Strands of mana waved out from the sphere. Tiny filaments like hairs on an otherwise bald skull, probing so gently into the multicoloured confusion that was Lyanna. At first, the little girl seemed unaware her mana coil was being touched and Ephemere was able to spread the gossamer tendrils wider, linking and diffusing areas of deep Dordovan orange, melding their flow with hers, removing its aggression.
But though Lyanna herself had no formal training in defence against such magical intrusion, her innate abilities, unschooled and uncontrolled, fired within her mind.
‘Now it starts,’ whispered Ephemere. ‘Be ready. Accept the pain.’
Cleress frowned but in the next heartbeat understood only too well. The coiling core of Lyanna’s mana focus dragged inwards at extraordinary speed, moving from the size of a skull to that of a fist quicker than the mind’s eye could follow.
Ephemere gasped, her probing tendrils whipping away from their tenuous hold. Immediately, she constructed a convex surface and suspended it, base down, above the fist which punched outwards with blurring energy.
‘Dear Gods,’ whispered Cleress as the mana energy deluged Ephemere’s deflector, disintegrating against the unyielding surface held by a mind of huge experience. Mana strands flashed away, tearing into the shield held by Aviana and Cleress, the two Al-Drechar modulating desperately to absorb the impact or let it pass through on its way to play havoc with Balaia.
Absorption was a hammer, pounding on her exposed brain. Lyanna’s flares coursed the shield, seeking a path, their outlet Aviana and Cleress. Naturally, the Al-Drechar could have completed a circuit, building a contained sphere, but Lyanna would have been irrevocably damaged at the very least as her mana energy gorged itself in the active mind that had so recently given it its freedom.
And that could not be allowed to happen. So the Al-Drechar’s old but strong minds had to take the force of it, letting go only that which would have compromised their concentration and hence the shield, so risking catastrophic flaring into the mana trails that covered Balaia. It was an acceptable state, but only for now.
Lyanna’s resistance was violent but brief and Cleress realised that Ephemere had fully expected it to be so. Quickly, the mana flow subsided, the coil relaxed and the girl’s breathing returned to a regular pace from its fevered speed.
‘Join me,’ said Ephy. ‘She is spent.’
‘We should keep the shield,’ said Aviana immediately.
‘It’s done its work,’ replied Ephy. ‘Trust me.’
Together, the three Al-Drechar forged a lattice of tendrils that stroked the angry, tired coil of Lyanna’s failing defences, teasing out the Dordovan strands and calming them to brown. Doing so, Cleress felt Lyanna’s energy seep away, as did her own, and she reacted just quickly enough in the physical world to hold the child as she slumped, peaceful for now, to a deep and dreamless slumber.
‘We should wake Myra,’ said Ephemere. ‘She can take the rest of the night.’
‘No,’ said Aviana firmly. ‘I can do it. Just pray she keeps quiet through the day too.’
Cleress knew what she meant. They couldn’t cope with another outburst like this without rest. Ideally, Myriell shouldn’t be woken until noon and Aviana would have to sleep the whole of the next day and night. She and Ephy were in little better shape but had the rest of this night before having to once again take their stints guarding Lyanna from her own mind. Her Night was far from over.
Cleress and Ephemere made their way slowly and painfully back to their own rooms, spurning the Lemiir for the totality of rest. In truth, neither had the energy to sit and smoke.
Closing her door, Cleress mouthed a silent prayer that Erienne would return soon.
Chapter 14
The Raven walked purposefully back towards the centre of Greythorne, their direction clear at last. All their clues, thoughts and suspicions had been proved right. Erienne had travelled south, she had received help and she had met with the Al-Drechar. But not on Balaia.
Denser had woken thoughtful, quiet but determined from his Communion, his fury of the night gone and giving them only a brief summary of his conversation. He was very anxious to be on his way but The Unknown was determined to make proper assessment of Greythorne, both in terms of support for its beleaguered survivors and the potential threat of the cavalry force.
They would leave town after midday all being well which, with Erienne probably arriving in Arlen the following morning, depending on wind and tide at the river’s mouth, was all Denser would stand. It would still leave Erienne alone for two days but Denser had advised her to stay aboard the Ocean Elm, advice she had been given by the Guild elves already.
‘Like I said earlier, keep your eyes open. We’ve heard all sorts of rumours about College mobilisation and we don’t know where allegiances have finally fallen, if anywhere. Don’t necessarily trust anyone. And remember, even within a College, not everyone thinks the same way.’
‘Meaning what?’ asked Hirad.
‘Meaning Dordover don’t want us to find Lyanna first,’ said The Unknown. ‘They want us to lead them to her and then they want her back inside the College and probably dead. All right?’
Hirad nodded. ‘I’ll be careful.’
‘Good.’
It was a short walk through the ruins to the centre of the shattered town, coming again to full, painful life, such as it was. The smell of porridge and the steam from water vats drifted across the main square. Squads of men and women moved with dread purpose to their next tasks and inside the marquee a babble of voices signified the day’s activities being organised.
The Unknown Warrior stopped one of a group of men heading past them with shovels. ‘I heard some cavalry come in last night. Do you know where from?’
The man shrugged. ‘West. One of the Colleges.’
‘Which one? Dordover?’
A shake of the head. ‘I’m not sure. Lystern, I think.’
The Unknown nodded and walked on, heading for the marquee.
‘Good news,’ said Ilkar.
‘If it’s true,’ said The Unknown.
‘Will you ever stop being sceptical?’
‘Will you ever stop being an elf?’ The Unknown smiled.
‘I think you’ve said that before, sometime.’
‘I know I have.’
‘But he was right about Lystern, that man. Look,’ said Hirad, pointing towards the marquee. Standing just under its awning and talking to Gannan was a tall young man in plated cavalry leather. A cloak was about his shoulders, deep green with gold braiding at the neck, and his curly brown hair waved in the breeze that blew without pause through Greythorne’s streets. He was obviously tired, his shoulders having the minutest droop, but he was still unmistakable.
‘Darrick,’ said The Unknown.
The Raven walked faster across the square to their old friend who didn’t look up as they approached, his face half turned from them.
‘Well, well, well,’ said Hirad. ‘There’s a face it’s good to see in bad times.’
Darrick’s head snapped round and he took in the four of them, a rare smile crossing his face.
‘But why is it always the bad times, Hirad, eh?’ The smile faded as he gripped hands with them all in turn, his habitual serious expression replacing it. ‘I didn’t expect to see The Raven together again. The situation must be worse than I thought.’
‘We’re just helping a friend,’ said Ilkar. ‘Old habits die hard, you know.’
‘I do know.’
‘So what brings Lysternan cavalry to Greythorne?’ asked The Unknown.
‘Orders,’ said Darrick. ‘Some of my, um, superiors deemed it necessary to increase the weight of our already significant forces in Arlen.’
‘Already significant?’ Denser’s face displayed his agitation.