‘If you want to run, run now.’ They needed no further invitation.
Ignoring the men he had felled, Denser untied the horses and climbed on to one, his ShadowWings gone. Jandyr paused to cut the arrow from his lifeless victim.
‘Let’s go, come on.’ Denser urged his horse to move, the others following mutely. Jandyr hauled himself into his saddle and the race was on.
Erienne felt her lungs were about to explode. Her heart slammed painfully in her chest, her legs were tree trunks and her head thudded. She was slowing them down, she knew, and behind her, the pursuit was closing. An arrow missed her by inches, plunging off into the street where an innocent was equally lucky. Shouts of recrimination reached her ears and that threat at least was removed.
Beside her, Thraun still ran easily, and half a dozen paces ahead, Sol, with the Familiar standing on his right shoulder, one hand pointing the way, the other arm around his head, cleared a path with his presence alone.
They were running up a wide street towards the centre of Dordover. It led straight into the central marketplace, taking them past the old grain store which was now the headquarters of the City Guard. While the roads around the College were quiet following nightfall, Dordover was a lively city after dark, and the City Guard were plentiful, policing the street theatre crowds, the food stalls and the alleys where whores plied their trade and the dagger was as much currency as was coin.
As she thought to shout a warning, Sol veered right, taking a narrow passage leading directly away from the main street. Here, the life ahead was replaced by the quiet menace of the industrial quarter. Footpads haunted the shade and every corner was a trap for the unwary. With no lamplight, the shadows extended their dark fingers across the ground. Erienne stumbled but remained on her feet, while behind her, Thraun howled. The sound bounced from the walls and echoed into the sky like a cry from hell. Erienne found herself wondering who was chasing them and whether the noise would stop them. It would have stopped her, she was sure of that.
Running on, she followed Sol round a left-and-right combination into a wider alley. Tall buildings rose to either side, their walls glaring down, deeper black than the night. Thraun was again at her side and she could hear the mob behind. Their shouts were mixed with the unmistakable sound of hooves clattering across stone and slapping through mud.
And then she could see them approaching through the gloom, reining to a halt in front of them. Sol ploughed on, the Familiar back in cat form, and Erienne realised the two horsemen had to be Denser and Jandyr. She staggered into the group.
‘Are you hurt?’ asked Denser.
‘Don’t talk to me,’ she managed between gasps. ‘They’re close. We need to rush.’
As if to add weight to her words, the chasing pack of around twenty men burst into the alley. Arrows raided and skipped off the walls and the Dordovans charged. Sol threw Will across his saddle and all but picked Erienne up and dumped her in hers. Mounting up, he wheeled his horse in a tight arc and galloped off. In a cacophony of whinnies, flashing hooves and ducking heads, the others followed.
Thraun turned and ran at the enemy.
Leading the way, Sol pushed his horse back past the warehouse and left into the main street. Denser was close behind, with Erienne, her strength gone, clinging grimly to her saddle and flanked by Jandyr, who held the reins of Thraun’s riderless mount.
Arrows flew over his head towards the horses as Thraun crashed into the front of the mob, his bulk bearing him straight over one man to bury his jaws in the neck of another. A swing of his head and the victim’s throat was torn out, his cries lost in blood. In ten seconds of claw and fang, Thraun had scattered the bewildered pursuers. Some had run, some backed off. Others lay still and one or two would never move again.
His job done, he broke off and stretched his limbs for the long run into the forest, howling his delight as he went.
Chapter 22
‘It’s exciting being in The Raven, isn’t it?’ said Hirad, leaning back against his tree and stretching his legs in front of him.
‘Feeling more comfortable about it now, are you?’ asked Ilkar.
‘No, I’m feeling surplus to requirements.’
‘Well, you’re not.’
‘You know what I mean.’
The campsite was clear. All equipment was stowed and tied to the saddles, and the three horses, which included Denser’s, were tethered just a few yards away.
Hirad smiled, remembering his friend’s urgent words as they scurried around the camp to clear it. And now they’d been sitting with their backs to trees for getting on for an hour. He thought he ought to be worried about what was going on in Dordover, but for some reason, apart from his remaining anger at Denser, he felt oddly calm. Maybe it was just that none of them was original Raven so he didn’t care that much. Actually, that was certainly part of it, but there was more - there were some of them, Thraun and Jandyr in particular, in whom he found he had great confidence. Almost the sort of confidence he had had in The Unknown and Sirendor. Almost.
Sadness fell on him with the force of night, and the memories swept through his mind, images of death and loss overwhelming the good times he recalled so fleetingly. Ras dying as they fought around him; Richmond trying to defend a man he didn’t even know and paying with his life; The Unknown, his blood soaking the earth outside the low barn; and Sirendor . . . Sirendor, his life draining away while all Hirad could do was watch. For all his great words, he hadn’t been able to protect any of them, and now Talan was gone too, driven away by fear and the knowledge that if he stayed on his death was inevitable.
He wiped at his eyes and looked over at Ilkar. Gods help him if he lost Ilkar, his only link to The Raven he loved and for which he had lived.
His heart began to race and his breathing shallowed. It was all beyond his control. There in Dordover, the fate of the new Raven, and perhaps that of Balaia, was being decided, and he was on the edge. A peripheral figure reduced to saddling horses and clearing campsites. Maybe they’d been right those short weeks ago in another life when they’d joked about his age. It was no joke. He’d slipped from leader to led and he hadn’t noticed the change. Denser. Denser had done it. And the one thing he couldn’t have was Denser in command of The Raven. Not after what he had caused.
He lifted a shaking hand to wipe across his nose and took a slow, deliberate breath, glancing again at Ilkar, hoping his fears weren’t written for all to see. But Ilkar wasn’t looking at him. He’d cocked his head to one side and, as Hirad watched, put an ear to the ground, hands either side, and tensed.
Hirad was already halfway up by the time Ilkar said:
‘Someone’s coming.’
‘Let’s hope it’s them.’
‘Well, I’m not standing around waiting to find out.’ They ran for the horses but had not covered half the distance when light bloomed behind them, creating a false dawn, sweeping away the night and throwing sharp shadow ahead of it. A heartbeat later, the detonation and a noise like rushing water.
The horses bucked and pulled at their tethers. Hirad clutched at his mount’s bridle, dodging a flailing front hoof and coming face against a wild rolling eye.
‘I don’t like the sound of that!’ he shouted, trying in vain to calm his horse as he tugged to release the rein.
‘No time,’ gasped Ilkar. ‘Just get on.’ His horse was calmer, and Denser’s, after flinching violently at the light, was still.
‘On this?’ Hirad hauled the rein free and his mount whinnied, front legs pawing the ground. ‘We’re going, we’re going!’ He hooked a foot into a stirrup while the mare jumped and snorted, threatening to bolt before he hit the saddle. ‘Calm down, damn you!’ He swung on to its back and forced some semblance of order on the terrified beast. As he turned it, a wolf streaked into the clearing from the direction of the light and away into the forest the other side. His horse reared again. He couldn’t hold it.