‘Eh?’ Hirad frowned.

‘No ripples, no mana,’ explained Erienne.

‘It’s all irrelevant conjecture,’ said The Unknown. ‘What we have to do is go. Now.’

‘Not until I find out how you know Julatsa is lost,’ said Ilkar.

‘Cil, you may speak freely,’ said Styliann, plainly interested. Cil was silent for a time, his breath controlled as he thought through his reply. When it came, it was short and efficient.

‘The demons are watching. When we are together as one, we can sense what they see.’

‘Fascinating,’ said Styliann. ‘The side-effects of creation are an endless surprise.’

‘Enjoy them while you can,’ said The Unknown, his face a blank to mirror the masks of his former brethren.

Styliann half smiled. ‘Are you threatening me, Unknown?’

‘Call it heartfelt advice.’

Hirad came to The Unknown’s shoulder and demanded attention. ‘All right, that’s enough playing around. There’re a few things you should know, Ilkar and Denser excepted, about what happens when we enter the rip.’

He reassured them about the pain of travel, the drop on landing and the devastation of the Avian dimension The Raven had encountered in their search for Dawnthief. He described the walking dead lest they should rise again, the silence though the sky boiled with cloud and lightning above and below, the disorienting height and the other platforms in the sky, standing atop rock columns. And he reminded them that it was Kaan dragons that had caused the destruction and that the same fate awaited Balaia should the Kaan falter or the spell, when it was determined, fail to close the rip.

Finally, he told those that mattered that they were Raven and that, strange though it may appear, not just Balaia but countless dragons depended on their success.

‘And now,’ he said, ‘now we will go.’

But inside the Manse ruins, there was a new problem.

‘What the hell has happened here?’ Ilkar looked squarely at Styliann and away from the open entrance to Septern’s dimensional workshop.

‘It wasn’t always like this?’ replied Styliann, seeming genuinely surprised.

‘No it wasn’t,’ said Ilkar shortly. He crouched by the entrance, set in the middle of the floor. Denser dropped to his haunches by him and was joined by Erienne.

‘I don’t think Styliann is responsible,’ whispered Denser.

‘So what has happened?’ asked Erienne.

Ilkar scratched his head. ‘Without a key or forcing, there’s only one answer to that. Septern’s spell has collapsed.’

‘A consequence of the rip, you think?’ said Denser.

Ilkar shrugged. ‘Can you think of anything else?’

‘What does it matter?’ said The Unknown. The mages turned to him, plainly irritated at the interruption. ‘The fact is that we can no longer seal the rip against the Wesmen. If they should defeat the Protectors, they can travel it too and I have no doubt that they will.’

‘We can’t afford a Wesmen force in the dragon dimension,’ said Hirad. ‘No matter the power of the dragons, they could still find and catch us.’

Ilkar rose and dusted down his knees. ‘So what do you suggest?’

‘Reinforcements,’ said Hirad decisively. ‘It’s our only option. Darrick must be heading north by now.’ He turned to Denser. ‘Sorry, Denser, but we need a Communion from you.’

The Dark Mage sighed and nodded. ‘What do you want me to say?’

The Raven stood at the rip to a new dimension under a boiling sky and in the remains of the devastated Avian village. Below them, far below them, harsh red lightning sheeted and flared. It was a rip through which only Denser had passed, returning in terror, jabbering about dragons. For Hirad, it was a case of already seen. His union with Sha-Kaan gave him clear visions of what lay before them and, with a memory of curious clarity, summoned a subconscious thought that had lain hidden since Denser’s ill-advised journey. Even then, he realised, he had known he would have to travel the rip himself. To face his nightmares and beat the demons of his mind.

Hirad turned to the company, Raven to the front, Styliann and his six Protectors behind.

‘Are you ready for this?’ He really only asked it of two of them. Of Ilkar, whose courage in the face of the loss of his College was extraordinary but flawed. And of Styliann, whose determination to minutely examine the wreckage of the Avian dimension had frayed tempers during the short walk between rips.

The former Lord of the Mount nodded stiffly. Ilkar managed a smile.

‘As ready as I’m going to get,’ he said.

‘I wish I could say the same,’ said Hirad. ‘Denser? Anything we should know?’

‘Just be ready to fall backwards. The place was a mess and I doubt it’s got any better.’

In fact, it was completely different to Denser’s description. He had spoken of blackened earth, a sky heavy with dragons and fire splashing from the air. But through the rip they emerged inside a cave. And though it was dark where they landed, a gentle grey-green light filtered from around a sharp left-hand corner a few paces ahead of them.

‘What in all the hells is this?’ Denser dusted himself down. ‘The rip must have been moved.’

‘I don’t think that’s possible without the casting mage,’ said Erienne.

‘Well, this bloody rock wasn’t here before.’

‘Anyone got a torch?’ Hirad was smiling.

‘Dare I ask why?’ asked The Unknown.

‘Perhaps the dragons are painted on the ceiling, or something.’

‘You really are hilarious, Coldheart,’ snapped Denser. ‘I know what I saw.’

‘Then,’ said Styliann, the quiet authority of his voice cutting through the still air, ‘someone must have built it.’

Hirad looked askance at Styliann but before he could speak, the power of Sha-Kaan’s mind gripped him.

‘Welcome to my world, Hirad Coldheart. Now you will see what your carelessness has caused. Jatha will guide you from the enclave.’ As fast as the power had come it was gone and Hirad found himself looking into The Unknown’s puzzled face.

‘You all right?’

Hirad nodded. ‘It was Sha-Kaan. He knows we’re here. He—’ He was interrupted by movement from ahead of them. A shadow moved in the light. Seamlessly, The Raven formed up. Hirad, The Unknown and Thraun, responding automatically, unsheathing swords and spacing themselves centrally in the chamber. Ilkar, Denser and Erienne stationed themselves behind. A heartbeat later, the Protectors joined them on either flank.

A short man, simply dressed, and with a sheathed weapon at his side, walked into view. He showed no fear at the line of warriors facing him, his face breaking into a smile above his long braided beard. Hirad relaxed and put up his sword.

‘Jatha?’ he ventured, knowing he was right. The man nodded and with vocal cords sounding unused to regular speech, said:

‘Hirad Coldheart. Raven.’

Chapter 29

The Lord Tessaya received two messages via carrier woodruff within the space of an hour around midday, and they led him to preside over a slaughter he had thought to avoid.

The first message, from the remnants of Taomi’s force fleeing north-west towards Understone, confirmed all his worst fears about the state of the invasion of Gyernath and the defiance of the Baron whose wine he so enjoyed. But worse, it informed him of the destruction of the southern supply base and that Darrick not only still lived but still fought hard.

And the second, while giving him the news he had craved from Julatsa, left him plagued with doubts because it spoke of a small force breaking through the siege line a few hours before the College fell. It spoke of a mission to a land of dragons, it spoke of cataclysm and death from the sky greater than any the Wytch Lords might have unleashed. And, coming so hard on the heels of the rout of his men chasing the cursed Xetesk mage, he felt uncertain for the first time since he rode from his village.