Dystran leant in further. 'The Wesmen will take this college if they are not stopped. That is the risk to our city. You will stop them or you will die in the attempt. Any of your team who feel they are not up to the task can report to me to discuss it.'
'I—'
'Do not fail, Sharyr.' Dystran straightened and stepped back a pace, seeing the terror in the student's expression, the sweat beading on his brow and the darting of his eyes. He chose to smile. 'You have heard the shout, 'Death or glory'? Bet you thought it only applied to soldiers, didn't you? Think again, get down to the catacombs and be ready. When the time comes, I will call you personally to the walls of the city. Go.'
Sharyr had the presence of mind at least to bow his head and mutter, 'My Lord.'
But the door to the reception chamber opened before he reached it and an old man with tears on his face stood in the brazier light from the stairway. It was Brannon, Ranyl's manservant of decades.
'Please, my Lord,' he said. 'You must come quickly.'
Dystran felt his world dropping around him and fear shiver though his body.
'Oh no,' he breathed, already starting to run. 'Not now. Not now.'
Chapter 2
Hirad Coldheart sat on the steps of Julatsa's refectory. The night was warm and peaceful. From outside the college, he could hear the odd snatch of life. A cart rattling over cobbles; horse hoofs echoing against buildings; a voice raised in greeting. He breathed in deeply, feeling his chest wound pull under its bandages. It was a stubborn one. Magic had knitted the muscle but his skin was still sore and tight. A mark of age, he supposed. A little like the grey flecks he'd found in his long braids.
He knew he shouldn't but he felt released. All the problems that Balaia still faced and for the first time in so long he and The Raven were not bound by honour or contract to do anything about them. He knew he should still care but he found he couldn't. Not at the moment. Not ever, probably.
There was tension in Julatsa as those who had fled began to return. The city's rulers still hadn't had the guts to come to the college. There would be trouble, he was sure of it. And beyond this city, Dordover, Xetesk and Lystern presumably still fought. They'd battle themselves to a standstill. All too proud to sue for peace before the maximum blood was spilt.
He knew he should worry about where the country he loved was going but something was missing. Looking over at the Heart of Julatsa, around which would soon be constructed a new tower, he knew exactly what it was. It wasn't the country itself that was great and worth saving. It was the people he loved that wanted to live there. And they were dead or leaving. All of them.
Ilkar might have been the final straw for him but there were Sirendor, Ras, Richmond, Will and Jandyr too. All dead despite everything he had tried to do to save them. And The Unknown, Denser and Erienne were all thinking of their families across the
ocean, alive or dead. Thraun would go with them because The Raven were his family. Either that or return to the pack. He would not be drawn on the subject. That left Darrick. Hirad chuckled. If there was one man more wanted than the rest of The Raven, it was Darrick. He really had little choice.
So they would all be travelling back to take ship near Blackthorne with those very few elves that could be spared from the effort to shore up the college now the Heart was risen. Rebraal had to go. The Al-Arynaar needed their leader on Calaius. The same was true of Auum and the TaiGethen and of course, where he went, so did his Tai. Finally, Hirad would have bet everything he owned on the single ClawBound pair returning to the rainforests. They had been mourning for those of their kind lost since the end of the siege. That they missed their homeland and dieir kin was somediing he could read even in the eyes of the panther. They were outside now, staring up at the stars and knowing dieir positions were all wrong.
Hirad drained his goblet of wine and looked down at his plate. It was empty of the bread and meat he'd taken. Thinking it was probably time to turn in, he picked up the plate and turned to rise. Denser and The Unknown were just coming out of die refectory, a wineskin and goblets in hand. He smiled at diem both, the sharp-featured mage and the shaven-headed warrior.
'Where do you think you're going, Coldheart?' said The Unknown.
'For a refill?' ventured Hirad.
'Correct answer,' said Denser.
The two men sat either side of him. Denser filled his goblet.
'What's this, some sort of deputation?'
'No,' said The Unknown. 'We just thought it's a long time since we'd sat and drunk wine together. The others'll be out soon.'
'Time to toast the dead and move on, eh?' Hirad nodded at the Heart.
'Something like that,' replied Denser.
'Well, no sense in hanging about.' Hirad raised his glass. Tlkar. An elf without peer and a friend I will miss for ever.'
The goblets clacked together. Hirad drained his in one and nudged Denser for more.
'He'll be proud of us, you know,' said Denser, rubbing a hand across his neatly trimmed and still jet-black beard.
'He'd bloody better be. Almost saw the end of the lot of us, dragging that piece of rubble from its hole.'
Denser laughed loud. Out in the courtyard, the panther turned her head lazily. 'Ah, Hirad, ever able to bring everything down to its most basic level.'
'Best thing is, though, whatever happens to us, this is a memorial to him, isn't it?' said Hirad. 'I mean, it's only raised because of what he started us doing.' He sighed, heart heavy for a moment. 'Should have been here to see it though, shouldn't he?'
There was a silence, each man lost in memories.
'You ready to go?' asked The Unknown.
Hirad shrugged and looked up into The Unknown's flint-grey eyes. 'Well, it's not as if I've got much to pack.'
'That isn't what I meant.'
'I know.'
The Unknown punched him on the arm. 'So tell me.'
'That hurt.'
'Not as much as the next one will.'
Hirad eyed the bunched muscles beneath the smile. 'Actually, I was thinking about it before you two interrupted me. There's nothing keeping me here now. And I'm tired of fighting. Really. Look at all we've done. And the only monuments are those we have built for our dead friends. Nearly everyone else wants us dead too. Ungrateful bastards.'
'We thought we'd go tomorrow. First light,' said The Unknown.
Hirad raised his eyebrows. 'Are we fit for that? I'm talking about Erienne, of course.'
'She's fine,' said Denser. 'Physically at any rate. I think she just can't make up her mind which part of arriving back on Herendeneth she is looking forward to least. Seeing Lyanna's grave or getting taught about the One by Cleress.'
'We'll get south all right, will we?' asked Hirad. 'There's still a war on, you know.'
'Nothing escapes you, does it?' said Denser.
'Darrick picked a route. I agree with it,' said The Unknown. 'It'll
see us back to Blackthorne without much problem. Then all we have to do is wait for the Calaian Sun to put into the Bay of Gyernath.'
'So long as you're happy,' said Hirad.
'I am,' said The Unknown. 'But you know how it is. We don't move until you say.'
Hirad felt that familiar surge. Even on their way out of the country they'd fought to save from itself for so long, even on their way to retirement, The Raven was still working. He nodded.
'There's no reason to stay if we're all fit to travel.' He smiled and looked across at The Unknown. 'Thanks for asking.'
'You know how it is.'
'Yeah.' Hirad stood up and looked down into his goblet, seeing the ripples in the dark liquid. 'Where are the
