‘The strangers’ camp is a half-day standard march north. The path they made took me straight to it.’ He paused to take them all in. ‘The Al-Arynaar assembled here face a threat at least ten times our number. We will need all of our guile and the blessing of Yniss to survive.’
Rebraal let his words sink in. He saw fear, which was right, but no desperation. He hadn’t expected to.
‘How long before they get here?’ asked Caran’herc. Keen eyes and a fine archer even for an elf, Caran’herc had her hair close-cropped for convenience and a narrow face that robbed her of real beauty. Her eyes though, piercing and deep blue, shone from her face, bewitching.
‘By the position of the sun, I left them four hours ago,’ said Rebraal, ‘and they were making no preparations then. They will miss their dead by dawn if not before and though the rain might slow them, they could be on us and wary before night falls tomorrow.’
‘Mercuun will be gone until the day after tomorrow at least,’ said Sheth’erei, a thoughtful, quiet mage. She chewed at her thin lips, the tips of her high cheeks pink, the hood of a lightweight cloak thrown over her head against the insects of the night.
Rebraal nodded. ‘Yes, Sheth. We have to assume we are on our own.’
They took the situation in, each one weighing up the risks and possibilities. They knew the forest was their greatest ally, but that for all its strengths, overwhelming odds would ultimately be victorious. Unless the few were prepared.
‘Sheth, Erin. Perimeter wards need to be laid and activated. So do the temple doors. When these are set, remember your distances all of you.’ He looked hard at the two mages. ‘It’s up to you to tell us when we can no longer pray inside. Right. The rest of us. Check and unlock the stakes and pits. Re-lay the camouflage on the archer platforms, rub down the boards and check fastenings for silence. Check every arrow tip and shaft for imperfection, the toxin supply for age. Hone every edge of every blade. Clear your lines of sight, retie the netting. Leave no mark on the earth. That done we will talk of our positions.
‘But first, we will pray.’
Rebraal led them to the temple.
The Unknown Warrior walked through the entrance of the house, nodding at Aeb who stood just inside. The Protector inclined his head in return.
‘The kitchen is still the most habitable area,’ he said in response to the question The Unknown had been framing.
The Raven warrior smiled. ‘And the rest of the house?’
‘Safe from collapse. We have repaired roofing over some of the bedrooms but we lack tools.’
‘Not any more you don’t. Nor do you lack muscle.’
‘A hundred of my brothers is a welcome addition,’ said Aeb.
‘A hundred?’ echoed Hirad.
‘Later,’ said The Unknown. He turned back to Aeb. ‘We’ll tour the house later, set some priorities. I’ll be in the kitchen with my family.’
Aeb inclined his head again. ‘I will have our brothers leave there.’
‘Thank you.’
The Unknown pointed the way and led Diera towards the kitchen, which stood at the far end of the house. It was not a walk he enjoyed.
Directly opposite the shored-up frontage with its battered but repaired doors was the gaping space that had once been the wood and glass entrance to the orchard, the devastated centrepiece of the house. The Unknown paused and looked out, and the battle flickered back through his head with disturbing clarity.
He saw the orchard ablaze with mage fire from the bombardment of Dordovan FlameOrbs. The shapes of mages descending on Shadow-Wings into the blaze. The sound of spells drumming on the roof. The rush of cool air as the front doors were battered down. The spatter of blood on his face. Dear Gods, The Raven had fought so hard against such numbers.
The Unknown placed a hand on his forehead and felt the sweat sheen there. His hip ached in sympathy at the memory of the desperate run up the corridor to the ballroom and through to the kitchen. The ache intensified, jabbed pain at him.
The smells of ash and fear were in his nostrils once again. The deaths of Protectors blown apart by close-focused magic flashed in front of his eyes. He could hear Denser’s frantic attempts to shield them from crossbows behind and Hirad’s roar and the cut of his sword into Dordovan flesh. And, with sickening repetition, he saw a Protector sacrifice