James Barclay - Elfsorrow

The Unknown stood by Aeb, Erienne by Ren and Hirad by Ilkar. The barbarian nodded to the big man and he spoke for all of 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 souls. Farewell in whatever faces you now and ever. The Raven will ride together again one day.'

As he spoke each point, candles were snuffed until darkness covered them all.

The Raven did not move from the graves until dawn cracked the sky, but after the silence they talked, though Darrick and Thraun contributed little. They recalled battles and arguments. They cried and laughed together, they speculated on who would be next. It lightened their hearts and their spirits just a little.

'You never really got on with Ren, did you, Hirad?' said Erienne.

'Ilkar loved her and that was enough for me,' said Hirad. 'Let's face it, we'd none of us ever seen him so happy.'

'Evasion, surely?' accused Denser. 'You can do better than that.'

'All right, all right.' Hirad held up his hands. 'I'll admit she had her faults as far as The Raven was concerned. She was a brilliant archer, the best we ever had, but she was so impetuous. Look what she did at the temple.' He paused. 'And look what she did yesterday. '

The Unknown nodded. 'But we'd have taught her. And what she did was extraordinary. Proved she was Raven. Prepared to give her life for one of us without question. That's why I honour her.'

'I'll drink to that,' said Hirad. 'As soon as we get to Blackthorne, anyway.'

'I'll miss the arguments, you know,' said Denser. 'I loved listening to you two.'

'You're not so bad at it yourself,' said Hirad. 'And don't worry, I'll switch to you now. Got to have someone to poke fun at.'

'You mean you haven't started yet?' asked Denser.

'Oh, my dear Denser,' said The Unknown. 'There were ten years before you even joined. You don't know the half of it. He hasn't even begun to scratch the surface.'

The sky was lightening. The new day was coming. It would be a day without Ilkar, and for Hirad that was something awful to contemplate. But in his death he'd given hope to every living elf, and that was something that burned in Hirad's heart with an intensity that would never wane.

He stood up, brushed himself down and turned to The Raven.

'Come on, it's getting light. Time to leave our friends to rest a while.' He knelt and patted the earth of Ilkar's grave. 'See you, Ilks, but got to go.

'It's a long way to Calaius and we've got work to do.'

Erienne knelt before the statue of Yniss and its shattered hand that the Al-Arynaar had reattached but did not have the magic to bind.

Are you there? she asked.

Yes, Erienne, said Cleress. Before we start, tell us how you felt in the stockade at Understone. You used the One.

Were you with me?

Of course, but only to help you should you falter. We cannot afford to lose you. But you learned the essence of it all. Casting reflects desire. You wanted The Raven to have time to talk, and you gave it to them. You will be able to achieve almost anything but this strength is also the curse. Go further than the power of your mind and the One will swamp you, kill you. This is the limitation you must understand before we can withdraw from you.

I didn't feel in control.

You were not, said Myriell. Not entirely. It will become more natural as you begin to understand how it feels.

Erienne shook her head. No more now. Elves die as we speak. What must I do?

We will guide you, said Cleress. You must open yourself to the One, let us feel what you feel.

I'm just a conduit, right?

You are far more than that, said Myriell, her voice weak and distant. But for this binding, yes, you can put it that way.

What should I do?

Just place both hands on the statue. One on the thumb and one on the fracture at the wrist. Then delve down into the entity and feel us there with you.

Erienne placed her hands where she was asked and closed her eyes, tuning her mind to the mana spectrum. She dived deep within herself, down to the hated pulsating mass in her mind that was the One. She hovered above it for a moment, then plunged in.

The energy that stormed through her body was as overwhelming as it was beautiful. It took her breath away, stopped her heart and stole the strength from her limbs. But still she lived, still the blood raced through her veins and her grip on the statue was secure.

She felt uplifted and everything around her was so clear and pure. The water in the pool next to her, Auum and Rebraal standing near her, their bodies taut with tension, their minds so complex, so dark and yet so fundamentally good. She pushed outwards and everything was in focus. She could feel the beating heart of a bird in a nearby tree, she could feel the roots of the tree itself, growing down as they sought nourishment. She could feel a panther and its partner outside the temple, their bond closer than mother and unborn child, and she could feel The Raven, strong but bowed by grief, waiting for her. Waiting and hoping she could do what she was asked.

This may be painful for you, said Myriell. I am sorry if it is so.

Do what you must. I am ready.

Very well.

The sound of their voices grew in her mind and at once the tendrils of the One started to move together. The language was ancient and elvish but power reverberated in every syllable. They were forging a shape like a cast. It was huge and rotated, dragging the essence of the One from the entity inside her, melding it to what they had already built.

And then came the pain. From the tips of her toes to the top of her scalp, every nerve came alive and shrieked. The raw spirit of the One was surging through her, only kept in check by the strength of the Al-Drechar's minds. The tendrils fattened to great twining ropes feeding into the structure that blossomed as it grew.

She knew she was juddering with the force of it all; her eyes and mouth flew open, spittle rolled over her chin and she heard a low wail that she didn't realise at first was coming from her. The voices grew so loud in her head she feared she would pass out but the One kept her upright; it wouldn't let her go.

The marble of the wrist, hand and thumb was moving, moulding and shaping. Like ants crawling on the forest floor, it shifted over itself, knitting together, the movement seething upwards, the stone feeling alive beneath her fingers. It pulsed and writhed, every shard moved to its place, every nick was covered and every crack smoothed away.

Her eyesight began to fade as the sound of the Al-Drechar's voices dropped to a low bass. The floor under her began to vibrate, water in the pool splashed, dust filtered down from above, settling on her arms and head. She saw the sheath of mana pass over the hand, up the arm and then across Yniss's body. And as it did, her body quivered, every muscle in minute spasm, her nerves still alive and open, her pain quite without peer.

Yet beneath the agony she felt the purity of the force, the completeness of the One. She caught a glimpse of the world with the One as its keeper. It was the harmony. It was Yniss on earth. It was wonderful. Outside, The Raven waited nervously. The Al-Arynaar had closed the temple door, and even when Erienne began to wail they would not move. All Denser could do was pace.

Hirad stood with The Unknown as time dragged on, still feeling the bitter taste of fresh grief in his mind.

'All this death and we achieved none of the things we left Herendeneth to do.'

'Wouldn't have been anywhere else though, would you?' said The Unknown.

'No, I suppose not.' Hirad scuffed at the ground with his feet. 'You know, I'm starting to believe in destiny. For The Raven, that is.'