The Raven Collection

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

Thraun nodded. ‘They brought me back, you know? My soul had no direction when the Garonin ripped our resting place apart. They called for me. They needed my help. They knew something was wrong. And here they are, dying one by one. Three remain here. Four are lost in the city somewhere.’

‘We’ll save the rest. But tell me. Why does our ClawBound friend say we no longer need to go to the Wesmen? I’m presuming you know what we intend to do.’

‘I have spoken to Auum about it. The mage, Brynar. He is sure Septern knows the ritual of opening but is reluctant to perform it. Auum feels that he can persuade him.’

Sol felt as if a door to hope had just been edged open. ‘And I thought he was taking young Hirad into Xetesk purely to keep him safe. My mind is clearly not sharp. Thank you, my friend. Get ready to go.’

He straightened up and looked east. The black cloud swirling around the Garonin machine was growing deeper and spreading across the city. Dark blue light flashed within it. Ominous signals. So far, Xetesk appeared powerless to stop the drain on its Heart. But Sol could feel the pressure building. Densyr had already proved himself prone to desperate decisions and he would not allow this situation to continue.

The enemy soldiers were begi

‘Sirendor, have you—’

‘Yes, he has,’ said Ilkar. ‘Didn’t anyone hear me calling?’

‘Sorry,’ sad Sol.

‘Clinging on by my bloody, literally bloody, fingernails for ages.’

‘And still alive,’ said Sol. ‘Which is more than we’ll be able to say for Hirad unless you can do something fast.’

‘I know, I know.’ Ilkar knelt by the prone Raven warrior and studied his wounds briefly. He shook his head. ‘This is way beyond me, Unknown. He needs powerful focused magic. Only one place to get that.’

‘Then it’s fortunate that all our answers are within,’ said Sol. ‘The only question that remains is, how in all the hells do I get him to the college gates without killing him.’

A shattering, rippling detonation ripped the momentary calm apart. The foundations of Xetesk shuddered. Sol turned east to see flames and dust in the sky on an arc that stretched almost from south to north gates. The east gatehouse had gone. Buildings lining the walls were falling. Fists of stone ground their way into the sky. And up above them the machine wobbled and the detonation cloud above it flashed a dangerous white.

Moments later, another line of wards exploded and the next concentric ring of buildings was demolished under the force of Orbs, walls of blue fire and the Hammers deep in the earth. The rumble did not die away. More quickly than the second ring, the third triggered.

Massive mana energy burst into the sky, far more than Septern would have pla

‘This is not controlled,’ said Ilkar.

‘Yep. And heading our way. Oh, Densyr, what have you done?’

‘Help me,’ gasped Septern.

‘What the hell have you done?’ shouted Densyr. Once again, the balcony doors were open and this time they showed the crumbling of Xetesk. ‘The outer wards are collapsing. The stream is heading this way.’

‘Polarity. Reversed,’ managed Septern. ‘No control. Please.’

Densyr tore his eyes from the ruination of the city.

‘Inside out, I said.’ He sat down next to Septern and put a hand over the great mage’s clawed fingers where they grasped at the arm of his chair. ‘Must I do everything myself? I . . . Oh dear Gods drowning.’

Densyr had tuned into the mana spectrum, and saw the disaster rolling towards them with the speed of a tidal wave being forced up a narrowing cha

Densyr could see the shape of the Garonin machine and its cloud, depicted by the dense, dark roiling blue that seemed to hang over the entire spectrum. The blue deepened with every detonation, and the spi

‘We have to break the cycle,’ said Densyr.

‘I have not the strength,’ said Septern. ‘The flow of mana is too great.’

‘Then let me help you. Tell me what to do.’

Densyr had lent his strength to Septern and the mage’s voice steadied but remained full of panic.

‘Have to block the feedback. Break the linkage and place your mind in front of the Heart. Deflect the pulses away.’

‘You’re asking me to render myself helpless in front of this assault.’

‘Not helpless,’ gasped Septern. ‘Hero.’

Into Densyr’s eyes sprang unforeseen tears. He closed them and entered Septern’s failing construct.

Sol, with Hirad slipping ever nearer towards death in his arms, ran headlong at the next intersection. His hip protested, his back was bleeding again and his arms screamed for relief. But behind them the rattle of explosion and demolition grew louder, the space between each set of wards firing grew shorter and the surge and shake beneath their feet grew more violent.

Already, the dust clogged their lungs and threatened their vision ahead. Loose roof tiles slipped and crashed underfoot. Balustrades wobbled. Every landing point was a shuddering accident waiting to happen.

‘Hang on, Hirad,’ said Sol. ‘That soul of yours has never given up on anything. Don’t you dare start now.’

Sirendor hit the edge of the building and leapt into space, circling his arms and coming down for a slithered landing on the sloping tiles across the alleyway. He turned as soon as he’d stopped and stood a little to the left of Thraun.

‘Six feet maximum,’ he called. ‘We’re ready.’

‘Sorry for the jolt, Hirad. Over soon.’

Sol ran harder and faster, the dead weight of Hirad a terrible drain on balance and strength. He leaned his body forward, caught the very edge of the building and pushed off with everything he had. He tried to work his body a little more upright as he flew but time was so short. He was falling fast. Too fast.

Sol sought forward with his left leg and prayed. His foot snagged the edge of the building’s balustrade. Sirendor snaked out an arm and gripped his collar. Thraun’s arms took the weight of Hirad. Sol blew out his cheeks, steadied and stepped off the balustrade.

‘Next up, not so easy,’ said Thraun.

Sol looked behind them. The Garonin were in temporary disarray. Up in the sky, the machine was being forced higher and higher as the mana energy blasted upwards. Of the soldiers on the ground, there was nothing. Not a sign. A small mercy. A quicker, surer death was stampeding towards them.

‘We have to try. Go, go.’

Thraun carried Hirad. His younger body was stout in the arm and chest and Sol was blowing badly. They ran up the slope of the roof, over the apex and slid down the other side. The air was full of the sound of explosions and the cloying drab of dust and smoke. Heat billowed around them as intense as dragon fire.

The next roof was flat and held an ornamental garden and fish pond. The carp in the pond all floated belly up. The water was steaming. The Raven tore across it, shadowed by wolves ru