‘I know.’ Heryst was silent for a while. ‘I have no real idea how many men and mages I have left in the field,’ he said eventually. ‘I’ve been in three Communions since dawn. Two of them with terrified individuals barely able to keep their concentration and talking about scattered bands of my people being hunted down by familiars, mage defender trios and come nightfall, no doubt, assassins too.
‘Neither could put a figure on the casualties but, conservatively, let’s say the reinforced line this morning lost eighty per cent. Say it’s the same north. It leaves us with a force of less than three hundred facing nearly a thousand Xeteskians just north of the city. And that’s assuming we include the walking wounded and can regroup to form a sensible defence. We’re finished, aren’t we?’
Vuldaroq surprised himself by reaching out a hand and laying it gently on Heryst’s arm.
‘Not until the last of our soldiers lies dead. Not until Dystran himself stands before me in my own Heart. Don’t lose hope. Not now.’
Heryst nodded. ‘I know, I’m sorry. Bad moment.’
‘Forget about it. Instead, tell me what you’re planning for those you still have camped south of Xetesk.’
‘You know, I haven’t planned at all. We’ve been trying to pull the pieces together.’
‘Join with me, then,’ said Vuldaroq. ‘Our belief is that Xetesk has only enough men inside the city to defend it, not strike out at any other targets. Move your men with mine north to Julatsa because the battle for Balaia will be fought there. If you have enough strength left in Lystern you must do it.’
‘I will direct them to your command,’ said Heryst.
‘Good. That’s a wise decision. And now, I’ll leave you. I think you have people to contact, fears to quell as best you can.’ He stood to go. ‘One thing. Your man, Izack. He saved a lot of Dordovans this morning. I won’t forget that.’
Heryst smiled. ‘Thank you.’
Vuldaroq nodded and left, the door to opportunity pushed a little wider open.
She understood her name but she could not recall it beyond her Loved speaking it to her. But she knew why she was here and who was friend and who was prey. She could sense that which instinct told her she should not. And she understood that which mere men did not. She was ClawBound and no one could break a bond forged since birth. No one.
She padded swiftly through the unfamiliar lands. Every scent was foreign, every pawfall unlike any other she had experienced before the journey. A brief shudder ran down her flanks. The ocean had been broad and the land had moved upon it. Small and stinking of men, though the Keepers were in charge. And her Loved had always been by her side.
The memory was distant and it passed quickly through her mind. Now, she protected. The Keepers were running. Threat was everywhere. It could not be allowed the freedom to strike.
So she moved beyond them, her Loved nearby, directing and calming her, stroking her mind. She sampled the scents that assailed her, distant and close. The plants, the flowers and the trees, healthy and growing. The small prey animals, quivering and scared when she passed them, ignoring them for now.
Upwind, there was threat. It was not far. She let free with her emotions, her Loved understanding the change within her, the tightening of her focus ahead, the increase in her pace. He matched her.
A small animal appeared in the path. Fur black like hers, the size of a cub but sleeker. She would have termed it a relative but the scent told her it was not of her family. It radiated danger. Her Loved closed in to guard her while she investigated.
The animal stopped in front of her, waited for her to approach, didn’t flinch as she pushed her muzzle in very close. In every mannerism, it was a distant cousin, small and fragile. But it radiated a strength and a strangeness that she had never encountered before. It scared her. She withdrew a pace and growled low in her throat.
The animal mewled, darted in and pushed a paw into her face. It should have been playful but the claws bit deep. She bared her teeth and cuffed the animal hard. It tumbled over and over into damp leaf mulch beneath a tree. But as it fell, it became another. Bigger, with limbs like a monkey. The fur vanished and a head full of fangs and spitting anger looked at her, a long leathery tail whipping behind it.
She yowled in shock, leaping away unsure, her Loved coming to her side. The creature rushed at her, making a chittering sound. Confused and fearful though she was, instinct took over. She crouched low, waited her moment, and sprang.
The creature was fast but she was faster. It had looked to bite her but instead found her front paws, claws exposed thumping into its chest and bearing it to the ground backwards. It screeched and spat, tried to work its arms and tail free, its legs scrabbling just beneath her belly but far enough away. She clamped her jaws around its skull, looking for the crushing grip. She flexed the muscles in her face, pressing and pressing but there was something wrong. Although it was helpless under her weight it was not trying to struggle and her teeth were making no impression. She released and bit again, striking hard. Again, no impression.
She pulled back her head, knowing above all that she must not let this creature gain purchase. She looked down at it, snarling, saliva dripping from her mouth. It looked back, cocking its head on one side. It spoke. She could not understand. But then the sky burst with blue and there was noise everywhere.
They hadn’t tried to hide their progress and their intent was clear. Hirad watched them fly clear over the elves running hard north, well out of range of any spell. He counted four familiars, ugly shapes against the afternoon sky, and four mages, their masters, grouped behind them. Somewhere, he was sure there would be riders, swordsmen to add defence to the strike that was certain to come in against the forward runners.
‘Who’s ahead?’ asked Hirad of Rebraal who ran easily by the side of his half-cantering horse.
‘ClawBound. Three pairs. TaiGethen sweeping behind them.’
‘That won’t do it. The familiars can only be damaged by spells.’ He looked round. ‘Sian, get up behind me. Darrick, Thraun, you’re staying here. Raven with me!’
Sian’erei swung up behind Hirad, clutching him around the waist. He dug his heels into his horse, The Unknown and Denser behind him, elves scattering from their path.
‘Come on!’ Hirad felt an exhilaration flow through him as he urged his horse to greater effort.
They were riding through the wreckage of a small wood, trunks broken and bent, dead wood scattered thick and wide. Branches hung low and obstructions were everywhere. His horse picked a clear path, forcing him and Sian to duck and sway in the saddle. The air blew about his head, his braids flying out behind him. It was a wonderful feeling in the midst of such desperation.
They were closing fast on the forward positions of the TaiGethen when the first spells began to strike about a quarter of a mile ahead.
‘Concentrate on the familiars!’ he shouted to her. ‘One at a time. We’ll protect you. Take the mages and swords out for you.’
‘I understand.’ Her voice was unsure.
‘You have to trust the magic, Sian. Believe it won’t fail you.’
In front of them, TaiGethen sprinted from cover, bows strung and taut, arrows ready or swords and jaqrui in hand.
‘Hirad, circle!’ yelled The Unknown. ‘Let’s backdoor them.’
Hirad pressed his thigh in left and dragged the reins around, turning his galloping horse. Above, a familiar dived from treetop level, lost among the odd living bough that studded the wreckage. The damp smell of smouldering vegetation and the first tendrils of smoke reached them. To the right, he saw TaiGethen pause, release arrows and run on again.
‘Twenty yards,’ he warned Sian. ‘Hang on.’
He hauled the reins in, horse protesting at the treatment, snorting and stamping.
‘Off, off!’ he ordered, swinging his leg over the horse’s neck and jumping down, dragging his sword from his scabbard. ‘Behind me. Stay behind me.’