Demonstorm lotr-3

by James Barclay

  'Now, I think you should prepare those under your command. I imagine things might get a little warm around here.'

  For fifteen days, the Calaian Sun sailed the southern, eastern and finally northern coasts of Balaia. The view from the starboard rail was endlessly striking and beguiling. Untamed landscapes, stark cliffs and glorious expanses of white sand studded the coastline with the promise of much more beyond.

  Not that The Raven saw a great deal of it between dawn and dusk. Darrick put them through a punishing regime of exercise as tough as that to which Lysternan cavalry recruits had been exposed in years gone by.

  He had them spar for hours with their new maces; relay-race with weighted barrels; and climb the mainmast rigging using just their

  hands. He had them swim laps around the ship when the wind was light; he cut lengths of rope for skipping and pressed longboat oars into service as group exercise poles. It wasn't with a view to bringing great gains in their speed and endurance but for them to test themselves, feel the state of their bodies and give them just a little more sharpness.

  And unlike in years gone by, he participated in every exercise, putting himself through extra rounds if he felt he was below standard. And while he drove them as hard as he could, he watched them, fascinated. They grumbled as he knew they had to but every task was undertaken with enormous energy, spirit and determination. They fed off each other. If the battles to come could be won by sheer will alone, they would be unstoppable.

  Individually, though, he had his concerns about them. Besides himself, Hirad had remained very fit. His time with Auum and Rebraal had dictated that. But that couldn't hide the fact that he was not a long way from forty years old and just not as fast as he used to be.

  The Unknown Warrior's problem wasn't so much his forty-two years but the long-term degradation of his left hip following his hideous injury on the docks at Arlen over three years before. It stiffened quickly in the chill water and relay-running had him limping from early on. That and the inevitable softening gained from two years' easy living on Herendeneth. It was the difference between farming fit and fighting fit and it could prove fatal.

  Thraun looked and acted no different. Quiet, withdrawn at times and without an ounce of excess bodyweight. Life on Calaius had clearly suited him.

  But Denser and Erienne worried him the most. Their contentment at being back where they truly belonged, in the bosom of The Raven, was undermined by their awareness of the situation. It wasn't that they were unwilling; they would quickly become as fit and capable as ever if allowed the time. It was that he could see in their eyes that they simply weren't ready. Not for the task ahead, not to put their lives at risk as a daily habit and not to accept the responsibility that had been thrust upon them.

  And Erienne was clearly struggling to make sense of what she was required to do. It drew her attention away, took her edge.

  Darrick knew he could rely utterly on the elves. And the Protectors still maintained their aura of confidence, inscrutable even without their masks. No, the problems all lay at the heart of the operation, with The Raven themselves.

  He spoke to The Unknown Warrior every evening and the big man listened. He spoke candidly about his hip, but like all of The Raven was far more concerned about his friends than himself.

  'Everyone needs to understand the reality of their situation and limitations,' Darrick had said one evening. 'And that includes you just as it includes me.'

  'I'll be all right.'

  'That's exactly the problem, Unknown. Until you accept that you're not twenty-one any more, you'll be taking too much risk.'

  'You think I don't know that?' said The Unknown Warrior.

  'Judging by what I see out there under exercise, no,' replied Darrick. 'Don't get me wrong. We're an extraordinary team. The weapon skills are still there, the belief is undimmed and the will is staggering. But it's been two years since Julatsa and our stamina is not what it was. That's why we struggled after the short fight the other day. We aren't used to that exertion and it showed. The trouble is, you all still act like you fight every day. You don't conserve because you've never had to.

  'You asked me to do this, Unknown. Now listen to what I'm saying. You're the one who has to relate this to the rest of The Raven. And you-know-who isn't going to like it.'

  'Thanks for reminding me.'

  'We haven't got time for tact,' said Darrick.

  'Hirad's never thought so.'

  'Then he should respect what you tell him.'

  'You know, Darrick, that is no help whatsoever.'

  The Catalan Sun dropped anchor in the quiet waters of Triverne Inlet on a chill but sunlit morning. All eyes scanned the eastern shore, searching for signs of demon activity. They found none, keen elven sight revealing only late spring growth in a peaceful landscape. From the shore, Hirad watched the ship take sail and turn for the open sea once more. Jevin took vital messages home with him for the TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar. Should The Raven fail and Balaia's colleges fall to the demons, the elves would have to prepare for invasion.

  Hirad turned to them, assembled on the sandy beach.

  'This is it, then,' he said. T still think we should be coming with you to Julatsa.'

  Rebraal shook his head. 'You know what was discussed. The cursyrd want you. You'll endanger us all in there.' He smiled. 'Besides, we're quicker without you. See you at the lake.'

  'Don't be late.' Hirad hugged Ilkar's brother and clasped hands with each of the TaiGethen then finally, Eilaan. 'Remember why we're doing this.'

  The elves ran away towards Julatsa and were soon lost to sight. Hirad felt exposed without them.

  'Come on, Raven,' he said. 'We can make the lake by tomorrow nightfall if we sail through the night.'

  The Raven returned to the longboat which had been fitted with a single mast for their journey along the River Tri. With packs already stowed under the gunwales and benches, they were under way quickly. The atmosphere, as it had been outside Blackthorne, was oppressive. Only the sound of the breeze rusding reeds and grass came over the gende burble of the water against the timbers of the hull. Balaia was dying meekly.

  Despite being unlikely to encounter any demons in countryside bare of all but scattered farms and hamlets, they kept very quiet throughout the trip, resting as much as possible. Thraun in wolven form scouted ahead periodically, giving them extra security.

  The Unknown took his time to watch The Raven during this curiously peaceful interlude. Despite his own concerns and those raised more recendy by Darrick, he felt happier with the tightness he saw around him now. Two years apart had dulled them without question but their time aboard ship had rekindled their spirit of togetherness. But what they had to guard against was over-confidence in the fight. Looking across at Hirad, it was not a conversation he was looking forward to having. He'd save it for Triverne Lake. Now was not the time.

  'We all feeling all right?' he asked.

  Darrick raised a thumb from his position on the tiller. Erienne and Denser, sitting together and talking in whispers, both nodded.

  Thraun's eyes were sparkling after a recent run in the undergrowth and Hirad grunted assent.

  'Hard to believe we're headed for the toughest days of our lives, isn't it?' said the barbarian. 'This is all very pleasant.'

  'Don't lose focus,' said The Unknown.

  'Hardly.'

  'Denser, Erienne, a question for you.' The Unknown waited for them to look back to him. 'This information that Blackthorne got from Lystern about the sanctity of the Hearts. What do you think? We're relying on it, after all.'

  Erienne shook her head. 'Not really my area,' she said, a smile on her lips. 'Demons are more Denser's thing. He used to own one after all.'

  Denser jabbed a finger into her side. 'Technically correct. I suppose whether it's likely or not, I trust information from Heryst and Lystern. Actually, despite my wife's denial, we've been talking about this a fair bit and it makes good sense. Look at it this way.

  'Be
st intelligence suggests that the demons are here to stay, to milk the life force of this dimension for as long as they can, not just rape it and move on. That means they need to keep people alive and mages particularly. Not just because of their souls but because they hold the key to mana. Demons are mana creatures, why would they destroy that which they need to live? The answer is, they wouldn't. Not if they plan to stay. We know they're flooding mana into Balaia, that's why it's getting so cold. And in future years, the Hearts will keep it from dissipating, give them a base from which to rule.'

  'But we know something they don't, don't we?' said Darrick.

  'You're talking about the Julatsa experience, I presume,' said Denser.

  'Absolutely. Which raises an interesting question. Should we not be considering burying all the Hearts if colleges have to be deserted?'

  'No no no no no,' said Erienne quickly. 'For one, we can't assume the mages are there that know how to bury the Hearts. But much more than that, burying the Heart takes what little strength we have for a long battle. The Hearts are useful to the demons but hardly critical to their success, I'd say. But the other part of your point the survivors will be forced to employ if the demons break us finally. We do know that Hearts die without mages to sustain the mana flow but will the demons believe us?'

  'Well, we'll never have to find out, will we?' said Hirad. 'Because either we'll have beaten them or we'll all be dead.'

  The Raven reached the stunning setting of Triverne Lake deep into evening. The fading light reflected off the lake's surface, picking out the extraordinary beauty of the landscape. Triverne Lake lay at the base of the Blackthorne Mountains. The lake waters, touched by magic, were sheltered, giving perfect conditions for the vibrant green vegetation that bordered them on three sides. Only the eastern shore was open. In the half-light, little of the colour of the vegetation that burgeoned among the trees was visible. But the sense was there of a spectacular matting that clung far up into the foothills before the cooler air running off the mountains let only hardier scrub, moss and heather grow plentiful. Last time he was here, Hirad remembered the calls of thousands of birds. This lime it was quiet and as the longboat nudged the shore, it was clear that the beauty was tarnished.

  Thraun trotted over the open ground towards them as they climbed out of the boat. Hirad brought his clothes and left them in a pile on the shore. The wolf trotted up to them and sniffed them closely, a contented growling in his throat. The rest of The Raven walked away up the short beach to give him a little privacy.

  'There's been fighting here,' said Darrick.

  The Unknown nodded. 'Indeed there has.'

  The ground underfoot was broken and scuffed deeply. Grass lay flattened and dead, the earth was cut and scored, scattered with loose clods. Far to the right, haphazard stones thrust twenty feet into the air, remnants of an EarthHammer casting. And everywhere were the dark stains of blood and the blackened scorches of spell impact.

  'Strange, eh?' said Hirad.

  Darrick agreed. 'You'd have expected some scraps at least but this place has been cleaned.'

  'Thorough, these demons, aren't they?'

  'So sure it was them?' said The Unknown.

  'Spell battle at the birthplace of magic,' said Darrick. 'And re-cendy, too. Hirad's right, I'd say.'

  'How recent do you think?' asked The Unknown.

  Darrick shrugged. 'Hard to say. Looks fresh. Forty days maximum? I'm guessing though.'

  'Where's an elf tracker when you need one, eh?' said Hirad. 'Hey Thraun, what do you think?'

  The shapechanger was pulling on his shirt as he trotted over from the longboat. Hirad watched him kneel and touch the ground. He crumbled earth in his palm and rubbed grass between his fingers. He breathed deeply over the bloodstains and scorch marks. And finally he sat back on his haunches and gazed all around him.

  'The air is still bad,' he said. 'And the blood is human. Less than twenty days since a man walked here.' He turned towards them. 'But who?'

  'Now that is an extremely good question,' said Denser, coming to the shoulders of the warriors. 'After all, Blackthorne is sure every free mage is in one or other of the colleges.'

  'Looks like he was wrong,' said Hirad.

  'How many involved in the fight, do you think, General?' asked The Unknown.

  'Given the combat area, upwards of fifty swords and magic,' he replied. 'The Gods only know how many demons.'

  'Hmm,' The Unknown sighed. 'This isn't good. I think we can forget any ideas of a fire tonight. We should take the longboat across the lake and sleep under tree cover. Tomorrow, let's see if we can't piece together what happened in the light of day. Any objections? Good, then let's get to it and remember, there have been demons here. They'll know this place now and the mana flow around here. We're not safe.'

  Hirad found himself quite happy at the prospect of sleeping under the trees. He hoped it would remind him of the rainforest, a place he would very much rather have been.

  Chapter 21

  'South-east quadrant!' yelled Blackthorne. 'New attack. Luke, commit the reserve.'

  Blackthorne was already running to the northern incursion. Flags in the castle towers signalled Luke's shouted order, flashing green and white in Blackthorne's periphery. He ran down the central Stair way and through the arched hallway, leaping down the wide castle steps and on through the courtyard gates. Shouts came from all around him. Men, women, children. Running, screaming, calling out alarms or orders.

  Above him the ColdRoom lattice held firm, but circling around it incessandy were demons. Soul stealers all, with their leathered or gossamer wings, their long taloned fingers and bald skulls on which the skin writhed in tune with their excitement. They were every hue he had ever seen, from the deepest blue to the most vivid of red or yellow. Their shrieks echoed around the buildings and their threats chilled his heart.

  Beneath the lattice, spotters stood on every vantage point, watching the skies. They could come in anywhere. Usually it was in groups but occasionally they had taken to trying to snatch a vulnerable individual alone. It was a nervous time but they were holding.

  Blackthorne called a guard to him and barrelled through the tight streets in front of the castle. He could hear the sounds of the battle on the northern periphery of the ColdRooms where he had stood six days before with The Raven. He had thought at the time that Ferouc would not take kindly to their escape. He had been right.

  Entering the cleared ground, Blackthorne assessed the situation. Not thirty yards from him, thirty of his men had formed a tight square, shields and maces a barrier against a concerted attack by a greater number of demons. Circling just above and outside the

  lattice other enemies waited, and on the ground more squads of swordsmen darted into the backs of the demons, striking hard and running away before they could be overwhelmed.

  It was exactly as Darrick had taught them and Blackthorne grinned fiercely. The demons were attracted to the largest spread of life energy and had left themselves open to the counter. Satisfied though he was with their defence, these attacks marked a change in Ferouc's attitude. But more than that, they told of the swiftly increasing strength of the invaders. While still vulnerable within the ColdRoom lattice, they were no longer merely sitting targets. Their power lasted long enough for them to make meaningful incursions and the length of time they could fight within the mana-free environment was growing.

  Next to Blackthorne, his mage looked on in concern. The young woman's face was thin from lack of food and the worry lines etched deep on her pale features.

  'What it is, Kayla?'

  'They're different somehow,' she said. I can see a mana signature encasing them. It's like they're coming in on bubbles of mana energy which isn't dissipating like it should.'

  'That explains a lot.' It was as Ferouc had said in earlier conversations. Mana density was growing. He didn't really need Kayla's confirmation. It was getting very cold now.

  A burst of noise from the south-east told of th
e reserve engaging the demon attack there. Blackthorne wiped a gauntleted hand across his mouth and tightened grip on shield and sword.

  'Kayla, back to cover. Three of you go with her. The rest, with me. Time for some fun.'

  Blackthorne ran in, feeling the cold air fill his lungs, blowing away the cobwebs from his mind and body. Ahead of him, the demons were upping their frenzy. More fell from the sky to join those attacking the square. Beyond the thrashing limbs and beating wings of the blue, black and green soul stealers he could see the faces of his men. Scared for their lives but determined. They focused on what Darrick had taught them. Heavy body blows to weaken. Drive them back, don't break ranks. Shields up and to the fore. Don't blink, don't flinch.

  A tall, wiry demon staggered backwards from a mace blow to the

  chest, its flailing hand missing its target by a hair's breadth. Black-thorne scythed his sword through its back, slicing its left wing from its body. Dark blood sprayed and the creature screeched and tried to turn. Blackthorne backed up one pace. The demon's skin writhed. Veins pulsed and its colour snapped to a startling blue. Unbalanced by the loss of its wing, it couldn't face up to attack and Blackthorne drove his sword deep into its gut and heaved it up and out. It dropped.

  'Back!' he yelled to his guard. 'Looking up!'

  Four of them dropped from above. Claws in front, wings swept back and tails streaking behind them. As he had been taught, Blackthorne held his shield above his head and peered round it, waiting for the beasts to strike. He and his men bunched close.

  'Steady,' he said. 'Waiting.' The demons were on them. 'Crouch!'

  They dropped to their haunches, feeling the clatter of demons on their shields and the swish of claws. Next to him, one of his guard crumpled, talon marks deep in his face, his soul taken. Blackthorne bellowed fury and surged upright, bringing his other four men with him. The demons flittered away but the killer not far enough. Blackthorne smashed his shield into its face and whipped his sword through its chest, practically dividing it in two. Like its victim, it didn't have time to scream.