The men backed away further but they could not escape, not all of them. Thraun sprang again, paws thumping into the chest of his prey, snout firing hot breath over his face. His jaws snapped together, ripping the flesh off one cheek. The man screamed. His companions struck and pulled at Thraun who stepped back, lashed a claw into the prey to silence him then begin to circle, tongue lolling.
One of the prey turned and ran, shouting as he went. Thraun watched him briefly but let him go. The other two stood knowing they could neither fight to win nor both outrun the wolf. At a word, they split and ran in opposite directions but Thraun had already chosen his victim. He loped after him, through a narrow way with sheer stone walls rising either side, and ended his whimpering life far from the light of the fire.
And later, sated in mind and body, the passing of man-packbrother avenged, he cleaned his paws, muzzle and chest and trotted back to where Will lay, the lust clearing from his mind where one word pulsed at him.
Remember.
Ilkar feared for a time that the tumult wouldn’t subside. The grain store was packed with men, women and children of all ages and their automatic move away from the sundered doors was reversed immediately they saw it was not Wesmen framed in the opening.
It sounded as if all of them were talking, crying or shouting at once and he worried briefly that they would be crushed in a stampede for the open air. He shouted for calm, his voice joined by Hirad’s and The Unknown’s, all three Raven men now with swords sheathed, aware that Denser would alert them to any approaching danger.
Inside, the grain store was gloomy but not dark. Half a dozen low-wicked lanterns lit its cavernous stone-arched space and, to his left and right, Ilkar could see areas set aside for food and washing. And though the smell of sweat and stale air within was strong and pervasive, the lack of raw stench told him that at least they were not forced to urinate or defecate where they stood and slept.
At the front of the crowd, younger men stared back at him, their faces tired and angry, their voices lost in the morass of sound. In the centre, Ilkar recognised the unmistakable aura of a mage and strode forward to speak with him. His movement caused a ripple through the crowd which swayed back instinctively and Ilkar could only guess at the treatment they had sometimes received at the hands of the Wesmen. And their fears were based in ignorance. Every day, some of their number were taken from the store and never returned. Ilkar knew where they lay and the realisation that these people, his people, did not, twisted his stomach and re-ignited his anger at the plight of Julatsa.
But the bodies lying outside the College were something he couldn’t ignore and they represented a real risk to the rescue if the subject wasn’t handled correctly.
The mage, late middle-aged and puny, tufted red hair sprouting from a narrow head, bore an expression of enormous relief but Ilkar didn’t let him speak, beckoning him forward. They met and shook hands a pace in front of the crowd.
‘Your name?’ asked Ilkar.
‘Dewer,’ replied the mage.
‘Good. Dewer, I am Ilkar and this is The Raven. We’re here to get you out of this. All of you. But we don’t have much time.’
Dewer gaped. ‘The Raven?’ There were tears in his eyes.
‘Yes. Look, I must have quiet. The Wesmen are close and we have to leave now. Who’s in charge?’
‘I’ll pass the word for quiet,’ said Dewer. ‘Speak to Lallan while I hush everyone.’ He pointed at a tall slim man in his late fifties. He wore fine deep green clothing and a burgundy shirt, dirty and torn now but the quality still shone through. His face was drawn and tired yet proud and he stood tall, refusing to be bowed by the abrupt change in his circumstances. Ilkar walked quickly over to him where he stood a little further along the line, beckoning The Unknown and Hirad to join him.
‘Lallan,’ said Ilkar. The two shook hands briefly. ‘I’m Ilkar, and these are Hirad and The Unknown Warrior.’
Lallan nodded. ‘I recognised you as you came in.’
‘It is very important that your people listen to us and follow our instructions. If not, there could be a slaughter,’ said Ilkar.
‘How many of you are there here?’ asked Hirad.
‘Three thousand four hundred and seventy-eight,’ said Lallan without pause. ‘We started with more but the Wesmen have been taking away the very old, very young and some women.’
‘I know, and that is something we have to deal with now.’ Around Ilkar, a ripple of excited conversation was followed by a wave of hushing sounds and then almost complete silence.
‘Impressive,’ said The Unknown.
‘We decided early that discipline was important,’ said Lallan. ‘I’ll speak first, then I’ll introduce you, Ilkar. They’ll listen if I ask it.’
The four men stepped away from the crowd and towards the door. Denser chose the same moment to sweep down to the doorway, release Erienne from his arms, kiss her and step back into the sky. Erienne ran in, breaking the silence of the crowd, their murmur a vocalisation of their anxiety.
‘Erienne?’ asked Hirad.
‘We’re in trouble,’ she said. ‘The main force of Wesmen from the west of the city has changed direction and are heading this way. Denser thinks they are under the control of the commander and he’s guessed what’s going on. They’ll be here very soon. We’ve established the corridor back to the College but it’s under attack in a dozen places, street to street. This isn’t what Kard needs. His men are dying out here and he needs them on the walls.’
‘Right,’ said The Unknown. ‘Lallan, get talking. Now.’
Lallan nodded and faced the crowd who quietened on his first word.
‘My friends,’ he said, his arms aloft, palms outwards. ‘The Raven are here to organise rescue. It is hazardous and I beseech you, listen to what Ilkar has to say and let no doubt cloud your mind. Wesmen warriors are coming this way and we have to act decisively. This is our only chance. Ilkar.’
The Raven mage stepped forward. ‘Outside it is dark, with only wood and spell fires lighting the sky. The Wesmen are running Julatsa but we have this one opportunity to get you out of their immediate clutches. What we want you to do is this. On Lallan’s word, leave here and run as hard as you can through the southern market and, by the main streets, to the College. Don’t stop until you are well inside the walls. Anyone who can fight and finds a weapon on a dead Wesmen, take it; you might need it. The streets are, for now, secured by soldiers and men from Julatsa but they are under attack. Anyone who delays in the run is risking their lives.
‘There are two things I must tell you. First, you will be running into a College that will be under siege. It isn’t freedom, not yet, but if you are there, you can do your part to help us regain our city. Any who feel their chances are better elsewhere, are very welcome to choose another direction in which to run. But I should mention that The Raven will be standing on the College walls where the best chance lies.
‘Second, as you approach the College, you will see a terrible sight. The bodies of all of those taken from this grain store ring the walls, murdered by the Wesmen in an attempt to force surrender. They gave their lives to give you a chance. Don’t pause to mourn until you are inside or their deaths might end up being in vain. Lallan.’
Lallan addressed the crowd again, their silence broken by the odd shouted question and the murmur of shocked sob and sorrow. He raised his voice to quell the spread of the noise.
‘My friends, we don’t have time for questions. We have to run, as fast as we can, and pray the Gods and our soldiers will protect us. The strong must help the weak and carry the very young. We will run in our rotas, “A” through to “L”, and I hardly need to say that any mages should shield their comrades. Divide and organise now, I want “A” through to “E” in front of these doors immediately. Go.’