James Barclay - Ravensoul

‘I have to get you to a place where we can get you out if we have to.’

‘Wait, wait,’ said Diera, hugging her children close to her. ‘This is going back towards the main entrance, isn’t it? Back towards the Garonin.’

‘The only entrance,’ said Densyr. ‘I’m trying to give you the best chance if we’re compromised here. Do you trust me?’

Diera hesitated before inclining her head. ‘Do I have any choice?’

‘Nowhere is safe in Xetesk,’ said Densyr, feeling a weight of responsibility greater than any he had experienced in his time as Lord of the Mount. ‘But I will not put you at unnecessary risk. I’ve made mistakes. You won’t be another of them.’

Densyr looked into Diera’s eyes. And then into Jonas’s. He found the strength there that he needed. He turned and led them back into the centre of the catacombs. Another huge jolt shook the whole underground structure. Densyr lost his footing and stumbled into the wall at his right hand. Young Hirad had fallen and grazed his knees. Diera scooped him into her arms, letting him sob into her shoulder.

‘Where are we now?’ asked Jonas.

‘Map room just ahead and right. Old Soul Tank chamber this door on your left. The Heart is below us now and my tower a little way ahead. Let’s keep moving. Everyone all right?’

‘Still alive, anyway,’ said Diera.

Densyr moved on. There was a worrying groaning of stone above. Some part of the complex struggling under the Garonin assault. One of the wolves was whining. They were approaching a hub. Figures were rushing past the corridor and he could hear anxious shouts echoing down to them. A second, lesser jolt rattled through the catacombs. It was followed by a hideous cracking sound.

‘Oh dear Gods,’ breathed Densyr. ‘Run. Quickly. Follow me.’

Densyr grabbed Diera’s free hand and pulled her with him. Mages ran past them and away back towards the dimensional research chambers.

‘It’s coming down! Run, my Lord Densyr, run!’

‘What’s coming down?’ demanded Diera above the groaning, cracking sounds ricocheting down from above. Plaster fell from the corridor. ‘Denser!’

Densyr said nothing, dragging them into the hub room. To the right, the roots of his tower plunged deep into the ground. Passages ran down either side of the foundations. Gaping cracks had been torn in the stonework and the wall was vibrating. He led them left and away towards Dystran’s chambers.

‘Denser!’

‘It’s my tower,’ Densyr called over his shoulder. ‘Don’t look back.’

The corridor down which they now hurried was shaking violently. Debris and plaster fell. There were small cracks in the floor at his feet. Hirad was screaming. Diera tried to comfort him though her voice was trembling. Jonas kept up a running commentary, encouraging them, keeping them running. So much his father’s son.

A thunderous crash hurled them all from their feet. A torrent of stone and metal barrelled through the roof of the catacombs, sending dust rushing down all the passages away from the hub.

‘Down!’ yelled Densyr.

Diera covered Hirad’s head. Jonas was lying half on his mother. The dust howled past them, carrying with it shards of rock and wood. The wolves ran on, away from the avalanche at their heels. The sound of the falling structure, the noise of rock on rock, splintering timbers and the grind of twisting, tearing metal, boomed around their heads. On and on it went. Densyr felt debris cover his boots and the lower part of his legs.

As the din subsided, he could hear crying. He lifted his head, relief making him a little light-headed. Diera and Hirad clung to each other, tears streaking their grimed faces. Jonas was shaking muck from his back, legs and hair. Densyr stood and held out his hands. Behind them, the hub and corridors were gone, filled by tons of rubble.

‘Come on. The enemy will be down here next. We have to make one short stop and then get out of here.’

Diera got shakily to her feet and looked behind her, gasping in a breath. Hirad had stopped crying but wouldn’t be put down. Diera nodded and gestured Densyr to lead on. Jonas came to his shoulder.

‘What are you going to do?’ he asked.

‘Light a fuse, in a manner of speaking. One long enough to allow us to get out.’ Densyr dropped his voice as they took a right turn then another left. ‘Can you use a sword?’

‘My father taught me a few things.’

‘Good. We’ll find you one. Just in case.’

‘You will do no such thing,’ said Diera.

Densyr didn’t pause or look behind him. ‘Sorry, Diera, but you need to know what the collapse of my tower means. The outer defence has failed. We can assume no one has survived up top. The Garonin will be down here ripping the walls out to get to the Heart. We’re liable to run into some of them. Right turn, Jonas. Second door down on the left. Go straight in.

‘We have little choice but to arm ourselves. Just in case.’

‘Where are the wolves, Mama?’ asked Hirad.

‘They’ll find us again,’ said Diera. ‘Don’t you worry.’

She caught Densyr’s eye and he did nothing to hide the doubt he felt. He ushered Diera and Hirad intro Dystran’s chambers and closed the door on the disaster unfolding outside. Densyr cast his eyes around a dust-filled oasis of calm. A fire was in the grate. A servant was pouring tea and Vuldaroq was seated in front of Dystran, a hand on his wrist.

‘How is he?’ asked Densyr.

‘Fading,’ said Vuldaroq. The old Dordovan Tower Master took in Sol’s family. His face cleared and he smiled. ‘It’s time, is it?’

‘Yes,’ said Densyr.

‘He can’t speak but he can hear you,’ said Vuldaroq. ‘But he is proud of you and the decision you’re taking. As am I. It is a fitting end.’

Densyr knelt by Dystran. ‘We’ve had our battles, my Lord Dystran. But I like to think we’ve carried ourselves with respect. Most of the time, anyway. The Garonin are crawling all over this place. You know what to do. Don’t leave it too long. Don’t build too much. You will be remembered as a hero of Xetesk for this even more than the demon wars. May your soul find peace.’

The slightest of smiles crossed Dystran’s face. Densyr rose.

‘Come with us, Vuldaroq.’

Vuldaroq shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, Densyr. I’ll stay with him. We both need the rest.’

The two men shook hands. Pain flitted through Densyr’s head. Dystran had begun his work.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Diera.

Densyr smiled. ‘The end of magic, Lady Unknown. Only way to make this world not worth further plundering. Come on, we’ve fresh air to breathe.’

The yearning was overwhelming. Sol knew there were tears falling down his cheeks. He knew he should feel the anxiety that the rest of his friends were experiencing as they awaited the inevitable attack. But he felt a joy that he could not confine. The hopes of every soul around filled him. Their lights shone so bright within him.

Sol reached out to gather in the strength of The Raven. He could touch each one of them. The huge presence that was Hirad. The determination that shone from Erienne. Ilkar’s stoicism through his frustration. Sirendor’s will buoyed by Hirad’s refusal to let him fade. Darrick’s calm purpose. Thraun’s animal power. He would have wished for more of them to be with him, but they were enough.

The weight of the body of souls was his foundation. The Raven were his keystone. Sol opened his soul to the void. Warmth washed through him. He had never paused to wonder how he would find their new home. The soul searches and the soul finds, so Auum had said. And it was true. He could smell trees and flowers, sea and stone.

Yet there was nothing to see. There was no passageway down which to travel, no door that needed to be opened. There didn’t need to be. Sol was all these things and he was the bridge to a place he would never see. A place where hope would be kindled by the fact of his death. Yet a place open to plunder unless the final battle was won.