Aeb said nothing, just nodded and crouched. He picked up the cloak-wrapped Thraun and set him gently over his right shoulder, standing with the slightest hint of effort.
'Are you all right with him?'
Aeb nodded and began walking.
'Are you sure?' Thraun was a big man.
'Yes,' agreed Aeb. 'Xye will help carry Sol.'
Hirad trotted over to Ilkar and Denser, vaguely registering the sound of horses' hoofs which still echoed through the town above the noise of the gale and fires.
'Can you…?' He gestured uselessly at the prone form, seeing for the first time the horrible injury just below The Unknown's waist, where the Dordovan axe had smashed his hip.
'He'll live,' said Denser, his breathing deep as if he'd run ten miles. 'But I doubt he'll walk again.'
'But he can't be-' He broke off, cocking his head. There were hoofs getting louder, much louder and quickly. He turned towards the sound and out of a pall of smoke between two ruined warehouses charged a single rider, Dordovan. He was heading for the Caiman Sun but swung around when he saw Aeb, yelled in anger and rode for the Protector instead.
Hirad started to run but it was obvious he wasn't going to make it in time and that Aeb was stranded, Thraun quite literally a dead weight. Other Protectors were running too but they would all arrive after the event. Aeb stopped, knelt carefully and slid his charge to the ground, cushioning his head, though he must have known the action would cost him his life. But then, Hirad realised, perhaps death was a release for his soul.
Closing in, the rider raised his blade, straightened suddenly and clutched at a crossbow bolt in his neck before pitching from the saddle. With no direction, the horse veered sideways, avoiding the kneeling Protector and galloping straight on along the dock. Aeb looked briefly at his_ erstwhile attacker, hefted Thraun again and walked on, other Protectors now around him.
Hirad turned on his way to the downed Dordovan. 'Ilkar, this place isn't safe. We need to get him on board.'
'On board?' Ilkar's weary voice wafted back.
Hirad heard Denser say something he couldn't catch.
'Oh,' said Ilkar. 'All right, we're coming.'
Hirad smiled. Xye was standing by them and the barbarian turned his attention to the cavalryman. He was twitching as he died, his blood pumping sluggishly over the stone. The bolt had taken him a couple of inches below his ear.
The barbarian nodded and looked back along the likely angle of fire.
'Show yourself,' he called, not expecting anything.
Immediately, a figure emerged from the shadows, arms wide, the crossbow dropping to the ground. The elf moved fluidly, the grace identifying the race well before Hirad could make out the shape of the face and ears.
'It was a good shot.' Hirad raised a hand and the elf stopped.
T was aiming for his eye,' said the elf, the voice female. 'Damn Black Wing crossbow. Badly calibrated.'
'Thank you for missing so well, in that case,' said Hirad. T need your name and what you're doing here. You're not Arlen's, are you?'
'No.' The elf smiled but there was no humour. 'I am Ren'erei. I am of the Guild Of Drech and I've just lost Erienne to my worst
enemy. We came looking for you, Hirad Coldheart. You, Denser and The Raven.'
Hirad stepped forward and offered a hand which Ren'erei took.
T think you'd better come and meet the others.'
It was like someone had thrown a lever and it was all over. One moment, the cursed Protectors were running amok in his town, hunting and slaughtering cavalrymen from Dordover and the next, they had reformed into an orderly line and trotted out of the town, leaving their dead maskless, their mages not turning their heads once at the devastation they had left behind.
That, they had left for Earl Arlen to face. The thought of what was on his docks was too horrific to even contemplate and now, with the rain still lashing down and the rumbling of thunder promising no respite, he was standing in a circle of hell'.
Centenary Square was ringed by fire and echoed to the sounds of the wounded and the terrified. Arlen's horse lay dead at his feet, his arm was broken and his face bloodied and bruised. Behind him, he knew, more fires raged than he could hope to contain and now he had ordered the pulling down of some more buildings in an attempt to stem the tide of flame driving north towards the castle.
Everywhere he looked, his townsfolk drifted by like ghosts, staring open-mouthed at the ruin that had become of their liyes. College men and mages had invaded his town and, in less than an hour, had reduced it to a burned out shell.
Darrick had been right; the Protectors were to be feared. But he had not made his case strongly enough. They were not human. Nothing could be that savage. The demons that controlled them had seen to that. And the mages that rode with them were worse. These were men in possession of their own souls yet he had seen them unleash such horror in the name of magic and so many innocent people had died frozen or in flame, with blood gushing from ears or eyes. He had seen them igniting buildings to frighten horses, he had seen hail drive horizontally across streets to rip man and beast to shreds and he had seen fire like rain fall from the sky to spread panic and more agony.
'Why here?' he muttered. 'Why my town?'
Arlen's sword dropped from his fingers and he sagged to the
ground in the middle of his square, wishing for the night to be eternal so he wouldn't have to look on the ashes of the morning.
How dare they visit such destruction? What presumption that they could take his land as a battleground for their squabbles? He put his head in his hands and wept, his energy gone, his humiliation complete.
But at least he knew where to lay the blame.
Magic had started the rot in Balaia and magic had sparked the batde that had destroyed everything he had worked for all of his life. There would be a reckoning. Not today, not tomorrow, but there would be a reckoning. And the wielders of magic would be made to suffer for what they so easily wrought and with such contempt.
Perhaps that bastard Selik and his Black Wings were right after all. The Colleges had assumed superiority for too long and they had to be shot from their pompous towers.
Sitting in the mud with rain lashing down from an unnatural sky and his town burning around him, Earl Arlen swore to himself that he would take the first shot.
Chapter 27
Darrick and Denser had captured the crew of the Caiman Sun, Denser flying in, carrying the heavy former General the mercifully short distance, and sweeping into the centre of the main deck.
Posing as the first of the Dordovans due to board, the pair had made easy enough progress to the wheel deck and it had been with some apology that Darrick had put his sword to the Captain's neck and invited him to usher his crew into the hold. All the while, Denser stood behind him, the origins of a FlameOrb spell visible between his palms for extra emphasis.
Now, with a gangplank lowered temporarily to allow The Raven and twenty-eight Protectors aboard, the crew had been released to make ready for sail, muttering and scowling as they came.
With The Unknown and Thraun both laid out in cabins, the remainder of The Raven, plus Darrick and Ren'erei, sat around the captain's table. The Captain himself, a brown-haired, tall and muscular elf named Jevin, sat at the head of the table, taking his time to comprehend what he had heard.
The only one of them he had really listened to was Ren'erei and the two had held several quick conversations in an elven dialect that Hirad noticed even Ilkar didn't understand. The barbarian warmed to the elf who had saved Aeb and Thraun. She was earnest and committed and had smoothed the angry elven crew by her
