eased.
'Come on Raven!' he yelled, and though only The Unknown stood by him, the Protectors took up the invitation. They pushed.
Hirad thrashed his blade into the chest of his enemy, bending chain mail links in and winding him. The soldier couldn't raise a block and Hirad slammed his sword right to left and down into his stomach. Beside him, The Unknown overheaded, his blade clanging into a helm and stunning his opponent while Aeb's blade whispered through the air as it had all day, its point tearing die throat from an enemy.
There was shouting from ahead, urgent and quick. He thought he heard the order to disengage and the Dordovans paced back. He made to move in to keep up the attack but Darrick's voice stopped him.
'Hirad, hold!'
Confused, Hirad backed off.
'Cease,' said The Unknown. The Protectors stopped immediately.
The Dordovans retreated into the dining room. There were still twenty of them, maybe more. Hirad, breathing hard, sweating and glad for the break, saw them part and then, through them, came Vuldaroq, Darrick's blade at his neck and Ren by him, bow flexed and ready.
Hirad smiled and was about to speak when Erienne came to, screaming.
She surged out of Lyanna's mind, murder on her lips. She had to warn Denser, had to let him know somehow. But the tendrils were snatching at her and with every passing heartbeat the monster invaded her, leaving Lyanna to die. For even as it fed on her, it sustained her while she gave it strength, like a parasitic host. Keeping her alive it leached all it could from her before discarding her for another. And the Al-Drechar weren't prepared to take the chance of losing what they had nurtured within her daughter and they were transferring it to another, more able host; and the match was perfect.
She clawed towards consciousness, fought the monster which locked on to her, suffusing her mind, showing her miracles, showing her power. She didn't want any of it. She wanted her child alive.
Her eyes flashed open, her heart trip-hammering in her chest. She looked down at Lyanna. The child was still, so still. A scream erupted from her lips and she was massaging Lyanna's arms, her chest, her back, urging her to breathe, for her pulse to beat and for her lips to move and her lungs to drag in air.
She could dimly sense Denser talking to her, calling, crying, shouting. There was a cacophony in her head. She put Lyanna on the ground, shaking off the hands that clawed at her, her mouth meeting her daughter's, breathing into her again and again.
But there was nothing but the roaring in her own head and the whispering that she was too late. She raised her head slowly, wiped the stray hair from Lyanna's beautiful face, saw her tears drip on those perfect cheeks and brushed her trembling fingers across her blueing lips.
'My poor little girl. I'm so sorry.'
Denser's arms were around her. Silence beat at her ears and the roaring died away.
'Let me go,' she said calmly.
He relaxed his hold. She shot to her feet, dragged the knife from her belt sheath and dived at Ephemere, plunging the blade over and over into the Al-Drechar's chest.
'Murderer!' she cried. 'Murderer!'
Strong arms pulled her away. She fought against them.
'You killed her, you bastards!' she raged. 'Fucking bitches, you killed her!'
She almost broke free but more hands held her arms down and the dagger was prised from her grasp. Denser's face came close to hers and he put a hand to the back of her neck and pulled her towards his heaving shoulders.
'They killed my baby,' she whispered. 'They killed my baby.'
And then there was darkness.
Hirad was shaking. He didn't understand. Lyanna was lying dead on the floor of the kitchen and Erienne had torn the chest from Ephemere while the other Al-Drechar looked on, too dazed or weak to do anything about it. The Unknown had dragged her away and Aeb had taken the dagger from her.
He turned, bloodied sword in hand. Ilkar was sitting slouched, semi-conscious. Darrick had marched Vuldaroq into the midst of them, the Dordovan soldiers falling back, looking to their wounded and casting wary eyes at the Protectors, the only men still ready and willing to fight.
Hirad heaved in a breath. Denser was crying, Erienne in his arms. He had retreated with her to a chair and sat there, oblivious to everyone around him. The barbarian turned to Darrick who was holding his sword still at Vuldaroq's neck.
'Thank you,' he managed, though it felt like utter failure.
Darrick shrugged. Out in the dining room, the Dordovans stood in a confused silent group, covered from the kitchen door by Ren and Aronaar, who had moved back from the ballroom.
'Hardly matters does it?' said the General.
Hirad shook his head. He looked down on Lyanna's still form and over at the hideous bloodied mass that had been Ephemere. Flanking her, Myriell and Cleress sat, eyes closed, each with a hand covering one of their dead sister's.
Vuldaroq cleared his throat. 'Would you mind moving this?' He waved at Darrick's sword point. 'For rather obvious reasons, I no longer represent a danger.'
'Hirad?' asked Darrick.
'Whatever,' said the barbarian. 'We can't kill him, so we might as well let him go.' Darrick sheathed his sword and Vuldaroq relaxed.
Hirad looked at The Unknown. The big man's gaze was locked on the body of the child.
'Unknown?'
'All for nothing,' he said. 'Poor little mite. She never stood a chance.'
'But we had to try,' said Hirad.
'Always doomed, wasn't she?' The Unknown pointed at the Al-Drechar. 'And they knew it.'
'What now?' asked Hirad.
The Unknown looked up, his eyes moist. 'First, I suggest the Dordovans pick up their wounded, bury their dead, and leave. The battle is over. Then, I really haven't got a clue.'
Movement at the periphery of Hirad's vision had him spinning. A man, if you could call him that, shoved his way to the front of the Dordovans massed around the kitchen door. He had one hand to his head from which blood dripped steadily. He was swaying on his feet, blood ran from a badly bandaged wound on his leg and his eye was unfocused.
'Selik,' grated Hirad. He hefted his sword. 'One man who doesn't get away alive.' He crossed the space quickly and raised his sword to ready. 'Defend yourself. I'd hate to cut down an unarmed man.'
Selik dragged his sword from its sheath and waved the Dordovans away, nodding.
'You I can take.'
But The Unknown stepped in between them, facing his friend.
'No, Hirad,' he said. 'The fight is over. It would be murder.'
Hirad looked at him, his blood boiling for him to strike the Black Wing down, but The Unknown held his gaze and spoke softly.
'Hirad, we have a Code.'
'Yes,' said the barbarian. He put up his sword and pointed a finger at Selik. 'One day, The Unknown won't be there and I'll be waiting. Remember that every day when you wake up.'
Selik spat on the dining room floor. 'Honour. It'll be the death of you, Coldheart. Now, Vuldaroq, when are we going to leave this bastard island?'
'Come walk with me, Hirad,' said The Unknown.
It was late in the afternoon and so much had changed. The Dordovans had gone back to their ships, taking their wounded and Selik with them. Whether the Black Wing made it to Balaia was a matter of some conjecture but Hirad rather hoped he did. He wanted the satisfaction for himself.
Ilkar was once again watching over Thraun and he remained a mystery. Soon, they would have to wake him and see if he was either man or wolf inside the hybrid body. Denser had taken Erienne out into the gentle sunshine and had laid her on a grass bank near some of the ancient graves to sleep under a WarmHeal spell. It would do
