Part 6 (2/2)

'If I'm not here, those witches will meddle. Spoil what I've done.' There was the flash and it saddened Denser's heart.

'Erienne, they haven't even the strength to walk here. Nerane can do it. She has the right touch, don't you think?'

Erienne shrugged but said nothing, just stared down at the grave.

'Erienne?' She looked up at him. 'Please? We need you. The Raven isn't complete without you.'

'You'd leave me, would you? If I said no?'

'I'm Raven,' said Denser.

'You're my husband first, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d!' she snapped out. 'But The Unknown snaps his fingers and you go running. Fine.'

'When I asked for his help, he was there. For both of us,' said Denser quietly. 'And he left his family to do it. Balaia needs what we can give it.'

'I've lost everything,' said Erienne as if engaged in another conversation.

'Not quite. There's me, there's The Raven and there's Balaia. You'll never lose me but we have to fight for our country.'

Erienne looked hard at him then, trying to discern any insincerity. 'You really think The Raven can help, don't you?'

'Don't you?' replied Denser, and shrugged.

'We don't always win, do we?' said Erienne, her voice threatening to break again.

'No we don't. But we're there nonetheless.'

'And you will go whether I do or not?'

'Oh, love, it's not a choice I want to make. But we've our lives together for ever and I want us to have a country to live in that's worthy of you.'

'Denser, you're so honourable sometimes,' she chided gently, a smile brief as a blink on her lips. 'But you're asking me to leave her and I don't know that I can do that.'

'You'll be among your most trusted friends,' said Denser, and this time she didn't shy away from his arm but allowed him to draw her close. Denser felt a thrill at her beautiful wet hair smell so close to him. 'Here, you'll be alone. With us, you'll never be so.'

'I'll be a burden. Hardly the Raven mage you all remember. I haven't got concentration enough to heal a cut.'

'You'll be fine.' Denser felt he was edging the argument. 'And if you're not with me, I'll fear for you here.'

Erienne tensed and pulled away. 'Another lever to get me off the island and away from my daughter. Convenient indeed.'

Denser cursed silently. 'Don't be angry, please. I don't think The Unknown had much choice. They'd have come here sooner or later anyway. At least now they'll do some good too.'

'Like forcing me from here, you mean.'

'Like freeing Protectors and helping dragons,' said Denser more sharply than he'd intended. He took a breath and softened his tone. 'Look, right now, no one but we and the Al-Drechar know what you carry. And one day I'm sure you'll be open to the hope it offers. But if Xetesk finds out you have the spirit of the One within you, they'll stop at nothing to exploit you. You know that.'

'You've got all the cards, haven't you?' Erienne stood up and brushed herself down, her stare cold. 'Bet you all think you're being very clever, don't you?'

'Erienne, this isn't about forcing you from Lyanna, surely you see that? It's about-'

'Fighting for b.l.o.o.d.y Balaia again. Yes, I know.' Denser all but flinched at the hardness in her tone. 'Well look where helping other people has got me. Three dead children. When's someone going to help me for a change? When's someone . . .'

She crumpled into a heap, her sobs shuddering her body, huge breaths heaving in and out. Denser pulled her onto his lap, stroking her hair and whispering close to her ear, biting hard on his own sorrow lest it overcome him too.

'We'll help you,' he said. 'But you have to let us in. And you have to start to let go. Please let me in, Erienne. Please.'

'How many of them were there?' Captain Yron wiped a hand across his face and looked over the scorched carnage in front of the temple.

He had been very lucky, slipping round what was apparently a ForceCone and diving aside just as the doors exploded, killing thirty of his people in an instant. Even so, he'd had the hair scorched from his chin and half his head. It itched like h.e.l.l.

'Nine, sir,' said his just-promoted second in command, a drawn and scared youth called Ben-Foran. The boy had smears of black over his face and a long burn down the left side of his chin and neck.

'Dear G.o.ds, is that all? Are you sure there are no more?'

'As sure as we can be, sir. But they can just melt into the forest.' Ben-Foran's eyes were everywhere. Yron couldn't blame him. In all they'd lost eighty-five men to wards, swords and poisoned arrows. Such ferocity he'd never known before. Yron was aware of the Al-Arynaar, of course, but they weren't supposed to be so fierce, unlike the elite TaiGethen. More a ceremonial guard. And if rumour and intelligence could be so wrong about the Al-Arynaar, what about their reportedly far more dangerous cousins?

'Well, let's make sure our perimeter defence is sound. As many as possible will sleep inside tonight,' he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the beautifully cool temple. 'We'll be all right.'

Ben-Foran looked past him. 'Are they nearly finished in there?'

Yron looked round at his two remaining mages, searching for more wards and traps. They'd been in there hours, and the sun had been unrelenting since the pre-dawn rains.

'G.o.ds, I hope so, son,' he said. He clapped the boy on the shoulder and turned him round. 'Come on. Let's check the living and honour the dead, what's left of them.'

An insect bit into his arm. He slapped at the creature, the third he had felt in the last few minutes. G.o.ds knew how many had gone unnoticed. He caught the expression on Ben-Foran's face. Both men scratched at their arms instinctively. He knew what the boy was thinking. Cuts, blisters and insect stings meant nothing in Balaia but everything here. And only two mages to keep almost fifty men well. They would have to be very careful.

The pyre was still burning on the centre of the ap.r.o.n when Yron finally got his first look inside the temple that had cost them so dear. All but the two mages and Ben-Foran were outside, awaiting the signal that meant relief from the oppressive heat and humidity of the early afternoon.

Inside, it was almost cool, chilly in comparison. The stone was deep and carried little heat, and the flow of cold water into the pool, undoubtedly from some underground spring, gave the temple a refres.h.i.+ng atmosphere. It was, Yron conceded as he looked up at the splendidly detailed statue, a very pleasant place to be. At that moment almost perfect in fact.

'The light is beautiful,' said Ben-Foran.

Yron turned. Ben was indicating the shafts of coloured light filtering through the gla.s.s blocks and windows at the top of the temple walls and set into the base of the dome roof. The effect had clearly been lessened by the destruction of the doors but he could see what the boy meant.

'Not just decorative, either,' said Erys, a clever young mage archivist with very bright red hair he should have kept shorter. If he had been a soldier, Yron could have forced him to.

'Used in ceremony, you think?' suggested Yron.

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