He went to the temple to pray before returning to the East and Xetesk.
It was a sight that no dragon had ever thought to see. Not Skoor, Veret, Gost, or Stara. And least of all Kaan or Naik. A sight that would have fired the breath of the ancients. But so it happened and word of mouth did so much more than their entreaties ever could.
Sha-Kaan and Yasal-Naik, flying wing to wing. Allied if not friends. Carrying a simple message. A plea.
The Great Kaan's feelings were mixed. The cessation of hostilities between the two mightiest broods of Beshara was a triumph but left him deeply dissatisfied in spirit. He knew Yasal would be feeling the same. Both would have preferred the other's capitulation and extinction. So it was with warring broods.
Yet linked to his deep-seated unease, Sha-Kaan could not shift the feeling that he had embarked on a task of soaring magnitude. A task that would secure, if it was successful, the survival of dragons. Which broods would prosper beyond that survival, he could not begin to guess.
'Does it not concern you, Sha-Kaan, that broods might pledge
their support then not deliver it when the time came? It would leave such broods with an overwhelming advantage in Beshara.'
Sha-Kaan regarded Yasal with his left eye. The pair were flying south across the great ocean, the aquatic Brood Veret their destination. For this meeting they had no need of escort and flew unaccompanied in the upper thermals.
'It is something I had assumed you would consider, Yasal,' he said, not unkindly. 'Indeed I would have been disappointed if you had not. But it is exactly that which we must counter in the minds of the brood leaders.'
'Might they not also consider this an elaborate ruse on our part to gain dominion?'
'Yasal, if you still harbour such issues yourself, then speak them openly, not from behind another's mouth.'
Yasal grumbled in his throat. 'Not all of my brood believe you. None of them trust you even as far as I have chosen to do for now. How will you . . .we, answer them?'
Sha-Kaan sighed. 'It is simple. I will lead by example and so will you. All but those who must remain in my Broodlands will fly with me. There will be no defence because there is no point. My brood will go first to the battle. If others choose not to follow but remain to destroy my home then they will be killing themselves for the briefest satisfaction. That is my belief and I back it with the lives of all those I rule. This is not a gamble. If we are not together, we will all perish.'
Yasal-Naik said nothing but Sha-Kaan caught die change of scent on the breeze and saw the deferential tip of his wings.
'I need you by me, Yasal-Naik.'
'I will be there, Great Kaan.'
Below them, the bass-throated calls of the Veret floated up to them and they began their descent towards the ocean.
By the time The Raven were called to dinner, Blackthorne had regained his composure. They sat around one end of the grand banqueting table in the central hall of the castle to eat. The tapestries still depicted glorious deeds past; the arches still flew to balconied heights and the fires roared in nearby grates to ease the chill of
evening. But in every other way, this was most unlike the celebration of a meeting of old friends.
They could not spare the candles for anything more than light by which to eat. The kitchen duty staff brought through the meagre platters themselves-, and the quiet of the castle told them everything about the paucity of people Blackthorne had at his disposal.
In front of him, Hirad saw green vegetables, a sprinkling of chicken, and potatoes. Not exactly a Blackthorne feast of old but a step up from the broth he was assured they ate most other times. Still, they all had enough to satisfy them. And while they ate, they talked.
Blackthorne's eyes gleamed dark in the candlelight and his expression was set with a grim smile.
'This feast you enjoy is in honour of the return of The Raven,' he said. 'And the elves we are humbled to count among our friends. But for the life of me, I have absolutely no idea why it is you are here.'
'News, advice and weapons,' said Darrick.
'Yes, but really,' replied Blackthorne. 'Plenty of stories have surfaced as you might expect. We are led to believe you slaves to the demons; mastering the resistance; living with dragons; and hiding on Calaius. It is clearly none of these.'
Hirad took a long sip of his vintage and quite exquisite Blackthorne red.
'Until recently, Baron, the latter was the most accurate,' he said. 'But I would like to correct the man who claimed we were hiding.'
T feel he would be in need of some of The Unknown's famous administrative guidance,' said Denser.
A chuckle ran round the table. Even Blackthorne allowed a smile.
'Oh, I have no doubt that hiding was the very last thing you were doing.' His face sobered. 'What concerns me is why you are here now. Don't misunderstand me, your arrival has brought new hope to everyone here but, well, this was already a desperate situation you were well away from. Why put yourselves in it? Have events turned further for the worse?'
The Unknown told him everything they knew. For Hirad, every time he heard it, he doubted that little bit more that Balaia would survive. Blackthorne listened without interrupting a single time. But
as the enormity of the crisis was revealed to him, he sagged visibly, scratched at his grey-flecked beard and chewed his lip.
A silence broken only by the unnaturally loud sounds of cutlery on crockery followed The Unknown's summary. When at last Blackthorne spoke, there was a weariness in his voice. It described so eloquently the slow crushing of his spirit since the demons had invaded.
'I'd always believed we were doing more than simply existing. For two seasons we even made ground. Tortuously slowly, but we made it. Took back some of those the demons had taken from us. Some even got to sleep in their own beds again.' He paused, memories replaying. 'But we paid every time. They killed our friends in revenge for everyone we took. Just as they will do tonight. And every time, we all die a little more but we can't let them see it.
'Strange, but we actually felt we were winning the fight. We wouldn't let ourselves see it, I suppose. How could we afford to? Not even when we reached the limits of our ColdRoom capability. Even when it became obvious that we couldn't help anyone still outside without losing as many as we saved.
'Still we waited, though. And worked and planned and thought. And hoped. Just that others were resisting. It had to be true or we'd have been overwhelmed. But after another season or more we heard nothing. We sent out brave souls who never returned. We risked our mages in linked Communion. But we had to carry on hoping. What other choice was there? For us, for our friends outside, slaves and prey to demons.
'Do you know how hard it is to lift the spirit of everyone you meet on the days that your own is beaten to nothing?'
Blackthorne stopped. He took a long, measured drain of his wine. His guests did not twitch a muscle. Barely even blinked. Beside him, Luke gazed at him transfixed with pure adoration. Blackthorne looked across at him and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. Luke dropped his gaze to the table.
'We have known such despair. Looking out at misery from our own prison. Waiting for the end in whatever guise it came. We go hungry. We are sick so often. The weakest we buried a long time ago. Women are barren, their men impotent. Eggs are laid sour. Livestock is diseased. Milk yield is almost nothing. We are dwindling
slowly, though we try to pretend it isn't happening. All those bastards really have to do is wait for us to die but of course we're no good to them dead, are we?