The Raven Collection

‘The Heart, Sharyr. Taken and consumed. Listen to me. Run. Do not fight them. You ca

A cracking of timbers.

‘They’re here. They’re inside,’ hissed Heryst.

‘Who?’ urged Sharyr. ‘Who is inside? What are they?’

A strangled cry and the Globe flickered.

‘Where are they?’ demanded an alien voice that bounced in Sharyr’s skull. It was strangely melodic but this did not disguise either the power or the menace.

‘Who?’ Heryst’s voice was cracked and desperate.

‘Those who light the way. Those who will seek the path to us.’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Heryst. ‘Please, you have what you want. Spare my people.’

Sharyr heard the sound of something cracking. Bone and cartilage. The alien voice said something else but he couldn’t pick it up. The voice of another of the Lysternan Globe team began to speak. Something fell, something heavy.

The Communion Globe was silent, reducing to a dull grey.

‘Heryst? Heryst, can you hear me? Any of you?’

Sharyr kept his hand on the silk still, praying for the contact to be re-established. Futile. All he could hear was the hard breathing of his team.

‘They’ve gone,’ said one. ‘They’ve gone.’

‘Did anyone catch what the other voice said?’ asked Sharyr, his cracked voice echoing painfully in the Communion chamber.

‘I believe so, but it hardly matters,’ said the mage to his right. ‘Garonin, or something.’

‘Everything matters right now. Go and look up that word. Any clue as to who they are could help. I’ve got a feeling I heard it before when we were researching dimensional alignment. Those texts weren’t in the library; they’re still down here in my old work-shops. ’

‘As you wish, Master Sharyr.’

‘And the rest of us, let us not be next,’ said Sharyr. ‘Let’s get this construct back steady. We have to get hold of Lord Denser.’

‘Unknown! Get down!’

The impact in Sol’s back sent him sprawling to the scorched ground. The earth vibrated beneath him with the force of multiple explosions. He heard screams and rolled onto his back. His scabbard dug in painfully. Hirad and Ras were both above him, looking towards the enemy.

‘What di—?’

‘Down!’

Hirad again. The barbarian in a merchant’s body flung himself on top of Sol. There was a distinct clicking sound like the unlatching of many doors. An arc of white pulses in the shape of teardrops fled over Sol’s head and slammed into helpless mages, soldiers and mounted guards.

Defensive shield castings collapsed under the onslaught, flaring deep blue as they failed. Light ripped through bodies, obliterating people, punching holes in torsos and tearing horses apart.

‘It’s going to be a slaughter,’ said Hirad.

‘No, it isn’t,’ said Sol. He pushed Hirad off him, got to his feet and snapped his sword from its clasps. ‘Let’s get to it.’

‘Raven!’ roared Hirad. ‘Raven, with me!’

Sol was ahead of him, charging towards the slowly advancing line of enemies. They were huge, all of them tall and powerfully built. Covered from head to toe in armour that seemed to glisten in the sunlight. Numerals and lettering woven into breastplates and leg guards shone.

‘Get amongst them,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘They can’t shoot at you if you’re inside their guard.’

More fire spat from enemy weapons. Sol felt the heat as a teardrop fizzed past his shoulder. There was no time to check how far behind the rest of The Raven or the Xeteskian guard were. He ducked his head as more fire whipped about his ears. He felt the pain begin to flare in his damaged hip and whispered an apology to his wife and sons.

‘What do you think you’re doing, old man?’ he muttered.

Sol brought his sword to ready and hoped he remembered how to use it. There was not a flicker from his target. The enemy were well spread out, marching forward carefully. Detonation followed detonation but Sol dared not look behind to see what was happening.

The man in front of him had turned his weapon. Sol ducked reflexively. A teardrop smashed into his blade, shearing the top clean off above his head. His hands rang with the vibration of the impact. Sol swung the remainder of his blade through two-handed. It thudded hard into the midriff of the enemy just beneath his arms. Sol’s momentum carried him straight on, barging the man off his feet.

Sol landed on top, snatched a knife from his belt and jammed it under the chin strap of the enemy’s helmet. The scream of death was a keening wail. Blood pumped from the wound briefly and the man lay still. Sol rolled away, coming to his feet in time to see Hirad and Ras enter the fray. A few paces behind them came the rest of The Raven, mages behind warriors, magical shields in place for what good they would do. He knew it was them behind the masks of their borrowed faces but still he worried. They looked so ordinary.

The Xeteskian mage team had been largely a

‘Form up, Raven!’ ordered Sol. ‘Dead or alive, get your memories working.’

The Raven surged across the open space. As one, the enemy stopped moving. Hirad buried his blade to the hilt in the neck of his victim, having to angle high to reach his target. Ras sliced through a leg guard and his opponent fell. The front rank of the enemy dropped to one knee; the second rank remained standing.

Sol frowned and squared up to his next target. His two-handed blade was useless. No balance and no bludgeoning point. He discarded it and drew a second knife. Many eyes had turned towards him and The Raven coming up fast in support.

‘Shield covering you,’ said Ilkar. ‘We have projectile and spell covering. Those teardrops are mana based.’

Sol relaxed just a little. The Raven took their positions. Angled chevron. Just like the old days. Well, almost. They advanced. In front of them the enemy, still widely spaced, checked their weapons, made small adjustments and brought them back to bear. Still Xeteskian spells dropped in their midst but now a white flaring told of their impotence.

‘Hit them hard, Raven,’ said Sol. ‘Let’s go.’

The Raven ran in. Every enemy weapon fired. The front rank spewed teardrops. Others launched projectiles that trailed smoke in lazy arcs. Multiple impacts shivered into Ilkar’s shield. Sol heard him grunt with the effort of maintaining it. But behind no such strength prevailed. Explosions ripped the Xeteskian guard apart. Volley after volley landed in their midst. And each detonation sent red-hot fragments of metal in all directions. Flesh was flayed from bones. Skulls imploded. Limbs shredded or torn from bodies entirely. Souls shrieked as they were cast into the void.

Sol heard a drumming sound. Metal shards were raining against the projectile shield. Erie

‘Ilkar?’ called Sol.

‘Holding. Just. Move on. Be quick.’

‘Pick your targets,’ said Sol. ‘Get inside those weapons. Fight dirty.’

‘Just the way I like it,’ said Hirad.

White light, metal, heat and fire washed over the shields which Ilkar and Erie

‘Keep it steady, Raven!’ called Hirad.

Sol could see the eye slit of his target’s helmet. The armour was beguiling. Cool light swam through the runes and symbols. But inside the helmet the eyes were shadowed and dark. The enemy brought his weapon to bear. He fired. White teardrops flattened against Ilkar’s shield. Sol grunted a smile. He stepped in close, grabbed the man’s shoulder and drove his blade up into his neck. The enemy reared back, blood spewing out. Sol’s blade was all but ripped from his hand.