‘We will prevail,’ assured Chandyr.
‘Will we?’ Dystran snapped. ‘And what leads you to that happy conclusion? Our astonishing defence of our city walls or our ability to demolish our own warehouses and civic offices? Commander Chandyr, we have exchanged one siege for another and I must say that I found the former far more agreeable. More spacious. I fear that our chances for victory lie not in arms but in spells. Prexys, what of our casting strength?’
The old Circle Seven mage scratched his head and allowed a small smile to cross his face. ‘As Ranyl would undoubtedly have said, we have had easier times for our stamina reserves and for the security of our dimensional gateway for their replenishment.’
Dystran nodded. ‘But he is not here, though your thoughts are welcome. How long do we have before Tessaya knows we are spent enough for him to attack?’
Prexys sighed. ‘He is a clever man. He probes close enough to force casting almost continually but he is not losing men at the rate we need. You know how depleted our mage strength is. We can cast at our current expenditure for another day at the most before it becomes apparent we are struggling. And with the dimensional team out of the picture temporarily, we have nothing else to throw at them except our few remaining soldiers.’
‘I see.’ Dystran sucked his lip and turned to face Sharyr. He and fifteen of the team had made it back to the college. All were resting bar him and he was fit to drop, his face not washed clean of the dust of the walls. ‘And why are you out of the picture, Sharyr? I would have thought a day plenty enough to ready yourselves for a decisive casting.’
Sharyr’s eyes widened. He shivered. ‘You can’t ask us to do that again. You saw what happened. The alignment isn’t there. We cannot contain the energy.’
‘They are already through the walls, Sharyr,’ said Dystran. ‘Scatter the power wherever you choose. Destruction of buildings is a small price to pay for all of our lives, surely?’
‘With respect, my Lord, you don’t understand.’
‘I understand that alignment closes with every passing heartbeat. I understand that fifteen rested men can and will cast on my command if it becomes necessary. I understand that there is no price I am not willing to pay for the survival of this college.’
‘Even its destruction?’ Sharyr raised his voice.
‘Well now, Sharyr, if it were destroyed, it would hardly survive, now would it?’
‘Damn you, don’t patronise me!’ shouted Sharyr, shooting to his feet. ‘We were not enough before and we are not enough now.’
‘You will not—’
‘There is residue where the connection with inter-dimensional space was made. Something of the tear remains, I’m sure of it.’
Dystran paused and frowned. ‘What are you trying to tell me?’
‘That we may have caused permanent damage, my Lord,’ said Sharyr, calming a little and sinking back into his chair. ‘And that casting again might cause us serious problems. You see, my Lord, if there is still the residue of a tear, I have no idea how to close it.’
‘We had a tear in our skies once before, as you will recall. It could have led to an invasion of dragons. Please tell me this is different.’
‘Oh, quite different, my Lord,’ said Sharyr. ‘There is no hint of a link to any other dimension at this stage. I’m just currently at a loss how to deal with it.’
‘Then I suggest that you rest now, Sharyr. And when you are rested, see that you investigate what you have left in my sky. I will have my spell ready, with you or without you. Because when I pay my last respects to my dear friend Ranyl tomorrow night, I will have peace and not a horde of Wesmen vermin battering at my door.’ Dystran smiled thinly and saw the fear in Sharyr’s eyes. ‘I trust I make myself clear.’
The village of Cuff was a settlement of probably fifty houses and farms nestled in a shallow and sheltered, tree-lined valley. Grazing animals ranged free up and down its length, crops were sprouting through fertile earth. To look at Cuff, it was clear the Nightchild storms had hardly touched it. The scene before them was at odds with much of the rest of Balaia given war and so many displaced people.
While farmers worked their land and the odd fisherman netted the free-flowing river on which the village stood, others on horseback patrolled its borders and guarded the crests of the valley east and west. Two rough watchtowers had been built, visible at either end of the village, looking out north and south along its single track.
The Raven approached at an easy trot, the elves running beside them in the late afternoon sun. The ClawBound had disappeared. Hirad’s guess was they were already downwind of all the livestock and horses. In the trees to the south, hunting.
‘Times are hard and people are desperate,’ said The Unknown. ‘We’d be the same. Let’s tread carefully, Raven.’
‘What do you think about the guards? Mercenary or local?’ asked Hirad.
‘Soldiers,’ said Rebraal. ‘Well armed. Used to armour.’
‘We probably know them,’ said Hirad.
‘That’s not necessarily a good thing,’ said The Unknown. ‘Let’s be prepared. Just don’t look like you are.’
There was a price on The Raven’s capture and return to Lystern or Dordover. Probably a very high price at that.
‘I’ll keep my hand just far enough from my sword to be of no use if there’s trouble,’ said Hirad.
‘You know what I mean.’
Hirad smiled. He glanced meaningfully at the TaiGethen moving fluidly by him. Even without their faces painted, he found it hard to imagine them anything less than fully prepared. Readiness oozed from every pore.
They watched the mercenaries gather at the head of the village to meet them. It wasn’t an overtly threatening gesture but a statement of intent nonetheless.
‘There are seven. Four swordsmen split two and two on horses. Three behind. Two mages, one archer,’ said Rebraal.
‘Hirad, watch the right-hand side. Rebraal, Auum, look for others joining. I’ll watch left. Thraun, back me up, Darrick to Hirad. Denser, prepare HardShield, Erienne, SpellShield.’
The Unknown’s words calmed them to focus. No one moved a muscle in response. No hand strayed towards a weapon yet they all had their targets. It was enough.
At twenty yards distance, a strong voice sounded out at them. In the fields and on the river, all action had ceased.
‘Dismount and walk, strangers.’
A moment’s hesitation.
‘As he says,’ said The Unknown. The Raven dismounted. His voice lowered to a mutter. ‘Mark the far left, hand to his sword. Archer is loaded and tensed. No reaction, Raven. These are not our enemies. Yet.’
They slowed, the elves falling naturally into narrow order with them, sensing the threat they might otherwise pose. The Unknown brought them to a halt five yards from the first mercenary, who they took to be the leader.
‘What would you have us do?’ asked The Unknown.
‘State your business.’
‘Rooming and food for the night. Stabling for our horses and supplies for the journey in the morning. We have coin for all we need.’
The man in front looked them over slowly, appraising. He lingered over the elves. Hirad took the opportunity to weigh up the mercenaries. They appeared capable enough. Confident, at ease. Hirad raised his eyebrows. One of the mages was an elf. Echoes of the past.
‘Food is short, costs are high,’ said the mercenary leader. He was a large man, carrying a two-handed sword across his back.
The Unknown shrugged. ‘We can cover your costs.’
The leader nodded. ‘We’ll see. Enter. Find rooms where you can though I would suggest Ferran’s barns and house over there is your best bet. You’ll pay in advance for everything. We don’t appreciate late-night chases, if you understand me.’
‘Perfectly,’ said The Unknown. He relaxed his face. ‘We’re no threat to you. We are just passing.’