‘His little adventure killed Ras. It might have killed me, too. He—’

‘Remember who you are, Hirad. We have a code.’ The Unknown was standing at his shoulder now. ‘We are The Raven.’

Eventually, Hirad nodded and put up his sword.

‘Besides,’ said Ilkar. ‘He’s got a lot of explaining to do.’

‘I saved your life,’ said Denser, frowning. Hirad was on him in a moment, pinning his head to the wall with a forearm under the chin. The cat hissed and scrambled to safety.

‘Saved my life?’ The barbarian’s face was inches from Denser’s. ‘That’s your phrase for having me all but burned to a crisp, is it? The Unknown saved my life after you risked it. You ought to die for that alone.’

‘How—’ protested the mage. ‘I got its attention to let you run!’

‘But there was no need, was there?’ Hirad grunted as he saw confusion in Denser’s eyes. ‘It was letting me go, Xetesk man.’ Hirad stepped back a pace, releasing the mage, who felt his neck gingerly. ‘You risked my life just to steal. I hope it was worth it.’ He turned to the rest of The Raven.

‘I don’t know why I’m wasting my breath on this bastard. We have a Vigil to observe.’

Alun shoved the note across the table, his hands shaking. More hands covered his, they were strong and comforting.

‘Try to be calm, Alun, at least we know they are alive, so we have a chance.’

Alun looked into the face of his friend, Thraun, whose powerful body was squeezed the other side of the table. Thraun was huge, better than six feet in height, with massively powerful shoulders and upper body. His heavy features sprang from a young face and his shining-clean blond hair was gathered in a ponytail which reached halfway to his waist. He was regarding Alun with his yellow-ringed deep green eyes, earnest and concerned.

He flicked his head, the ponytail swishing briefly into view, and looked around the inn. It was busy with lunchtime traffic and the noise of the patrons ebbed and flowed around them. Tables were scattered around the timbered floor, and here and there, booths like the one in which they sat gave an element of privacy.

‘What does it say, Will?’ Thraun’s voice, as deep and gravelled as his barrel chest might suggest, cut through Alun’s misery. He removed his hands from Alun’s. Will sat next to him, a small man, wiry, bright-eyed and black-bearded, thinning on top. Will pulled at his nose with thumb and forefinger, his brows arrowing together as he read.

‘Not a lot. “Your mage wife has been taken for questioning concerning the activities of the Dordovan College. She will be released unharmed assuming she co-operates. As will your sons. There will be no further communication.” ’

‘So we know where she is, then,’ said the third member of the trio whom Alun had enlisted. An elf, Jandyr was young, with a long and slender face, clear blue oval eyes and a short tidy blond beard that matched the colour of his cropped hair.

‘Yes, we do,’ agreed Thraun. ‘And we know how far we can trust the words on that note.’ He licked his lips and shovelled another forkful of meat into his mouth.

‘You’ve got to help me!’ Alun’s eyes flicked desperately over them all, never coming to rest. Thraun looked right and across. Both Will and Jandyr inclined their heads.

‘We’ll do it,’ said Thraun, through his chewing. ‘And we’ll have to be quick. The chances of him releasing them are very slim.’ Alun nodded.

‘You really think so?’ asked Will.

‘The boys are mage twins,’ said Thraun. ‘They will be powerful and they are Dordovan. Alun will tell you himself, when they’ve finished with Erienne, they will probably kill them. We have to get them out.’ He looked back at Alun. ‘It won’t be cheap.’

‘Whatever it costs, I don’t care.’

‘Of course, I’ll work for nothing,’ said Thraun.

‘No, my friend, you won’t.’ A half-smile cracked Alun’s face. Tears glinted in his eyes. ‘I just want them home.’

‘And home they will be. Now,’ Thraun rose, ‘I’m taking you home. You rest, we’ll plan, and I’ll be back later in the day.’

Thraun helped Alun from the bench and the two men walked slowly from the inn.

Richmond and Talan had moved Ras’s body to a quiet chamber carved out of the mountain into which the castle was built. Candles burned next to him, one for each point of the compass. His face was clean and shaven, his armour sewn and washed, his arms lay by his sides and his sword in its scabbard was laid along his body from his chin to his thighs.

Richmond did not look up from his kneeling position as Hirad, Sirendor, The Unknown and Ilkar entered. Talan, standing by the door, inclined his head to each of them as they passed him.

Ranged around the central table on which Ras lay, The Raven, heads bowed, paid their respects to their fallen friend. Each man remembered. Each man grieved. But only two spoke.

As the candles burned low, Richmond stood and resheathed his sword.

‘My soul I pledge to your memory. I am yours to command from beyond the veil of death. When you call I shall answer. While I breathe, these are my promises.’ His last was a bitter whisper. ‘I wasn’t there. I am sorry.’ He looked to The Unknown, who nodded and moved to the table, walking around it. Beginning at Ras’s head, he snuffed the candles as he reached them.

‘By north, by east, by south, by west. Though you are gone, you will always be Raven and we shall always remember. The Gods will smile on your soul. Fare well in whatever faces you now and ever.’

Again silence, but now in darkness.

Denser remained in Seran’s chambers. The dead mage was lying on his bed under a sheet. For his part, Denser couldn’t work out why he was still alive, but he was grateful. The whole of Balaia would be grateful, but no City would be breathing easier than Xetesk that the barbarian had been stopped.

The cat nuzzled his legs. Denser sagged down the wall and sat.

‘I wonder if this really is it,’ said Denser, turning the amulet over and over in his hands. ‘I think it is but I have to know.’ The cat gazed into his eyes. No clue there. ‘The question is, do we have the strength to do it?’ The cat jumped into his cloak, nestling into the warmth of Denser’s body.

It fed.

‘Yes,’ said Denser. ‘Yes, we do.’ He closed his eyes and felt the mana form around him. This would be difficult but he had to know. A communion over such a distance was a strain on mind and body. Knowledge and glory would come at a price if they came at all.

They buried Ras outside the castle walls, branding the ground with The Raven mark; a simple profile of the bird’s head, single eye enlarged and wing curved above the head.

All but Richmond left the graveside, tired and hungry. For the lone warrior, kneeling in the cool damp of a windy, moonless night, the Vigil would last until dawn.

Sitting at a table in the huge kitchens, Ilkar described the events through the dimension door to Talan. It was only then that Hirad started to shake.

Picking up his mug of coffee from the table, he stared at it wobbling in his hands, liquid slopping out over his fingers.

‘You all right?’ asked Sirendor.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Hirad. ‘I don’t think so.’ He raised the mug to his lips but couldn’t close his mouth on it. The coffee dribbled down his chin. His heart slammed in his chest and his pulse thumped in his neck. Sweat began to prickle his forehead and dampen his armpits. Images of Sha-Kaan’s head flooded his mind. That and the fire all around him, hemming him in. He could feel the heat again and it made his palms itch. He dropped the mug.

‘Gods in the ground, Hirad, what’s wrong?’ Sirendor’s voice betrayed alarm. The barbarian half smiled. He must look as terrified as he felt. ‘You need to lie down.’