‘What, by all the Gods watching us, has happened here?’ Gresse’s voice was a hoarse whisper. He slid from his horse to stand reverently on the ground. The rest of the riders followed suit.
‘It’s a warning,’ said one of the cavalry, echoing Darrick’s own reaction. ‘They want us to fear them.’
‘No,’ said Blackthorne. ‘And it is they who are scared.’
‘You’ve seen this sort of thing before?’ asked Gresse, his expression disbelieving.
Blackthorne shook his head. ‘It is documented in the Blackthorne library, or rather, was. Don’t forget, we have been in the front line against the Wesmen before.’
‘So what drove Tessaya to do this?’ asked Darrick.
‘The burning, I think, is just to stop anyone else benefiting from what he had built and I expect the pass to be very heavily defended now. The sacrifices, because that is what they are, are something else entirely.
‘When the Wesmen go into battle, their Shamen call upon their spirits to align behind them and bless them to give them strength. But when they fear an enemy is stronger than they are, they sacrifice enemies to ward off the evil they think is chasing them. These poor bastards are victims of a Shamen ritual and they are laid facing the rising sun because the Wesmen say the dawn brings sight to the eyes of the gods of their enemies and what they see will take their courage.’ He shrugged.
‘They’re scared of us?’ Gresse frowned.
‘I don’t think so, not us,’ said Darrick. ‘Something has scared Tessaya very badly to cause him to abandon his plans. He is normally a very careful man. He must believe the invasion could fail and wherever he has gone, he must believe it critical to his campaign.’
‘And wherever he goes, his lackeys will follow,’ said Gresse grimly.
‘Yes,’ said Blackthorne. ‘It looks as if we now chase the lynch pin and not merely a strut.’
Darrick pursed his lips. ‘But before that, all these men must be given the honour of a pyre.’
‘Time is of the essence,’ said Blackthorne a little sharply. ‘These men would not thank us if their murderers eluded us while we burned their bodies.’
Darrick regarded him bleakly. ‘And catch Tessaya we will. We have eight thousand men marching east. Join them and send back my cavalry. We will see these men are accorded the respect they deserve. We will catch you before nightfall.’
‘I apologise, General,’ said Blackthorne. ‘My words were not intended to—’
Darrick waved a hand. ‘I understand, Baron, and my respect for you is undimmed. But I cannot leave my men to fester where they lie in this grotesque slaughterhouse. You would feel the same.’
Blackthorne raised a smile and remounted his horse. ‘I would indeed, General. You are a good man. Please, take your time.’
‘Time is something of which we have very little. But for us, at least, it has not run out.’
The Raven, with their escorts and the Xeteskian contingent, left the Choul well before dawn. The mages had talked long into the night, Hirad hearing their low tones as he moved in and out of a strangely broken sleep. And when they had been woken by Jatha, he felt tired and irritable and saw his mood reflected in the eyes of all of his friends and Styliann.
Though the sun had not breached the plain, which was still cast in shadow, there was enough light in the sky to see by and nothing but tall grass in every direction. Indeed the semi-darkness was comforting in its way and Hirad experienced a feeling of safety that he knew to be false. Though they could hide themselves in the dark from other humans, neither Jatha’s people, nor dragons, had any trouble piercing the gloom. All that travelling at night would do would be to put The Raven at a further disadvantage. He said as much to The Unknown who simply nodded as if he had suspected exactly that.
The travellers’ formation was altered from the day before. While Jatha and his people still led the way, The Raven mages had fallen back to keep talking with Styliann, leaving the Protectors to guard the rear, and Hirad, The Unknown and Thraun looking after the flanks. Thraun looked no better. Locked in his own world of misery and self-guilt over Will’s death, he functioned and would no doubt fight but that was about all. He ate what was put in front of him, slept and watched when asked and responded to questions about terrain and tracking. Otherwise, he had completely withdrawn.
Midway through the morning, the land, previously flat and level, began to rise. Gently at first but then more steeply, and though the rises and falls were never more than twenty feet, they sapped the strength. The plains grass grew as before, its density undiminished, but now even Jatha, who forced the pace hard, flattened and broke stalks in his hurried passage.
Hirad watched him for a little, noticing the way he glanced up continually towards the rip while his men, frowns on their faces, scoured the land either side.
‘Ever get the feeling all is not well?’ asked Hirad, finding himself shoulder to shoulder with The Unknown.
‘Very much so,’ said The Unknown. ‘We should consider the possibility of attack.’ He tapped the as yet sheathed sword in his back-mounted scabbard.
‘Let me have a word with Jatha.’ Hirad moved forwards and tapped Jatha’s shoulder. The Kaan servant looked around and forced a smile though his eyes betrayed his worry.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Hirad. Jatha looked blank. ‘Danger?’ Hirad pointed to the sky and gestured around him before flapping his arms as Jatha had done to indicate a dragon.
Jatha nodded vigorously. ‘Sky battle coming,’ he said. ‘Careful.’ He pointed to his eyes and then to the area immediately surrounding them. ‘More battle.’ He shrugged. Hirad nodded.
‘All right Raven,’ he said, dropping back. ‘We might be getting company from the sky and the ground. Let’s get prepared. Thraun, Unknown, left and right flanking positions, Ilkar the shield, Denser and Erienne, offence, please.’ Up ahead, two pairs of Jatha’s men left the main group, disappearing into the grass to either side, swords drawn. Jatha himself continued onwards, upping the pace still further until he was almost at a trot. Hirad looked back briefly towards Styliann. ‘I presume I can leave it to you and yours to organise our rear defence?’
Styliann nodded. ‘Nothing will get through from behind,’ he said curtly.
Up in the sky, the defence of the rip had strengthened. Hirad estimated seventy Kaan dragons now flew, their patterns close, their calls echoing down over the plain. It was a haunting sound that set him on edge. The brackish barks and muted growls were alien in his ears and he shifted his shoulders as the back of his neck tingled. Involuntarily, he looked behind him and it was then that he saw the shapes.
At first they were a group of black dots, high in the sky, coming from beyond the forest valley they had travelled through the day before. But as they drew closer, he saw their shapes, long slim and fast. They numbered in excess of twenty and they flew in a single chevron, heading directly for the rip. The calls of the Kaan became more urgent and the defending dragons, half of them at least, switched from set patterns into attack groups of five or six, moving out to meet the enemy.
It was Jatha’s voice that made him realise that they had all stopped to look.
‘Go,’ he was saying. ‘Careful.’ He made to move off but a change in the movement in the sky caught his eye. Hirad followed his gaze to the attacking dragons. One had cut away from the main group and was angling downwards across the plain and coming straight for them.
‘Raven, put up your swords and forget the spells. We’re going to have to run. Protectors, likewise, believe me or die.’ He pointed up to the shape barrelling towards them. It would be on them in no time.
‘Hirad!’ Jatha was tugging at his arm, his voice distressed, his men agitated behind him. Hirad looked down to him. The little man spread the fingers of his hands wide then moved his arms apart. ‘Go,’ he said, repeating the gesture. He shouted an order to his men who instantly scattered away into the grass, no two in the same direction.