They were heading south-east as dawn touched the sky, looking to clear the college lines before joining up with the rest of the elven army. Yron had very mixed feelings about it all. While he was glad to have returned the thumb to its rightful owners, it was abundantly clear that neither Merke nor her largely silent companions had any idea who he was. This Auum, whoever he turned out to be, might have a much better idea. And if that was so, he could look forward to nothing but death, which by turn he felt he deserved and was equally sure he didn't. Funny old world.
Moving across open ground and making for one of the few surviving forest areas five miles south of Xetesk, they were seen by a group of twenty riders galloping across the tufted muddy plain crossed by a lattice of narrow streams. The horsemen had been heading north but turned when they saw the TaiGethen, moving to intercept. Immediately, the Tai unslung bows.
'Leave it to me,' said Yron. 'They could be friends.'
'They could be Xeteskians,' said Merke evenly.
'They don't have the look,' said Yron.
'We will be ready.'
'I don't doubt it.'
Yron faced the riders, the elves standing behind him in a loose group, bows pointing to the ground. The horsemen came to an orderly halt, one man trotting a little further forward. He took in Yron and the elven trio. Their faces were still covered in deep brown and green paint, having had no chance to clean them under prayer.
'Hunting?' said the rider abruptly.
'Escaping,' said Yron, knowing immediately they were not Xeteskians. 'Xetesk is an unpleasant place.'
'We are in accord there,' said the rider. He was a black-haired man, youngish, with heavy brows and a hard face. Yron didn't like him. 'Tell me your purpose.'
'It isn't my way to state my business to total strangers,' said Yron. 'Perhaps you'd like to tell me who I am addressing.'
'My name is Devun and these are men from the army of the righteous. We are the vanguard of thousands.'
Yron cursed under his breath. Black Wings. Not promising.
'Pleased to make your acquaintance, Devun. Now I would ask you to move aside and let us continue. My friends and I have pressing matters away from your battles with the colleges.'
'Not so fast, one of only four,' said Devun, and there was threat in his voice and posture. 'The only innocents fleeing the colleges now are refugees, hungry from seasons of deprivation. None of you have that look.'
He was looking past Yron again at the TaiGethen.
'And these are neither refugees nor college representatives,' said Yron, and he walked a little closer to Devun. 'My friend, you are among those who hate Xetesk with the same passion as you do. Let's not cause trouble here. These elves are not used to people standing in their way. It makes them nervous.'
'Well, since we are friends, there is no harm in you telling me both your name and your business.'
Devun had no interest in letting them go. Yron could see his posturing impressing those with whom he rode. But there was no harm in the truth; it might just do the trick. He drew himself tall, ignoring the blood running down his leg and the dull ache of the wound.
'I am Captain Yron, late of the Xeteskian college guard, now on the run for desertion and treachery. These are members of the TaiGethen from Calaius. Take me if you must but don't get in their way. You'll live to regret it. Or rather, you won't.' He spread his arms. 'Your move.'
Devun didn't even pause to think. 'Commander Selik will want to talk to you all.' He signalled to his men. 'Hold them.'
Yron sighed and ducked to the ground, rolling over and out of immediate trouble. Riders heeled their horses, moving to surround them, others began to slide from their mounts, drawing swords. The TaiGethen exploded into action.
All three elven bows drew and released, knocking three men from their saddles. The cell split. Merke threw a jaqrui ahead of her, drawing her sword, running and leaping in a blur of movement. She caught a rider feet-first in the stomach, knocking him from his horse to hang by one stirrup. She landed smartly, rose and slashed out his throat. More jaqrui wailed, more men died.
Vaart was surrounded by four. He feinted and ducked a straight blow, punching his sword clean through the eye of his attacker and following him as he went down, rolling over the corpse and dragging his blade clear. The other three came at him. He lashed a kick out front, winding one, caught a blow on his sword from another and swayed away from a reckless swing.
He rolled right, coming up and stabbing into the thigh of the nearest man, whose sword lashed out and caught him a glancing blow on his left shoulder, biting deep before swinging clear. Vaart rolled again with the blow, fending off the two who still came at him. He stood, drop-kicked one in the windpipe, a killing twist of his foot as he landed atop the Black Wing. He spun on his heel, hurled a jaqrui into the face of the man with the thigh wound but the last was just quick enough to bury his sword in Vaart's chest. The elf died silently.
Yron pushed himself to his feet, running to Merke's aid. To his left, Inell was backing away from three bowmen, eyeing up which to take first, the bodies of two in front of his dripping blade. Yron ignored him, drawing his axe and thrashing it into the back of a man attempting to flank the cell leader. At the same time, Merke thrust her sword up into the belly of a swordsman still on his horse, spun and almost tore Yron's throat out, just pulling her blow. She nodded and half turned but then stumbled forward, falling into Yron and bringing him down, an arrow deep in her back, puncturing her heart.
Yron fell flat, winded, his head thrown back, his gaze passing across Inell, two arrows in his chest, punching flat-palmed into the nose of the man who stood over him, driving bone into his brain. The man fell twitching to the ground, Inell following him, a blade driven through his lower back.
On top of him, Merke moved, her hand pressing on one of his. He opened it and the thumb was pushed into his palm.
'You know what to do,' she said, drawing a final ragged bubbling breath.
Rough hands pulled Yron from beneath her body, he making a play at struggling in order to slip the fragment into his pocket. His axe was taken from him and cast aside. Devun was in front of him, looking open-mouthed at the scene of carnage. More than a dozen men lay dead or dying.
'I told you,' said Yron thickly.
Devun swung round, his fist connecting with Yron's front teeth.
He felt them give and pain flared in his head as blood started to flow from his mouth and down his throat. He spat to clear his breathing.
'Don't you say another word, Xeteskian. The only reason you're still alive is that Selik will not thank me for killing you before he's interrogated you.'
'I'm already looking forward to it.'
'But I'm damned if I'm going to listen to your filthy college tongue all the way to Understone.'
He nodded. Yron felt a sharp blow to the base of his skull. It didn't hurt for long.
Chapter 44
The Raven rode hard throughout the day, aware that Aeb's injuries and the lack of casting power of all three mages made them vulnerable. Denser would be sporting new scars on his face and neck from the Familiar's attack but was otherwise not physically damaged. Ilkar had drained himself completely through healing, shielding and Communion, while Erienne was struggling with her concentration as the Al-Drechar fed her power from the One magic and asked her to cope with its increasing ferocity.
All the way across the south of Xetesk, Dordovan forces had pulled out, leaving Xetesk's search for Yron and the TaiGethen cell unmolested. Their threat had forced The Raven further south than they had anticipated and, towards the south-west, they saw the disturbing sight of clouds of dust hanging in the air, the unmistakeable sign of an army on the march.
The smart money was on the Black Wings but it wasn't something they could worry about unduly as they sought the allied college lines and information on the whereabouts of the elves and, most particularly, Rebraal and Auum.