she is a herald of doom for Dordover. Did you really think we'd stand by and let you bring her to the One uncontested? She must be controlled by Dordover to ensure our College survives. It is you who are the betrayer, Erienne Malanvai. I would save my College. You would see it fall.'
Erienne shook her head. 'No,' she managed through her weeping. 'No, you don't understand.'
'Yes, Erienne, I do,' said Berian. 'I understand only too well.'
She heard footsteps receding and her door close and lock.
Erienne had never considered the circumstances of her death until now. Never wondered if she'd know it was imminent, what she might say, how she might react, how she might feel. But here it was, only worse. Because she wasn't dying alone. She was sealing the fate of her daughter at the same time.
She felt detached, looking in from afar. Her life had taken on dual qualities of utter certainty and dreamlike unreality. There were many tilings she knew. Selik wouldn't touch her until they reached Herendeneth. The Raven, if they survived, would be chasing her. She'd been betrayed by Dordover. And Berian, of all mages, was
travelling with her, helping to organise her death. But her grasp of time seemed vague. She felt the ship move, knew they were in the channel heading down towards the Bay of Arlen, but somehow couldn't connect it with her reality. None of it should be happening and there were parts of her that still believed that she would come to and find Denser watching over her.
She had tried to cast, of course. It was one way to reconnect herself with everything she knew. But though her faculties were recovering, she hadn't the stamina to attempt complex shapes and, even if she could, a Dordovan spell shield covered her cabin, leaving her completely cut off.
She poured a goblet of water, walked to the back of her cabin and looked out of the small window. Through the rain, she could see the red smudge in the skies above Arlen, indicating the fires that still raged there. She held on to the window ledge as the ship rolled, water spilling over her hand. The wind was gusting very strong and though making headway, the Ocean Elm was surely under limited sail. She wouldn't know. Selik wouldn't let her out on deck.
She sat on the bed, draining the goblet and placing it on her small table. Another roll and it fell to the floor, clinking dully on the timbers. She left it there. Trying to ignore the conditions outside, the rain that drilled into the glass of the window and the wind that washed over them, howling as it came, Erienne set her mind to what, if anything, she could do.
It wasn't a long list. The most obvious route was magic but she had only just begun to probe the shield placed around her. It was strong, probably the work of three Dordovan betrayers and she had no doubt that it was being monitored closely for signs she was testing its structure. If she found weakness, she'd have to be ready to exploit it immediately.
On the physical plane, there were two escape routes, neither viable. The door to her cabin was kept locked and two guards stood outside it. She hadn't even considered attacking them despite the fact that they stood inside the spell shield. After all, where would it get her?
The window had been nailed shut and, even if she could force it, the drop to the water would result only in her death from drowning.
Yet suicide was an option she couldn't ignore. If she died, the
Ocean Elm's crew would no longer have the incentive to complete their journey. But it would only buy the Al-Drechar a little time. With the defences around Herendeneth in terminal decline, the location of the island wouldn't stay hidden for ever – if indeed it still was – and, despite the treacherous waters, Lyanna would be found eventually.
The ship lurched again and shuddered as it plunged into a wave. She recognised the sideways movement and knew they were approaching the mouth of the Arl. She'd learned enough to understand that the tidal forces in the bay made passage uncomfortable as high or low water approached and, fanned by gale force winds, the waves would be very difficult. She could only imagine what the open sea would be like.
Inside she felt like collapsing. Like giving up her will and letting what was to come wash over her. But in her heart beat belief. Belief that Lyanna, her beautiful girl, must live and that somehow she would be helped, rescued.
She clung to that belief because it was all she had. It would take them seven days at least to reach Herendeneth and so she put herself in someone else's hands. Not Dordover's, not her husband's but something potentially more powerful than all the forces ranged against her. And she knew that the whole would never give up while one of them had the strength to help.
The Raven.
Chapter 28
It had begun days ago but no one had taken any notice, not really. Despite the floods, there had been no one killed, indeed not many injuries at all. They had heard the stories from the undefended farmsteads, the coastal towns and the lakeside villages as refugees had poured in. But here in Korina, they had always thought themselves impervious to real damage. Now the refugees were flooding out, not in.
Diera ran from her room, the screaming Jonas clutched to her chest as her window blew inwards, the force of the blast shaking the whole inn to its foundations. And this was worse than a mere hurricane. The force of the wind had slammed the shutters so hard, they'd snapped in, tearing frame and glass from the sturdy brick walls as they came.
Hurrying down the stairs, she came upon a scene of panic in the bar as The Rookery's drinkers tried to escape the roaring tempest scouring the market square. Half of the front of the inn had been torn away, books and papers flashed through the air, tables slid and tipped, the fire blew in all directions showering hot embers and over the ringing sound of the smashing of glass, the cries of terror and pain rose like spectres.
'The cellar, the cellar!' someone was bawling in her ear while pulling at her arm. She turned. It was Tomas, his face white, forehead cut and blood pouring into one eye. He pointed to one of the doors behind the bar, then pushed past her and out into the wreckage of his inn, kneeling by a man whose legs had been crushed by a falling beam. She watched, mute, as Tomas spoke words to the trapped man, nodded and cut his thigh deeply above the artery, holding him as his life blood flowed on to the floor and he died.
Screams filtered in from the outside. People ran past, heading
west, glancing over their shoulders and running harder. A great roaring filled the air, a deafening painful sound that beat at the ears. Diera pushed Jonas' head into her chest and covered his exposed ear with her free hand.
'Tomas!' she screamed. 'Tomas!'
The roaring took on a deeper intensity. A cart flew by the torn front of the inn and smashed into a wall nearby, timbers and springs scattering. The remaining people inside ducked again, clinging on to whatever they could. Tomas was shouting at them but they couldn't hear him.
He crawled, hand over hand, back to the bar, grabbed her and pushed her to the cellar door. He wrenched it open and she stumbled down the lantern-lit stairs, hearing the door shudder shut behind them.
In the sudden relative quiet, she could hear her own breathing, her baby's whimpers and Tomas' cursing. Below them, the space was crammed with people. She saw Maris and Rhob hugging each other, and many others she only dimly recognised, their fear written in their expressions, their limbs quivering with exertion, and those that could still stand tending those that could not.
Above them, a terrible rending sound was followed by a thunderous impact that shivered beams and shook dust into the air in clouds.
'It's the inn,' gasped Tomas. 'Gone. Gone.'
Diera saw agony in his slim, blood-smeared face.
'What can we do?' she asked.
He turned to her and put a hand on her cheek, stroking gently with his fingers.
'Pray,' he said. 'Pray this cellar roof holds. Pray the floods don't reach here. Pray you see tomorrow's sun and that your husband finds a way to end all of this before we are all killed.'
Diera looked at him. She understood it was all down to magic. The word had spread through the city days
