But he wondered. He wondered at the break in the linkage the Given had provided them. Had they enough belief in their own right to survive alone to win? Dawn would give him his answer.
Darrick could see the glow of the fires of the Wesmen camp around Septern Manse an hour before they were within striking distance. Forward mage scouts were despatched to assess the strength of Senedai’s outer defence, only to return to say there was none beyond the camp perimeter, which completely encircled the Manse and its few fierce defenders.
A brief Communion with Izack’s forces set the attack time. They would both move in, half an hour after the Wesmen had resumed their fight with the Protectors, Darrick deciding that the noise of battle was the best cover for any surprise strike. He and Izack between them commanded a little in excess of six thousand men and mages. It still left them severely outnumbered, given Tessaya’s tribes in the vicinity, but it was not a straight stand-up fight; and Darrick, master of spoiling tactics against the Wesmen, felt it gave him the edge.
Darrick could still hardly believe his plan had worked thus far. Under a strict silence order, with weapons and armour tied down, the fittest elements of the remaining regiments had run out of the back of their encampment, traversed north three miles and turned east, heading over rough ground towards the Manse.
Under the sure eyes of elf-scouts and mages, they had covered their advance from any watching eyes, their intimate knowledge of the terrain allowing them to keep a high pace throughout the night, stopping for just five minutes in each hour.
Finally, they halted, an hour’s march from the Wesmen, in a shallow valley part-sheltered from the wind but not from the intermittent showers that still fell from a lowering sky. Darrick had personally toured every centile, thanking them all for their incredible effort and exhorting them for one more when dawn broke.
And now he sat alone with his thoughts, stretching the muscles of his legs. To sleep was fruitless with dawn so close but rest was vital for what could be a long day.
It was only now that Darrick felt the enormity of his gamble. He knew the day was dawning with the noon shade over Parve completely covering the city, if the calculations had been correct. It was the beginning of the time when the Kaan would be too few to protect it effectively and when enemy dragons could potentially fly through to attack Balaia. But when or if The Raven would appear, he had no idea. If they didn’t, he supposed it didn’t matter, because it would mean the rip over Parve couldn’t be closed and, sooner or later, they would all die in flames anyway.
And if they did appear, what difference did it make if Septern’s rip was still in Eastern hands? The Raven were just a few when the opposing sides were drawn up and, good as they were, if the battle wasn’t going the way of the East by the time they returned, they would merely have saved Balaia for the Wesmen to rule.
He had always known it, he supposed. This wasn’t merely an exercise in stopping Wesmen from gaining the rip and the opportunity to defeat The Raven. It was a fight for Balaia. He knew exactly why he hadn’t communicated it. Something inside him had prevented him from believing it himself until now. While they had been trapped by Tessaya, he hadn’t wanted to let any desperation creep into his men. The desire to break through might have deflected them from the task of seeing at least some of the army through to the Manse.
But now they were largely all here, they should know the whole truth. Indeed they had to. If they were to fight and win against the odds they faced, they had to know what exactly was at stake. And Izack had to deliver the same message.
He got to his feet and went in search of a mage.
Sha-Kaan’s eyes blazed and he turned his head from Hirad who looked anxiously at The Raven gathered behind him.
‘Find another solution,’ said the dragon flatly. ‘This that you suggest will not happen.’
‘Great Kaan, there is no other solution. We are out of time. There is no room for more research. The rip has to be closed now or by your own admission it will be too large for your numbers to defend.’
Dawn had broken, though the fires still cast their mist-reflected light, and the day was beginning to warm.
‘No human will ever ride a Kaan dragon. It is submission. It is forbidden.’
‘It isn’t submission, it’s necessity,’ implored Ilkar.
Sha-Kaan’s head snapped back around, enormous fangs dripping fuel. ‘I do not recall inviting you to speak, elf.’
Hirad took a deep breath. ‘Sha-Kaan, I am your Dragonene. May I speak freely?’
‘It is your right,’ said Sha-Kaan.
‘Right.’ Hirad strode around to face the Great Kaan square on. ‘I understand your feelings about the situation but it is our only chance. I know it wasn’t your desire but, in killing Styliann, you removed a great part of our casting strength. Let’s face it, you created this mess.
‘But never mind that. Do you really think that we want to sit on dragons and fly into the middle of a battle to cast a spell? Do you think this is what we planned to happen? The furthest I have ever been in the air is as high as I can jump. Gods falling, Sha-Kaan, I can think of nothing worse than flying. Mages do it under their own power, warriors do not. And none of us, believe me, want to experience flight this way.’
Sha-Kaan regarded him solemnly. ‘And that is to convince me to accede to your request.’
‘Well, yes, but more than that, it’s to tell you that we none of us want this. Not you and certainly not The Raven. But it’s the only choice for your Brood and for Balaia. We’re prepared to try it. Are you?’
‘But the shame of the submission.’ His head dropped.
‘Damn the bloody shame!’ Hirad raised his voice. ‘If this doesn’t work, there’ll be none of you alive to feel the shame. And if it does, you’ll be strong enough to shove shame down the long neck of any Brood that taunts you. What in all the hells are you worrying about?’
‘I think there’s history here,’ said Denser, attempting to placate both parties.
‘At last, wise words from the thief,’ responded Sha-Kaan. Denser smiled thinly.
‘Yeah, and it’ll be us that’s history if we can’t get up to the rip,’ said Hirad. ‘Sha-Kaan?’
The Great Dragon closed his eyes and drew his head back, his neck making the formal ‘s’. For a time, he was silent, then he opened his eyes to speak.
‘No dragon will submit to being ridden by a human. It is the ultimate sign of defeat for it signals that the dragon has become subservient to the human. But the Kaan understand that it is not to rule us that you wish carriage by us. It is to save both our races. For this reason alone, we agree to this partnership. Three dragons will each carry one mage. Those dragons shall be Nos-Kaan, Hyn-Kaan and Sha-Kaan. Elu-Kaan shall remain in his Choul, to rule the Brood should I fail to return.’ It was a speech made in the language of Balaia but Hirad knew that his mind had pulsed the same message to every Vestare and Kaan dragon in the Broodlands. The total silence was testament to the enormity of what had been decided.
‘Great Kaan, your faith will be repaid by The Raven saving your Brood from destruction,’ said Hirad, bowing his head.
Behind him, he heard The Unknown relax and he turned, a smile on his face.
‘Calmer now, Unknown?’
‘Naturally.’ He frowned. ‘Missed something, have I?’
Hirad nodded. ‘Just a bit. I mean, we all know the mages have to go up there but who do you think’s going to hold them on while they’re casting?’
The colour drained from The Unknown’s face and beside him Thraun’s jaw dropped.