Shadowheart

After breakfast, with the elves still resting for the attempt on the Heart that would take place after midday, she climbed up to the walls as was her habit,.finding Hirad standing there, looking south. He wasn't the only one up there. It was another fine day and away past the boundaries of the city, anyone who cared to look could see the cloud of dust that signified die approaching Xeteskians. All of them had their fingers crossed that more allies, particularly Izack and Blackthorne, arrived before their enemies.

'How far away do you think they are?' Pheone asked, coming to his shoulder.

He turned and smiled at her. 'Hard to say. Half a day, perhaps a little more. Like Rebraal said, they'll be here before nightfall. I reckon they'll posture for the rest of the day, try and get us to surrender and then attack at dawn. But they'll send in assassins and familiars if they can before then.'

'It's not a happy picture.'

'No,' he agreed. 'But we have to know what we face. No sense in hiding, is there?'

‘Iguess not.'

There was a long silence. Although the college walls were taller than most buildings in Julatsa, their vision of the open spaces beyond the city was still obscured by rises in the ground. When and if lzack did appear, they'd have little warning.

'Pheone, I'm sorry about last night. It had been a long day.'

It was an apology she hadn't expected and struggled to accept easily.

'It's fine,' she said. 'We were making mistakes.'

Hirad shook his head. 'It's not that, really it isn't.' He paused. 'I miss him. Every day when I don't hear his voice it adds to my anger and I can't let it go. You understand. It's funny. When I didn't see him for years, it hardly mattered because I knew he was fine. Now he's gone and that time seems such a waste.'

Pheone couldn't find the words to say anything meaningful, just nodded her head, feeling vaguely embarrassed that this man, who looked so uncompromisingly tough and had seen so much death, would speak to her like this.

'He's why I'm here you know,' Hirad continued. 'Ilkar wanted us to come and help raise the Heart but it's gone beyond that now. I can't help with that. But I can strike back at every one of those bastards coming here. They are all to blame.'

The warmth and sadness in his voice had vanished, to be replaced by something entirely cold. Pheone leaned away a little, desperate to change the subject.

'But we will do it. Raise the Heart, I mean. Even if it's only a temporary victory it'll be for the memory of Ilkar, won't it?'

'It won't be temporary,' said Hirad and he turned and stared at her, his eyes burning into hers, not allowing her to look away. 'Because we aren't going to lose.'

‘Iknow,' Pheone said, hoping she sounded as convincing as he did.

‘Ihope you do because belief is everything.'

Hirad had none of the charisma of The Unknown Warrior but he had a heart so proud and full. No wonder Ilkar always spoke of him as the man who made The Raven live. At least now she could see exactly what he had meant.

'Where's Sha-Kaan?'

Hirad chuckled, his eyes losing their penetration and his expression softening. 'Yes, he told me he'd made your acquaintance yesterday.

Don't be scared of him. He actually quite likes humans these days, I think.'

'That's a relief.'

'He'll be in the Blackthorne Mountains, resting. Some cool cave or other that reminds him of his homeland, I expect. When we're ready to send him home, I'll call him. He's excited about it. Can't say I blame him. Sometimes I wish I was going with him.'

'Why don't you?'

'Because I won't betray Ilkar's memory,' he said.

'Do they live in caves, then, dragons?' Could it really be like all the stories she'd read?

'No. They have places called Chouls where they go to rest with their Brood brothers sometimes. They're a bit like caves. Mostly though, Sha-Kaan's land is hot and humid and they live in buildings built by their servant race. I'll explain it all to you one day. Maybe take you there.'

Pheone couldn't fathom Hirad at all. That was an offer no one could turn down and so casually made like you might buy a round of drinks. From anyone else, it would surely have sounded boastful, flaunting of influence. From Hirad, not so. And he clearly meant it.

'Could you do that?'

'Why not?'

'I'd love to.'

'Good. Another reason why you need to believe we can win, isn't it?' Hirad stretched his arms and a flicker of pain passed across his face. 'Right, I've got to go and have some balm put on this damn chest.' He paused at the top of the stairs, massaging his strapped wrist. 'Thanks for being with him the time you were,' he said. 'You meant a lot to him, made him very happy. I won't forget that.'

She watched him go and the tears began to fall.

'Neither will I,' she whispered.

All things considered, it couldn't have gone much better for Dystran. He had to put aside the debacle in his catacombs because, as Ranyl had pointed out, something always goes wrong, but everything else was working out perfectly.

With few real alarms, his forces were closing in on Julatsa, where they would crush the college, the remnants of the allied forces and the elves. They would take The Raven apart, capture Erienne and the elven texts, and be effectively unopposed as rulers of Balaia.

There was no way Lystern or Dordover could threaten him now and it really just came down to how long he left them alone before crushing them too. How both cities must have wished they had built walls. How both must have wished for a less ethical approach to magic. Vuldaroq alone saw the mistake his college had been making but he wouldn't have time to put it right. They would all pay for it now. At Dystran's leisure.

He should have been concerned that the mages and guards he had dispatched after the few hundred allied men left him a little exposed to a concerted attack but frankly, there was none coming. His scouts had had die run of the mage lands for three days and nothing was heading his way.

The pathetic few tents that represented the army of the righteous, as that fool Selik had dubbed it, became fewer every day as more and more realised the Black Wings weren't coming back. He'd even recalled his spies from the encampment. It was a waste of resource.

He had spent a great deal of his time in the Laryon hub, now that the place had been cleaned. He and his newly assembled research team checked and rechecked their calculations. In a day, a spell would be available to them and for a prolonged period. He had ordered his dimensional casters not to strike until the allies were within sight of Julatsa. He wanted the enemy to see their comrades destroyed if he could.

It was just a shame that the BlueStorm could not be cast. That particular conjunction would not happen again for some time. Still, the alternative would be just a's devastating, if less visually impressive.

Dystran foresaw the end of the war in a maximum of three days from now. Standing on his balcony before flying across to see Ranyl, he reminded himself to give some thought to the order of the country once he had assessed his own home strength. It was going to be a big task, ruling Balaia, but, as the only magical force left, he would be uniquely positioned to be its first ever sole leader.

It was a frightening thought, he had to admit. He cast Shadow-Wings and drifted slowly across the space to Ranyl's tower. One day soon, he would land and find the old man dead. The one man he needed more than any of them. He hoped today was not that day.

The refectory was empty barring one table in its centre. Across it were spread maps of the city and hastily drawn sketches of the surrounding mage lands. Though they had all begun sitting down, all but Erienne were standing now, intent on the plans. Izack had arrived shortly before midday and the meeting had taken place immediately, with Xetesk's forces just a few hours behind and marching with great confidence. Izack stood with The Raven, Commander Vale, Pheone, Rebraal and Auum.

'So you're saying that Blackthorne won't be here before Xetesk?' asked The Unknown.