Thraun shrugged and exercised his jaws again.

'I know you're frustrated but you'll get there as long as you have faith. The Raven will be with you. We're your family always, and we're your strength any time you need us. And we want you to be with us in whatever comes next, but for that you will have to leave this island.'

Thraun stopped moving.

'The Raven have to leave here to go back home and help with things there that are badly wrong. We can talk about what's happening another day, but for now I want you to think about what you're going to do. To make The Raven complete, we want you to be with us. We are stronger with you and you with us.

'Do you understand that?'

Thraun was staring at the ground and now drew his legs up to his chest, locking them there with his arms. He rocked backwards and forwards gently.

'Thraun?'

He didn't look up but The Unknown thought he saw a fractional nod of the head. It was enough.

'Good, good. I'll leave you now to sleep if you want. Think about what I've said and let me know in whatever way you can what it is you want to do.'

The Unknown pushed himself to his feet, picked up the lantern and limped back towards the house, suddenly dog-tired and craving the arms of Diera.

The rainforest was quiet. A sharp downpour had thrashed across the temple an hour before, sending the Al-Arynaar to cover under the broad leaves of a master banyan tree at the southern edge of the temple. Water still fell from the upper canopy to puddle on the ground before soaking away. Rebraal walked across the rain-slick apron with the mage, Erin'heth. It was the night following his time of contemplation in the cell of Shorth and preparations were now complete.

They couldn't afford to worry about the strangers themselves, who had to be approaching by now. All that really taxed Rebraal was whether their defence would delay the strangers long enough for Mercuun to return. An elf of his ability could make a great deal of difference.

'We can't rely on him, Rebraal,' said Erin'heth. 'Your plan is sound. We can only do what we can do. If Mercuun arrives, it's a bonus.'

Rebraal tried to smile but couldn't help but be irritated that it was Meru that had left them. But then, who else but himself commanded the elves' respect? He'd really had no choice.

'Talk me through the grid,' he said to concentrate his mind.

'We've laid as many wards as we could in the time,' said Erin. 'We have to be fresh for the fight and Sheth is already sleeping. There's no linkage but we've positioned the strike zones to herd them to the central position you want. Then it's up to you and the archers because if they move to leave the apron, the outer ring isn't going to hold them for ever even though they're FlameWalls.'

'And the temple doors?'

'It'll be carnage. Sheth spent a lot of energy on that ward. It's big. If we should die in the fight, don't touch it until you get a replacement mage.'

'Didn't you tune elves out of the triggers?' Rebraal frowned.

'In the apron wards yes, but we can't risk a smart stranger circumventing the ward by forcing an elf to open the temple doors, so anything bigger than a panther will trigger it.'

Rebraal nodded, stopped and turned a slow circle on the slippery stone apron. He could see the archer positions, he knew the ward trigger points. They'd done all they could. Yniss would see them safe or let them die for a greater purpose. He had to believe that, though it sat harsh in his mind.

The Al-Arynaar shouldn't rely on any God. They were placed here by Yniss to succeed.

'Come on. You need to get your head down,' he said, ushering Erin away to the hammocks they'd slung under the archer positions. 'I need to relieve Rourke on the path.'

But the strangers didn't delay long enough. Rebraal ran into Rourke, who was chasing back up the path, slightly out of breath and very scared. They were coming slowly, travelling by lantern light in the relative cool of night-time. Their pace would bring them to the temple apron an hour before dawn and well before the elves could expect Mercuun. The nine would take on, according to Rourke's count as he had watched them pass below him from the sanctuary of a palm tree, one hundred and thirty-two. Mainly warriors but with ten who were obviously mages.

Tension replaced quiet calm as the reality of the attack overtook the hope that somehow the strangers would be deflected, or that perhaps they were not here to find the temple at all. All the Al-Arynaar had had these thoughts but they seemed foolish now. There was nothing else of interest here for hundreds of square miles and Rebraal doubted they had come to map the mangrove swamps, the volcanic region to the south or the course of the three huge, sluggish rivers that wound their way through the vast rainforest from the northern coastal ports to the southern deltas where desert gave way to lush vegetation again after a thousand miles.

But why had the TaiGethen not found them and dealt with them? And why had the ClawBound not warned him days before?

The leader of the Al-Arynaar visited the platforms for the last time, reminding the archers to pick their targets and not to begin until the wards had caused maximum confusion. And when their stocks of arrows were exhausted, they were to wait for the signal, the threat call of the grey monkey, before moving to attack from the rear with swords, hoping to force whoever remained into the doors of the temple. To the mages, he had given the task of occupying their enemy counterparts, using spells that demanded magical shielding.

Everything else was in the lap of Yniss.

And so they waited and listened, pairs of elves in three of the four platforms that overlooked the apron, and Rebraal himself with the fourth pair, Sheth'erei and Skiriin. They took it in turn to rest in the hammocks below, while all around the forest hummed with anticipation. The denizens of the rainforest and their God, Tual, knew that evil stalked the ground and the calls were of warning and of danger.

As the very first vestiges of light were edging across the top of the canopy and filtering dimly through to the forest floor, the humidity increased dramatically, the darkness of night was abruptly restored to the sky and the rain came. It was harder than Rebraal had ever remembered; it fell in drops that tore weaker leaves apart, exploded on the ground and crashed among the broad boughs of the trees above to trigger miniature waterfalls as leaves sagged and dropped their loads of water.

On the archer platforms, with skins pulled across to deflect the worst of the deluge which was unrelenting for approaching an hour, the Al-Arynaar peered out at the wall of water falling all around them.

'Gyal is angry,' said Skiriin.

Rebraal nodded. The capricious God of the rain who could withhold her life-growing nectar at a whim was venting her fury on the strangers now. Rebraal gave a silent prayer of thanks but knew they would need much more than that.

'Rebraal, look,' hissed Sheth.

She pointed through the murk of the rain, which was now beginning to ease. Soon it would stop altogether and the sky would clear. Such was the way of the forest. There was lantern light out there. Blurred and dim but unmistakable. No torch would have stood up to the rain and Rebraal was surprised that lanterns had. Presumably, they'd been sheltered.

The call of the brown tree frog filtered across the apron. Rourke had seen them too.

'Sheth, be ready,' said Rebraal.

'I will.'

The mage sat cross-legged on the platform and closed her eyes. Through her mind she would now be seeing the mana shapes that made up the wards. So would Erin'heth. On the front of the apron, the wards would be activated only when enough of the strangers had crossed them. Every other spell was already active and waiting for the ignorant step of men who shouldn't be there and would learn that fact only in death.