The Unknown walked into the hub room, his heart heavy when it should have been singing. He had released them, all of them. So simple in the end. And that made him angry. Dystran wouldn't ever have done it, however easy, and might even have increased the number. Behind him, Erienne was probably dying because of what that man had chosen to do, and in front of him were men he wasn't sure would thank him for returning them their souls despite the dream he knew they had harboured in the Soul Tank. It was different when you lost the brotherhood. He knew.
The circle opened when he approached, admitting him to its centre. It closed around him again. He turned slowly, taking them all in, still masked, unwilling to test their freedom. He understood that too.
‘Iknow what I have taken from you,' he said. ‘Iknow the loss you are all feeling. I know the quiet in your minds feels like the murder of your family. But I know the prayers of the Soul Tank too. The desire of every Protector. The legend of the free man. Me. I have survived. I have known the love of a woman and the joy of the birth of my son.
'There is life for you. It is different to anything you can remember from your pasts. But it is what you craved. And you will always have a bond as close as I enjoy with The Raven.' The Unknown allowed himself a pause. 'Tell me I have done the right thing by you. Tell me you can forgive me all that you have lost for all that you have gained.'
They said nothing. For a timeless moment the eye of every Protector bored into his head.
Hands moved to the backs of heads and buckles were snapped free. Slowly, nervously, masks were taken from faces and, one by one, dropped on the ground at The Unknown's feet.
He turned full circle again, saw youth, saw the strength of full manhood and the craggy knowledge of early middle age. Every face, pale and covered in red streaks and weals where the masks had rubbed, gazed back at him and on their first moments of a new life. Every eye held fear but it also held hope. It was enough.
'Good,' said The Unknown. 'Now if you'll take my advice, you'll put those back on for the last time and bluff your way out of the gates of the college. Find your other brothers. Get out of the city. Please. You owe nothing to anyone.'
'No,' said one, a voice The Unknown recognised as Myx's. 'We will not abandon you here.'
'You must. Ally yourselves with us and you'll be killed. Don't waste the opportunity. Please, I beg you.' There was no movement. 'If you respect me, you'll go. We will prevail. We're The Raven. Please, pick up your masks and go.'
'Do it,' said Myx but he kicked his own mask aside as his brothers stooped to retrieve theirs, watching it kick up a trail in the blood. 'I will come with you.'
'Why?' asked The Unknown.
'Because one with you means all are with you. We are brothers. We are one.'
The Unknown looked into his eyes, saw his conviction. His was a face that had seen so much beneath his mask. The first lines of age were on him and grey flecked his temples.
‘Iunderstand.'
'And,' said Myx, a glint in his eye, 'there is another way.'
Deep blue light flared in the corridor left.
'Move!' yelled Auum, flinging himself right.
The Protectors and Unknown scattered. Duele and Evunn turning to face the danger and dancing aside. The FlameOrb seared into the hub room, scorching blood into steam, baking dead flesh and splattering against the far wall, setting hangings on fire.
'Raven!' yelled The Unknown. 'We are leaving!'
'Brothers, obstruct,' said Myx ahead of him, running up the Soul Tank corridor, TaiGethen in his wake.
'Go, go!' shouted The Unknown. 'Follow Myx. Come on, Hirad. Anything you haven't got to hand, forget.'
'We haven't-'
'No time. Come on.'
The Raven, Al-Arynaar and TaiGethen charged away into the depths of the catacombs.
Dystran, dabbing his still bleeding nose, strode into the hub room behind a quartet of college guards, including Captain Suarav. He was met by the blank masked faces of over a dozen Protectors. One pace in, he slipped on the blood-slick floor, grabbing out at Suarav for balance and standing on a corpse while he regained it. He sighed.
'Look at this. Look at what they have done.' He shook his head. All his years as Lord of the Mount. All the years of near constant war and he hadn't seen this much death close up.
It stank. Entrails and their contents were strewn over the floor, still steaming gently. Bodies lay in the twisted attitudes of their deaths. Eyes stared at him, sightless and reproachful. The course of the FlameOrb was marked in blackened, smoking gore. But it was the blood that really shocked him. How many people were there lying here? Twenty perhaps but even so, how could they disgorge so much blood? It spattered the walls and the ceiling and across the floor it was a slick that splashed with every footfall.
'We didn't even kill one of them. And they've got away. Temporarily.' He turned on the nearest Protector. 'And what did you think you were doing, eh? Nothing. Standing like statues while real men were slaughtered by bandits. I don't know what they have done to you but I will find out. Anything to say?' ' Silence.
'No, I thought not. Suarav, where are you?'
'Here, my Lord.'
'Extend the search. Split into six groups, it's your only choice. One Circle Seven mage with each group to direct you. Who knows what they think they're going to do? I also want every exit from here into the complex guarded. I-' He clapped his hands together. 'The vents.'
He walked towards the Soul Tank corridor. 'Of course, how can I have been so stupid. Suarav, let me show you something in the map room.' Protectors were standing in front of the corridor entrance. 'Out of my way.'
The three masks turned to look at him. 'Things have changed,' said one.
'Don't I bloody know it. But I still have the magical power to obliterate you. Now move. In fact, get out of the catacombs altogether.'
One of them shifted. 'Let us talk of respect.'
Dystran closed his eyes. He was going to have to be very careful.
'It's a good distance and they will find us,' said Myx.
He was keeping the pace high, trying to put a sensible gap between them and any immediate pursuit, but anything was going to be only a temporary breathing space. The Unknown and Hirad ran with him, Thraun and Denser behind with the unconscious Erienne. Darrick and the elves followed. Already, Denser had made them stop once to feed more energy into the spell around Erienne's mind and he looked a tired man.
'How big are the catacombs?' asked Hirad.
'Bigger than you know. It is mostly this.' Myx gestured around them. 'Interconnecting tunnels between each hub. We were in Dystran's hub. We'll slow at the next one. It has… history.'
The Unknown let the remark pass.
'And you know all this because…?' asked Hirad.
‘Iam… was, the Lord of the Mount's Given. It was my job to know.'
'Fortunate.'
'I hope so.'
The Unknown had been a Protector such a short time but still he understood the method behind the apparent madness of the catacomb construction as if it had been bred into him. Generations of paranoia bred by violendy short tenure in the Circle Seven had led to the chaotic maze of finished and unfinished passages that encircled every hub.
It was a twisted morality that had driven it. While assassination by poison or blade had been a recognised method of advancement in years past, the use of destructive wards in the catacombs had always been considered unethical somehow. Naturally, entering a chamber uninvited was a different matter but in the myriad corridors which were considered almost neutral territory, such traps were beyond the pale.