Erienne half laughed. ‘That’s one hell of a story,’ she said. ‘And what do you say, Ilkar? Or I presume you are Ilkar, the Raven mage?’
‘I believe him,’ said Ilkar, his voice soft and weak.
Erienne raised her eyebrows. ‘Really? Well, that is impressive.’ She walked stiffly to the doors, not bothering to wipe her cheeks. ‘You know I didn’t have the power of life over my children, but I have it over you. Or death,’ said Erienne. ‘My children need me.’
‘Think hard, Erienne,’ said Denser to her back. ‘And get rest. Replenish yourself. Right now, the fate of Balaia is in your hands.’
Erienne paused and turned to Denser. He managed to catch her eye and hold it. ‘I mean it,’ he said.
She left the room, Thraun shadowing her all the way.
‘It’s going to be a long night,’ said Denser.
Ilkar stirred, wincing. He opened his eyes and looked around blearily.
‘Where are the others?’ he asked.
‘Who?’ Will walked towards him.
‘Talan and Richmond.’
Will’s gaze flicked to Denser and he bit his lip. Denser felt a new weight settle on his heart.
‘I saw Talan fall. I don’t know about Richmond but, well, he’s not here. I’m sorry.’ Will shrugged.
Ilkar shook his head slowly and refocused on Hirad. The barbarian’s breathing was shallow but he was stable for now. Ilkar only hoped there was a point to it all. Denser could keep him alive and he could keep Hirad alive for perhaps another twelve hours, but that was all they could do. The efficiency of the beatings administered by Travers’ men had seen to that. Then, the mana, the last drops that even Travers couldn’t take from them, would be gone. And when the support went, the final nails would be in place and The Raven would be lost for ever.
Denser squeezed his shoulder. ‘She will help us. Just hang on.’
‘There’s nothing else I can do,’ said Ilkar. ‘He’s all I’ve got.’ He looked at Hirad’s face, still and calm. ‘Just you and me now, old friend. Don’t even think of dying without me.’
He would have lapsed back into his semi-trance, his mind roving in Hirad’s ruined stomach to feel where his trickle of life-sustaining mana could do most good, but the bottom doors opened and in walked joy and sorrow in equal measure.
A little unsteady on his feet but very much alive, Talan entered the room. Will and Jandyr relaxed their stances; Will smiled. So did Ilkar for a moment. But his euphoria was quashed as easily as it had arisen. In Talan’s arms, his legs limp from the supported knees, head lolling and arms hanging, was Richmond. The fact of his lifeless body was etched in Talan’s grim face. The warrior laid his friend on the nearest table.
‘This is one Vigil too far,’ he said. ‘It must . . .’ His eyes, so far locked on Ilkar, moved to capture Hirad. A look of pure panic swamped his grief. ‘Oh, no,’ he said, his voice leaden. ‘Please God, no.’ He started to move but Denser’s voice stopped him and the relief he felt at the mage’s words robbed his legs of their remaining strength and he sat heavily.
‘He is still alive,’ said the Xeteskian. ‘And we can keep him that way for the time being.’
‘And then what?’ Talan felt disquiet at Denser’s tone.
‘Erienne, I hope. She represents Hirad’s only chance.’
‘What do you mean, “I hope”?’ Talan probed the back of his head, felt the swelling, the crusted blood, the matted hair.
‘Her sons are dead; her life, she believes, is over, and she holds The Raven to blame.’
‘And if she doesn’t help?’ Talan’s face suggested he knew the answer. Ilkar merely confirmed his fears. And worse.
‘Hirad will die,’ he said. ‘And so, I am afraid, will I.’ The Julatsan offered Talan a bleak raising of the eyebrows, then his mind once more was lost to Hirad’s desperate cause.
Talan put a hand to his mouth and massaged his bottom lip, the thudding at the back of his skull forgotten as he contemplated a far grimmer reality. It was laid in front of him yet he still refused to completely believe. And at the same time he knew there was no doubt. Ilkar always called things as he saw them and he’d just called the end. Possibly. The key was Erienne. She had to be made to understand. He stood up.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Denser.
‘Where’s Erienne?’ demanded Talan.
‘You can’t help by confronting her,’ said Denser.
‘And what would you know?’ shouted Talan. ‘Is it your friends dying in front of your eyes? I don’t think so. The Raven has been taken down for the first time and it could get even worse. She has to understand the consequences—’
‘She knows.’ Ilkar’s voice was dark with fatigue. ‘We have to trust that her mage instincts will override her grief before it is too late.
We’ve done all we can.’ He breathed in, a ragged sound full of pain. ‘Please, no more noise. This is hard enough already.’
‘We could all do with some food, I’m sure,’ said Denser. ‘The kitchen’s—’
‘I know where it is.’ Jandyr went in search of sustenance, partly in response to Denser’s request but mainly to get out of the room. The intensity of hurt, of grief and of loss was all but tangible. He found it oppressive. Closing the door on it, he could breathe freely again. He stepped past two bodies and made his way to the range.
Ilkar probed with his mind and fingers, allowing the mana to ease from him in life-sustaining pulses. Isman’s sword had driven deep, lacerating and severing Hirad’s intestines in half a dozen places. Its point had nicked his spine but there was no other damage to his back. The main worry stemmed from the upward trajectory of the thrust, taking the blade through the barbarian’s stomach. His digestive system was in total collapse, his multiple internal cuts needed constant attention and Ilkar was just waiting for his kidneys to fail.
A WarmHeal wouldn’t be enough - two or three, carefully targeted, might do the job but he wasn’t sure Hirad had that much time. The simple fact was that Hirad needed a BodyCast and Ilkar knew of only three mages who could cast it in reasonable safety. None of them was in this castle.
With Hirad tended for the moment, Ilkar turned his mind on himself. He could feel the mana pulse and drip from Denser’s hands. Over his chest, the gentle flow had stopped the bleeding in his lung, relieving his breathing, while from the base of his neck, pulse after pulse of mana fled down his veins to caress his most damaged internal organs.
Ilkar sent a prayer of thanks that in this one way at least, the Colleges would forever be united - every mage had the ability to use tiny amounts of mana to maintain a body in whatever condition it was found and indeed were morally bound to do so. Nevertheless, Ilkar had still found Denser’s actions surprising. Perhaps he shouldn’t have.
Time crawled. Ilkar was dimly aware of strong daylight edging around the heavy drapes, and of being fed soup. But as the hours wore on, Hirad required more and more of his concentration and the world beyond faded.
He was tiring, he knew that. It was evident in the return of pain in his back, arms and legs. Denser couldn’t cover it all. His mana remained where it would keep Ilkar alive. But the Julatsan’s mana reserves were stretched, and as they became ever more so, he demanded yet greater input from Denser.
There would come a point when neither of them could suppress the pain in their own bodies as their mana was all directed elsewhere. Then, the end would be near. Then, Erienne would have to help, or he and Hirad would die.
Styliann relaxed, smiling to himself as he recovered from the communion. He pictured Selyn in his mind, saw her body arching with pleasure, all but felt the caress of her lips and the gentle touch of her hands. Her return would signal a change. He needed a son.