‘What do you think?’
‘Just asking.’
Hirad squared up. Ilkar could still see nothing but shadows of men behind the lanterns. The street was suddenly deserted of casual strollers.
‘Hirad Coldheart and Ilkar,’ came a voice, strong and powerful, commanding. ‘Members of The Raven deceased and you really should have stayed that way, don’t you think?’
‘You’re welcome to come out and try sending me back,’ said Hirad.
Ilkar shook his head. ‘That’s it, Hirad, work on defusing the situation. ’
Hirad glanced over his shoulder. ‘Just back me up.’ But the merchant’s face didn’t inspire the same confidence that the old Hirad’s had.
More people were pushing into the street and filtering around the lanterns. Ilkar counted twenty shapes. There didn’t look to be too many weapons on display but this was a college of magic. There didn’t have to be.
‘I intend on doing just that,’ said the voice, and the body from which it came moved in front of the lantern beams, which were hastily uncapped to shed a more general light. ‘But I wanted you to see me first. And know why I am here.’
The face of the figure was still cast in shadow but he was tall, broad-shouldered and thick of limb. He wore chain armour and carried a two-handed blade. Ilkar cursed under his breath. He was bigger than Sol. Much younger too, maybe mid-twenties. It was hard to tell due to the half-helmet that covered his eyes and nose, leaving only his mouth and chin visible. There was an ugly slash across his throat that had been crudely sewn.
‘All right, I’m impressed,’ said Hirad. ‘But clearly you’re a returned soul too so you are aware we had no choice in the matter. What brought you back, though, I wonder?’
‘You did.’
Ilkar frowned and saw Hirad pause, uncertain. The man moved a step closer.
‘But you aren’t Raven,’ said Hirad.
The man scoffed. ‘Hardly. I’m hurt you haven’t made a better guess. Perhaps if that bitch who froze my face were with you she might work it out.’
Hirad straightened then pointed his sword at the man. Ilkar knew there was a sneer on his face by the set of his head.
‘Selik? You returned because of me? I’m so touched.’
‘And here to put many wrongs to rights.’
‘Odd place for a Black Wing to show up,’ said Hirad. ‘You could lose your head in a place like this, you know.’
‘It is I who will be wielding the killing blade this time, Coldheart. First over you, and then your mage friend.’
‘Interesting choice of words for a man standing amongst the living population of Xetesk,’ said Ilkar.
‘Not all here are mages or mage lovers,’ said Selik, and he moved forward again. ‘These here want an end to the curse that is the allying of the college and the dead. This is magic of the very worst kind. And who better to help them achieve that?’
‘We all want the same thing, surely,’ said Ilkar. ‘An end to the torment that puts our souls in unwilling bodies and a safe place in which to rest.’
‘Dreams,’ said Selik. ‘I am happy enough. Happy that my time dead and wronged can now be cleansed from my soul by the blood of The Raven on my blade. Hold them.’
Men ran from either side of Selik. Ilkar, his spell prepared, cast and pushed his wall of mana to Hirad’s left and into the crowd, pressing them back to the right-hand side of the street. Hirad took a pace back and slashed hard at the space Selik’s lackeys were running into. Three of them pulled up short. Two, armed with broad blades, came on.
The street filled with the sounds of shouting and anger. The city guard would be here before long but they would not stop what was about to happen. While Ilkar edged left, taking in more of Selik’s crowd but leaving the man himself free as Hirad would want, the two men attacked.
They came in left and right. A good strategy but with one error. Hirad ducked the high blow and blocked the low hard, pushing the man back. Then he was up and striking out at the first, his upward cut slicing through arm and glancing off his opponent’s head, severing his ear. The man fell away, clutching at the side of his head. Hirad spun back, caught a blow from the second attacker on the hilt of his blade, straight-punched the man in the mouth and sliced back through his midriff, opening up a deep cut.
Hirad turned to face Selik.
‘Body of a merchant, mind of a warrior,’ he said. ‘How about you?’
Selik said nothing. He moved very quickly, his blade coming around at waist height with frightening power. The old Hirad, the barbarian, would have been able to deflect the blow and riposte. But the merchant’s body did not have the same strength. Hirad got his blade in the right place and avoided being cut in two but the force of the strike buckled his sword arm, jamming the edge of his blade against his body. He was sent sprawling to the dirt.
Ilkar began to move the mana wall but Selik was ahead of him. Hirad managed to turn onto his back but his arm was useless and the sword fell from his hands. He stared up into the face of the Black Wing. There was a smirk on Selik’s face. He placed his blade on Hirad’s throat.
‘I hear the void calling you, Coldheart. Pleasant travels.’
Selik tensed to drive the blade home. There was a heavy thud. Selik’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell sideways, landing on the ground next to Hirad, blood seeping from the back of his skull. There stood Sol, cudgel in hands and a look on his face that would brook no opposition. He checked both Ilkar and Hirad were all right and helped Hirad to his feet before turning to Selik’s people and the crowd of onlookers.
‘Anyone else who wants to test my commitment to The Raven, feel free to go right ahead,’ growled Sol.
Men and women were backing away from him as he spoke. City guards were elbowing their through the growing crowd. Sol collared the first of them and pointed down at Selik’s prone form.
‘He goes to the cells. And there he stays. He gets no treatment. If he survives till morning, he goes before the court. If he doesn’t, then this body will be host to a less odious soul.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said the guard.
Sol addressed the crowd. ‘These are my streets. You tell me you are my people. Act like it. There will be no summary justice dealt out by the living or the dead. If you have a grievance, you bring it to me or to my officers. That is the way it is and will stay. We are in a serious situation. The rumours of invasion will have reached all your ears. Transgressions will be dealt with swiftly. I need all of you to back your city and your college. We must stand together if we are to prevail.’
A pale-looking woman pushed to the front of the crowd and spoke into the silence that had followed Sol’s words. She was no older than forty but had a haggard look about her that told of too many tears and too little sleep. She wore poor clothes but tried to make them appear smart with ribbons and ties. She stared at Ilkar and, before she uttered a word, he knew with a guilty cold feeling exactly what was coming.
‘Then hear me speak, Sol of Balaia,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘Tell me how should I feel and how should I react? There stands my son. The body of my son. Stolen by another soul. He treats the body as his own, yet it is not. He desecrates my son’s memory by using his body though I know him to be dead because he does not know me.
‘I want that body back and I want it now. To offer the respect my son deserves and to see him laid to rest in the right manner. This walking body insults me and it insults all my family and all of those taken by grief over the ones they have lost yet still see walking our streets. This cannot be right. It must be ended now.’
Ilkar felt the tension rise around them. Two of the city guard had begun to move the senseless Selik away, leaving four to stand in a loose ring around Sol. The crowd was still growing, albeit slowly given the hour of the night, but those present were four-square behind the poor woman. For himself, Ilkar could only nod and let his head fall forward a little to avoid her stricken gaze. He saw Sol move towards her.
‘I am sorry for your loss and I will not claim to understand it,’ he said, his voice gentle. The crowd fell quickly silent. ‘How can a mother react when the son she knows is dead is seen to walk but it not be him? Your desire to want his body for respectful burial is natural and will not be denied any longer than it must be. But you must understand these are days the like of which we have never seen and we must all be patient, wary and have
