Auum tugged at his ear.
'And you are fortunate there are no others to hear you,' he said. 'Gyal's tears, but humans are noisy when they argue.' He appraised them all. 'You can all travel now.'
It was not a question. The Unknown inclined his head.
'We've said what needs to be said right now.'
'Keep it so,' said Auum. 'Threat closes.'
He turned to his Tai and spoke quickly. Duele and Evunn jogged away. When he switched his attention back, his face held familiar contempt.
'We move,' he said. 'The caravan is in trouble as it approaches Xetesk. Rebraal feels your presence will aid belief. I am at a loss why.'
Denser grabbed Hirad's arm.
'Just don't say it,' he said. 'We already know.'
Chapter 28
Baron Blackthorne stood in his banqueting hall and battered the demon about the head again and again. Gore splattered across the filthy stone flags, oozing into cracks and puddling under the creature's body. And with every blow, Blackthorne roared his defiance.
'You . . . will . . . never . . . take my castle. You . . . will . . . never . . . take me.'
He felt a touch on his free arm and swung round, ready to hack at another enemy. He raised his dripping blade but halted his strike when he saw it was Luke.
'It's over,' said Luke, holding his gaze. 'It's dead. The demons have withdrawn.'
Blackthorne became aware of the heaving of his chest and the heat in his face. His eyes would be blazing and wild, he knew. He took a few moments to calm himself, laying his sword on a table and smoothing down his hair. He nodded.
'I'm all right,' he said. 'Thank you, Luke.'
But he could see that Luke wasn't. The young man's face was crossed with cuts that bled freely. His leather armour was torn and his right hand was covered in a makeshift bandage, already stained dark and dripping. He was shivering violently and leaning heavily on his long-handled mace.
'Gods falling, Luke, you need attention,' he said. 'Come, lean on me. I'll take you to the infirmary.'
'There won't be room,' said Luke. 'But I'll lean on you gratefully. Show you what we have left.'
Blackthorne turned to walk back through the banqueting hall and stopped in his tracks. Ten days since he had hosted The Raven here and felt such hope. Now it had been reduced to a battlefield and almost all of that hope had been extinguished.
The main table was strewn with demon and human bodies. One end of it had collapsed under the weight of the fighting, spilling dishes and candelabra onto the floor. And that was only the half of it. Across the length of the two-hundred-foot room, those who could still walk moved among the bodies of those who could not, trying to help where, how and if they could. A quick count told Blackthorne that at least forty of his people lay dead, dying or incapacitated. Should that weight of numbers be replicated throughout the ColdRoom shell . . .
'How much do we have left?'
Luke's face was grim through the sheen of blood.
'The castle, the stable block, the back courtyard, the inner courtyard and the equipment sheds. That's about it.'
'Oh dear Gods.' Blackthorne shook his head. 'How many have we lost?'
T don't know,' said Luke. 'We'll do a count later but it's bad. We've a core of mages for the ColdRooms but there's no way we can see off another attack of that magnitude.'
'We might have to find a way.'
Blackthorne, with Luke leaning on him heavily, headed for the main doors of the hall. On his way, he caught the eye of a warrior looking up from a dead companion.
'He put himself in front of me,' the soldier explained. 'The demon tore at his heart. Should be me.'
'But it isn't, Sergeant,' said Blackthorne gently. 'And everyone, living or dead, is a hero today. If we weren't, they would have overrun us. Pay him back; never give in.'
The sergeant nodded. Blackthorne could see the man shivering. His eyes were unfocused as if there was nothing behind them. He was absolutely terrified, traumatised by the experience. Blackthorne reached out and helped him up. At least he was steady on his feet.
'There is nothing you can do for him. The duty watch will take him with the others, if there's anything left of them that is. Why don't you fetch my sword from the table over there and help me with Luke?'
Blackthorne took a last gaze around the banqueting hall. It was a charnel house. It stank. At the far end, teams were being organised to clear the bodies out to the courtyard where they would be buried.
They couldn't afford the wood for pyres, nor the water to wash away the blood. Not until they'd ascertained what supply they had left.
He became aware of the filth on his own body; demon as well as human. And also the increasing weight Luke was putting on him.
'Hey, boy, not feeling so good?'
'I've felt better,' agreed Luke.
The soldier hurried back across the floor.
'Take his other side,' ordered Blackthorne. T take it the barracks are out of bounds.'
'Yes, my Lord,' said Luke.
'Then you will rest in my quarters.'
'No. There is so much to do.'
'Yes, there is. And I and the good sergeant here will organise it. When I have the numbers, I will bring them to you. No buts, Luke, I need your mind and right now it's not all there, is it?'
Blackthorne all but crumbled faced with Luke's look of gratitude. The young man slumped against him.
'Dammit,' he said. 'Come on, let's get moving.'
He and the sergeant hurried Luke from the hall. The situation in the corridors they travelled was little better than that they'd just left. Bodies, not enough still moving, littered walkways, stairs and chambers. They passed the infirmary, a hive of activity and bursting at the seams, on the way to his rooms.
'Attention, my chambers. Now.' He barked, not waiting for a response.
They bundled Luke up the stairs and all but threw him on Blackthorne's wrought-iron, curtained bed. It was dim in the bedchamber. The fire was cold, no candles were lit and the windows were shuttered and nailed. Demons marauded outside.
The sergeant wrung out the cloth in Blackthorne's basin and folded it for a compress.