To a man, his Captains nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Baron Blackthorne?’
‘A nursemaid to the sick, eh?’
‘I prefer to see it as a defender of the helpless,’ said Darrick. ‘Far more glory in that, I think. Baron Gresse?’
‘Young man, you are an outrageous risk-taker. Outrageous enough to win. I’ll have the horses ready as dawn cracks the sky.’
Darrick clapped his hands together, feeling the excitement surge within him, banishing the aches and tiredness of the afternoon’s fighting. ‘Then let’s get moving, because we really don’t have the time to waste.’
Chapter 35
Fires were alight all across the Broodlands when Hirad awoke, rested but still tired. He rolled over and sat up, joining The Raven in complete bemusement at what he saw.
The fires were strung, three dozen strong, along the banks of the river, casting an eerie yellow light that reflected from the mist, covering the Broodlands in pale luminescence.
And what the light showed was thousands of Vestare in groups and teams, some examining weapons and stitching armour but most tending to the hundreds of dragons covering every inch of free space. Vestare fussed about necks, wings, heads and talons, applying balms, singing songs and saying prayers to the Skies for Brood victory. They were tiny against the immense bodies of the Kaan, who stretched out their full lengths, many reaching well in excess of one hundred feet, their hulking bodies towering sometimes as much as fifteen feet. Great heads rested on the ground, some with jaws wide while the Vestare crawled in to spread their protective and healing creams on the flame ducts.
The sense of size was awe-inspiring and The Raven stared on, eyes roving the massive flanks, the twitching wings bigger than the largest warship sail and the muscled necks that carried those huge skulls.
‘How long has this been going on?’ asked Hirad.
‘It seems like ages,’ said Ilkar. ‘And I cannot believe you slept through it for so long.’
‘Kept that way, I think,’ said Hirad. He nodded in the direction of Wingspread, outside of which Sha-Kaan had just appeared. ‘Come on, he’ll have a few things to say to us.’
‘And I shall have some to say to him,’ said Styliann, striding off, his three disinterested Protectors in his wake.
‘What’s got into him?’ asked Ilkar.
‘He’s been muttering about “organising things better afterwards” ever since he woke up,’ said Denser.
‘And he’s planning on telling this to Sha-Kaan now?’ Hirad looked after the hurrying figure.
‘I expect so.’ Denser shrugged.
‘Mistake,’ said Hirad, heading for Wingspread. ‘Big mistake.’
The set of Styliann’s shoulders told of a no-compromise show-down with the one-hundred-and-twenty-foot Great Kaan who was preparing for the ultimate battle. Hirad knew he’d talk to The Raven because of their immediate role. Aside from that, he would be tended for flight and fight. Nothing else was open to conversation.
Hirad, trotting quickly ahead of the rest of The Raven, caught Styliann before he reached Wingspread.
‘Styliann, I think I should be doing the talking,’ he said. The Xetesk master hardly broke stride to look at him.
‘Ah, Hirad the Dragonene. There are matters of great importance to iron out. Now is a keenly appropriate time. I think I can make myself heard.’
‘Styliann, you don’t understand,’ said Hirad.
The Dark Mage stopped, he and his Protectors surrounding Hirad. ‘Oh, I think I understand very well. And this one-way deal is about to be changed.’
‘What?’ Hirad gasped.
‘Stop him,’ ordered Styliann, his eyes wild. He set off again only this time the Protectors barred Hirad’s path. He tried to push them aside but they wouldn’t yield.
‘Get out of my way,’ said Hirad, anger rising.
Silence.
‘Don’t you get it? Just who is it you’re protecting? Because if you don’t move, it certainly won’t be Styliann, unless you want to guard a smouldering corpse.’ He tried to push past them again, one shoved him back roughly. Hirad’s sword was out in a moment. The Protectors came to ready.
‘Hirad, no.’ The Unknown’s sharp tone stopped him in his tracks. ‘They’ll kill you.’ He was at Hirad’s shoulder. ‘Ile, Rya, Cil, he speaks the truth. Let him pass.’
The Protectors sheathed weapons and stepped aside. Hirad ran through, The Raven behind him, and was quick enough to hear Styliann begin to speak. Vestare fretted around Sha-Kaan’s head. The old dragon had his eyes closed, his neck resting on the ground and his body half in the river. Styliann stood silent for a while, Septern’s texts clutched to his chest, as if summoning the courage to speak.
‘Sha-Kaan,’ he said. He was ignored. ‘Great Kaan, I must be heard.’
Sha-Kaan’s head moved and his eyes opened. He took in Styliann with his cool blue gaze, in a lazy sweep that encompassed The Raven running up behind. He settled on the Xeteskian, his jaws stretching a little.
‘This is not a granted audience,’ said Sha-Kaan, his voice low and sonorous. ‘Leave.’
‘No,’ said Styliann. ‘Make it granted.’
Sha-Kaan’s eyes narrowed and his head shot forwards, bowling two Vestare from their feet. His snout all but touched Styliann’s waist. ‘Never presume to speak to me in that manner,’ growled the Great Kaan. ‘You are not, and never will be, my Dragonene.’
‘My tone was not meant to offend,’ said Styliann. ‘But there is little time and—’
‘I must prepare. Leave.’
‘—there is a chance the spell will not be cast,’ continued Styliann smoothly.
That stopped them all. Sha-Kaan drew back his head sharply, his eyes blinking slowly, breath hissing into his cavernous lungs. Hirad turned and shot Denser and Ilkar a glance. Both shrugged their ignorance while Erienne frowned deeply, mouth moving wordlessly. Sha-Kaan grabbed Hirad’s attention with a sharp mind-jab.
‘How is this possible?’ he demanded.
‘Great Kaan, I have no idea. It is not a problem raised by The Raven’s mages,’ said Hirad.
‘I understood there to be a certain casting but that there were risks as to its outcome.’ Sha-Kaan’s voice was flat, cold and very angry. Hirad shuddered. It was Styliann who spoke.
‘That is indeed the case. It is merely that there is a feeling that Balaia needs assurances of your continued support and future aid in legitimate struggle.’ The air temperature seemed to cool. Sha-Kaan moved his head back in close to Styliann.
‘Assurances,’ he said.
Hirad noticed the Vestare had backed away from the dragon’s neck and head. He turned to The Raven and muttered:
‘Just in case. Give yourselves room. That goes for your Protectors too, Unknown.’
‘You don’t think—’ began Denser.
Hirad shook his head. ‘I would doubt it but, you know . . . Let me try and sort this out, all right?’ He walked briskly up to stand beside Sha-Kaan’s head, facing Styliann, whose face was set stubborn.
‘I feel there must have been a misunderstanding, Great Kaan,’ he said, feeling the dragon’s ire hot in his mind.
‘Let us hope so,’ replied Sha-Kaan. There was menace in his voice that Styliann clearly did not read.
‘No misunderstanding,’ he said, a slight smile on his face.
‘Styliann, I’m warning you to back off. This is not the time,’ said Hirad, hand back on the hilt of his sword.
‘Hm.’ Styliann lifted a finger, apparently framing his next words. ‘I realise that time is of the essence so let me make myself very clear.’ His eyes locked with Sha-Kaan’s. ‘I take it, your honour is not in question.’