Above the rushing sound, hoofbeats, and Denser broke cover.
‘Go, go,’ he yelled, and plunged off after the wolf. Erienne galloped through, holding an arm in front of her face to ward off branches, and behind her came Jandyr and a riderless horse, followed by Sol with the body of Will across his saddle. None of them paused in their flight.
Hirad fought his horse in desperate circles as it champed and kicked, too scared to run in any direction. And then as it slowed to a stop, quivering before bolting, Hirad looked into the light and saw what the rushing sound was. Fire. Moving towards him, engulfing tree, bush and grass faster than a man could run.
‘Oh, dear God!’ He hauled on the reins and jabbed his heels in hard. The horse responded. Into the fire was certain death. At least following the wolf gave them a chance.
And as he began to gallop into the forest, Hirad couldn’t shake the vision of the wolf from his mind. If they weren’t chasing it, there was only one reason why they should be following it, and that reason made Hirad’s stomach lurch.
Ilkar drew to Erienne’s side as they exited the forest a few hundred yards from the clearing. He’d lost sight of Hirad and could barely hear the other horses he knew were around him, the roar of the FlameOrb was so loud. That it was a type of FlameOrb he had no doubt. How they’d managed to create one so big and powerful was another matter.
‘When will it burn out?’ he yelled at Erienne.
‘The forest is fuelling it, it won’t reach far past the borders.’
‘How did they do it?’
‘ManaStack. It’s a co-operative spell casting. I knew they were working on it but I had no idea they’d applied it to the FlameOrb. It’s very draining, they’ll all be spent who cast it.’
‘Then why are we still running?’ asked Ilkar.
Erienne began to rein in and, further ahead, could see that Denser had reached the same conclusion. In fifty yards, the dash was over and, horses wheeled, they lined up to see the FlameOrb spend itself at the edge of the forest.
‘Where is he?’ whispered Ilkar. ‘Where is he?’ The yellow bloom of the FlameOrb grew as it thrashed towards them. Above it, a thick cloud of woodsmoke cluttered the night sky, obscuring the stars. On the grassland in front of the tree line, the shadows lengthened at a frightening pace as the flames demolished an area of woodland easily seventy yards across. With a great whoosh it broke clear of the confines of the trees and expired in the open air, and as the last flame faded to orange and disappeared, Ilkar saw a single silhouetted figure on horseback, riding hard towards them.
The elf let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding and his face cracked into a grin. He looked across the line of horses, caught Denser’s eye and nodded. Denser raised his eyebrows.
‘Not easy to lose, is he?’ he said.
‘No,’ agreed Ilkar. His face hardened. ‘Right, Erienne, what can we expect now?’
‘The casting mages will be spent but there may be others. There were certainly some soldiers in the pack. No doubt they’ll be behind the flame.’
‘And not far behind it,’ said Jandyr. ‘Look.’ Ilkar followed his hand and saw seven or eight people running out of the forest. And, skimming the trees, a pair of mages.
‘Damn,’ said Ilkar. ‘Can we outrun them?’ Erienne shrugged her shoulders. Hirad pulled up, his face red with exertion, his horse shaking all over.
‘Too close,’ he said. ‘Too bloody close.’
‘It’s not over yet. We’ve got ten to deal with,’ said Ilkar.
Hirad turned his body and stared behind him, squinting slightly into the half-light from the stars and the fires still burning in the forest. He slid off his horse. ‘We’ll take them here.’
‘We’ve got two mages in the sky,’ said Ilkar.
Hirad shrugged. ‘So shield us. You’re the best there is.’ He looked right and left. All but Sol were still on their horses. Gods, he’d have to drill them. The Raven would have been in skirmish formation by now. If they weren’t all dead. Sol was already striding forwards, unhitching his sword as he went. At least someone knew what was going on.
‘Jandyr, to Sol’s left. I’ll take the right. Where’s Thraun?’
‘No time to explain, but—’
‘He’s a shapechanger. Gods alive!’ said Hirad. He pushed the knowledge from his mind. ‘We can do it with three swords. How many of them are there?’
‘Eight swords, two spells.’ Ilkar began readying the shield. ‘Either of you two know HardShield?’
‘I can’t cast,’ said Denser, drawing his sword.
‘Yes,’ said Erienne.
‘Good. Get it over our heads, I can sort the magical attacks. Denser, put your sword up and go away with the horses. Send Thraun back if you see him.’ Ilkar locked eyes with the Xeteskian for a moment. The latter put up his blade, whistled to his horse and trotted away behind them.
Thirty yards and closing Hirad felt a double surge as the magical and hard shields went up around them. Jandyr loosed off an arrow, taking down one man. He thought to try another, but they were closing too fast. The enemy mages landed to cast; a spell clattered against the shield, flashing orange as it died.
Hirad breathed deep and roared to clear his head. Just like the old days except they weren’t so old. The enemy were splitting, trying to flank them. He glanced over at Sol. The masked man stared straight ahead, taking in the scene, concentration so complete it could almost be felt. Just like . . . Hirad became aware of a sound and looked to the ground in front of Sol. The Protector was tapping the tip of his blade rhythmically against the ground. Hirad almost dropped his, clutching it as the nerves returned to his muscles. Just like the old days.
‘Unknown!’ he shouted. Sol turned to him, and there, in his eyes, was the unmistakable flicker of recognition.
‘Fight,’ he said, his voice laden with sorrow.
‘But . . .’ began Hirad.
‘Fight,’ said Sol again. From nowhere, Thraun smashed into the enemy’s left flank and battle was joined.
Nothing could stop Hirad. No one could stand in his way and he almost felt sorrow for the hapless Dordovan soldiers as they were systematically destroyed. His heart was full of joy, the back of his mind full of confusion, but his fighting brain was irresistible.
As the first man went down under Thraun’s jaws, the enemy strategy fell to pieces. Hirad battered the nearest skull, while beside him the big man slaughtered two without even moving his feet. Sensing Jandyr holding his own, Hirad strode forwards, slitting the stomach of one, parrying a blow from a second then slicing his sword through the attacker’s hamstrings as he was forced around. The two remaining men turned and fled, their mages close behind them.
‘Shield down,’ said Ilkar, staring at Sol. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’
‘Are you kidding?’ asked Hirad, his face alight. He wiped his bloodied blade on one of his victims and resheathed it. ‘Ilkar, it’s him! I don’t know how, I don’t care, but it’s him!’
‘Please, Hirad,’ implored Ilkar. ‘This isn’t the time.’
‘What do you mean?’ The smile was fading from Hirad’s lips.
‘Just bear with me. We have to get away from here first, then we can talk.’ Ilkar started walking in the direction of Denser. The elf could see the Xeteskian’s face and knew at once that he had no idea of Sol’s former identity.
‘Hang on.’ Hirad tugged at Ilkar’s shoulder. ‘Has this got something to do with him being a Protector?’
Ilkar stopped and faced him. ‘Everything.’ He held up a hand against Hirad’s next utterance. ‘And Denser knew nothing. He has no say over the choice. Please, let’s go.’ He was moving again, leaving Hirad to throw his arms up. Thraun loped by.