The wind died but further along they could hear another tear being made.
‘No rest,’ said Auum. ‘Not yet.’
Sol stared at his hand very briefly but could see nothing at all. He angled his body and flew on forward.
Fyn-Kaan took the full force of the concerted fire across his belly. The scales split and his body was torn apart. Sha-Kaan roared fury. He plunged through the gore being scattered into space and unleashed flame across the corridor. Five Garonin were reduced to charred remains. He angled his wing and turned along the length of the corridor. In three more places, the Garonin were forcing breaches. He called flank dragons to him and ploughed along the surface, his claws ahead of his body and his neck arched to strike.
Garonin turned their weapons and fired. White tears spanned the space and thudded into Sha-Kaan’s wings and chest. He did not flinch. Snapping his neck forward he snatched two soldiers in his jaws and bit down with all his prodigious strength. The feel of bone cracking was satisfying. He spat out the remains. With another beat of his wings, he was onto more of them. His claws tore into armour, which flashed white uselessly as it was ripped aside.
Sensing danger, Sha-Kaan flipped his left wing and climbed sharply away from the corridor. A thick column of light slammed into it where he had been, searing the wing and left-hand side of one of his flankers. The dragon mourned as it fluttered away into the void, out of control and spinning to its death. The corridor was undamaged though within, the panic of the dead was evident.
Sha-Kaan sensed Hirad and his people in the heart of the fight. He pulsed to the Kaan to support him. He turned away, arcing up and left in a long looping curve that brought him above the Garonin vydosphere, which was hanging in space, loosing its huge bolts of energy and launching its teams of soldiers.
He circled while others joined him. Ten in all came to his call. Enough to do the work.
‘They will sense us,’ he warned. ‘Loose formation, flame and claw. Pass quickly and turn sharply. Give them no target.’
He felt the warmth of their understanding.
‘The Dragonene must survive or our melde will fail and with it the Kaan Brood. We must not let that happen.’
‘We hear you, Great Kaan.’
Sha-Kaan tucked his wings into his body and dived. He stretched his neck out straight before him and his tail moved gently behind him, a rudder to keep him on course. The gales of inter-dimensional space clashed and pulled. Eddies appeared, strong enough to suck even a dragon off course.
He breathed in the purity of the air and let his flame ducts open. The vydosphere was taut but not bulging, a machine taken from its former task before time to come here and counter a genuine threat to the Garonin. Sha-Kaan felt satisfaction in that. This race that knew no enemies beyond its own dimension threatened by frail, primitive humans. Complacency. An enemy the Kaan had known in their past.
Kaan dragons were widely spaced about him. Below, left, right and behind. Sha-Kaan flew in close to the skin of the vydosphere. He saw streams of white tears pouring out from its underside. He opened his mouth and breathed. Flame spewed onto the skin, bubbling and melting it. Joints buckled and small sections twisted up, gouting steam into the void. He let his wings and body smash through antennae and funnels, feeling them bend and snap against his bulk.
In two beats of his wings, he was past the machine. He angled sharply down. Kaan were taking terrible damage from the weapons on the carriage slung beneath it. One of his brothers lost a wing, sheared off near the root. Another’s head was destroyed, taking a thick beam of light square on.
Sha-Kaan dived hard, spread his wings and executed a sharp U-turn. A wounded membrane protested but held. The carriage was directly above him. White tears streamed from all sides. A Kaan dragon was caught in two bursts, his body rippling with the fire and his wings ablaze.
‘No more,’ pulsed Sha-Kaan. ‘Clear and retreat.’
Sha-Kaan forced his body up. He beat his wings hard and fast. The Garonin could not see him, searching as they were for the Kaan just departed back to the corridor. He closed on the carriage, saw it looming large. With a final beat of his wings, he swung his body around. His hind claws and huge bulk slammed into the base of the carriage.
The force of his impact bent metal, splintered glass and shattered strut and fixing plate. The whole vydosphere was shunted upwards. Garonin were thrown into the void, snatched away without the means to save themselves. Sha-Kaan whipped his tail into the structure again and again, feeling parts of it weaken under the blows. His head snaked in, biting down on man and machine, tearing anything loose away and spitting it into the maelstrom.
Here and there, Garonin clung on to whatever they could. One brought a weapon to bear. The white tears caught Sha-Kaan on the side of the face, burning his scales away just beneath his eye. He roared his pain, snapped his jaws in and took the head from his tormentor.
He let go his claws and fell away, looking back to see what he had achieved. The vydosphere was drifting without apparent control. No more weapon fire came from it. Steam and smoke was pouring from gashes and holes in its skin. Funnels hung from its sides. Two Kaan dragons, standing off while Sha-Kaan attacked, flew in now, their flame encasing the front of the machine. The entire section collapsed inwards. The Kaan beat up at a steep angle. Sha-Kaan flipped his body and drove away, feeling the force of the explosion across his broad back.
‘Seek more,’ he pulsed to his Brood. ‘You know what to do.’
Sha-Kaan saw the corridor in all its glory as he approached. A strand of light that stretched as far as he could see in either direction. A beacon of hope for man, elf and dragon, an icon of fear for their enemies. The single gossamer filament of a spider’s web, shining through the swirling chaos of light and dark. Within it the dead still moved and the Garonin still stole the mana from them. And The Raven still fought.
The journey would soon be at an end. In the distance an ethereal light could be seen. Ulandeneth, the elves called it. The top of the world in dragon lore, where no single term could describe it. The Kaan could not help them in there. In there they would either believe or they would fail.
And the fate of all would be decided.
Chapter 39
The instrument in the hand of a Garonin grazed Hirad’s silhouette. Weakness flooded him and he dropped. The enemy advanced on him. He scrambled backwards, soul energy deserting him. The dead had scattered in front of the soldier. The instrument was a pale ball held in the palm of the hand. It had a neck like a gourd which ended in a needle-sharp point. The point was thrust at him again. He managed to roll aside. He came up against another silhouette, and this one did not flee.
Legs straddled his body and hands lashed out. The Garonin withered and crumpled.
‘I did it when I was alive and I’m still doing it now I’m dead,’ said Sirendor.
‘What?’
‘Saving your thick hide, that’s what.’
‘And you’re still moaning about it,’ said Hirad. He flowed to an upright position and felt the strength begin to return. ‘Best if you don’t let one of those things touch you.’
‘Valuable safety tip. Thanks, Hirad.’
Up ahead, Sol and Thraun were fighting their way towards a breach in the corridor. Auum’s Tai rushed into the flanks of a group of four Garonin who had dropped through a second breach. More helpless dead were drained of mana. More souls failed as they were pierced.
‘Let’s go,’ said Hirad. ‘It would be nice if some of you others decided to fight.’
‘Same as it ever was,’ said Sirendor. ‘Is it just me, or is this passageway starting to angle upwards.’
The pair of them flashed past the ranks of the dead, now broken into smaller groups. Some of them were trying to fight back but something was missing. Hirad ignored them. Sirendor was right. The passage had an incline to it now. Gentle here but it curved up ever more steeply.
‘Up to the top of the world,’ said Hirad.
A broad flash
of light bathed the corridor. Hirad gazed to his left. The afterglow of an explosion lingered for a while in the midst of the void then was snatched away. Sha-Kaan’s mind touched his again.
‘You are close,’ he said. ‘The enemy is weakening.’
‘It doesn’t look much like it,’ said Hirad.
The corridor was full of Garonin. Right behind Sol, another breach had been forged in the base of the path. Garonin surged up. Dead fell in their hundreds under the onslaught. Sirendor raced ahead, planting his feet into the chest of an enemy, swivelling and driving right through the Garonin’s body.
‘That I must try,’ said Hirad.
The shade of the barbarian launched himself head first at his nearest enemy. The Garonin saw him coming, his hands came up, weapons in hand. Hirad was going too fast to avoid him. Sirendor washed past his vision. The Garonin stared at the stumps of his wrists. Hirad plummeted through his chest, feeling the faintest resistance and a glimmer of heat.
On the other side, he turned, feeling cold and a measure of sympathy that surprised him.
‘No souls,’ he breathed. ‘They’ve got no souls.’
‘Down!’ called a voice.
Hirad ducked. He felt something pass over him. He swung round, saw Garonin armour large in his vision and the arm of a dead woman sinking up to her elbow in the soldier’s body. She shouted her triumph.
‘We can fight,’ she said. ‘We can fight them.’
The word spread. Hirad flew about, heading for Sol.
‘They have no defence against you but your own fear,’ he said. ‘Go at them.’
Sol had his hands on a tear and was closing it. Garonin turned to stop him. The dead simply engulfed them. Elsewhere, knots of Garonin soldiers paused and Hirad could see the uncertainty in them. Outside, there was another wide flash of light, another machine destroyed by the Kaan dragons. Fire played over the corridor. Claws dragged along the wall right by Hirad. Garonin were swept away.
Inside, the dead surged. Garonin stabbed out, bleeding the energy from as many as they could. But for every two that fell, an enemy was downed. Unencumbered, Sol flew for the next tear. The tide had turned. Garonin were trying to escape back out to the void.
‘Hold them here,’ shouted Hirad. ‘The Kaan need respite.’
Sol nodded. Thraun moved ahead of him. Auum came to the shapechanger’s side. The shadows of the warriors struck out high and low. Garonin soldiers fell back. Auum crushed the waist of one in a killing embrace. Thraun’s fists punched holes in another’s chest. Ghaal crashed in to take the head from another.
The enemy began to panic.
‘We have them,’ called Hirad. ‘Keep it going.’
The broken groups of dead moved to reform. Garonin were cut off in their midst. Sol landed at the next breach, the last breach. He laid his hand on it, fused it shut in moments. The noise of the gales was gone. The pull of the void shut off. Silence but for the dying cries of the last Garonin. The soulless sent to nowhere.
The dead were crying victory. They packed together and moved on up the incline. Far ahead, a pale glow was evident. Hirad nodded his satisfaction. The Raven and the elves came together.
‘Everyone all right?’ he asked.
‘Never better,’ said Ilkar. ‘Besides being dead, that is.’
‘Hardly a surprise,’ said Hirad. ‘I didn’t see you making holes in the Garonin.’
‘Fighting never was my thing, Coldheart, you know that. And magic doesn’t seem to work in here. Thought I’d be better used keeping the dead moving in the right direction.’
‘Will they be back?’ asked Sol.
‘They will not,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘Not here in the void.’
Hirad sensed him very close. He looked about him. There, by the right-hand wall, the Great Kaan was cruising alongside them. He had burns the length of his body and perilously close to one of those huge glorious eyes. His wings looked in tatters.
‘You look a complete mess,’ said Hirad.
‘At least I still live,’ rumbled the dragon, a warmth filling the corridor.
‘Still crap at jokes though, aren’t you?’
‘I had a fine tutor in that regard,’ said Sha-Kaan.
‘Still good at insulting you, though, isn’t he, Hirad?’ said Ilkar.
‘What’s next?’ asked Sol.
‘The Kaan must go to rest. We will watch Balaia when we can. The enemy still move in Beshara and we must look to defend our lands even now. They are not beaten anywhere. Do not relax.’
‘And will you find us when we reach our new home?’ asked Hirad.
‘When Jonas reaches there, I will find him,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘As I will now. The healing streams are stronger within a Klene than out here.’
‘Tell him how we’re doing, won’t you?’ said Sol.
‘I will. And I will speak with your wife, Sol, if I can. Don’t speak now; I know it is difficult. I know what you would wish to say to her.’
Sol’s sudden grief washed through them all. Hirad felt it as keenly as if it were his own.
‘Thank you, Great Kaan,’ said Sol.
‘This is goodbye,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘Where you go now, I cannot follow.’
Hirad nodded and smiled. Though none of them could see his smile, they would be able to feel it.
‘Your touch has been joy, old friend,’ he said.
‘For me also.’
‘Farewell,’ said Hirad.
‘Always believe,’ said Sha-Kaan.
And he was gone.
Sol bowed his head. He hadn’t thought to feel grief. Perhaps there was something in what Ilkar said about the path between life and death. If that was the case, he just wanted it to be done. He gazed back the way they had come and immediately felt comfort from the closeness of The Raven.
‘No way back, big man,’ said Hirad. ‘Only way is on.’
‘I know, it’s just . . .’ Sol sighed. ‘So much time I was away from her. And she never ever failed in her love for me. I never told her how much that meant.’
‘You don’t think so?’ said Hirad. ‘You told her every day you were with her. You didn’t need words to say it, Unknown. You should have seen the way she looked at you even when she was angry.’
‘Not always,’ said Sol.
‘Always,’ said Hirad.
‘I wonder how fa—’
Sol stopped in his tracks. He was standing in a wide, open, featureless place. Around him, below and above, all he could sense was a pale ivory colour. Slowly, distantly, dark specks appeared in his vision. He was here. Ulandeneth. He looked all around him and felt the crushing weight of defeat on his shoulders.
He was alone.
It was never too late to learn. Sharyr had returned to the dimensional research chambers to study what he could about the doorway through which only the dead could travel. The pale light still shone from the doorway and he could see nothing through it. Like staring into sand.
Dropping into the mana spectrum briefly, he studied the mana lattice that framed it. Densyr had created a network of fine lines that anchored in space. None of them did any more than touch the very edges of the doorway yet the frame was utterly rigid. He pushed at it with his mind. The force that returned through the spectrum was enough to sit him on his backside.
‘Wow,’ he said.
He brushed his hands together, stood up and had another look into the light. Garonin soldiers were clustered against the doorway. Sharyr shouted a warning but there was no one else to hear it. He backed away, still staring. Something wasn’t right about this. The Garonin had their hands against the entrance. They brought curious-looking instruments to bear on it. One in particular had a blade that revolved at high speed. It was clear that this piece of equipment was being pushed against the doorway but was having no effect.
Sharyr smiled. ‘Can’t get out, can you?’
His smile was short-lived. They might not be able to get out, but since they had got in somehow, what was the state of any allies within?
It didn’t bode well at all. Sharyr moved forward again to stand beneath the opening. He pressed his fingertips against it, just able to reach it if he stood on the tips of his toes.
They could see him. He saw weapons brought to bear. He didn’t move, confident in what he believed. White tears splashed against the entrance, dispersing harmlessly. Sharyr laughed and beckoned them on with both hands. Fists thumped soundlessly and uselessly against the doorway.
The Garonin withdrew a pace. One looked over his shoulder. Three of them threw themselves back against the doorway, clawing and scrabbling. Abruptly, the doorway vibrated and Sharyr feared his goading would be his undoing. He watched helplessly as the frame buckled, held for a moment and folded in on itself. He saw a last desperate Garonin fist hammering on the opening before it winked out of existence leaving nothing but the faint whiff of burnt mana.
‘What was all that about?’ he whispered.
Sharyr hurried back to Dystran’s quarters to report all he had seen to Lord Densyr.
‘How can it end here like this?’ whispered Sol, fear gripping him.
He felt as if he was shaking but his shadow form revealed nothing. Ulandeneth was empty. The black flecks moved in the distance but perhaps they were a trick of his eyes this time.
‘Where do I go? What do I do?’
So much he had yet to learn. So many assumptions he had made. About those who would stand by him to help him. Those who would show him the way. All gone now. He truly was alone.
‘Where are you!’ he shouted. ‘Hirad! Raven! Where are you?’
Where are you?
A door. He needed a door. But there was none. He needed a sign, something to set him off in the right direction. All his life the path had been before him. The solution had always presented itself. He had always known when to talk or to fight or to run.
The Raven Collection Page 351