Hirad turned to Pheone. ‘And make sure everyone keeps out of their way and treats them with the respect they deserve. Someone’s here trying to rescue your college, even if your city folk aren’t.’

‘I know, Hirad,’ said Pheone. ‘I share your frustration, believe me.’

‘He does,’ said The Unknown. ‘But your council have struck the biggest blow yet against their own way of life. Forgive us for feeling as we do when we come to help.’ He turned to Rebraal, wincing and putting a hand to his hip. ‘As soon as you can, bring Auum to the refectory. It’s the building over there.’ He nodded to a low structure whose doors were open to spill light on to the courtyard. ‘We have the guard commander in there. He seems bright enough. We all need to talk and then we need to rest. Too many wounds from the catacombs are not healed enough.’ He paused and chewed his lip and for the first time since he’d known him, Rebraal saw doubt in The Unknown’s eyes.

‘Let’s just hope your Gods are behind us, eh? I think ours have run north with the Julatsans.’

Chapter 38

Pheone was up with the dawn the next morning feeling torn and unsure but strangely confident. For most of the college, optimism was the dominant feeling.

The arrival of the elves had galvanised the college effort. The extraordinary warriors, the painted TaiGethen, had moved like ghosts through the rooms and corridors in a sweep that left no hiding place. They, together with the mysterious and disturbing ClawBound, had established that there were no Xeteskian assassins in the college but it was more likely as the hours went by that these killers would be present in the city. So the gates remained closed and they scanned the skies ceaselessly.

The Raven, though, their effect had been amazing yet entirely predictable. Among the hundred and seventy or so mages, guards and militia, there was the undeniable feeling that they could no longer lose because The Raven never lost. And here they were, fighting for the college. Pheone couldn’t help but feel the same. Something about their air of confidence when they rode into the place, their bearing and their authority. When The Unknown Warrior spoke, you listened. When Hirad looked at you, you tried harder. When Darrick explained a better way to work in defensive teams, it seemed obvious.

But she had seen them later on that night, talking with Commander Vale, and it left her wondering whether this might not end up being their graveyard. There were three of the six over whom she had serious concerns that she dare not voice. Darrick, who had been weakened by a deep wound on his hip and who had plainly suffered through their three days of hard riding. Hirad, who, though he would never admit it, was barely free enough to fight, having sustained a sprained wrist and a damaged chest that restricted the movement of his upper body. Both clearly pained him. And, of course, Erienne. She had heard so much about Erienne and now she knew what the poor woman carried. There had been so much grief in her life, so much pressure and now she was alone with a magical force she could have no real idea how to properly control. That she was at the table at all was impressive enough. But her temper was short and she was isolated, as if continually biting back something that wasn’t her. Something that might escape if she invoked its name.

Pheone wasn’t sure whether the rest of them could see the trouble she was in and the energy she consumed in just trying to remain herself. Pheone could but, like them, could offer no assistance. Even so, she couldn’t shift the irrational thought that, once the fighting started, they would prevail. And if that belief was shared throughout the college, then The Raven would already have had the desired effect and for that she was eternally grateful.

After breakfast, with the elves still resting for the attempt on the Heart that would take place after midday, she climbed up to the walls as was her habit, finding Hirad standing there, looking south. He wasn’t the only one up there. It was another fine day and away past the boundaries of the city, anyone who cared to look could see the cloud of dust that signified the approaching Xeteskians. All of them had their fingers crossed that more allies, particularly Izack and Blackthorne, arrived before their enemies.

‘How far away do you think they are?’ Pheone asked, coming to his shoulder.

He turned and smiled at her. ‘Hard to say. Half a day, perhaps a little more. Like Rebraal said, they’ll be here before nightfall. I reckon they’ll posture for the rest of the day, try and get us to surrender and then attack at dawn. But they’ll send in assassins and familiars if they can before then.’

‘It’s not a happy picture.’

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘But we have to know what we face. No sense in hiding, is there?’

‘I guess not.’

There was a long silence. Although the college walls were taller than most buildings in Julatsa, their vision of the open spaces beyond the city was still obscured by rises in the ground. When and if lzack did appear, they’d have little warning.

‘Pheone, I’m sorry about last night. It had been a long day.’

It was an apology she hadn’t expected and struggled to accept easily.

‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘We were making mistakes.’

Hirad shook his head. ‘It’s not that, really it isn’t.’ He paused. ‘I miss him. Every day when I don’t hear his voice it adds to my anger and I can’t let it go. You understand. It’s funny. When I didn’t see him for years, it hardly mattered because I knew he was fine. Now he’s gone and that time seems such a waste.’

Pheone couldn’t find the words to say anything meaningful, just nodded her head, feeling vaguely embarrassed that this man, who looked so uncompromisingly tough and had seen so much death, would speak to her like this.

‘He’s why I’m here you know,’ Hirad continued. ‘Ilkar wanted us to come and help raise the Heart but it’s gone beyond that now. I can’t help with that. But I can strike back at every one of those bastards coming here. They are all to blame.’

The warmth and sadness in his voice had vanished, to be replaced by something entirely cold. Pheone leaned away a little, desperate to change the subject.

‘But we will do it. Raise the Heart, I mean. Even if it’s only a temporary victory it’ll be for the memory of Ilkar, won’t it?’

‘It won’t be temporary,’ said Hirad and he turned and stared at her, his eyes burning into hers, not allowing her to look away. ‘Because we aren’t going to lose.’

‘I know,’ Pheone said, hoping she sounded as convincing as he did.

‘I hope you do because belief is everything.’

Hirad had none of the charisma of The Unknown Warrior but he had a heart so proud and full. No wonder Ilkar always spoke of him as the man who made The Raven live. At least now she could see exactly what he had meant.

‘Where’s Sha-Kaan?’

Hirad chuckled, his eyes losing their penetration and his expression softening. ‘Yes, he told me he’d made your acquaintance yesterday. Don’t be scared of him. He actually quite likes humans these days, I think.’

‘That’s a relief.’

‘He’ll be in the Blackthorne Mountains, resting. Some cool cave or other that reminds him of his homeland, I expect. When we’re ready to send him home, I’ll call him. He’s excited about it. Can’t say I blame him. Sometimes I wish I was going with him.’

‘Why don’t you?’

‘Because I won’t betray Ilkar’s memory,’ he said.

‘Do they live in caves, then, dragons?’ Could it really be like all the stories she’d read?