The Raven Collection
Chapter 20 : Hirad heard a whispering sound behind him. Denser looked past him, his eyes widened and

Hirad heard a whispering sound behind him. Denser looked past him, his eyes widened and he shook his head. Hirad turned, removing his foot from the supine mage. Denser's cat bored a stare of undisguised malevolence into him. He flinched, then grunted.

'Your cat going to sort me out, was it?'

'You're a fortunate man, Hirad.'

The barbarian swung round. 'No, Denser, you are. I should kill you. The trouble is, I'm beginning to believe you.' He stalked away through the village towards the first rip and, he hoped, The Raven. If there was anything left of it.

Chapter 12.

Dropping to the ground in Septern's study, Hirad caught Ilkar's eye. The elf smiled. To his left, Talan stopped in the act of shouldering his pack. Hirad gathered his thoughts as his heart rate returned to something approaching normal.

'I said not to come back,' he said.

Talan shrugged. 'You're Raven.'

Hirad sucked his lip, nodded his thanks.

'Did you find anything?' asked Ilkar.

Hirad inclined his head.

'Where's Denser?' Richmond was frowning.

'Thinking hard, I hope,' replied Hirad.

'What about?'

'His responsibilities. And how he treats The Raven - alive or dead.'

'What are you talking about?'

Hirad didn't reply immediately. He dusted himself down and turned to the rip. Its surface s.h.i.+mmered.

'Perhaps you'd better ask the great explorer himself,' he said.

Denser emerged from the rip, his cat right behind him. He studiously avoided Hirad's cold gaze, choosing to examine the floor as he steadied himself. Presently, he rose to his feet. The cat jumped into his cloak. Denser rubbed his chin, pulled the parchment from a pocket and handed it to Ilkar. The elf examined the reddening area on the point of Denser's jaw. He pursed his lips and looked past the Dark Mage to Hirad as he took the parchment. Hirad flexed the fingers of his right hand.

'This is it, is it?' asked Ilkar. Denser nodded. 'Well?'

'Some of it's Julatsan lore, just like the amulet. I need you to help me understand it.'

'I see.'

The two men walked over to Septern's desk, where a lantern cast light enough to read by.

Hirad sat down. Talan and Richmond came over and squatted by him, wanting answers to questions. Hirad obliged and sketched in the events in the village, always with one eye on the mage pair, whose body language and hurried voices suggested problems. Hirad also had questions of his own, and The Raven warriors' shaken heads and dulled sword blades provided ample answers.

It wasn't too long before Denser and Ilkar had finished and moved back to the centre of the rip in front of the three fighting men. Ilkar held the parchment, his face troubled. Denser stared impa.s.sively at Hirad. The barbarian ignored him and addressed Ilkar.

'So, what's the plan, my friend?' he asked.

'Well, there's good news and really really bad news. The good is that we know what we have to do. The bad is that we have next to no chance of doing it.'

'He's always been good at making things sound attractive, hasn't he?' Talan raised his eyebrows.

'A master,' said Richmond drily.

'Spell it out then,' said Hirad. 'No pun intended.'

'Right,' the Julatsan began. He glanced at Denser, who motioned him to continue. 'Septern, as we keep saying, was very clever. When he constructed the spell and worked out how powerful it actually was, he wrote three catalysts into its lore without which it would not work. Catalysts can be any number and anything the mage chooses; Septern could have chosen a mug of beer if he'd wanted. The point is that once the lore is written, it can't be changed, and Septern chose three catalysts he knew it would be all but impossible to bring together in one place.

'This parchment is the complete spell, and while it doesn't tell how the catalysts underpin Dawnthief, it gives their names and locations as he knew them.' He paused. The room was silent. 'You ready for this?'

Richmond shrugged. 'I doubt it,' he said.

'So do I,' said Ilkar grimly. He referred to the parchment. 'The first is a Dordovan Ring of Authority. Now, all four Colleges have these. They are worn by Lore Masters and are signs of rank and seniority. All Rings of Authority are individually designed and cast and are only ever worn by the one Master. When he or she dies, the ring is buried with them. The particular ring Septern names belonged to the Lore Master Arteche, and so will be in his tomb in Dordover.'

Talan s.h.i.+fted. 'So we have to go into a College City, break into their Masters' mausoleum and take this ring, right?'

'That's about the size of it.' Ilkar had the grace to appear apologetic at least.

'Can't we just ask them to hand it over?' asked Richmond.

'Come on, man, think!' snapped Denser. 'We'd be asking a College to desecrate its tombs and we couldn't tell them why because they'd try to control the spell. It has to be a theft and they mustn't know until afterwards.'

'Going to give the ring back later on, are you?' Talan's laugh was dismissive.

'I expect I will be forced to, Talan, yes.'

'Too b.l.o.o.d.y right you will,' muttered Hirad.

'Can we discuss this later, do you think?' Ilkar waved the parchment. 'There's more, and it doesn't get any better.'

'I can't wait.' Talan stretched out his legs.

'The second catalyst is the Death's Eye Stone.'

'I've heard of that, haven't I?' Richmond aimed the question at Denser, who nodded.

'I expect you have,' replied the mage. 'It's the centrepiece of the Wrethsires' religion.'

'That's right. Death wors.h.i.+ppers, aren't they?' His brow furrowed. 'Don't they have some magic?' He ground his teeth, thinking hard.

'Oh, yeah, "the fifth College".' Denser glanced across at Ilkar, his face all but dripping contempt. Ilkar huffed. 'They have no lore, no history and no mana ability. That they presume to liken themselves to the four Colleges is not only outrageous but a slur against magic itself.'

'But you're right, Richmond,' said Ilkar. 'They do wors.h.i.+p Death in the belief it'll free them from eternal d.a.m.nation, or something like that, and they do have some form of altered magic which they don't fully understand. It makes them dangerous.'

'They're going to love us, aren't they?' grumbled Hirad. 'Stealing their most important artefact.'

Ilkar shrugged. 'Denser never said we could pick the sodding things up from the market, did he?'

'No, he didn't,' said Hirad. 'He never wanted to tell us anything at all. I didn't choose to get involved in this and have my life totally screwed up, so if I want to moan about things I have to do that seem beyond my control; or about how he-' he stabbed a finger at Denser, 'has been responsible for the deaths of my friends, I will b.l.o.o.d.y well do so.'

Denser sighed. Hirad tensed but made no move.

'Have you got a problem with that, Xetesk man?'

'No, he hasn't,' said Ilkar quickly. 'Now then, the third catalyst.' He scanned The Raven, daring anyone to speak further. 'Right. Now this one poses a problem of location, because it's the Badge of Office of the Understone Pa.s.s Guard Commander.' There was a contemplative silence.

'But the Korina Trade Alliance lost Understone Pa.s.s nine years ago. There isn't a commander any more,' said Talan at length. He took the parchment from Ilkar, frowning at the lore script it contained.

'Exactly,' said Ilkar. 'So where is the Badge?'

Another silence. Hirad tried hard to suppress a smile but failed. He gave a short laugh and stood up.

'And you b.u.g.g.e.rs are always accusing me of not knowing my history!' he said.

Ilkar frowned at him. 'Explain.'

'When the pa.s.s was opened, the Badge of Office was given to Baranck, the first Commander, by the Baron Council, which, as I'm sure you're all aware, was the forerunner of the Korina Trade Alliance. That must have been over five hundred years ago - before the Wytch Lords came to power the first time.

'It was a purely ceremonial pendant but the regulation stated that it was not to be removed from the pa.s.s unless it was lost. In that event, the Badge was to be taken by the defeated Commander and kept as a standard for the forces who would eventually retake the pa.s.s.' He stared around a row of blank faces.

'Must I spell it out?'

'I think so, Hirad, yes,' said Ilkar.

'G.o.ds above, Ilkar, we were talking about him on the road the other day.'

'Were we?'

'Yes. And it looks as if I'll be getting my wish sooner than I thought.' Hirad bared his teeth. 'The last commander was Captain Travers.'

The loss of their Destranas would normally have led to harsh discipline, even death, but this time their information bought their lives. A day's ride from their encounter with The Raven near Septern's long barn, the Wesmen scouts stood in the centre of a clearing in dense woodland, speaking to their Shaman, who sat under canvas, drinking a colourless strength-giving spirit.

'It is as the Masters expected,' said the leader of the party. 'Easterners are searching the old house.'

The Shaman nodded and placed his cup on the ground. 'I must relate the news immediately. Prepare to leave. I think war may be very close.'

There was no argument. It wasn't just that the Black Wings' castle was the nearest of the three catalyst locations. That wouldn't have figured as an issue. The fact was that Hirad was not interested in going anywhere else until Travers and all the Black Wings were dead. With the day not far past its mid-point, The Raven ate a leisurely meal in the ruins of Septern's house before taking the horses back to the long barn. Hirad eventually agreed that they should not move on any further until the next morning; Ilkar's insistence that they give themselves the maximum daylight to escape the boundaries of the rip's influence was unshakeable. And the barbarian had to concede that a night spent in the total security afforded by Septern's sealed workshop, where no one had to stand guard, no one had to keep a fire tended and no one had to react to every sound, was a very attractive prospect.

The smoke from the camp fire continued to spiral calmly into the sky as the afternoon waned towards dusk. Richmond snapped a branch into three and added it to the small blaze, dry leaves crackling as they caught in the heat. Denser, having lost the toss earlier in the afternoon, was leaning against a wall, reading Septern's journal now that Ilkar had finished with it. His pipe was, as ever, clamped between his teeth, and his head never wavered, rapt in the information he was a.s.similating.

Faint sounds from the workshop below told that Denser's Familiar was still rooting around in Septern's other equipment and papers. The Dark Mage had cautioned them not to go down there. With Talan outside somewhere trying to make sense of the immediate area to give them some semblance of a route the following morning, Ilkar and Hirad were left to sit together in the wan sunlight.

'This Familiar,' said Hirad. 'What is it when it's not a cuddly cat?' Ilkar looked askance. 'I don't think you could ever accuse it of being "cuddly", Hirad. You're lucky it missed you with those claws back in the village . . . Look, about that incident-'

'Oh, G.o.ds, here we go.' Hirad placed his goblet on the ground and folded his arms. 'All right, let's have it, I shouldn't antagonise him, he's too powerful, right?'

Ilkar eyed Denser. The Dark Mage hadn't raised his head from the book. The elf cut his voice to barely more than a whisper.

'That's pretty much the size of it, yes. Now listen . . . and don't sigh like that, this is important. Not only is he too powerful, although I concede you won that last round, he's too central to this whole thing for you to pick fights with him.'

'I wasn't picking a fight,' hissed Hirad.

'Will you let me finish?' Ilkar's ears p.r.i.c.ked in irritation. 'Officially, now that we have all the knowledge - you know, the words and the whereabouts of the catalysts - we could ditch Denser and try this out ourselves. But as I said the other day, he's the only one with the teaching to cast Dawnthief with any chance of success at all. Do you follow me?'

'What do you think?'

It was Ilkar's turn to sigh. He briefly put a hand over his face. 'Right. Umm, when you practise alone with a sword, it's with a dummy opponent, yes?'

'A hanging sack or maybe a mirror.' Hirad shrugged.

'But you don't know that the moves you're trying will work until a fight, do you?'

'I can't argue with that.'

'And if you didn't practise them at all, you'd have no control over them, would you?'

'What is this, a test?'

'Just answer the question,' said Ilkar. 'I'm trying to put it in terms you'll understand.'

'Fair enough.' Hirad s.h.i.+fted, took another gulp of his wine. 'No, Ilkar, I'd have no control over them, and what's more, I wouldn't even think of trying them in a fight. Satisfied?'

'Yes, and it's the same with spell-casting. Exactly the same.' Ilkar moved so that he was squatting in front of Hirad. 'If I try to cast a spell I haven't practised, it stands a good chance of not working, maybe even going wrong, and that can be fatal. Denser has trained all of his life in the casting of Dawnthief, so he knows in theory how to say the words, shape the mana and so forth. There's no guarantee it'll work in a live situation but, like you and your training, he'll be confident of success and he'll find out when push comes to shove. Do you understand now?'

'Yes. So I won't kill him.' Hirad leaned in close to Ilkar. 'But I will not have him risking himself that stupidly if he is so b.l.o.o.d.y crucial to all this. And I will not have him take chances with the memories of my friends!' Hirad's voice was audible all across the ruin. The noise in the workshop stopped, Denser looked up from his reading and Richmond paused in the act of hanging a pot of water over the now resurgent fire.

After a brief stare in which Hirad saw Denser smile thinly in Ilkar's direction, the Xeteskian buried his head once again.

'Anyway, so what about this Familiar, then?'

'Well, it's likely to be some kind of semi-intelligent winged demon, or so I've been taught.' Ilkar gave a slight shrug. 'That's the only reason I can think of for Denser being so anxious that we don't see it out of cat-form.' Hirad's face was completely blank. The elf closed his eyes. 'You may have learnt about Travers, Coldheart, but in all the years I've known you, you've clearly never listened to a word I've said, have you?'

'Well, most of the time you were talking about magic and all that rubbish.' Hirad grinned.

'You seem pretty keen to learn about it now,' returned the mage.

'It's important now.'

'It was important then!' snapped Ilkar.