Elfsorrow Part 57

Hirad knelt by his head and Avesh felt a hand gently smooth down his hair. He tried to speak but all he succeeded in doing was coughing more blood onto the soaked earth on which he lay.

'Shh,' said Hirad. 'Don't talk. Lie still.'

'C'mon, Hirad,' said The Unknown Warrior.

'No,' said Hirad. 'The least we can do is be with him. It won't be long.' The barbarian appeared in his vision again, a frown on his weathered face, eyes betraying grief barely held in check. 'Why did you do it?' he said. 'You were fighting the people trying to help you. If magic dies, this land dies. Didn't you understand? All we want is Balaia returned to peace with its magic a force for the good of all. Has so much really changed in so few years? How was your memory so short?'

Avesh opened his mouth but the words wouldn't come.

'I'm sorry for your pain but I couldn't let you get in my way,' said Hirad. 'You're a fool, you know that? Blinded from the truth by a madman.'

Avesh felt tears in his eyes. He nodded. At the last he understood. It was all so simple. If only The Raven had ridden into the camp and not the Black Wings he'd be with Ellin still. Ellin. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.

'You're a good man,' said Hirad. 'It's in your eyes. I hope you have people waiting for you.'

Avesh smiled and nodded again. Atyo. He'd be seeing Atyo. In fact, he thought he could hear his son calling him.

Hirad let The Unknown drag him to his feet and the two men stood over the dead man for a moment.

'That was good of you, Hirad.'

'I killed him, Unknown. He never stood a chance. He was just a farmer.'

Hirad let his gaze rove over the compound again. The elves stood in silent respect; Denser, Erienne and Darrick were sharing a water skin and the Protectors had picked up Aeb's mask and were mustered near the door.

'What about them, Unknown?'

'I'll speak to them before they go but what they'll face I just don't know. They're so vulnerable but the scale of their rebellion might even save them for now. Dystran can't afford to kill them all. He'd lose the war.'

War. Hirad raised his eyebrows. He'd forgotten there was one. And just now he didn't care who won. All he knew was that The Raven had lost too much for one day. For any day.

'I'll see you back at the campsite,' he said to The Unknown. 'Come on, Thraun, there's Raven we need to carry to the Vigil.'

It was night and the TaiGethen had begun their walk back to Blackthorne and the Calaian Sun. Rebraal had stayed with The Raven. They'd found candles in Understone and four stood about the freshly turned earth of each grave, representing the points of the compa.s.s. It was time for the Vigil, one that Hirad had never thought he'd face.

The Unknown stood by Aeb, Erienne by Ren and Hirad by Ilkar. The barbarian nodded to the big man and he spoke for all of them.

'By north, by east, by south, by west. Though you are gone, you will always be Raven and we shall always remember. The G.o.ds will smile on your souls. Farewell in whatever faces you now and ever. The Raven will ride together again one day.'

As he spoke each point, candles were snuffed until darkness covered them all.

The Raven did not move from the graves until dawn cracked the sky, but after the silence they talked, though Darrick and Thraun contributed little. They recalled battles and arguments. They cried and laughed together, they speculated on who would be next. It lightened their hearts and their spirits just a little.

'You never really got on with Ren, did you, Hirad?' said Erienne.

'Ilkar loved her and that was enough for me,' said Hirad. 'Let's face it, we'd none of us ever seen him so happy.'

'Evasion, surely?' accused Denser. 'You can do better than that.'

'All right, all right.' Hirad held up his hands. 'I'll admit she had her faults as far as The Raven was concerned. She was a brilliant archer, the best we ever had, but she was so impetuous. Look what she did at the temple.' He paused. 'And look what she did yesterday. '

The Unknown nodded. 'But we'd have taught her. And what she did was extraordinary. Proved she was Raven. Prepared to give her life for one of us without question. That's why I honour her.'

'I'll drink to that,' said Hirad. 'As soon as we get to Blackthorne, anyway.'

'I'll miss the arguments, you know,' said Denser. 'I loved listening to you two.'

'You're not so bad at it yourself,' said Hirad. 'And don't worry, I'll switch to you now. Got to have someone to poke fun at.'

'You mean you haven't started yet?' asked Denser.

'Oh, my dear Denser,' said The Unknown. 'There were ten years before you even joined. You don't know the half of it. He hasn't even begun to scratch the surface.'

The sky was lightening. The new day was coming. It would be a day without Ilkar, and for Hirad that was something awful to contemplate. But in his death he'd given hope to every living elf, and that was something that burned in Hirad's heart with an intensity that would never wane.

He stood up, brushed himself down and turned to The Raven.

'Come on, it's getting light. Time to leave our friends to rest a while.' He knelt and patted the earth of Ilkar's grave. 'See you, Ilks, but got to go.

'It's a long way to Calaius and we've got work to do.'

Epilogue.

Erienne knelt before the statue of Yniss and its shattered hand that the Al-Arynaar had reattached but did not have the magic to bind.

Are you there? she asked.

Yes, Erienne, said Cleress. Before we start, tell us how you felt in the stockade at Understone. You used the One.

Were you with me?

Of course, but only to help you should you falter. We cannot afford to lose you. But you learned the essence of it all. Casting reflects desire. You wanted The Raven to have time to talk, and you gave it to them. You will be able to achieve almost anything but this strength is also the curse. Go further than the power of your mind and the One will swamp you, kill you. This is the limitation you must understand before we can withdraw from you.

I didn't feel in control.

You were not, said Myriell. Not entirely. It will become more natural as you begin to understand how it feels.

Erienne shook her head. No more now. Elves die as we speak. What must I do?

We will guide you, said Cleress. You must open yourself to the One, let us feel what you feel.

I'm just a conduit, right?

You are far more than that, said Myriell, her voice weak and distant. But for this binding, yes, you can put it that way.

What should I do?

Just place both hands on the statue. One on the thumb and one on the fracture at the wrist. Then delve down into the ent.i.ty and feel us there with you.

Erienne placed her hands where she was asked and closed her eyes, tuning her mind to the mana spectrum. She dived deep within herself, down to the hated pulsating ma.s.s in her mind that was the One. She hovered above it for a moment, then plunged in.

The energy that stormed through her body was as overwhelming as it was beautiful. It took her breath away, stopped her heart and stole the strength from her limbs. But still she lived, still the blood raced through her veins and her grip on the statue was secure.

She felt uplifted and everything around her was so clear and pure. The water in the pool next to her, Auum and Rebraal standing near her, their bodies taut with tension, their minds so complex, so dark and yet so fundamentally good. She pushed outwards and everything was in focus. She could feel the beating heart of a bird in a nearby tree, she could feel the roots of the tree itself, growing down as they sought nourishment. She could feel a panther and its partner outside the temple, their bond closer than mother and unborn child, and she could feel The Raven, strong but bowed by grief, waiting for her. Waiting and hoping she could do what she was asked.

This may be painful for you, said Myriell. I am sorry if it is so.

Do what you must. I am ready.

Very well.

The sound of their voices grew in her mind and at once the tendrils of the One started to move together. The language was ancient and elvish but power reverberated in every syllable. They were forging a shape like a cast. It was huge and rotated, dragging the essence of the One from the ent.i.ty inside her, melding it to what they had already built.

And then came the pain. From the tips of her toes to the top of her scalp, every nerve came alive and shrieked. The raw spirit of the One was surging through her, only kept in check by the strength of the Al-Drechar's minds. The tendrils fattened to great twining ropes feeding into the structure that blossomed as it grew.

She knew she was juddering with the force of it all; her eyes and mouth flew open, spittle rolled over her chin and she heard a low wail that she didn't realise at first was coming from her. The voices grew so loud in her head she feared she would pa.s.s out but the One kept her upright; it wouldn't let her go.

The marble of the wrist, hand and thumb was moving, moulding and shaping. Like ants crawling on the forest floor, it shifted over itself, knitting together, the movement seething upwards, the stone feeling alive beneath her fingers. It pulsed and writhed, every shard moved to its place, every nick was covered and every crack smoothed away.

Her eyesight began to fade as the sound of the Al-Drechar's voices dropped to a low ba.s.s. The floor under her began to vibrate, water in the pool splashed, dust filtered down from above, settling on her arms and head. She saw the sheath of mana pa.s.s over the hand, up the arm and then across Yniss's body. And as it did, her body quivered, every muscle in minute spasm, her nerves still alive and open, her pain quite without peer.

Yet beneath the agony she felt the purity of the force, the completeness of the One. She caught a glimpse of the world with the One as its keeper. It was the harmony. It was Yniss on earth. It was wonderful.

Outside, The Raven waited nervously. The Al-Arynaar had closed the temple door, and even when Erienne began to wail they would not move. All Denser could do was pace.

Hirad stood with The Unknown as time dragged on, still feeling the bitter taste of fresh grief in his mind.

'All this death and we achieved none of the things we left Herendeneth to do.'

'Wouldn't have been anywhere else though, would you?' said The Unknown.

'No, I suppose not.' Hirad scuffed at the ground with his feet. 'You know, I'm starting to believe in destiny. For The Raven, that is.'

'How do you figure that?'

Hirad shrugged. 'Just look at the facts. Everything major that's happened has involved us right at its core. It's like we were supposed to be there when Denser found Dawnthief. Supposed to be there when the rip was torn in the sky. And the rebirth of the One magic? Could have happened to any two mages, potentially, but it didn't. It happened to Erienne and Denser. And now this. If we'd come here ten days earlier, we'd have known nothing about Elfsorrow until Ilkar caught it. But we were here. And we could help.'

'Up to a point,' said The Unknown grimly. 'So what's next? Not a quiet retirement.'

'No,' said Hirad. 'Aside from finishing what Ilkar started by coming here, there's the little matter of a college war going on. Reckon you're up for that? See, if it goes the wrong way before we're ready, there are things won't get done.'

'Ah. Well, I reckon I could stir myself,' said The Unknown. 'For a good cause or two.'

The door of the temple opened and Erienne emerged. Auum and Rebraal supporting her on either side, they led her over to Denser, kissing her cheeks before draping her in his arms. Across the stone ap.r.o.n, elves were offering prayers of thanks, their faces uplifted, light in their eyes, the haunting fear of imminent death removed.

'I take it this was a success.'

Rebraal nodded. 'Yniss is rebound. He will bless us once again. Can you not feel it? The harmony is growing again. It embraces us all.'

'And how do you feel, Erienne?' asked Denser, crushing his wife to him and stroking her back with his hands. 'How does it feel to have saved the elven race?'

'Tiring,' said Erienne. 'I think I need to lie down.'

Auum moved in front of Hirad and bowed his head, speaking a few words.

'He is thanking you for all you have done. He salutes you and grieves for your loss. Among the TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar, you will always be welcome.'

'It's what we do,' said Hirad.

'I'm sorry we mistrusted you,' said Rebraal. 'I hope you will let us travel back to Balaia with you, to carry on the fight.'

'I was counting on it.'

Rebraal smiled.

'I'd give it all up to have him standing here,' said Hirad.

'Would it help if I told you that in death he saved all of this majesty for every elf ever born from now on?'

It was a different take to his own but a good one. Ilkar, father of the elves.

Hirad smiled. He rather liked the sound of that.

There are those without whom writing a novel would not be the pleasure it (mostly) is. Simon Spanton, who is a great friend and an inspirational editor; Nicola Sinclair, who juggles a keen eye for publicity with Olympic cla.s.s arguing; Sherif Mehmet, a production guru with a neat line in veiled threats; and Robert Kirby, an excellent agent who manages to keep smiling despite the football team he supports . . .