its literal sense. They can be poisoned and die of an arrow or a sword thrust but, left in normal health, they do not ever have to die.’
‘Well they’re dead now,’ said Densyr.
‘Because, and this is a presumption but an educated one, they chose to die.’
‘Why?’ asked Sharyr.
‘Presumably they felt they could be more help to Sol than to us,’ said Vuldaroq.
‘We could have done with them here,’ said Densyr. ‘Their sort of fighting is always useful.’
‘But haven’t the Garonin gone?’ asked Sharyr. ‘That sound we heard. And it’s quiet above.’
‘They’ve gone after Sol,’ said Jonas. ‘Haven’t they? It’s why Father wanted Sha-Kaan to know what he was doing.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Densyr. ‘All I do know is, the Garonin came for our mana. They want to rip out the Heart of Xetesk. That is why they are at our gates and in our skies. And whatever Sol has done, that won’t change. They may have gone for now but they’ll be back and we have to be ready for them.’
‘We’d best get ourselves outside then,’ said Sharyr. ‘See what’s left.’
Densyr nodded. ‘Vuldaroq, if you would be so good as to see Diera and company to more comfortable quarters and organise the moving of our departed to the Master’s Morgue, I’d really appreciate it.’
Vuldaroq inclined his head. ‘Of course, my Lord Densyr. And anything else I can do . . . Um, one favour though?’
‘Yes?’
‘Dystran’s condition is a concern.’
‘He’s top of my list,’ said Densyr. He moved to go but brought himself up short before Diera. ‘My Lady Unknown.’
‘Only Hirad calls me that.’
‘I know but . . . well, you know. Sol’s sacrifice. It’s the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever known anyone do. And I have seen some truly stunning acts.’
Diera nodded but could not raise a smile. She had a son under each arm and the wolves flanked them.
‘It doesn’t stop him being dead though, does it?’
‘No, of course not. I just wanted you to know, that’s all.’
‘Thank you, Densyr. Really. It is bearable, just, to know the reasons why he has done what he has done. What would be truly unbearable, would be for it to be a waste. That means you and your college have to try and save as many souls as you can.’
‘That’s exactly where I’m going now.’
‘And one more thing. We haven’t got along well in the last few days but I won’t forget what you’ve done for my family in the last ten years. Dismal shame though it is, you’re pretty much all I’ve got of the old life barring my two wonderful boys. So when you go out there, be sure not to die.
‘We need you. The old you. Denser.’
Chapter 37
Densyr picked his way over the rubble having already scared himself a dozen times on the way up the remains of the spiral stair to his formal dinner chambers. He was amazed the tower still stood. Holes had been blown in the walls in too many places to count. Several timber floors had collapsed, but it was testament to the original builders that all the stone floors, placed to strengthen the tower in key areas, remained intact.
He looked up to the open sky, mercifully clear of Garonin machines, and wondered at the sheer level of the destruction and whether they could possibly rebuild. A matter for the future, should they have one. Meanwhile, he and Brynar moved aside beams, shelves, burned portraits and tapestries on their way to where Dystran still sat in the chair next to Septern’s abandoned borrowed body. A body that looked very suddenly about ten days dead.
‘Doesn’t smell too good, does he?’ said Brynar.
‘Strange. Presumably, the returned soul holds off decay but only to the extent of hiding it. I wish I knew how that worked.’
Dystran was partly covered by a beam that had fallen across his chair. Coming closer, Densyr could see that the beam had lodged between the back and side panels of the chair, which had broken its fall and stopped it from crushing the old Lord of the Mount’s skull.
‘How close we came to ultimate defeat,’ breathed Densyr.
‘Then you think he’s still alive?’ asked Brynar.
‘Of course he’s still alive, idiot. If he wasn’t, the Heart would have been destroyed by mana feedback.’
‘Oh right, yes.’
‘Gods drowning, Brynar, you really ought to meet Hirad Coldheart again. You’d get on like a house on fire with your similar-sized intellects.’
Densyr helped the young mage shift the beam and blow the dust from Dystran’s face. He looked very peaceful. His breathing was deep and sure and his body was uninjured so far as they could see. Densyr knelt by him and took his hand, dropping into the mana spectrum right by him.
Dystran’s aura pulsed strongly where it rested as a perfect buffer to the loose mana charging around the ruined grid. Densyr could see that Dystran had done good work in allowing some peripheral areas of the grid to feed back into the Heart under control. But still enough remained to do severe damage and most likely destroy it.
‘My mother would have said it is like unpicking a woollen knit,’ said Dystran, making Densyr jump. ‘You have to retain the integrity of the pattern, you see, or else the whole lot just falls in a knotted heap. Something like that, anyway.’
‘It’s good to hear your voice,’ said Densyr.
‘Told you they’d not see me here.’
‘Well, I’m not sure that’s entirely true. Have you seen this place? It isn’t how I left it.’
‘A little more untidy, is it?’
‘You could say.’ Densyr waved in Brynar’s direction. ‘Have a look round, see if by some miracle any water has survived in a container.’
‘Bless you, Densyr. Tell me, how are we doing?’
‘Average to awful,’ said Densyr.
Dystran managed a dry chuckle. ‘You really must go back to your propaganda classes.’
‘Only when I can issue blindfolds to all the sceptics too. The college is in ruins. Two towers are gone. This one and Nyer are on the verge of collapse. The other three are relatively sound but only because binding work went on all through the attacks. The dome is rubble, most of our outbuildings are destroyed and the population are scattered and, we presume, chased by Garonin.
‘Sol is dead and, again we presume, travelling with The Raven and with Auum’s TaiGethen cell, who also took their own lives down in the catacombs.’
‘Oh. Ynissul deciding that enough is enough, I suppose.’
Densyr shook his head. ‘You and Vuldaroq really had too little to do down in your rathole of a suite, didn’t you? Too much time to study ancient elven lore and history.’