‘As sure as we can be. He was caught in the battle. In the centre of the line. He was in the way and Xetesk removed him.’ Darrow shrugged.
‘But could it have been an accident? Battle is confused,’ said Heryst. ‘You understand I have to be sure. Could it have been a Dordovan pike?’
Darrow shook his head. ‘No, my Lord. The picture is reasonably clear. A Xeteskian pike was driven through his body from the back. The battle continued. Xetesk pushed Dordover back across the river and their forces are now guarding the whole stretch and apparently sending more patrols out to secure their entire border with Dordover. ’
Heryst looked across at Vuldaroq, whose expression of sorrow appeared genuine enough, but the Lysternan knew that somewhere in that mind of his he was smiling at the news.
‘And what have we heard from Xetesk?’ he asked.
‘Denials, as you would expect,’ said Darrow. ‘Kayvel has spoken to the rest of our delegation there and they aren’t under any duress or arrest but the story they are relaying just doesn’t have quite the ring of truth about it.’
‘And what is it?’ Heryst straightened.
‘That the Xeteskian commander was trying to get Rusau out of the battle and didn’t make it before his horse threw him and he landed on a pike.’
‘Pure fantasy,’ muttered Vuldaroq. ‘I am sorry to hear of the loss of your friend, Heryst, but it casts new light on what we have just been discussing, does it not?’
Heryst held up a hand to silence the Dordovan Arch Mage. ‘Don’t you dare try to put pressure on me, Vuldaroq. At the moment I am not interested in what you think. Perhaps you would grant me the favour of leaving me for a moment.’
Vuldaroq nodded and rose. Heryst watched him go.
‘This changes nothing as far as Dordover is concerned,’ he said to Darrow. ‘You will continue negotiation as if this desperate event hadn’t happened. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, my Lord, but—’
‘But nothing, Darrow,’ said Heryst, keeping his voice quiet. ‘I do not trust Dordover any more than I trust Xetesk and I suggest you take my lead. I want to leave to return to Lystern tomorrow, so the pressure is on you. There, we will find the truth of this. All I will say is that it must hasten our deployment of forces.
‘Damn you, Darrick, where are you when I need you most?’
Chapter 28
‘Ow! Dammit!’ shouted Darrick, jerking his leg at the sudden flare of pain. ‘That hurt.’
‘I’m really sorry, Darrick, but they won’t be persuaded out with softly spoken words,’ said Ilkar. ‘Now keep still, you broke my concentration.’
‘Feels like you broke my leg.’
‘Well, I can leave them in there if you’d prefer,’ said Ilkar, meeting the Lysternan’s gaze in the firelight.
Darrick shook his head. ‘What on earth possessed me to join you lot?’
‘The glory and excitement,’ said The Unknown.
‘That’ll be it.’
The Raven had stopped for the night before walking to the temple the following morning. They’d endured two days in the dense rainforest which had tested the nerve and patience of them all. Stultifying heat had been punctuated by torrential rain; and the close attentions of seemingly every bug that hopped, crawled, flew or burrowed had been utterly relentless. They’d been tracked by a pack of small wild dogs, had to move their fire pit when an army of ants had chosen their site for a route to somewhere, and had interrupted an enormous constrictor devouring a young adult monkey.
It was hard to gauge which had been the most unsettling event so Darrick didn’t bother, concentrating instead on Ilkar and his ministrations. He knew what the mage was doing though he could see nothing: targeted needles of mana lancing into his legs to kill the burrowing insects and the eggs they laid. Every tiny wound was cauterised instantly and, with dozens from his ankles to his thighs, Darrick felt like he’d been showered with hot embers.
He felt a little aggrieved too. In the nightly checks that Ilkar insisted the mages carried out, whereas the others had largely escaped the tunnellers, having bites and blisters instead, he seemed to have been singled out. Unsurprisingly, Hirad found his discomfort a source of some amusement.
Rebraal, he’d noticed, had looked on with an expression of knowing mixed with distinct satisfaction. He’d concocted an insect repellent herb drink for them all but it only seemed to help the elves. And Thraun, for some reason. All the other humans needed magical intervention and the three mages were beginning to tire from the drain on their stamina.
‘You are sure it’s necessary?’ said Darrick.
‘Darrick, you have no idea what this country can do to you. How sick you will be if these insects’ eggs hatch. They’ll feed on you until they’re big enough to burrow out. Rebraal has immunity. Wonder why they eat you? It’s because you haven’t.’
‘What about the others, are they immune too?’
‘No, but you’re just a tastier target. At least you haven’t got boils behind your knees like Hirad. Just keep using the herbs we give you and remember you won’t have to be here for too much longer.’
Darrick knew Ilkar was right. He’d watched Denser and Erienne looking after cuts, blisters and bites under Ilkar’s instruction and had his share of the herbs Rebraal made them eat, drink and spread on themselves. Rebraal took no healing save for Erienne’s care of his shoulder. He belonged here. The Raven did not.
Not for the first time, Darrick yearned for the camaraderie of his officers, the obedience and respect of his men and the order of his life as a Lysternan soldier. Trouble was, the pull of The Raven was irresistible. Their energy, their delight in the challenges that faced them. And their belief in what kept them alive. The knowledge that they would prevail no matter what. You couldn’t bottle it, you had to breathe it. And Darrick had breathed deep.
‘Whatever you say, Ilkar.’
Ilkar nodded. ‘And I say quiet to let me work.’
And in these acts as much as in battle, Darrick understood The Raven. This was no macho brotherhood of arms. This was a group of people who routinely sacrificed themselves for their own. Because it made them stronger. Simple, really.
That night Darrick slept easier.
Erienne’s head throbbed. It was an increasing and incessant thump that no spell could diminish. Any energy she had, she spent on keeping The Raven fit. But it was hard. She felt drained and found it ever more difficult to concentrate. Her mind refused to focus clearly.
At the same time the ache didn’t feel like an illness. She knew what it meant and that soon she would be unable to deny it any longer. The knowledge crawled within her and she hated it. Loved it. Every pulse brought her fresh memories of Lyanna. They had taken on an unusual clarity in the days since they’d left the village. And they were good, as if her mind was filtering the dark visions. Erienne had her suspicions that the Al-Drechar were feeding both the ache and her memories though, in truth, she hadn’t felt them in her mind.
‘Are you feeling all right?’
It was The Unknown, with whom she was sharing the early watch. She’d been asleep but the ache in her head had forced her from her hammock. She found the fire comforting, and next to her The Unknown’s frame represented total security.
‘I’ll live,’ she said.
‘I’ve been watching you wince,’ he said. ‘Have you told Denser you’re in this much pain?’
Erienne shook his head. ‘I’ve burdened him enough.’
The Unknown chuckled. ‘I don’t think you could ever overburden Denser.’
‘You weren’t there. You didn’t see the worst.’