The Familiar chuckled. ‘You know already. Your allegiance is your weakness.’
‘Aeb,’ he said, and the Familiar smiled, its fangs revealed, slicked in blood. Its tongue licked out. ‘Why do you want to kill us?’
The Familiar coughed. It was fading quickly and its voice was weaker now. ‘You would stop us. Take what we need . . . Not allowed.’ It was struggling for words. ‘There will be more.’
The Unknown watched the fury in its eyes dim as its heart failed. ‘You will not beat us.’
‘We hold the power.’ Its head fell to the side and it breathed its last.
The Unknown stood and looked at The Raven, Darrick, Denser and Aeb all with wounds. Aeb’s looked bad. Denser had blood running from his face and Erienne was seeing to him while Ilkar moved his hands slowly over Aeb’s burned back. The elf’s hands were shaking.
‘Are you all right, Ilkar?’
He nodded through his concentration but didn’t look round. ‘I’m just tired. I don’t like losing spells suddenly. It drags at the reserves. I’ll be all right.’
‘We’ve got to get on. We need to find secure rest and we have to get into Xetesk tomorrow night. Something tells me we’ve run out of time.’
From the corner of his eye, he saw Ilkar nod.
Chapter 42
Yron waited and waited. He threw the windows of his chambers wide to let in the fresh air, he paced the room, he ate from the fruit bowl on a side table, he plunged his head into the cold water of his wash bowl. He played word games in his mind, he fenced against the full-length mirror, polished his already gleaming axe and holster. Anything to focus his mind, sober up and stay awake.
He waited while the college quietened and the last of the revellers staggered to their chambers. He waited while the servants cleaned the banqueting chamber, cleaned the table and mopped the floors. He waited until the deepest depths of the night. And only then did he slip from his room, rough travel cloak covering his new clothes, cleaned leather and glittering axe holster, and into Erys’s room.
The mage was lost to sleep, flat on his back and snoring gently. A smile played on his face and his arms were flung wide across the luxurious bed. Yron placed one hand over Erys’s mouth and shook him hard awake. The mage’s eyes flew open and his hands scrabbled at Yron’s in sudden panic, only relaxing when he saw the captain’s smile. Yron removed his hand.
‘Don’t worry. Just me,’ he whispered. ‘Get up.’
‘What the hell is going on?’ Erys hissed. ‘It’s the middle of the bloody night!’
‘I’ll explain while you dress. We’ve got to do something. Now.’
Erys frowned and passed a hand over his head, breathing out heavily. ‘Is this your idea of a hilarious joke?’
‘No,’ said Yron sharply, dragging the covers from Erys. ‘Now get up. And you’d better be able to cast.’
‘I’ll see what I can do. Never tried it after so much wine.’ He sighed and heaved himself from the bed, heading for the wash bowl. He poured a jug of water over his head. ‘So what’s it all about, Captain?’
Yron told him, and by the time he had dressed Erys looked both awake and stone cold sober.
‘You are with me, aren’t you?’ asked Yron as he walked to Erys’s door.
‘I can’t be a party to genocide, unwitting or not,’ said Erys.
‘I thought not. Now, Dystran will have taken the thumb to his chambers.’
‘You’d better hope not. Have you any idea how many Protectors guard him up there?’ Erys jerked a thumb upwards.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Yron.
‘Don’t worry about it? Are you crazy? It only takes one, unless you’ve got an even better axe arm than I think you have.’
‘Just show me the way.’
Erys closed his eyes for a heartbeat and led the way from his chambers into the silence of the Tower. The two men walked back past the banqueting and audience chambers, down the darkened corridors that made up the wide base of the Tower and back towards the main doors.
Before they got there, Erys directed them down a left turn, through a curtained entrance and around another sharp bend and into a small oval chamber. The walls were lined with benches and hung with portraits of Lords of the Mount long dead. Directly ahead of them, in front of an intricately carved heavy wooden door, stood a pair of Protectors, silent and unmoving.