Ravensoul (44 page)
‘What the hell is he muttering about?’ Dystran poured a clear oily liquid into a goblet and handed it to Densyr. ‘Just don’t let him lose the grid.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ said Densyr.
He tuned into the mana spectrum. The shapes that signified the Heart and Septern were no longer distinct. Like the Heart had reached out and grabbed him, part-consumed him. Or that he had decided to become one with it. The Heart itself appeared normal in terms of flow and density but Septern’s mind map was confused and flickering.
‘Septern. Septern, can you hear me?’ Densyr laid a hand on Septern’s arm. ‘Dystran, I think you might want to join us. Is Vuldaroq anywhere nearby?’
‘In the catacomb chambers, working on resonance theory with Sharyr,’ said Dystran. Densyr heard him kneel down. ‘Are you going to use that spirit or . . . ? Oh dear Gods drowning.’
‘Septern, what are you doing?’ demanded Densyr.
‘I didn’t even think this was possible,’ said Dystran.
Densyr shook his head. At least the remnants of the ward grid appeared to be calm. He’d done something to stop the loose ends flailing. A gentle blue pulse was running along the existing lines. A circuit had been closed, temporarily at least.
‘Nor me. Septern?’
‘Mmmm . . . ore control. Beauty. Form fails.’
Septern’s breathing was shallow and rapid.
‘He’s pouring himself into the Heart,’ said Dystran.
‘He can’t,’ hissed Densyr. ‘It’s like making yourself the wind or fire or something. Can’t be done.’
‘Can we be sure?’ asked Dystran. ‘On the point of death, when our soul is about to leave our body, who’s to say what is possible?’
Densyr heard wonder in Dystran’s voice. ‘I think you’re missing the point, rather. He’s supposed to be buffering the failing grid from feeding back into the Heart and blowing it to smithereens.’
‘And who’s to say he isn’t doing just that? Presumably you want to know whether we should try to bounce him out using the spirit.’
‘And?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Smashing,’ said Densyr. ‘Septern. How long can you survive like this?’
‘Approaching . . . near. Survival no. Change. Have seee nn . . . Nottt harm we.’
‘Septern, you are making no sense. Can you keep the grid secure any more?’
‘Always always. Housssseess safe.’
‘He’s delusional, Dystran. If he loses his mind, he loses any hold on anything.’
‘Can you be so sure? Really sure, I mean.’
‘I hardly think this is the time for research and experimentation concerning the soul’s ability to fuse with mana on death. We have to know if he’s secure. Xetesk depends upon it.’
Dystran remained calm. ‘Look at the Heart. Look at the ward grid. Steadier than you or I could achieve, no?’
‘I’m aware of that,’ said Densyr through gritted teeth. ‘But he is surely close to death. When that happens, we might lose the college.’
‘You can step in, Densyr. I can help you. What other duties must you be free for?’
‘Nothing much. Organising my guard, directing my mages, securing my college and defending what remains of my city and hence Balaia. Trivial, really.’
‘But nowhere are your talents more useful than in saving the Heart. Is there really anything more important than that?’
Densyr dropped out of the mana spectrum and looked at Dystran hard, searching for signs of duplicity. Any senior mage had to be considered a threat, even one who had willingly stepped aside from his post.
‘It is one of a number of key areas,’ fenced Densyr.
‘Let me command the defence. I do have certain experience in that area.’
‘Following my orders?’
‘Naturally, my Lord Densyr.’
‘Knowing I could pull the plug on any opportunist ambition by simply disconnecting myself?’
‘That is a comment unworthy,’ said Dystran.
Densyr shrugged. ‘I’m Lord of the Mount. I can suspect who I damn well choose.’
Dystran chuckled. ‘And a fine one you are too. And thinking clearly at last.’
Densyr was interrupted by a commotion a little way down the wide spiral stairway leading up to the chambers that had become his centre of operations.
‘Ah, excellent. At least someone is capable of following my orders. I do believe the reluctant Raven are about to be presented to us.’
There was no knock on the door. Rather it flew back against its hinges so violently that a cracked decanter was upset on a nearby table, crashing to the ground and spilling fine wine over a priceless rug. Glasses rattled on the tray and a bookend fell over, disgorging some rather ancient texts onto the floor, mercifully clear of the pool of vintage red.
Auum, Ghaal and Miirt issued across the floor to stand far too close to both Densyr and Dystran. Following them came the bizarre menagerie that was The Raven, Sol’s family, a trio of wolves and a ClawBound pair. Thraun pushed his way to the front and laid Hirad on the table, taking a cushion from a chair for his head.
Densyr’s mouth dropped open, and when he closed it, he had to suppress what would have been an ill-timed smile.
‘How did you . . . ? Oh, need I really ask; I know already. Three elves and a few dead people are plenty enough to breach Xetesk’s inner sanctum these days.’
‘And we should not have been forced to try,’ said Sol, unhitching himself from Diera and Sirendor and moving painfully to a free armchair. His sons sat one on each of the leather arms and Sol put an arm around each one’s shoulders. ‘Ilkar, can you help me with a little pain relief? My back’s the worst. Followed by my hip and then everything else.’
‘What do you want?’ asked Densyr. ‘I haven’t time to chat right now. We are unsure if the enemy are defeated.’
‘You can be assured they are not,’ said Auum, standing less than a pace away from Densyr and piercing his skull with those cold, hard eyes.
‘All the more reason to let me get on with defending what little we have left,’ said Densyr.
‘You can do what you like. We only want Septern.’ While Sol was speaking, he was looking at the master mage, his frown deepening. ‘Is he all right?’
‘That depends on your—’ began Dystran.
‘No. He’s dying,’ said Densyr. ‘He’s currently engaged in stopping the Heart of Xetesk from exploding. So you can’t have him. Sorry.’
‘But we must,’ said Ilkar.
He moved towards Septern, and Densyr tensed to stop him. Auum shook his head minutely. Densyr backed off. He watched Ilkar tune into the mana spectrum and saw the disbelief register on his face.
‘I think we have a problem here,’ said Ilkar.
‘Why?’ asked Sol.
‘Septern appears to be inextricably melded to the Heart of Xetesk. It’s like he’s poured his soul into it.’
‘Is that possible?’ asked Sol.
‘Apparently.’
‘So what do we do? We have to get him out of there,’ said Sol. ‘I doubt very much that we have a great deal of time.’
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa. No one is getting anyone out of anywhere.’ Densyr tried to talk around Auum. ‘Please try to understand. Simply wrenching Septern back would be like setting the tower complex atop an erupting volcano. Ilkar will confirm, I’m sure.’
‘Then you do something,’ said Sol. ‘Now.’
‘Why, Sol? I’m not unhappy with the situation as it stands.’
‘No? Really think you’ve turned the tide, do you? Well let me tell you something, O Lord of the Mount. While you were hiding up here, some of us, as you’ll recall very well, were in the middle of the shit storm you unleashed. We saw Garonin die for sure. But we also saw their air machine rise above it all. You think it’s gone? Then you are more stupid than I ever imagined. They’ll be back and what do you really have left?’
‘What do you want Septern for anyway?’
‘He knows the ritual of opening,’ said Sol, and he clutched his sons a little tighter and shared a glance with Diera.
‘Commm . . . ng,’ muttered Septern. ‘Fsssst sss-sston.’
‘What’s he saying?’ asked Ilkar.
‘Nothing that makes any sense,’ said Sirendor.
‘Coming. Fist. Stone,’ said Jonas. He blushed into the silence. ‘Well that’s what it sounded like to me.’
Distantly, an explosion was heard. Densyr’s heart tolled painfully.
‘Oh no.’
The flat horn tone sounded once more but this time appallingly close. Papers were picked up and shredded. The balcony doors smacked back so hard that one fell from its hinges. Miirt reacted the quickest, heading outside to look.
‘It is right above us. And there are Garonin in the ruined city. Many hundreds.’
‘Endgame, Densyr old chum,’ said Sol. ‘Your time has just run out.’
‘I will not let this city fall.’
Sol stood, ignoring his pain, and marched over. Auum moved aside for him.
‘Fine, but let everyone who doesn’t share your vision take the chance to run if they want to.’
‘No! And I’m saying that for you, Sol. Because I care. Their demand that you die is one that no friend should ask of another.’
‘But they may ask it of their king, and their king agrees it is the only path.’
‘You will not take Septern.’
‘Watch us,’ said Auum.
‘Looks like you’d better be ready to fill the breach, doesn’t it?’ said Ilkar, already with a hand on Septern’s shoulder. ‘You know I can wake him.’
Combat erupted all around the college. God’s Eyes, IceBlades, Winter’s Touch. Spells arced away to strike the Garonin machine where it hung directly above the tower complex. Coming through the blasted streets, a large force of Garonin drew heavy fire from the east walls. Septern’s face darkened. His hands twitched and a low growl escaped his mouth.
Wards triggered out to the east.
‘Not appprooo . . . ch.’
‘You cannot move him,’ said Densyr. ‘We’ll all die if you do.’
‘You aren’t talking to a room that cares terribly much,’ said Sol, but he looked over at his family and the desperation within them was clear for all to see. Young Hirad had his face buried in his mother’s chest. Jonas’s eyes were everywhere. And Diera was glaring at her husband.
‘Sol. Don’t let this be the end. Just don’t. We deserve better.’
Sol stared at Densyr. ‘My family are three of those you have sworn to save. Help them.’
Lines dropped past the balcony window.
‘Here they come,’ said Miirt.
She drew her twin short blades. Auum did likewise, giving Densyr a telling look as he turned away to join her. Ghaal moved to the opposite balcony doors, standing ready with the ClawBound pair. Thraun and his wolves gathered near the table. Sirendor moved to stand with Sol. Blades taken from college guards were in hand.
‘We can get away,’ said Jonas. ‘Sha-Kaan will take us.’
‘We cannot bring him into a battle like this,’ said Sol. ‘The Klene would get ripped apart. Someone tell me about Hirad.’
‘Alive,’ said Thraun. ‘Just about.’
There was the thud of heavy boots on stone from somewhere above. Possibly on the roof, possibly an upper balcony. All eyes glanced up.
‘The door,’ said Sol. ‘Thraun, your job.’
‘I’ve got it.’
‘Ilkar, how are we doing?’
‘Not good,’ said Ilkar. ‘Densyr is right. Moving Septern will certainly bring mana feeding back into the Heart. Probably enough to destroy it. And even if it didn’t, he’s too far gone to move. He’ll die.’
Sol closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, Densyr saw him stare at his family. Diera was rocking young Hirad. Jonas tried to comfort them both.
Densyr began to weave a spell. ‘I’m sorry, Sol. But we’re all in this together now.’
‘We should run for the catacombs,’ said Ilkar.
‘No,’ said Densyr. ‘That’s where they’ll be going to attack the Heart.’
‘But well defended surely?’
‘Extremely.’
‘Then why—’
‘Come on, Ilkar, think. Full of souls, full of mana. Full of wards.’
Outside, the lines jerked and jumped as more Garonin began the descent. There were the sounds of breaking timbers from above and footsteps on the stairs. White tears flooded down to impact the courtyard and walls. The tower complex rocked under the weight of spells and energy. A bright light flashed at ground level.
Densyr held the shape of his chosen spell and faced the door. He felt a strange calm descend on him, like a fond memory soothing nightmares away. So different yet so very much the same. Standing with The Raven, facing ridiculous odds. Backs against the wall.
And trapped with no place left to run.
Nowhere in this dimension anyway.
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