‘And what are your plans, my Lord?’ asked Denser, still stunned that the Lord of the Mount should be in the west.
‘You know why I am here,’ said Styliann. ‘They took Selyn and I will take their lives. You will come with me and so will Dawnthief. The Raven can return to Understone Pass. Their skills are better used in its defence.’
The atmosphere changed in an instant. Hirad shifted to a ready stance, sword still sheathed for the moment. The Unknown moved to stand beside him, as did Thraun. Ilkar and Erienne flanked Denser as he stood in front of the mounted Styliann. Will remained with the fallen Jandyr. There was a ripple through the Protectors.
‘I’m not sure I understand,’ said Denser, though an awful realisation was flooding his heart.
Styliann raised his eyebrows. ‘Denser, the balance must be redressed and we must have dominion. Dawnthief must belong to Xetesk alone. Now, bring the catalysts to me or I will take them from the corpses of your friends.’ He signalled, and the Protectors unsheathed their weapons, the sound slicing through the night air.
‘You can’t let him do this!’ hissed Ilkar.
‘He has no choice,’ said Styliann. ‘He always knew this would be the result.’
Denser gaped at Styliann, his head shaking slightly. ‘And you . . . ?’ He gestured behind him at the Temple.
Styliann frowned. ‘Yes. And you did what even my Protectors could not. I’m impressed,’ he said. ‘But now The Raven’s work is done.’
‘How did you get here before us?’ asked Hirad.
‘I was never very far behind you, Hirad. You chose to rest on your way here; I did not.’ He shrugged. ‘A pity I didn’t succeed. It would have made all of this so much easier.’
‘Yes,’ said The Unknown. ‘Because we hold the cards, don’t we?’
Ilkar fell back from Denser behind The Raven. His incantation was short. ‘Shield up,’ he murmured. The Raven’s swords were drawn.
Styliann laughed. ‘Do not think you can stand in my way,’ he said, dismissive. ‘Denser, do the right thing or I’ll be forced to take your life too.’
‘You wouldn’t do that.’ Denser moved back, Erienne with him, feeling Ilkar’s shield cover him.
‘Any reason why not?’
The Protectors came to ready. The Unknown tensed.
‘Because I represent the only realistic chance of casting Dawnthief with any hope of destroying the Wytch Lords while leaving Balaia still habitable.’ But Denser’s words held little conviction.
‘If you really are blind enough to think you are the only Dawnthief mage in Xetesk, I pity you,’ said Styliann. ‘I am offering you glory. You and I will destroy the Wytch Lords and then you will stand by me on the Mount and oversee our rule of Balaia. There are two Towers in need of new Masters. Come.’ He beckoned Denser forward and the Dark Mage moved an involuntary half-pace before Erienne’s arm, still locked through his, restrained him.
Denser looked about him at The Raven. At Erienne, who carried his child and to whom he would suffer no harm. At Hirad, who had threatened his life twice but had saved it more often and would undoubtedly do so again, given the chance. At Ilkar, who knew the way forward and tolerated him because of it. The Unknown, who was released but still in thrall to his soul memories. And Will, Thraun and Jandyr, who believed because The Raven believed.
But opposite him, Styliann. The Lord of the Mount of Xetesk. A man who could see him to death or glory with equal ease.
Denser came to Hirad’s shoulder, his voice a whisper. ‘Do you trust me?’ he asked.
Hirad regarded him carefully, Denser watching the thoughts chasing themselves across his eyes. ‘You’re Raven,’ he answered, shrugging. ‘You risked yourself to release The Unknown. That is the act of one of us.’
‘Give me the chain.’ Hirad framed a refusal but Denser stayed him. ‘He can take them anyway. We can’t stop him.’
‘We can’t just give in.’ Hirad’s grip tightened on his sword.
Denser’s voice was barely audible. ‘No one is giving in. Trust me.’
Hirad switched his attention to Styliann, who studied The Raven with obvious fascination. Behind him, ninety Protectors stood ready to wipe them out. He clacked his tongue and lifted the chain carrying the Understone Pass Commander’s Badge and the Dordovan Ring of Authority from his neck. He heard Ilkar’s sharply indrawn breath, though the shield did not waver.
‘Give Denser the stone, Will,’ said Hirad. ‘We have nothing to gain by dying.’
Will paused in his tending of Jandyr and passed the Death’s Eye Stone to Denser. The Xeteskian smiled but, before walking to Styliann, stopped by Ilkar, his back to his Lord.
‘Whatever you do, keep that shield up.’ He moved to stand in front of Styliann, hefting the catalysts.
‘And to think I have the fate of Balaia in my hands,’ he said.
‘Dangerous,’ said Styliann. He reached out. ‘Let’s not waste any more time. It is a particularly precious commodity.’
‘Indeed it is,’ agreed Denser, a smile on his lips. ‘And I will now decide Balaia’s fate.’
The mana shape was formed and the command spoken before Styliann had a chance to react. Denser, ShadowWings deployed, shot up and backwards, finishing behind the Temple, high in the lee of the cliffs. Every face turned to look at him, silhouetted against the star-speckled night sky. No one breathed and Hirad’s heart thumped in his chest, sweat freezing on his body. Denser shouted down from his vantage point, well out of Styliann’s spell range, ShadowWings beating lazy time.
‘I can’t let you return to the old ways, Styliann. You’re out of date. Dawnthief goes with The Raven. That is the contract and we will honour it or die in the attempt.’
‘You are a Xeteskian mage and you are my servant,’ said Styliann, his voice cold and terrible. ‘You will obey me.’
‘No,’ said Denser. ‘I am Raven.’
Hirad’s smile was as wide as Understone Pass. He straightened from his ready stance.
‘Oh dear, Styliann,’ he said. ‘Beaten again. Why not admit it and step aside?’
But Styliann wasn’t listening. His eyes ablaze, his mind shaped mana with the speed and efficiency only a Master could command. A trio of FlameOrbs struck Ilkar’s shield in successive heartbeats, blue and red light lashing over the invisible barrier. Ilkar gasped under the force of the attack, but though he trembled, the shield did not. Styliann looked on. None of The Raven had so much as flinched.
‘Ilkar has never lost a shield to magical attack,’ said Hirad. ‘And I can assure you that he doesn’t intend starting now. It’s over, Styliann.’
‘I hardly think so,’ grated the Lord of the Mount. He turned to his Protectors. ‘Kill them. Kill them now.’ But the Protectors did not move. ‘Kill them!’ he screamed, face red in the moonlight, fury blazing in his eyes. Hirad prepared to die.
‘Relax, Hirad,’ said The Unknown, and the depth of his smile at last touched his eyes. ‘I suggest you save your breath, Styliann.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ The words dragged from Styliann’s mouth.
‘It’s something you can never conceive, let alone understand. They will not attack us while I am here and we aren’t threatening your life. And in the same way, I will not let The Raven attack them. But I warn that should I die at your hand, your Protectors will turn on you.’
There was a shifting behind Styliann. He looked around. The Protectors were all staring at him, their masks reflecting the star-light.