The Raven Collection

‘Is this watch-tower thing your whole plan?’ asked Will. Thraun shook his head.

‘In terms of getting us into the camp safely, yes, pretty much. But our idea focused on two other things. First, a back-up in case we are seen and second, we were debating a little sabotage while we were here.’

‘Oh God,’ muttered Denser.

Hirad smiled. ‘It would be rude not to,’ he said. ‘Let’s hear it.’

Stylia

So he approached the fortifications at the eastern end of Understone Pass with only ninety Protectors around him. He faced perhaps fifteen hundred Wesmen warriors but wasn’t unduly worried. In a straight fight, he suspected he could force surrender or outright rout but he hadn’t come to fight. He had come to organise a swift passage back to the east and to promise something he had no intention of giving. Help.

His arrival caused a great deal of consternation on the platform that ran around the inside of the partially built stockade. Shouts filled the air, bows were bent and dogs barked. He was ordered to halt and did so, the fading light of late afternoon glinting off the masks of his Protectors, their quiet stillness clearly unsettling the Wesmen.

Stylia

The Wesman spoke in tribal Wes dialect, his accent clipped and harsh, his speech quick but confident.

‘You are trespassing on lands that belong to the unified tribes. State your reason for approaching.’

‘I am sorry for my sudden arrival,’ replied Stylia

The Wesman inclined his head slightly.

‘Your use of my language earns you some small respect,’ he said. ‘My name is Riasu. I would have yours.’

‘I am Stylia

‘I have a force of more than two thousand tribal warriors who have closed the pass to our enemies. You have the look of one such.’

Stylia

‘The skill of your warriors is known to me,’ said Stylia

Riasu laughed. ‘We have no need of your magic. It is evil and must die. As must you.’ Stylia

‘I know your fear—’ he began.

‘I have no fear,’ snapped Riasu, his tone hardening. Stylia

‘Your - ah - belief. But know the truth of it. Your arrows ca

‘I know your magic,’ he said. ‘What do you want that would stop me wanting your head.’

‘Who is the leader of your armies in the East?’

‘The Lord Tessaya.’

‘I will speak to him,’ said Stylia

‘If I allow your travel,’ said Riasu. ‘Something I have no wish to do. What do you want?’

Stylia

‘Let us sit, talk and eat by a fire,’ said the former Lord of the Mount. ‘Out here on neutral ground.’

‘Very well.’ Riasu shouted orders back to his men at the gate of the stockade. A flurry of activity resulted in firewood, a cooking pot, food and an increased guard arriving in the space between Stylia

Stylia

With wine and meat in hand, Riasu began.

‘I will not say this is a pleasure. But I will not toss my warriors’ lives away in needless fight. This is one thing Tessaya has taught us.’

‘But it has not halted large loss of life in Julatsa,’ said Stylia

‘I know nothing of that.’

‘I do.’ Stylia

Riasu snorted. ‘I think not. We are a warrior race. Your tricks may kill and maim and see things far away but we will triumph over you one day.’

Stylia

‘Yet you said you would not toss away the lives of your men. If you do not listen to me, you will be doing that.’ Stylia

‘Tell me of your bargain.’ Riasu moved subject without any evidence he had heard, let alone comprehended, anything Stylia

‘It is simple,’ said Stylia

‘We are sworn to end all magic.’ Riasu shrugged. ‘Why should we bargain with you?’

‘You will never end all magic,’ said Stylia

‘You are so sure. But if you were to die here, what then?’

Stylia

‘You won’t kill me here. You haven’t the strength,’ he said, looking Riasu directly in the eye. The Wesman stiffened.

‘You dare to threaten me in my own lands?’

‘No.’ Stylia

‘Two thousand men,’ said Riasu, jerking a thumb in the direction of the stockade.

‘I know. But your beliefs—’ (oh, to know the word for ignorance)