Rebraal scowled and put a finger to his lips. ‘Quiet,’ he hissed. ‘You must um . . . I lead.’ He looked to Ilkar and spoke quickly in elvish.
‘He wants you to follow his lead. He says he’ll direct us where we need to go.’
‘Tell him if there’s a combat situation, we’ll assess and do things how we think they should be done,’ said Hirad. ‘You know the way it is.’
Ilkar smiled. ‘Anything to antagonise.’
Rebraal hadn’t caught the conversation and shook his head when Ilkar translated. Another sharp exchange ensued, ending when Rebraal threw his arms up, stabbed a finger at Ilkar, spoke what sounded like a threat and turned his back on them.
‘So he’s in full agreement then?’ said Hirad.
‘I’ve just tried to explain that we’ll listen to him, but when it comes to it we’ll decide on any attack or defence tactics. All I would ask is that you don’t do anything precipitate. He will be able to perceive threat far better than us and the last thing we need is to start fighting friends. All right?’
Hirad nodded and turned to The Raven. ‘Fair enough. But let’s assume we need a line before we set off. That means mages to the rear of the group now. Everyone knows their places. Ren, keep your bow handy and stay behind the sword line. We can protect you there.’
Swords drawn, The Raven moved off behind the sullen Rebraal and it was immediately evident that the elf had a new purpose about him. They thought he’d been moving quickly before but now he glided through the forest ahead, his feet sure, his passage obviously quiet even given the din of life surrounding them.
Hirad tried as best he could to mimic his movements, keeping low, head flicking from ground to directly ahead continuously. He felt a thrill course through him as they advanced. He had no idea exactly what lay twenty yards ahead, let alone at the temple, but his excitement at the thought of action drove him on. He felt himself detach from the world outside The Raven and his senses took on the clarity a warrior needed to survive the fight.
He could smell the sharpness of the plant life around him, the sweetness of fruit. He could hear their footsteps and their breathing and he could see a path where none had been before, obscured as it had been by his untrained eyes. But he never took his gaze from Rebraal for more than a few heartbeats. The Al-Arynaar was the barometer for what lay immediately ahead. He took them across a crudely hacked path and back into the forest, turned to his right, entered a small clearing and stopped dead. Behind him, Hirad held up a hand and The Raven were still.
Rebraal turned briefly, took them all in, one of his eyebrows perhaps edging up very slightly. Hirad looked down at his feet. He was standing on a human bone.
‘I can hear nothing,’ Rebraal whispered. ‘Follow. Slow.’
He set off again, Hirad and The Unknown in his footprints, Aeb, Darrick and Thraun close by and just in front of Ren and the mages. The slightest murmuring was heard as mana shapes were formed. Slowly, slowly, the vegetation began to thin and the building that loomed out of the forest was enough to take the breath away.
A great green-gold dome rose, partly covered in liana, lichens and mosses. It was a huge structure that should have been completely at odds with its surroundings yet somehow fitted them perfectly. Harmony, supposed Hirad.
That there was much wrong, though, was evident in Rebraal’s reaction to the place he apparently knew so well. He waved them hurriedly to a stop, crouched low to look either side of some obstruction, ducking his head this way and that, and finally stood and strode away.
‘Rebraal!’ called Ilkar, and broke position.
‘Get back in line, Ilkar,’ ordered The Unknown.
Ilkar complied immediately but Ren, right behind him, did not listen.
‘Ren!’ barked The Unknown, but she had gone on after Ilkar’s brother.
‘Raven, form up,’ said Hirad. ‘Let’s get after that idiot.’
All pretence at silence was gone. Ahead of them, Rebraal was calling to someone, his elvish urgent and strained. The Raven came on, slicing away vegetation, revealing more and more of the temple as they advanced, Ren in front, calling Rebraal’s name, her bow slack in her hands.
‘HardShield up,’ said Erienne.
‘SpellShield up,’ said Ilkar.
Secure, Hirad began a trot, The Unknown to his left and just ahead of him, Darrick to his right. Aeb and Thraun ran the other side of the big man. They burst into the stone apron clearing in front of the temple a few paces behind Ren, who had stuttered to a stop.
‘Get behind me now!’ roared Hirad.
The elf started and began to back off, head switching to either side. Rebraal was in the centre of the apron, walking slowly towards the temple doorway which was closed by rough wooden planking. From both sides of the apron and from behind the temple, elves were emerging.
Hirad stopped The Raven.
‘Check left,’ he said.
‘Twenty targets,’ said Aeb instantly. ‘More probably in shadow.’
‘Check right,’ said the barbarian.
‘Similar,’ said Darrick. ‘Bows and swords.’
‘Be calm,’ said Ilkar, voice quiet with concentration on his spell. ‘They’re Al-Arynaar.’
‘I’m taking no chances,’ said Hirad. ‘Keep focussed, Raven. Move slowly. Keep them in front of us if you can.’ Ren took her place in the line under Hirad’s glare. ‘Never again or you walk.’
‘But—’
‘Later.’ Hirad cut across her protest and returned his attention to the situation in front of them.
The Al-Arynaar - there were over thirty of them on the apron now - were clearly confused by what they saw. Their anger at the strangers in their midst was obvious enough but it was tempered by the sight of Rebraal. Hirad shuddered at the thought of what would have happened had he not been there. He’d had no inkling the elves were there until they appeared from the shadows. All that bothered him now was that they might decide Rebraal was an escaped captive. Shields or not, he didn’t fancy taking on this lot.
‘Rebraal?’ he called.
The elf held up a hand. ‘Quiet.’ But he looked round and the suggestion of a smile crossed his face. His next words were in elvish and Hirad heard Ilkar’s name mentioned.
‘Shield down,’ said Ilkar, and moved out from the line, stopping in front of Hirad. ‘Keep your guard up but don’t be aggressive. There’s no magic here but I’d keep the HardShield up if I were you. Some of them look a little twitchy.’
‘Be careful,’ said Hirad. ‘You’re vulnerable.’
‘I’ll be standing next to my brother,’ said Ilkar, but he didn’t appear convinced himself.
‘Yes, and not us.’
Ilkar nodded and walked onto the apron, Al-Arynaar eyes following him all the way. All Hirad could do was watch. Rebraal spoke quickly to an Al-Arynaar who had come forward to embrace him. He indicated Ilkar, gestured at The Raven and at the temple. Hirad saw him nodding, then start violently before running to the temple door, Ilkar right behind him.
The Raven took an automatic pace forward. The elves moved across the apron, blocking their route to the temple. Hirad held up a hand to calm them. He could see the hate dripping from some of their faces, the desire to kill clear in every gaze, the grip on every weapon and the intent in every stance. Perhaps fifty stood before them now. Too many.
From within the temple Hirad heard an anguished cry. Shouting echoed out into the forest. The rough doors were pulled aside and Rebraal came storming out, Ilkar pacing beside him, voice raised, talking into his ear. But Rebraal wasn’t hearing whatever it was Ilkar was saying.
‘Trouble,’ said Ren.
‘What’s he saying?’ asked Hirad, not turning.
‘Something’s been damaged in there. The statue. Rebraal’s blaming every stranger. That includes you.’
The tension spiralled. The Al-Arynaar bunched and moved forward as Rebraal and Ilkar passed them. Arrows were nocked, belt pouches unclasped and swords raised.