happen, all this?’
‘Straight after they took you away. He’s speaking to the city in an hour or two, I think.’
‘Really?’ Sol stopped himself saying more. He raised his eyebrows to Jonas, who nodded and settled back into his chair. ‘A drink, Jonas? I’m afraid the cellar isn’t well stocked. Water?’
‘Thank you, Father,’ said Jonas, voice a little distant.
Sol smiled, pressed his shoulder and stood up. Standing beneath a mirror near the door was a table carrying drink and food. Sol walked towards it, nodding at the guards and making sure he was interfering with any sight of Jonas beginning his contact with Sha-Kaan.
‘Thank you for letting me see my son,’ he said, pitching his volume just a little high. ‘It means a lot that I can calm him myself. Perhaps you’d like to remind Lord Denser he needs to speak with me if we are not to get into even more precarious a position very soon?’
One of the guards shrugged. ‘I’ll mention it to Brynar, I suppose.’
Sol filled two goblets with water, picked them up and sauntered towards the door. The two guards straightened a little and hands dropped to sword hilts.
‘You think I’m going to make a break for it? Old man, dodgy hip, son in a chair by the fire? Come on, relax. I’m merely offering you some water.’
‘You should come no closer,’ said a guard, sweating under his helmet, his expression anxious and embarrassed, as it had been ever since Sol had been here.
‘Fine. Be thirsty.’ Sol stopped moving.
From behind him Jonas emitted a brief moan of pain as he made contact with Sha-Kaan.
‘What’s that?’
‘Toothache,’ said Sol. ‘Funny thing, isn’t it? About me being in here rather than in a cell.’
‘Why?’›
The question dripped suspicion. Both guards were looking past Sol, or trying to as his powerful upper body was in the way.
‘Well it’s the door, isn’t it?’ he said. He stepped forward and threw the goblets at the guards, who brought their arms up reflexively. ‘It opens the wrong way.’
Sol dived for the door and slammed it in their faces. He sat with his back to it and jammed his hands and feet as hard as he could onto the stone floor, bracing himself for the inevitable.
‘Jonas, as quick as you like,’ he said.
There were shouts outside the door. He felt the first impact against it. The door opened maybe an inch before his weight shut it once more. He had little time.
Next, a double impact. One high, one low. Sol was shovelled across the stone a good way. Hands came around the frame. Sol put his shoulder to the door and forced it back hard. There was a pained cry and he heard his name being taken repeatedly in vain.
‘Jonas…’
A thin white line had appeared in the air above Jonas’s chair. It described a horizontal about eight feet long before beginning to draw down both sides to form an opening into Sha-Kaan’s Klene, his corridor and resting place within the healing streams of inter-dimensional space.
Sol heard a flurry of conversation outside the door and, echoing down the corridor, the unmistakeable sound of Denser’s voice. Sol braced himself for another impact but there was quiet instead.
‘That can’t be good.’
The door shattered, its timbers cracking and bursting inwards. Sol was hurled across the floor, rolling and tumbling. Pain flared in his lower back and he felt the warm slick of blood at his waist. He came to a halt and tried to stand. The pain in his back intensified and he stopped, having to be satisfied with a stoop.
In the doorway stood the guards and a mage. They had taken a pace but stopped. None of them was looking at Sol but beyond him. There was the sharp smell of wood and oil. Sol craned his neck. Sha-Kaan’s golden-scaled head was thrusting from the opening to the Klene. Inside the chamber it looked massive. It was as tall as a man on its own, suggesting the enormity that could not be seen beyond the portal. A bone ridge ran from between Sha- Kaan’s eyes and away down his body. That mouth opened lazily, revealing twin rows of fangs and molars.
‘Lie down, Sol, you’re in my way,’ he rumbled.
Sol gladly complied, the pain in his back easing. Jonas was standing next to Sha-Kaan’s head, one hand resting on that portion of his neck that was visible.
‘Damn you, Sol, don’t do this.’
‘I have friends in all sorts of places, Denser.’
‘You will not obstruct our departure,’ said Sha-Kaan.
‘Xetesk and Balaia need their king,’ said Denser.
‘Locked up in the catacombs. I don’t think so,’ said Sol. ‘What they need is a way out. What you’re building is a mass grave.’
Sol shuffled away from Sha-Kaan’s line of sight and got gingerly to his feet. The blood was flowing fast from the wound in his back and soaking into his breeches. He felt a little light-headed.
‘You will come back,’ said Denser. ‘Need I remind you that your wife and younger son are still here.’
‘Need I remind you that if one hair of either head is so much as breathed upon, I will rip your fucking head off.’ Sol glanced at Jonas. ‘Apologies for my language.’
Jonas shrugged. ‘We need to go.’
Sol nodded and moved to the portal. Denser stayed the hand of one of his guards with a shake of the head and a knowing look.
‘One last chance for redemption, Denser. Come with us. We are stronger with you.’
‘Sorry, Sol. Xetesk is where true strength lies. I think I’ll stay where I’m likely to stay alive.’
‘If you remember one thing, remember this,’ said Sol. ‘The Raven never get it wrong.’
Sol and Jonas stepped past Sha-Kaan’s head, the dragon withdrew it into the Klene and the portal snapped shut.
Chapter 21
With Jonas anchoring the Balaian end of the Klene, it was a stable, secure edifice. With him standing inside when the link to Balaia was broken, it became as a loose end of rope flailing in the gale of inter-dimensional space. Sha-Kaan did his best to moderate the buffeting but, with the Klene only tethered in Beshara, it was a bumpy ride.
‘I have to find safe purchase quickly or return to Beshara,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘We are vulnerable this way.’
‘Who can you feel?’ asked Jonas.
Sol and Jonas were each being held in one of Sha-Kaan’s front claws. The great dragon was being as gentle as he could but with each violent shift of the Klene, the claws tightened reflexively. Sol could focus on nothing. The pain in his back was immense and the shuddering and shaking of the Klene made him nauseous.
‘Old friends,’ said Sha-Kaan, and the wistful quality of his voice brought a smile to Sol’s lips. ‘The great Septern and Hirad Coldheart. So long dead it is both pleasure and pain to feel their minds once more.’
‘Go for Hirad,’ said Sol. ‘He’ll have Ilkar with him. We can work out what we need to do.’
‘I will see what I can do,’ rumbled Sha-Kaan. ‘His mind is not as tuned as once it was.’
Even through his pain, Sol had to suppress a laugh. ‘Hirad, tuned? When did that ever happen?’
‘He had more ability about him than you know,’ chided Sha-Kaan.
‘I miss Hirad’s talents every day,’ said Sol.
The Klene bounced once before ceasing its random movement. Sol breathed deeply, his stomach settling, his eyes able to focus.
‘I have him,’ said Sha-Kaan.
The Klene was smaller than Sol remembered. Still grand with its huge fireplaces, Kaan crests, mural-painted walls and oppressive heat but somehow lessened.
‘What happened to all the drapery and antechambers?’ asked Sol.
