‘There’s something you have to know. I’ve had a report on the Triverne Lake meeting. There is a four-College agreement which deals with the raising of an army to defend Understone Pass and Triverne Inlet. Apparently, they are trusting Blackthorne and Gresse with the defence of the Bay of Gyernath.
‘Unfortunately, the rest of the KTA have chosen to ignore the warnings and it’s leaving the country largely undefended should the Wesmen break through our lines.’
‘Sounds about right. And how did they react to the news that we were after Dawnthief?’ asked Ilkar, imagining the sparks flying.
Denser said nothing.
‘Well?’
His smile faltered. ‘There was no news. We didn’t tell them.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The other Colleges have no idea that we are looking for Dawnthief,’ Denser looked away.
Ilkar’s ears pricked and his eyes narrowed to slits, blood boiling in his head. He stood up, unable to sit beside the Xeteskian.
‘How stupid of me to think that Xetesk might consider a Wytch Lord-backed Wesmen invasion more important than their own advancement.’ Ilkar breathed deeply. ‘You know, I was beginning to believe that Xetesk had really turned the corner. And now it seems that their prime objective isn’t to see our country out of this crisis, it’s to be sure they are dominant should we win.’
‘But it isn’t the way I think,’ said Denser.
‘No?’
‘No!’ Denser’s face coloured. ‘Why do you think I told you in the first place?’
‘Because it would have been pretty bloody obvious when we got to Dordover and didn’t find them standing at the gates with the ring gift-wrapped for us, that’s why!’
‘I understand you must be angry,’ said Denser.
‘I don’t think you understand anything at all!’ stormed Ilkar.
‘Your College is expecting us to go on fighting and dying and not for the greater good of Balaia. I will not be a pawn of Xetesk and neither will The Raven.’
‘So what do you want to do?’ asked Denser into the vacuum.
‘Well, that’s the worst of it, isn’t it?’ said Ilkar. ‘I don’t have much choice but to continue, because I believe Balaia is under threat. But let me tell you this. Now Erienne and I are both with you, Dawnthief belongs to the Colleges, not just Xetesk.’
‘You’re going to find this hard to believe, but I agree with you, and I do feel for your position,’ said Denser. ‘But I also agree with the position of Xetesk and you’re wrong if you think that Xetesk wants dominion. But if we had announced the search for Dawnthief at Triverne Lake, the interference would, we believe, have jeopardised the entire job, and with it Balaia.’
‘Convenient,’ muttered Ilkar. ‘If you really believe that, then you’ve swallowed too much of your own doctrine. Whatever, we now have to go into Dordover under cover because your Masters have not learnt the power of cooperation. None of us had better get hurt.’
Sol walked in through the front gate and disappeared around the side of the house. Ilkar felt somehow that he was under close scrutiny. He shivered inwardly. Something about the Protector made him uneasy. At least this time he could put a finger on it almost straight away. The mask. It was simple, plain and black - carved, Denser said, from ebony. It was moulded to his face but would not, the Xeteskian assured, be a good likeness.
To Ilkar it looked like no one living, and that was certainly apt. He shivered again, as the reason for the mask rose unbidden in his mind. Protectors were effectively living dead, men promised to the Mount of Xetesk from birth and called should they die. So long as the soul could be taken, the body could be re-created. It was a hideous hangover from centuries of Xeteskian misuse of the living and the dead. It should have been banned but the Dark College refused to give up one of its most powerful callings.
And what the reanimated body and soul went through, Ilkar could only guess at. None would ever tell, as they were bound to silence except in the course of duty. To break the binds was, said Xeteskian lore, ‘to bring down an eternity of torment in the Mount such that Hell itself would seem release, peace and tranquillity for the soul in thrall’. That same lore stated of Protectors that ‘never again shall light or the eyes of the living gaze upon their faces. Neither shall they speak unless the life of their Given should suffer risk if they did not do so.’
Singularly, Protectors were utterly loyal bodyguards, knowing dissension would bring down torment, but the real reason for their creation was that an army of Protectors would move and fight with a power and synchronicity that would be practically unstoppable by all but magic. And even that wasn’t certain. Protectors were gifted an innate magical defence when they were created. They were truly terrifying adversaries.
Sol would be Denser’s mute shadow everywhere the mage went, and the shadow he cast would be large indeed. He was a huge man. Bigger than Thraun, perhaps even bigger than The Unknown. Crossed on his back were a double-handed and bladed axe and two-handed sword. Ilkar fancied that he could wield one in either hand and made a mental note to be out of the way when he did. He dragged his thoughts back to Denser.
‘Sorry, I was distracted. That makes his appearance rather easier to understand, doesn’t it? You were going to say something.’
Denser relit his pipe, flame as always from the tip of his right thumb. ‘I noticed. He will not harm you. He has been closely informed of the who and the what of our situation.’
‘Who by? I haven’t seen you say more than a dozen words to him since he arrived.’
‘He has been walking with my Familiar.’
‘Enough said. Go on.’
Denser shifted his position slightly and brushed some grit from beneath him.
‘Well, our decision not to talk about Dawnthief at this stage, and we will announce it when the time is right, has given us another problem.’
‘Why are The Raven working for Xetesk?’ Ilkar framed the question.
‘Exactly. And this gives us a big problem where we’re going next.’
‘Dordover.’
Ilkar pursed his lips.
‘If you, Hirad or I are seen in the City it will trigger untold problems with the Dordovan College. We can’t afford a split because if we don’t stand together, the Wytch Lords will trample us underfoot.’
‘We’re going to have to be incredibly lucky in there not to be spotted.’ Ilkar shook his head, wondering how the Colleges would ever stop bickering long enough to stand together. He tried to believe Denser a liar but somehow, given that he was as much at risk as The Raven, he couldn’t. The actions of Xetesk, though, were despicable.
‘We aren’t going in at all. Will, Thraun and Jandyr will have to do this alone.’
‘And Erienne?’ Ilkar was uncomfortable with trusting the theft of the Lore Master’s ring to untried and unknown people. Yet he knew Denser’s solution made sense.
‘We can certainly trust her not to betray us.’ Denser’s eye had a twinkle. ‘But that’s not the problem. She’s not exactly Dordover’s favourite daughter and if we have to send her in, well . . .’
‘I don’t like the feel of this at all,’ said Ilkar. ‘I need to think. I’m going to check on Hirad.’
Selyn awoke with a start, the sound of running feet jerking her to instant wakefulness. It was late afternoon and she would have normally remained asleep for another two or three hours before casting her ShadowWings for the journey to Parve. She lay concealed in a dense area of shrub midway up a crag that overlooked the road from the Torn Wastes to Terenetsa. She was still four days from Parve.
Moving carefully to avoid rustling the foliage all over her, she edged her head above a rock formation and looked down on the road. Wesmen were jogging past, thousands of them, punctuated by Shamen on horseback. She watched for five minutes, trying to gauge the strength of the unbroken line of armed and fur-clad men running towards Understone Pass.