And then there were the dragons. Hirad counted forty flying in complex but ordered patterns in front of the rip while two dozen more circled in groups of three at wider distances, plunging through the thin cloud, wheeling left and right, their cries echoing faintly to the ground.
Jatha pointed. ‘Kaan,’ he said.
‘Can it be done?’ asked The Unknown with another glance at the Protectors, none of whom stood ready to defend Styliann, their eyes also fixed on the rip and its guardians.
Styliann let out a long hissing breath. ‘Magic has an answer to everything.’
‘Eventually,’ added Ilkar. ‘But time is something we don’t have. I suggest we get moving and work every break. Just look at the size of that thing.’
Hirad looked, and the short time they had pressed on him like never before. He almost believed he could see it growing as he watched. Perhaps he could.
‘Hirad?’ It was The Unknown.
‘Hmm?’ He tore his eyes from the rip and its attendant Kaan to focus on the big warrior. ‘What?’
‘It’s time to go.’ He gestured at Jatha who was staring at Hirad reverently. Hirad nodded.
‘Jatha. Wingspread?’ The Great Kaan’s attendant frowned then beamed.
‘Wingspread,’ he said and pointed away across the plain to the distant mountains. His smile faltered a little. ‘Careful.’ He indicated the sky and made swooping motions with his arms. ‘Careful.’ He indicated his eyes then pointed in all directions around him.
‘Got that, Raven?’ Hirad asked. Their silence told him they had. The party set off down the slope towards the seductively swaying plains grass.
The grass was taller even than Cil and The Unknown but its dense growth made travel tortuously slow. It smelled of fresh fields but also contained a beguiling sweetness, like ripe fruit on a hot day. And while it gave them good protection from ground threat, none of them were under any illusion about how the path they left appeared from above.
Jatha had been more optimistic, gesturing to them how the strands sprang back. But even his expression turned to worry as he saw the damage the heavier Balaians were causing.
He kept them moving at as fast a pace as was possible for the entire afternoon, stopping only briefly for food. As the evening drew on, Jatha and his men began to look for something, though to Hirad there was no break from the monotony of the grass.
At a signal from one of his men, Jatha brought the line to a halt. He turned to Hirad and made exaggerated tiptoe. The barbarian nodded and turned to The Raven.
‘Try not to break too much grass, eh?’
Jatha led them from their path, moving very slowly, watching his every step as he handed the grass aside. His men mimicked his careful movement, Hirad shrugging and doing likewise, knowing The Raven would follow his lead. The deliberate movement continued for a good half hour but again the result was obvious - it would take a tracker of Thraun’s skill to find them.
As it had been for much of the day, their destination was unclear until they were on it. Hirad, following the last of Jatha’s men, almost walked into the back of him as he stopped abruptly. In front of him, four of them crouched in a loose half-circle. Each man grasped at the earth, lifted and moved back a soil- and grass-covered wood and sacking lattice some three feet on each side. Without pause, Jatha led his men down into the gloom.
‘Neat,’ said Ilkar, standing by Hirad.
‘I’m amazed they could find it,’ said Hirad.
‘Don’t be,’ said Thraun, his voice flat and emotionless. ‘The trail is well marked.’ The Unknown patted him on the shoulder.
‘Come on, let’s get inside and set up that stove. I could murder a coffee.’
With the ground covering pulled over and lanterns lighting their way, The Raven descended a steep set of rough-hewn mud and stone steps into a natural cave. The space rose thirty feet from the floor to the ground above and the main body was perhaps forty feet each side. Opposite the stairs, the roof tapered down sharply to a narrow alcove through which a steady draft blew, indicating a passage.
The floor of the cave was covered in dried leaves. Stacks of wood, metal bowls and plates and four big water butts stood to the left. Woven dried-grass matting was pulled from its position to the right and spread across the floor to provide comfort from the cold stone. Jatha’s men set their lanterns in carved hollows in the rock walls, illuminating ragged edges and shelves which jutted into the cave above their heads, and gently swaying strands of liana which grew from above. It was damp and chill, the smells of mould and rot mixing into an unpleasant cocktail for the nose, but at least it was safe.
The centre of the cave was dominated by a shallow pit in which Jatha’s men expertly laid and lit a fire, the smoke disappearing through the porous ceiling. Heat spread quickly outwards and soon the party began to relax, stretching tired limbs and leaning back on the matting, forming it into surprisingly comfortable bedding.
‘Choul,’ said Jatha, opening his arms wide to indicate the cave. Hirad nodded.
‘Choul,’ he repeated. Jatha and his men had taken the area opposite the stairs and were readying food. Dried meats and root vegetables appeared from backpacks and sacks, and metal stands held pots of water over the fire.
In the space in front of the stairs, Thraun bolted the stove together. Nothing would get in the way of The Raven’s coffee and The Raven themselves gathered around it, a familiar sight in unfamiliar surroundings.
That left Styliann and his six Protectors to sit against the wall to the right of the fire, quiet, contemplative but changed somehow. The former Lord of the Mount, with a brief word to Cil, walked to The Raven, a sheaf of papers in his hand.
‘We have much to do,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ said Hirad. ‘There’s coffee to be drunk, food to be eaten and The Raven to talk. Alone. Then you four can start your work.’
Styliann stared down at Hirad, his lips thinning. ‘Have we not moved beyond our petty parochialities?’
Hirad’s expression was blank. ‘I’ve no idea,’ he returned. ‘All I know is you’re holding us up. During a job, we talk each night, review and plan. It is The Raven’s way.’
‘Yes and I would hate to get in the way of your precious rules,’ spat Styliann. ‘After all, all we have to do is save two dimensions.’
Hirad regarded him coolly, shaking his head. But before he could speak, Denser’s weary voice filled the cave.
‘Styliann, for the Gods’ sake, please sit down before he trots out his “that’s the reason we’re still alive” speech.’
Ilkar laughed aloud, the sound echoing from the walls. Hirad glared at him. Styliann shrugged and returned to his Protectors.
‘Thanks for backing me up,’ muttered the barbarian.
Ilkar smiled. ‘Some day, Hirad, I’ll follow up our chat about sensitivity with one about tact.’
The glorious smell of rich stew slowly replaced those of the mould and rot, and quiet dominated the travellers. Jatha’s men communicated in gesture and what appeared to be a highly developed telepathy, leaving the clanking of plates and spoons, the crackling of the fire and the shifting of tired limbs as the only sounds.
After their short meeting, The Raven drank coffee in silence. There hadn’t been much to say though all of them had been comforted by the feeling of normality it brought them.
Later, with the fires stoked for warmth and the bowls, plates and spits stowed back next to the water butts, the quartet of mages examined the texts and papers brought from Xetesk and Julatsa.
For hours, all that could be heard was the turning of pages and the odd sigh or heavily indrawn breath. Occasionally, though little of the text was in lore script, one or other would need help translating certain terms or phrases, and hurried whispering would fill the chamber.