The Raven Collection

Erie

She heaved in a breath and sobbed out her sorrow, her lips moving, her voice choked. Nothing could bring her back. Nothing would ease the agony, the longing and the loss. And Erie

Erie

‘Get away from me,’ she hissed.

‘No, love,’ said Denser, his voice soft but determined. ‘Lean into me.’

‘You can’t help me,’ she said. Every day the same. The words might be different but the sense never changed. ‘Leave us alone.’

‘No, I won’t,’ said Denser, insistent. ‘I pledged that I would never leave you. Let me into you. Just try.’

Erie

‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘Any time,’ he said. ‘I’ll always be here, whenever you need me.’ Denser moved a little closer, putting his arm around her shoulders. Erie

There was nothing to say. One day, perhaps, she would admit his grief. But right now she couldn’t even begin to cope with her own.

Her head was throbbing. Like every day, the One entity was trying to assert itself. Trying to gain influence over her mind. But it was not strong enough and it gave her grim satisfaction that it could not rule her the way they had all let it rule and then destroy Lya

Erie

There had been times when that had seemed preferable to existence without Lya

Inside her was the power of the One, living. It shouldn’t be there but it was. And it reminded her every moment of every day that Lya

The confusion within her made her mind pound all the more.

She turned her head to look at Denser. His beard was trimmed, his black hair neat and short, his cheekbones and jaw angled and so attractive. He was looking down at the bed, tears rolling down his face either side of his sharp nose.

For a heartbeat, she thought about kissing his tears away. But in that moment, the grief deluged her again and she crumbled back into her nightmare.

Chapter 4

Rebraal arrived back at Aryndeneth after two sharp downpours, each followed by steaming heat as the sun forced its way through the cloud. He could imagine the strangers ru

For his part, the leader of the Al-Arynaar had merely found the best shelter he could under the broad green leaves of trees, and had listened to the sounds the rain brought to the forest: the undergrowth alive with animals scurrying for holes and burrows; the spatter of water on leaf and branch; the shifting of vegetation at every level of the harmony.

Rain was something to be enjoyed, not endured. It brought a freshness to the air and drove the insects from the sky. It brought life to the environment. It was warm on his skin and cooled the extremes of temperature. Rebraal loved the rain.

Later, standing on the overgrown stone apron in front of the temple, Rebraal called the Al-Arynaar to him. It was a call to arms and one that struck a chord of fear and determination in all of them. He had wondered whether the call, a song that echoed out through the forest in an ancient and long-dead language, was really required. But in truth, the threat was so great even the Deneth-barine song couldn’t communicate its magnitude.

With Mercuun gone to spread the alarm and light fading quickly with the close of day under a bank of thickening cloud, Rebraal faced just eight. Two mages and six warriors. Their faces told him they understood the gravity; he now had to explain the reality.

There was an expectant air, tinged with anxiety. The song had not been heard in the living memory of any of them or indeed the two generations before them. They gathered in a loose group around Rebraal as the evening birds began to call and the rasp of a thousand pairs of cicada legs sawed at the fading light.

‘The strangers’ camp is a half-day standard march north. The path they made took me straight to it.’ He paused to take them all in. ‘The Al-Arynaar assembled here face a threat at least ten times our number. We will need all of our guile and the blessing of Yniss to survive.’

Rebraal let his words sink in. He saw fear, which was right, but no desperation. He hadn’t expected to.

‘How long before they get here?’ asked Caran’herc. Keen eyes and a fine archer even for an elf, Caran’herc had her hair close-cropped for convenience and a narrow face that robbed her of real beauty. Her eyes though, piercing and deep blue, shone from her face, bewitching.

‘By the position of the sun, I left them four hours ago,’ said Rebraal, ‘and they were making no preparations then. They will miss their dead by dawn if not before and though the rain might slow them, they could be on us and wary before night falls tomorrow.’

‘Mercuun will be gone until the day after tomorrow at least,’ said Sheth’erei, a thoughtful, quiet mage. She chewed at her thin lips, the tips of her high cheeks pink, the hood of a lightweight cloak thrown over her head against the insects of the night.

Rebraal nodded. ‘Yes, Sheth. We have to assume we are on our own.’

They took the situation in, each one weighing up the risks and possibilities. They knew the forest was their greatest ally, but that for all its strengths, overwhelming odds would ultimately be victorious. Unless the few were prepared.

‘Sheth, Erin. Perimeter wards need to be laid and activated. So do the temple doors. When these are set, remember your distances all of you.’ He looked hard at the two mages. ‘It’s up to you to tell us when we can no longer pray inside. Right. The rest of us. Check and unlock the stakes and pits. Re-lay the camouflage on the archer platforms, rub down the boards and check fastenings for silence. Check every arrow tip and shaft for imperfection, the toxin supply for age. Hone every edge of every blade. Clear your lines of sight, retie the netting. Leave no mark on the earth. That done we will talk of our positions.