‘A number?’
‘Two.’
Sol sighed. ‘If you are Hirad, I have to tell you your jokes have not improved.’
‘It’s important, Unknown.’
‘All right. But you’d better surprise me or it’s the cudgel and a trip face down along the river.’
‘Ilkar is much better at this stuff. Basically, we’ve been trying to get to you through your dreams but although if we got together we could sense you, all we could do was the equivalent of wave at you in the fog. You were always so close but just out of reach. And then, when the walls of the dimension started to fall, we started to try sending ourselves out and getting hold of bodies to speak for us. They were always of the living and I guess you just found possessed people annoying. But I thought I might as well give this a try. Y’know, finding someone freshly dead and using them. Didn’t have to wait too long in the north alleys to find a host.’ The merchant paused. ‘Are you getting this so far?’
‘What? Sorry. Just trying to work out how it is you could describe my vision to me.’
‘Because we sent it.’
‘Who?’
‘The Raven’s dead.’ The merchant stared into Sol’s eyes. Desperation and bottomless pain flooded out. ‘We need you, Unknown. They are come and we cannot stop them.’
Sol bit back on the threat of tears.
‘I’m losing my mind,’ he whispered.
‘No you’re not, Unknown. This is real.’
Sol’s vision was blurred. He wiped a hand across his eyes. He couldn’t stop himself. With Diera, it was too fraught. With this stranger, as natural as sunlight.
‘Don’t you know how much I want that to be true? Every day I walk past those paintings and I crave the company of the men and women I see. I want it so much I see movement within the frames. I crave our bond and to live by our code once more. The pride of standing in line with them. The sheer energy of our battle. The closeness that comes with facing death together day by day and living till morning yet again. The knowledge that any of them would die for me and that I would do the same for them. Things I can only embrace now when I sleep.
‘I want to tell them so much. About my joy that I can see my sons grow up; that I awake each morning and see my wife. That I am living everything I dreamed of but that it is just a puff of smoke rising from the embers of the life I had, and to which I can never return. That on some days, too many days, I wish I too had fallen that day. A hero to live on in the memory, not growing fat behind a bar and dreaming of glories past.’
The merchant was silent. He drained his glass. Sol did likewise and refilled them both. He cleared his throat and stood up, needing to fill his hands with something, anything. The Raven’s Rest felt a little gloomy. Apt in one sense but no good for the custom Sol expected through the door later. King or not, he still had an inn to run.
The fire needed laying but that would wait. He lifted a lantern from its alcove and retrieved flint and steel from his pocket. He was aware of the merchant’s gaze on his back.
‘Don’t repeat any of that,’ said Sol.
‘You’ll be able to tell them all personally before long. And you’ll wish you couldn’t.’
‘Why would I wish that?’
Sol struck sparks onto the oiled taper which sputtered to yellow life.
‘Because with the best will in the world, Unknown, we are not happy to see you. Not here, not in this dimension. We’re dead, big man, and we want to stay that way. But we’ve been attacked. Our dimension has been plundered and we are cast out. It hurts and it is lonely.’
‘And you want my help to get you back where you belong, is that it?’
‘If only it was that simple.’
The Unknown chuckled. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. If you’re telling the truth, that is. It’s just that-’
‘Nothing’s ever that simple with The Raven.’
Sol nodded, feeling the warmth of familiarity return. It felt like grasping an elusive childhood memory. He put the taper to the lantern wick, trimmed the wick to stop the flare of flame and replaced the glass before returning the lantern to its alcove. The light cast garish shadows in the dim room.
‘Looks like I’ll have to light the whole lot n-’
The taper dropped from Sol’s fingers. The merchant was casting a shadow on the opposite wall. It spoke of a powerful upper body, long hair tied into waving braids and a thick fist wrapped around the goblet. It was utterly at odds with the man sat at the table and Sol knew the silhouette so well.
‘Gods burning, Hirad, it is you.’
Sol’s heart slammed in his chest and he shuddered throughout his body. His face felt hot and for a moment he thought he might faint. He strode to the table and stopped only when Hirad held up a hand.
‘Best not hug me, big man. This shoulder’s really starting to sting.’
‘Then we’ll bring Denser down to fix it. I’ll send one of the boys. How could you possibly find me? How did you know I was here? How will the others get here?’
Sol felt giddy, light-headed like after his first sword fight. A mixture of excitement and fear but this time overlaid with an odd sense of detachment.
‘This can’t be real,’ he muttered.
‘I wish it wasn’t,’ said Hirad. ‘Look, I can’t answer everything. Ilkar understands it so much better. And Erienne too. It’s to do with the familiarity of our souls. Almost like they are linked in some way. It meant we could all find each other when the attack started.’
Sol’s elation dissipated. He sat back down and looked at Hirad in the merchant’s body. He was quite still and in his eyes was an aching sadness.
‘What happened?’ asked Sol.
‘How do I explain to the living how it feels to be thrust from rest?’
‘Is that what it feels like when you’re dead? Rest? What does it look like?’
‘There aren’t the words, Unknown. Or I certainly don’t have them. There is no time; there are none of the things you associate with life. I don’t know if there is colour but I do know there aren’t trees, cities, any of that stuff. People assume that a glorious death will be like the sunniest day they can remember. It’s nothing like that. Maybe Ilkar can describe it to you. I can’t. But I do know it is peaceful and it is comfort and it is happiness. Or it was.
‘We cannot fight and we cannot defend ourselves.’ Hirad allowed himself a small smile. Sol was struck by how characteristic it was of him despite the merchant’s face. Hirad continued. ‘And that hurts almost as much as being here now. All those dead around you, you can sense them, you see? And you can taste their fear and feel their despair. They had nowhere to run. Most of them. Nowhere to go.’
Hirad’s expression had become vacant and the body of the merchant wobbled before steadying. A hand gripped the table. The other put the wine goblet to his mouth.
‘Fear makes you call out for those you love, Unknown. To be saved and be saviour. That’s how we found each other again. And when the skin of the dimension was finally torn, we could sense you too. And Denser. You represent the end of a path and we found we could travel it, though it is like clinging to a rope in a hurricane. We dare not let go. Souls cast into the void will never be found and will roam without rest.
‘None should suffer that. Not even the most evil of men.’
‘But they are suffering it, aren’t they, Hirad?’
A tear fell from Hirad’s eye and ran down his pale cheek to drip onto the table top.
‘Thousands of years and countless souls. No wonder the demons tried so hard to open the door to the dead. So many are already lost to the void and immeasurably more will follow. Any who cannot find a path back to the land where they once lived will become victims.’ Hirad looked up and he was pressing his jaws together to hold back a sob or worse. ‘You can hear them scream when they are torn away. Each one like a piece of skin ripped from your living body.’
Sol heard someone coming through the back gate and it reminded him he needed Jonas or young Hirad to go and ask for Denser up at the Mount of Xetesk. Just a short and familiar walk.
‘What can be done?’ asked Sol. ‘Who is this enemy? Why do they attack you?’
‘I have no answers,’ said Hirad. ‘We cannot see or feel them. All we know is that they are tearing our resting
