most dangerous part of our flight. The lands of the Wesmen are open. Our souls are a beacon for the Garonin, bound as they are with the mana that suffuses each one of us.
‘Yet we must not rush. Our people depend upon us. They must be supported at every point. Our camps must be sound and our direction clear. We must neither pause nor falter. You all have your tasks. Contact with the Wesmen at the earliest opportunity is vital. Warning of attack equally so.
‘My friends, we hold in our hands the fate of the elven race. Yniss cannot help us. We must help ourselves. To your boats.’
Four longboats were lowered to the sea. Elves swarmed down rope and net. Cargo followed for forward and aft stowage. Oars were readied. Rebraal felt Jevin come to his side.
‘Good luck out there,’ said the captain.
‘Yniss blesses you, Master Jevin,’ said Rebraal. ‘Your path to the ancients is assured.’
‘Only if you succeed.’
Rebraal turned to find Jevin smiling at him.
‘And we will.’
‘See that you do,’ said Jevin. ‘I might have had the wander in me as a sailor but I like to think my soul will find eternal rest. No pressure.’
Rebraal and Jevin clasped arms. ‘You should wander the northern oceans a little. How many are coming with you?’
‘Twenty assuming no others change their minds. And we intend to. Who knows what sights there are to see?’
Rebraal climbed down into his longboat, and when he looked back to the ship’s rail Jevin had already turned away. He could hear the captain barking orders. The longboat pulled smoothly from the ship and sped into the shore at North Bay. Up in the sky, the cloud was heavy and grey. Rain was coming, perhaps a storm. Rebraal, his heart a little heavy, looked forward. There was no sense in looking anywhere else.
‘You cannot let them kill my son,’ said Diera. ‘Please. You have to do something.’
‘He is no immediate danger. None of them are,’ said Auum. He turned to Miirt. ‘Get our prisoner back here now. I don’t care how bad he smells.’
‘No danger? You’ve just told me your panther has seen them and that they are plainly trapped. You told me that Densyr knows exactly where they are. How does this represent no danger?’
‘I think it is a relative term,’ said Baron Gresse. He was lying flat out on the grass, his leg surely agony yet he retained a morbid cheer.
‘In any event it appears action is imminent, and if that means damage to the wielders of magic, I count myself satisfied.’
‘Bloody right it’s a relative term,’ said Diera. ‘We’re talking about my family.’
Auum stared at her for a moment. He was unsure what he saw and felt a frisson of nerves.
‘Were you joking?’ he asked.
‘Kind of,’ she said. ‘It’s what I’d call executioner’s humour. At least it got your attention. What are you going to do about my husband and son?’
‘We have another problem,’ said Auum.
‘That isn’t an answer. What of it?’
Auum paused again, gauging her mood and likely responses to what he wanted to tell her.
‘The two are connected,’ said Auum carefully.
Down on the ground Gresse was chuckling away to himself. And patting the ankle of Blackthorne, who was standing by him and failing to get him to be quiet.
‘Are you drunk or something?’ asked Blackthorne. ‘We are in serious trouble here, Gresse. Laughter isn’t the answer. Not this time.’
‘Oh but it is, my dear Baron Blackthorne. Besides, whichever way this goes, I am soon to die. And is not the confusion of a male over a female always the most magnificent thing to watch. Even the great Auum squirms.’
‘I am not trying to confuse him, Baron Gresse,’ said Diera.
‘You never do, my dear, you never do.’
‘Patronising bastard,’ she said. ‘Go on, Auum, unless you’re too nervous to speak to me. What are we going to do? My family are in trouble and I will not stand by and wait for them to die. Do you understand me?’
‘We are all in similar trouble,’ said Auum.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘We have information that makes staying here impossible. It also makes leaving here extremely difficult.’
Auum felt the pressure of a dozen pairs of eyes on him. The two barons and their small retinues, Diera of course, and also Thraun, who had remained in earshot. Of his eight wolves, four were by him. Of the others, there was no sign. Auum feared for them.
‘Difficult how, exactly?’ asked Gresse.
Auum respected the old baron though their paths had barely crossed. Anyone who had survived the demon invasion, remaining free the whole time, was clearly worthy.
‘The ward grid, when it is activated, will not exclude human or elf. Neither will it exclude wolves and panthers.’
‘But we’re right in the middle of it, aren’t we?’ said Diera.
Auum nodded. ‘There are spells covering much of this area.’
‘We’re camping in a trap,’ said Blackthorne.
‘Well, there’s one way out of it,’ said Gresse, and he gestured at the rooftops. ‘Those who can’t fly will just have to climb and jump, won’t they?’
Auum nodded again and Gresse smiled at him, understanding very clearly what it meant.
‘There is one other possibility,’ said Auum.
‘Well there needs to be. Certain among our party of young rebels are not merely old and riddled with cancer, they also can’t walk.’ Blackthorne was glaring at Gresse. ‘I told you to stay behind.’
‘Right. To bring down the system from within. Not really my style, Blackthorne. Don’t worry about me. I’ll keep the place warm for you.’
‘I think when the God’s Eyes start firing you’ll find it warm enough,’ said Blackthorne. ‘Stupid old man. I bet you thought this might happen. I’m not leaving you.’
Gresse stuck two fingers in his mouth and made a retching sound.
‘Spare me the bleeding hero stuff, Blackthorne. I’m sure I can make myself a nuisance.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with that. I have hauled your wretched carcass from your own vineyards. You owe me.’
Gresse laughed out loud and clapped his hands. ‘Good for you.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m not finding this at all funny,’ said Diera.
‘When you get to our age, Diera, you are forced to see the funny side of most things.’
‘Well, right now, getting to your age seems a distant prospect, doesn’t it? And what about my son? He’s five years old. He deserves the concentrated effort of every one of us, don’t you think?’
Gresse reached out a hand, which Diera, a little reluctantly, took in both of hers.
‘Yes, he does, my lady,’ he said quietly. ‘And he shall get it. I’m sorry if I offended you.’
Diera shook her head. ‘No, it’s not that. It’s just, you know.. all of you. You’re used to this. You’ve grown up with fighting and death and blood. I married someone who has too, but I’ve seen so little because he won’t let me see it. So I’m scared. And I’m terrified for my boys. Auum, please?’
For a third time, Auum nodded.
‘Miirt. Bring him.’
The mage was brought forward. Dressed in breeches and shirt both several sizes too big, he cut a ridiculous figure. He was deathly pale and the sight of the wolves caused him to jam his feet into the soft grass. Miirt’s hand in the small of his back kept him moving.
‘Name?’ asked Auum.
‘Brynar,’ said the mage. Young and scared. Good. And there was more.
‘You are apprentice to Densyr, aren’t you?’
