The Raven Collection

The Lord Tessaya stood with his Shamen on the hills outside Understone Pass which he had so recently relinquished but was surely soon to retake. Thirty thousand of his countrymen, some enemies less than a year ago, were camped within a few hours of the pass, while a dozen Shamen under protection from three hundred of Tessaya’s pass survivors were moving closer to the pass itself. A further five thousand Wesmen were ready to pour back under the mountains. It would be a sweet moment.

‘I want them slaughtered to a man for what they did to me. But bring me Darrick alive. I will personally oversee his very slow death manacled to the stone he thought to take from me.’ The Shamen nodded; one issued instructions. ‘How long before we are in position? ’

‘We will be awaiting your instruction as the sun reaches its zenith, Lord.’

Tessaya looked to the sky: two hours. Two hours and then maybe he could erase the sounds of the terrified as the sea from the sky crashed through the pass. The echoes of the water beating off the walls and sweeping away his people, their cries, their shouts and their pleas dying with them as they were driven into the chasms. So many would never be found to rest on pyres of honour. So many never had the chance to fight and die as they had dreamed.

But the towering act of cowardice would be avenged as his people forged into the east to take as they pleased. For the first time in days, Tessaya smiled.

‘I will mount up and lead my people back where they belong,’ he said. ‘We will soon all be drinking the blood of College mages.’

The Raven rode hard through unforgiving countryside as the sun rose into a partly cloudy sky. They hadn’t seen or heard any pursuit since leaving the Temple. The Unknown could no longer feel the Protectors and had no idea whether they were heading east or west. But though they were making good progress, the way was difficult, the horses would tire quickly and the risk of accident was ever present.

Their principal concern, though, was Jandyr. The elven bowman was struggling. After a night in which he was kept asleep under Erie

For an hour, he seemed to be standing it well, but as the morning wore on, he slowed more and more, spending much of his time flanked by Denser and Erie

At the first rest stop, and with the horses being checked, fed and watered by Thraun and Will, the rest of The Raven gathered around a gasping Jandyr as he lay propped against a moss-covered boulder. They had come to a stop at the head of a valley. Below them, the hills, windblown and stark, rolled away north and west towards Parve, while behind, the forest land they’d ridden through and which had provided such good cover lay like a coarse green blanket covering steep incline and shallow slope alike.

Perhaps a thousand feet below them, the principal trail from Parve to Understone cut along the base of the Baravale Valley, which bored one hundred miles between the west’s two principal ranges of hills and mountains. Now and again on the prevailing wind, the sounds of marching Wesmen reached them while they, out of sight, sat and considered their position.

‘Is there anything you can do to ease the pain?’ asked Hirad. Denser paused from warming Erie

‘Hold on,’ she said. She withdrew her hands and helped Jandyr turn on to his side, giving her access to his wound. She unpicked the crude stitching of his leather and, with Ilkar’s help, eased the bloody jacket’s parts aside, cursing at the ruination of her work of the previous night. ‘The wound is pulling from the riding, there’s little I can do about that. What I can do is take the pain away, but he’ll not be aware of any further damage he’s doing. That could be dangerous.’

‘Jandyr?’ asked Hirad.

The elf breathed deeply, the sound a little ragged. ‘I can’t ride on like this,’ he said. ‘The pain is getting too much and I’ll hold you up. There’s a choice. Either you leave me here and come back when it’s over, or Erie

‘You can’t stay here alone,’ said Erie

‘Then the decision’s made,’ said Hirad.

‘He’ll need supporting some of the time. He won’t always be able to hold himself upright,’ said Erie

‘What are you pla

‘SenseNumb.’

‘That’s a little strong, isn’t it?’ said Ilkar.

Erie

‘What is it?’ Jandyr frowned. ‘It’s worse than you thought, isn’t it?’

She nodded. ‘The bleeding is worse than it should be. The flesh hasn’t knitted at all. I know you’ve been straining it in the ride but it should be better than it is. I need to cast SenseNumb to keep you going at all. I should be able to do more tonight.’

‘Will I still be alive tonight?’ asked the elf.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I haven’t got a good record at keeping people alive, have I?’ Tears were suddenly in her eyes and ru

‘I think we’d better get on,’ he said.

Approaching the village there was magic in the air. Stylia

After leaving the Temple clearing, Stylia

He had chosen as his first target a village just inside the Heartlands which would have staged marches towards Understone Pass and, possibly, the Bay of Gyernath. The village lay less than two days from the Torn Wastes. It would be a fitting message to the Wytch Lords about where the power really lay.

‘Advance,’ he ordered. ‘There are no i

With only the sound of their horses to reveal their presence, the Xeteskian Protectors swept into the unprepared Wesmen village. Built on classic Wesmen lines, the village was arranged in a circle around the central tribal totem and fire. It contained about thirty buildings, fencing for animals and open-sided, roofed structures for crop storage.

The ninety-strong force divided into two around the circle, swords drawn and hammering down on the villagers, who scattered screaming in every direction. Men, women, children, no one in the way was spared the blade. And behind them, Stylia

‘HellFire,’ he said.

A dozen columns of fire crashed through the roofs of occupied dwellings, deluging victims and devastating buildings. Wood and flame filled the air. Burning figures ran from buildings, noise pounded the ears.

At the end of their sweep, the Protectors dismounted in almost balletic synchronicity and jogged back through the carnage, axes now drawn in spare hands. The village was in chaos. The dozen buildings hit by Stylia