‘Right with you.’
‘Now, Hirad,’ said Darrick. ‘They’re coming through any moment.’
‘Right with you,’ repeated Hirad. ‘Erienne, that Heart has to come up.’
‘I know,’ snapped Erienne. ‘It was happening until he dropped in.’
‘No time for argument, get it done,’ said Hirad. He caught her expression. ‘Shout all you want but we’re on borrowed time here.’
‘Can it work?’ asked Darrick. ‘The Heart raise?’
‘Of course it can.’ Erienne led their gaze to the pit to which elves and Julatsans were already returning, some being supported by their friends.
‘But will they have anything left when they’ve done it?’ he pressed. ‘Anything at all?’
Erienne smiled at last. ‘Enough,’ she said. ‘Perhaps.’
Hirad barely concentrated on the exchange. Darrick was already running back to his defensive postion. He felt an impact through the ground and heard timbers giving way.
‘Hurry, Denser,’ he said quietly.
He placed a hand on Sha-Kaan’s head again. The eye opened and fixed him with an unblinking stare.
‘Move aside.’
Hirad moved and so did Sha-Kaan. Slowly, painfully, he rolled, pushing with a twisted hind leg and feebly flapping a free wing. But he moved upright, his neck still dragging on the floor, he without the strength to lift it or his head. With his legs finally beneath him, he pushed and relieved the pressure on his chest and torn underbelly. Blood ran from the hundreds of puncture wounds and he sighed.
‘Next time you touch down, it’ll be in your own Broodlands,’ said Hirad. ‘Think on that and keep yourself strong.’
Sha-Kaan said nothing, merely concentrated on breathing that was getting more and more ragged.
Denser was lost within himself, picking at the air with deliberate movements. Once again, Hirad found himself wishing he could see what a mage took as read, the mana flow, the structures it made and the wonder of it all. Next to him, Sha-Kaan twitched violently and his snout picked up off the ground.
Hirad jumped, made to ask what was wrong but instead felt the warmth of rediscovery flood through him. Around Denser’s head, a tiny slit had appeared and emanating from it was a line of blue light, hair-thin and rippling in one direction.
‘Follow your path, Sha-Kaan,’ Denser said, his voice hushed. ‘It will take you all the way home.’
Hirad felt the Great Kaan move and that head nudge him gently, almost knocking him from his feet. He twisted his neck and looked one more time into the deep blue pupil.
‘Don’t you dare die,’ said Hirad. ‘Not now.’
‘Thank you,’ said Sha-Kaan, the simple words burning into Hirad like the gratitude of thousands.
The Great Kaan shifted out of Balaia.
Behind Hirad, the gates of Julatsa were sundered.
Chapter 43
Izack moved his cavalry forward but he was not going to enter the city from anywhere but the south this morning. He had half of his shield mages in the air, spotting ahead, one having reported back on the attack by Sha-Kaan. For a few glorious moments it had seemed that the dragon had singlehandedly broken the enemy but the mages from the rear of the college had gathered, having driven him away, and now they assaulted the gates once more.
He led his men in at a gentle canter, watching for the signs in the sky. Darrick had instilled in him the importance of not making a hasty move and he had been proved right already today. His spotters had been chased by familiars and harried by Xeteskians but they had seen enough to stop him sacrificing himself in front of the walls at dawn. Nor had the TaiGethen been drawn to attack, but now the situation would change.
Izack waited his moment. They were very much alone. No support was coming. The Xeteskians had destroyed the relief force completely and all that was left was Blackthorne and he had gone his own way. High up the three spotters circled, diving and climbing to avoid the menacing familiars. The demons were the only immediate threat now that every available Xeteskian mage was presumably at the college gates.
While Izack watched, the flight pattern changed. The slow circling and diving switched to the figure of eight, each mage describing his own. Simultaneously, new smoke rose above the city. The spotters, their job done, dropped into the college to provide support.
‘Lystern, let’s move!’ shouted Izack. He snapped his reins and the cavalry accelerated. He had two miles to travel and the gates of Julatsa were down. The next stage of the fight relied on The Raven.
The heavy gates had rocked back against their hinges and the left-hand had sagged and fallen. Splinters filled the air and with a roar, the Xeteskian soldiers stormed in through the breach to be met head-on by Al-Arynaar warriors, Julatsan guardsmen and, at their centre, The Raven.
Hirad had run the moment Sha-Kaan had vanished into inter-dimensional space, dragging his sword from its scabbard and howling some barbarian cry that Denser never had understood. For himself, he took just a moment to collect himself, readying a HardShield and sprinting in Hirad’s wake to the back of the defensive line.
Up on the walls, Al-Arynaar archers were firing the last of their arrows into the backs of the attackers who, temporarily unshielded, were taking significant losses. But while he watched, FlameOrbs exploded in three places in the parapet. Elves were catapulted screaming into the air amongst clouds of stone chips, wood slivers and dust, to fall burning to the ground behind the defensive lines.
On the ground, the Xeteskians had run into solid defence as they knew they must but were still moving forward, trying to clear a path for a cavalry charge. Denser could see Chandyr lining up his horsemen. Crossbow bolts traced out over the forward line to strike at the line of elven archers responding in kind and he had to take his life in his hands, running across the space to where he could cast and direct.
‘Shield up,’ he said.
Hirad nodded but didn’t take his eyes from the enemy in front.
‘Pushing Raven!’ he roared.
Hirad’s blade, quick as ever, licked into the face of an enemy, reversed and chopped down through his chest guard, dragged out and turned away another blow. Next to him, The Unknown was deep in the heart of the enemy line, the dagger in his left hand blurring as he struck out, the long sword in his right carving gracefully, blocking, twisting and thrusting.
His power was immense, every blow from either weapon knocking opponents back, giving him all the time he needed for the killing thrust. One man died with the dagger clean into his eye when he had thought a heartbeat earlier he had scored a hit on the big man. Another took a cleaving blow into his side which opened up his gut and he fell, spilling entrails over the blood-slick ground.
To The Unknown’s left, Darrick and Thraun fought in a partnership that was beginning to work very well indeed. Darrick, the consummate swordsman, played defender while Thraun, raw power in every blow, thrashed his blade two-handed into enemy faces.
But it was the flanks that worried Denser. He could see the Xeteskians pressing there. For all their speed, the elves were very lightly armoured and their short blades didn’t have the reach. Too often, they were being dragged a pace forwards, too often the result was a cut, a body blow or a killing thrust.
‘Flanks weakening,’ warned Denser. ‘Cavalry waiting.’
‘Archers!’ shouted Darrick, pushing away a man. The Unknown clubbed him down with a huge blow to the top of the skull. ‘Flank support! Fire at will.’
Rebraal stood in the left flank, sporting a cut to his face and holding his left arm gingerly, his sleeve soaked red. He called out in elven and Denser heard the bows stretched behind him. Another shout and every elf to the left of Thraun dropped to his haunches and turned a backward roll, arrows flying over them into the enemy beyond. They stood back up to run in but a volley of crossbow bolts from behind cut hard into them, felling four at least.
‘We need more shields!’ called Darrick. ‘Someone get me a Julatsan from the pit.’
> But there was no one free to do it and, Denser suspected, not a single mage able to detach by now. The enemy pressed on both flanks while making no progress against the centre. He heard a shout from behind and the thundering of hooves. At the rear of the Xeteskians, the press of hundreds parted and the cavalry, two abreast galloped in.
With no respect for the few of his own caught beneath hooves, Chandyr drove his horses through the weakened left, scattering Al-Arynaar and knocking Thraun from his feet.
‘Break!’ shouted The Unknown. ‘Reform at the pit. Go, go!’
Denser dropped concentration, turned and ran. The Raven were all in a group, Al-Arynaar behind them keeping the cavalry from forming a charge. Spells detonated behind them, arrows filled the air and the sounds of hoof beats rang loud in the courtyard.
Racing for the path to the Heart pit which ran between the library and the long room Sha-Kaan had fetched up against, Denser dragged in concentration for a new casting. No time for defence now. He had to disrupt the charge.
‘Turning, Denser!’ warned Hirad.
Denser stopped and turned. A dozen cavalrymen were charging them. Behind them, the gateyard was chaos. Al-Arynaar fought in packs, Xeteskian soldiers and mages formed up into a cohesive line again, and more of Chandyr’s cavalry piled through the shattered gates. In front of him, The Unknown tapped his blade. This time, though, Denser was faster. He brought his arms together across his chest, his fists clenched, held at his shoulders. He focused on the centre of the charge now ten yards distant and widened his mana vison. His voice was calm and certain.
‘HellFire.’
Multiple columns of superheated blue mana fire scorched down from the clear sky, seeking the souls of the cavalry. The centre of the charge was deluged in an instant, the lead man disintegrating under the force of the spell, his horse driven into the ground, legs ripped to either side. On either flank, the columns gorged on flesh, their targets screaming briefly before dying. Fire splattered everywhere, riders veered away and circled, the burning horses plodding painfully to a halt, collapsing in agony. A wave of heat washed over The Raven and to a man, they staggered backwards.
‘Too close,’ breathed Denser, feeling the exertion of the powerful spell drag at his reserves.
‘Good work,’ said The Unknown, his sword still tapping its rhythm.
Al-Arynaar were running in their direction, aiming to strengthen their line. Out in the gateyard, the Xeteskians were slowly winning, their superior numbers telling. But The Raven couldn’t break. Here they had to make a stand. Behind them, the last chance for Julatsa was being played out.
But to Denser’s ear came the unmistakable manic laughter of familiars and following that, the calls of the ClawBound.
Erienne had seen the mages fly in and heard them call out their college allegiance as they came. A quick dip into the mana spectrum had revealed the truth and she had bade Pheone carry on the preparations. Mercifully, Sha-Kaan’s untimely crash into the grounds of the college had injured several but killed none and the wounded had all come out to cast.
‘You can hold off the shadow, Erienne?’
‘We’ll soon find out, won’t we?’ she said. ‘One way or another, this is it. Get casting.’ She had turned to the first Lysternan mage. ‘Guard us,’ she ordered. ‘Never mind what’s going on out there, The Raven will handle it. Familiars are my biggest concern. We can’t afford to have any distractions, and you can’t afford to show them any fear. They can be downed with magic. Believe in yourselves.’
‘I understand.’
‘Now leave me be.’
Erienne immersed herself in the elemental spectrum and saw its colours. She could see the deep blue of Xeteskian magic mixed with the dull yellow that signified Julatsa and, surrounding both, the multiple hues of brown and dark, dark green that made up the base of the elemental flow. The power churned from the stone of buildings, from the earth at her feet, and from every living creature. She could pick out every mage standing around the Heart and, further afield, every man and mage who fought at the gates.
She narrowed her focus and found the Heart. So much darker than yesterday before the failure. The tendrils of shadow had thickened to corded strands and were twining about each other, adding to the solid grey already covering the core structure. And there, right at its base, she found the pulsing fracture that flared up whenever Julatsan magic was cast. That was where she would fight her own personal battle while the Julatsan adepts fought theirs against the shadow.
She waited, watching again the construction of the splint and its connections, saw the poles form and attach, saw them puncture the shadow to grab at the Heart itself. She felt a moment’s pure panic. They all had no choice but to trust her completely. Should she fail, and should the darkness take the Heart once more, there would be no coming back. Julatsan magic would have been destroyed.
Around her, the mages took the strain and the Heart began to lift. She ignored its delicate progress and instead edged the stopper from the well of One power and began to try and meld it to a form she could use to suppress the darkness. Almost immediately, she saw it begin, the trickle of black into the base of the Heart.
Erienne reached out with her mind to touch it, felt its intense cold, like the power of the dead earth flow through her. She jolted and drew back. It grew and grew, spreading up. She had no choice. Letting her mind free, she dragged in the live flows of all the elements around her and plunged into the dark, screaming as the cold force channelled through her.
Auum led the TaiGethen to the fight one more time. ClawBound moved ahead. The gates were crowded with men trying to get in. He could hear the desperate fight inside the college and knew there was no way he could wait.
‘Right-hand side,’ he said. ‘Single point of attack.’
The Tais cruised in, jaqrui and arrows punching into the men just to the right of the shattered gateposts. The survivors reacted, turning and backing off as the elves tore at them, no man wanting to face them alone.
Auum hurled his last jaqrui into the neck of an enemy, grabbed his second short sword from its scabbard and let his mind stand above his body. A blade was thrown towards him, flicking end over end; he swayed left and it passed him. From the right a spell was cast, flaming blue in his peripheral vision. He hit the ground and rolled, coming up to his feet in one movement, momentum maintained.
He was on them in the next stride, a ClawBound pair savaging into the men to his left, Duele and Evunn his shadows. He held both swords horizontal, one slightly above the other. The upper he backhanded into the face of his first target, the second stabbing low, foot coming through in the next beat to kick the man away.
Swords were thrust at him, he ducked one, blocked a second away and killed the third man before he could finish his strike. He moved on, sensing the panic among the men, who outnumbered the elves by twenty to one. Tual guided him, let him free. He reversed one blade in his hand, battered the hilt into the jaw of his enemy and stabbed through his shoulder blade on the downstroke. He dropped to the ground to sweep the legs from the man to his right, slicing his hamstrings as he rolled to escape.
A panther leaped clear over his head, driving back the attackers. One more man and they had the space they needed. Duele, cut on the cheek, took him down with a straight-fingered blow to the windpipe and the TaiGethen made the gateyard.
‘Mages only!’ Auum called.
He sprinted in, seeing the confusion of the mêlèe around him. Al-Arynaar were backed into small groups, fighting hand-to-hand while enemy cavalrymen charged repeatedly at a larger force of elves led by Rebraal, his face a mask of blood, his eyes undimmed.
Auum nodded at him. Rebraal nodded back and pointed towards the Heart pit. At the same moment, the ground began to shudder and a rending sound of stone on stone vibrated through the college. Immediately, a group of mages broke from cover under the parapet and ran towards the path to the pit. Standing in their way were The Raven.
‘With me!’ called Auum.
>
He turned and set off across the gateyard, cavalry wheeling to block his path. They squared up but he was in no mood to fight them. Three paces from them, he leaped high, turning a somersault in the air and carving down with a blade as he passed, taking the cavalryman through the top of the skull. He landed, steadied himself and ran on, blowing out his cheeks as he considered what he had just done without thinking. Behind him, Evunn and Duele had rolled beneath the horses as he might have done himself and were again at his shoulders. Soldiers were closing in on either side. Ahead the mages were pausing to cast and The Raven were running at them.
Auum didn’t think they’d make it in time.
‘Denser, go!’ shouted Hirad. ‘See to Erienne.’
They had all heard the chittering and her scream of pure pain but they couldn’t turn. Ahead of them, TaiGethen and ClawBound had broken into the compound and were heading their way fast. But the sheer weight of the enemy was taking its toll. He saw one of the painted warriors go down with a crossbow bolt in his back, a panther taken in mid-leap by a focused Orb. And the Al-Arynaar were being rounded up and slowly cut to pieces.
Behind The Raven, the ground shuddered violently as the Heart began its tortuous progress upwards. Hirad glanced across at The Unknown.
‘Pray they do this,’ he said.
‘They’ll do it if we can hold back Xetesk,’ said The Unknown.
Mages and soldiers were running at them. Far too many for them to take on. But from behind he saw Auum and the remaining TaiGethen literally leap over cavalrymen and run to their aid.
‘Now’s the time,’ said The Unknown. He tapped his blade once on the ground. ‘Raven with me!’
The Raven and the few Al-Arynaar with them broke and ran, hoping to meet the TaiGethen in the middle. Ahead, the mages had stopped and were casting. There were eight of them, enough to wipe out The Raven in one go.
‘Trouble, our right,’ said Hirad. He could feel that the wound in his chest had opened again, blood was coursing down his body, soaking into his shirt.
The Raven Collection Page 259