‘But it doesn’t get us to the door, does it?’ asked Hirad.

‘That’s because we’re trying to find it rather than let it bring us to it . . . Is anyone getting this?’

‘Yes, I think I am.’ Ilkar was scratching at an ear. ‘After all, when you die, you travel to the last resting place without thought, it’s just where you go. And when the Garonin threw us all out, we travelled back to Balaia in pretty much the same fashion, didn’t we? All of us drawn by Sol or Densyr, bless his Xeteskian intransigence. And what you’re saying is the same, isn’t it?’

‘That’s about the size of it.’ The Unknown frowned at Ilkar. ‘You all right?’

Ilkar shrugged. He was shivering. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘What, so we lie down, smoke something interesting and let it happen, is that right?’ said Hirad. ‘Bit dull, isn’t it?’

‘I’m sorry but you can’t always wade through rivers of blood, all right?’ said The Unknown. ‘And yes, we do let it happen in a sense but more along the lines of opening our souls to where the doorway is and then making our way to it.’

‘Open our souls to what? When I died, I travelled, just like Ilkar said. No choice. When I came back, I recognised you, Unknown, and could follow your soul all the way home. But this new place, we know nothing about it. It’s hidden from everyone and for a good reason, assuming it even exists. How do we open our souls to it?’

‘I’ll concede that’s a good question,’ said The Unknown. ‘Any thoughts?’

‘I’ve got another good question. What are they all doing?’

The Raven followed the direction of Sirendor’s index finger. Indistinct, like figures in a heat haze, were people. Quite a lot of them.

‘How long have they been there?’ asked The Unknown, already walking towards them.

‘Just caught them out of the corner of my eye,’ said Sirendor. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘I’m thinking it looks bad. If I’m right, Garonin can travel here at will but they are also sensitive to what happens here and are drawn to opportunity,’ said The Unknown.

‘Which is how they got into the Balaian cluster, you think?’ asked Ilkar.

‘No doubt about it.’

‘So, what are they drawn to this time?’ asked Sirendor.

The Unknown pursed his lips. Hirad’s soul was already crying out before he replied.

‘Big collection of souls in the corridor, Sirendor,’ said The Unknown. ‘Big enough to hold a lot of mana and attract a lot of attention if the Garonin turn up here.’

‘Auum,’ said Hirad, and he broke into a run. ‘Come on, Raven.’

Hirad heard the sound of their footsteps after him. Thraun loped easily by his side. Across the bleak land, Hirad could see the Garonin making deliberate progress, their long stride metronomic like the tapping of The Unknown’s blade. In the clearing haze he could make out well over thirty.

He scanned ahead of them. Dimly he thought he could see what looked like a structure of some kind. What was definitely there was a different quality of light. He upped his pace. Curious that he felt no breath in him. And strange that there was still a limit to how fast he could run. The limit of his memories, he assumed. Still, it would be good to reach a fight on the run and not be gulping in air when he got there.

‘Through the back of them or join Auum, if it is him?’ asked Sirendor as they ran.

‘We need to upset their attack,’ said The Unknown. ‘Ilkar, how’s it coming?’

‘Not so . . . well.’

Hirad glanced back. Ilkar was struggling. He looked as if he was running in thigh-deep mud and there was an odd quality to him, like he was shimmering or something. Hirad slid to a halt.

‘Unknown. Quickly!’ He grabbed Ilkar’s arm and made him stop. ‘Ilks. Come on, stop a moment.’

‘Need to . . . get attack. In . . .’

Ilkar stumbled and fell forward, sprawling on the ivory floor. Hirad’s eyes were drawn to his legs. His boots were gone and below the knee his legs seemed indistinct, grey beneath a shifting mist.

‘Stay with us, Ilkar,’ said The Unknown. ‘Sirendor, get here. Thraun!’

‘Can’t find anything,’ mumbled Ilkar. ‘No energy. My mind is cold.’

‘It doesn’t matter, Ilks,’ said Hirad. ‘We’re with you. Get your strength from us. It’ll come back.’

‘Listen to him,’ said The Unknown. Sirendor joined them and all placed hands on Ilkar’s body. It just seemed the natural thing to do. ‘We know you, Ilkar. We remember your sacrifice at Understone. We know how strong you are. Believe in yourself as we believe in you. The magic doesn’t matter. Your soul next to ours, that matters.’

Ilkar’s shivering began to subside and the shimmering that had encased his body cleared. His boots reformed slowly over his ankles and feet. Thraun trotted up and nuzzled Ilkar’s head, licking him hard across the face. Ilkar spluttered and thrashed to a sitting position.

‘That is disgusting.’ He stared at them as if for the first time. ‘What happened?’

‘We thought we were losing you, Ilks,’ said Hirad.

Ilkar wiped his face. ‘I have never been licked by a warrior before, in whatever shape he currently resides.’

‘Well, pull a fading stunt like that again and it’ll be me next time,’ said Hirad.

‘What more incentive could an elf want?’ Ilkar held up a hand to The Unknown, who was standing. ‘Can you help me up?’

‘Sure you’re all right?’ asked The Unknown.

‘Much better for the pep talk, Unknown.’ Ilkar smiled.

The Unknown gathered them all close. ‘Before we run, I want you all to bear in mind one thing. We cannot lose faith, not for a moment. It makes us weak and we cannot afford that. Whatever happens, we are Raven, we are strong. We have never been defeated.’

He held out his hand, palm down. One by one, Sirendor, Ilkar and Hirad placed theirs on his.

‘We are The Raven,’ he repeated. ‘Now let’s go save Auum and find ourselves a new place to rest.’

A soul-tearing scream stopped them before they had taken a single step.

Chapter 42

Two figures lay on the ivory ground not five feet from where Ilkar was standing in The Raven’s huddle. Their screams called out to his soul, burying themselves in the centre of his pain. He could feel theirs so cleanly it brought him, all of them, to their knees.

He led the crawl over to them while the screaming dug at his ability to put one hand in front of the other. His teeth were gritted together and a taut sound was being dragged through them. Wreathed in flame, her hair burning like the brightest lantern on the darkest night, the little girl had her hands over her face, helpless in her agony. Arms wrapped around his head as if to protect him from whatever fell on him, the other figure, a grown man, was tucked into the foetal position. He was covered in dust as if fresh from the trail. His head was a mass of blood, his skull smashed at the back. Shards of bone had pierced the brain within.

Sol reached them first, laid his hands on the girl. The flames were extinguished immediately and her body relaxed. A shuddering sigh escaped her burned mouth and a transformation overcame her. Her body lengthened, grew. Beautiful angled features were drawn on her face. Auburn hair covered her skull and a full figure developed beneath tough trail clothes.

‘Erienne,’ gasped The Unknown, and she dragged him into an embrace, body shaking, her bright green eyes looking out over his shoulder, staring and confused.

Hirad hurried to the man. His screaming had subsided. Tight curls now adorned his head and the dust of the trail was gone. He wore cavalry boots and trousers, a chain mail shirt and a cloak was about his shoulders, trimmed the green of Lystern. Slowly, he straightened out and came to a sitting position. His face was pale but in his eyes shone the determination that had made him such a valuable member of The Raven.