The agony had a voice. Hirad heard it echo at first, unsure whether it was another trick of the pain. It came to him on a hurricane of whispers just out of reach, sliding past his numbed mind then grabbing a hold. He wanted to open his eyes but could not. His limbs too, were leaden and immobile.

This is death, he thought.

‘No, Hirad Coldheart, not death.’ It was a voice he knew well and though it came to him from out of his nightmares, it brought strange comfort. ‘I am sorry for the inevitable unpleasantness. First contact over such a distance is difficult but it will ease. I will teach you.’

‘Sha-Kaan?’ Hirad was aware his mouth was moving but his confusion of thoughts found a focal point in his bruised brain, allowing him to communicate.

‘Excellent. There is no damage.’

‘It doesn’t feel that way and unpleasantness is hardly the word I would choose to describe what you have just caused.’

Sha-Kaan chuckled, a gentle feeling which stroked Hirad’s aching mind.

‘You have the same fearlessness I found in Septern,’ he said. ‘It is a shame you are not a mage.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it would make our binding all the more powerful and complete.’

‘What binding?’ Hirad felt a flicker of worry. It hadn’t occurred why Sha-Kaan had chosen to contact him. He hadn’t even conceived the possibility unless the dragon was in Balaia. The fact that he was apparently speaking from great distance was a cause for concern.

‘There is something I must ask you to do that will help my Brood to survive. I am old, even by the standards of the Kaan, yet I have had no Dragonene since the death of Seran at Taranspike Castle. You are the only human with the strength of mind to answer my calls. I may have need of you in the time before you travel to my domain.’

Hirad was stunned. He also felt a sense of overwhelming honour but curiously didn’t know why he should. He had precious little knowledge of the Dragonene save that all were mages.

‘But what can I do? I cannot cast a spell. Why me?’

‘There are others of The Raven to channel the energies of interdimensional space and to provide for my wounds and damages. But yours is a mind that burns bright for me as those of your friends do not. Even were I sorely wounded, I could find you and reach sanctuary. I ask that you agree. I will teach you what you need to know.’

‘And can I call on you?’

‘Should you need to, but I could not swear to answer you immediately, nor to be able to give you the help you desire, though I would expect nothing less from you.’

‘But what if I’m in the middle of battle?’ Hirad could imagine the pain felling him as surely as an enemy axe in the midst of mêlée. He could not allow that. The Raven were too important.

‘If your mind is open as it should be, I could detect whether you were at rest before contacting you.’

‘Then I accept,’ said Hirad before he knew quite what he was saying.

‘Excellent. Now tell me, how goes your search for a means to close the gateway?’

Hirad quickly outlined his understanding of the DemonShroud, which was limited, and the distance they had to travel to Julatsa, which was far more complete.

‘I must know more about this Shroud. Is it pandimensional?’

‘I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about,’ said Hirad. ‘All I know is that nothing living can pass through it, that it stretches as high as heaven and as low as hell and all who attempt to cross it lose their souls to the demons.’

Sha-Kaan was quiet for a moment but Hirad felt his presence, and his worry, no less keenly. He had a moment to reflect on the enormity of what he had done and found himself unperturbed by it. There was one thing, though.

‘Why did you choose me now?’ he asked.

‘Because I must attempt tasks that will provoke attack and damage. I must have a Dragonene. Now to this Shroud. Let me investigate. Your mages have dabbled again in something they do not fully understand or can control. I will contact the Brood and probe the space around the city you head for. There may be a way to get through. Be ready for my contact tomorrow as your sun passes its highest.’

‘I will.’

‘Thank you, Hirad Coldheart. You have taken a solemn oath but you are not alone. There are Dragonene everywhere there are mages. Until tomorrow.’

And then he was gone and Hirad realised he had no idea how to contact the Great Kaan himself. He opened his eyes.

‘Gods in the ground, Hirad, what the hell happened to you?’ Ilkar’s face loomed over his, colour returning to his cheeks, frown relaxing.

Hirad smiled, his head encased in sponge, his eyesight not quite sharp and the ache of Sha-Kaan’s presence a reminder it had not all been a dream. He was lying flat on his back, a cloak pillowing his head. A female hand reached across with a rag and wiped what had to be blood from his nose.

‘How long have I been out?’

‘A couple of minutes,’ said The Unknown.

‘Maybe less,’ added Ilkar. There was a low growl. Thraun’s muzzle appeared suddenly in his vision, the wolf’s yellow eyes searching his, heavy furred brows forced together, an almost comical frown rippling the skin above them. Apparently satisfied, his tongue whipped out to lick Hirad’s cheek then he moved away.

‘He’s happy anyway,’ said Hirad.

‘Yes, but he wasn’t. Not happy at all,’ said The Unknown.

‘Do you mind if I sit up?’ asked Hirad. They helped him to a sitting position. Denser sat cross-legged away from the group, his pipe newly lit, smoking into the afternoon sky. He wore a deeply troubled expression. Will stood nearby, stroking Thraun’s flank. Ilkar, The Unknown and Erienne crowded him, Ilkar handing him a mug of coffee.

‘You dropped your last one,’ he said.

‘I don’t remember.’ He was feeling more human now, the pulp encasing his brain fading, his thoughts sharper, as was his sight.

‘So what happened?’ asked Ilkar again.

‘It was Sha-Kaan; he spoke to me, from his own lands. From Wingspread.’

‘From where?’ The Unknown leaned back on his haunches. Hirad shrugged. He had no idea where the word came from. Sha-Kaan had not used it.

‘Wingspread. Sha-Kaan’s place, I suppose.’ Hirad scanned the faces of Ilkar and The Unknown. The former was thoughtful, the latter worried.

‘I presume it wasn’t good news,’ said Ilkar. ‘I mean, why is he contacting you?’

‘How, is more pertinent,’ added The Unknown. ‘Look at you. You’re paler than a two-day corpse.’

‘Thanks,’ said Hirad. ‘Look. I’m not sure what the news was but he’s worried about getting hurt and needs a new Dragonene. Me, to be exact.’

‘What?’ chorused the trio of mages.

‘Yeah, that’s what I said. But apparently I can be the contact and you three can do whatever he needs you to do. He picked me because he’s familiar with my mind. It’s very strong, he said.’ Hirad sat up a little straighter.

Ilkar chuckled. ‘Well, your head’s thick enough anyway.’

‘You didn’t agree, did you?’ asked Denser. It was more of a statement than a question.

Hirad raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, yes, of course. I had to.’

‘Thanks very much,’ snapped the Xeteskian.

‘What’s your problem?’ Hirad felt the pricklings of anger. ‘Did I really have a choice?’

‘Yes, you did. You could have said no. Suppose I don’t want to be a Dragonene?’

‘You aren’t, Xetesk man, I am. You’re a . . . I don’t know, you’re a consort or something.’ It was the wrong word and Hirad knew it. He only half-regretted saying it. Denser rose.

‘You have got to be bloody joking, Hirad. If you think I’m going to agree to be a “consort” ’ - he ejected the word like a mouthful of rotten fruit - ‘you can stick it straight up your arse.’

‘Denser, sit down now and lower your voice,’ ordered The Unknown, making the ghost of a move when the mage threatened to speak again. ‘Your noise will bring the entire Wesmen nation down on our necks. All our noise for that matter. We are The Raven. Let’s try and remember that once in a while.’