‘So, Hirad,’ he said, beckoning him on. ‘Let’s see if you measure up to the real thing.’
The man lunged forwards, thrusting to Hirad’s open side. The barbarian switched his blade between his hands, blocked the attack aside and drove an uppercut into his enemy’s exposed chest.
‘Didn’t think so.’
Hirad left him to bleed to death and turned back to The Raven, slapping the riderless horse away. From the back of the group, the elf had detached and was spurring his horse towards the gathered villagers.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ breathed Hirad and set off after him.
The mage cast, his ForceCone meeting Erienne’s implacable shield. Denser’s focused Orb drove him from his horse to die screaming in flame on the dry earth. Thraun and Darrick had stopped the fledgling charge of two of the group, and, like The Unknown, had hands on reins or bridles, keeping themselves out of strike range in front of their enemies’ horses.
The last rider broke and galloped away to the north of the village and open ground, abandoning his comrades to their fates. The Unknown beckoned the leader down and waited while he drew his sword. Beside him, Darrick and Thraun killed effortlessly.
‘Are you who you say you are?’ asked the leader.
The Unknown nodded, his sword tapping again. ‘At least you will have faced me.’
The leader brought his sword to ready. The Unknown ceased his tapping, made nonsense of his double’s ponderous defence and skewered his heart. ‘But not for long.’
Hirad sprinted through the crowd and after the elf. ‘Get back here, you bastard. Face me! Face Ilkar!’
He would never catch him but he ran on anyway, hoping for a slip, anything. A shadow moved against the buildings at the end of the village and leapt unerringly. The riderless horse galloped on a little way before losing momentum. On the ground behind it, Hirad saw Auum’s single thrust. He stopped running, smiled and walked back to The Raven.
‘What about the other one?’ asked Hirad.
‘Leaving one to tell the tale can’t hurt.’
He stooped and cleaned his blade on an impostor’s clothing, sheathing it and walking towards the villagers. Hirad glanced around. So easy. So effortless.
‘Not much of a security force, I wouldn’t have thought,’ he said to Darrick.
The General, one hand pressed against his opposite shoulder, tried to smile.
‘No. Can you help me with this?’
He lifted his hand. The arrow had struck him just under the collarbone. Darrick had snapped off the shaft to leave a couple of inches remaining.
‘That was careless,’ said Hirad.
‘Denser let his shield down,’ said Darrick. ‘No blame intended.’
‘Indeed I did,’ said Denser, coming to his side. ‘The least I can do is sort you out. Hirad, why don’t you talk to our new friends or something?’
Hirad shrugged and wandered off after The Unknown. Some of the villagers were walking into the combat area, staring dumbly at the bodies and blood.
‘Looks like you’ve got yourselves some new horses anyway,’ said Hirad. ‘Hope you don’t mind clearing up. Think of it as payment.’
He saw the odd nod and smile but there was wariness amongst the villagers.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘You didn’t need them. And they weren’t who they said they were. They deserved it. They were damaging the reputations of friends I have lost.’
The Unknown was standing with Ferran. The farmer was frowning.
‘And what will you do now, take their place?’
The Unknown shook his head, smiling. ‘We’ll move on in the morning, like we said.’
‘Are you The Raven?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘We have tales to tell,’ said Ferran.
‘Fair enough.’ The Unknown looked across at Hirad, who shrugged. ‘Yes, we are The Raven. Very different from the tales you’ve been told, I expect. We’re tired, we’re wanted by both sides in the war and all we want to do is leave Balaia and hang up our swords.’
‘Leave?’ Ferran’s eyebrows raised.
‘We’ve done all we can,’ said Hirad. ‘And there are too many out there who will thank us by having us locked up or executed. Draw your own conclusions.’
Around them, the crowd stood mute. Not quite believing what they were seeing, what they had heard, or what they were hearing right now. Hirad couldn’t help but chuckle.
‘None too impressive-looking, are we?’ he said. There was a little laughter in the crowd. On an impulse, he continued. ‘But we couldn’t let them go. We couldn’t. So many of those they were mimicking are dead friends. And I will not stand by while their memories are sullied by this sort of filth, and while the deeds of those with us now are ignored.’ He gestured at the corpses. One, his double, still breathed. Hirad hoped he was being heard. He continued.
‘We lost Ras at Taranspike Castle, Sirendor Larn was poisoned by a Xeteskian assassin and Richmond died in Black Wings’ castle. All more than six years ago now but they are the names you have been told, are they not?’
There was a murmur in the crowd. Heads were inclined. They hung on his every word.
‘Yet there were so many more. Jandyr, who died on the fields of Parve; poor Will Begman, terrified from his life by the touch of a demon. Aeb, the Protector who sacrificed his soul to The Raven. And Ilkar. Ilkar who even in the act of his death, saved the rest of us. That is what The Raven is. That is who we are and what those of us who remain represent.’ He indicated them one by one. ‘Erienne; Denser; Thraun; Darrick; The Unknown Warrior. And me, Hirad Coldheart, lucky enough to have stood with them all.’
He stopped, aware that he was welling up and that his voice was in danger of breaking.
‘So,’ he said and clapped his hands together, smiling as he swallowed at the lump in his throat. ‘Do you have ale and wine here?’
‘That we do,’ came a voice from the crowd.
‘Good. Then anyone who wishes, join me in raising a tankard to The Raven, all of us. I’m buying.’
The Unknown turned to Ferran as the crowd broke into excited conversation and set off as one to the tavern. ‘Is that a good enough tale for you to tell?’
Ferran nodded. ‘His heart speaks, doesn’t it?’
‘Always,’ said The Unknown. ‘Hey, Coldheart, get over here.’
Hirad strode towards him and found himself enveloped in The Unknown’s arms.
‘Well said, Hirad. Well said.’
Chapter 6
Tessaya ducked as another FlameOrb smashed into the rubble of a building behind him, its deep blue flame gorging on whatever wood it could find. The garish light it cast threw harsh shadows on the walls and ground around him. He ordered another attack on the gates.
Conservatively, he reckoned he had lost a third of his men to Xeteskian sword and spell; most of them when the tower and parapet had collapsed the previous night. Riasu was dead, so were at least two other tribal lords. Tessaya himself was bandaged along one arm, cut and burned in four places he could feel and probably others he couldn’t.
But the belief of the Wesmen was unwavering. Here they stood, in front of Xetesk’s college gates, night full around them and the defenders increasingly desperate as their strength ebbed away.
Tessaya concentrated much of his efforts on the gates though he had tribesmen all round the walls under command of their tribal lords. The tactic was simple. Hit and run. Force them to use spell and arrow. Keep them from consolidating in one place. Fear nothing. Not even the winged demons, impervious to the kiss of metal. Even they could be dealt with if the will prevailed.
Tessaya glanced right. One of the creatures was pinioned beneath the rubble its masters had created. It cursed and spat, struggled and shifted. But the four warriors guarding it simply piled on more stone. It would not escape and its humiliation undermined it. Without fear as a weapon, it was diminished.