Around him, his guards beat back the others, leaving Blackthorne a run back towards the square which was holding firm. Sword squads ran in from three sides and he joined them. Demons were cut down, blades opening up their backs, the cuts as easy as scything corn.
'Hold, they're weakening,' he called. 'Let's hear you!'
A roar greeted his shout and he punched the air with his sword, backing off a pace again, collecting his guards and looking up. Around the periphery, the activity was lessening. Ferouc was up there, flitting from side to side, his pigment close to white in his unfettered rage.
'Got you this time you bastard!' Blackthorne laughed upwards.
And it was true. The sword squads came in again. More demons perished, more alien blood spattered his ground. With one ear-splitting shriek, Ferouc called the attack off. Blackthorne saw
winged figures climbing back into the sky from three locations and heard cheers sound around his town.
He nodded and breathed out heavily. A quick count around him told him he'd lost eight men, but the price for the demons had been much heavier. Even so, it was an attrition rate with only one outcome. He turned to a guardsman.
'Find me Luke. They'll be back and they won't be so easy next time.'
Blackthorne strode back towards the casste. He could see Ferouc's game plan. It was as obvious as day followed night. Weaken them enough, then go after the lattice mages. He wasn't sure if the demons really knew where they were but he would have to increase the guard on them. Either that or pull them further underground. It was an option but doing so reduced the ceiling above the town.
He and Luke had much to discuss.
Dystran and Vuldaroq stood side by side and watched the demons drift slowly across the ColdRoom shield above Xetesk. There were hundreds of diem, if not thousands, like a carpet across the sky. So many that the light of day was dimmed and lanterns were lit inside. It was a new departure for them and a new class of demon. Unlike the classic terror shapes of myth, legend and now hideous reality, these had already been dubbed 'gliders' when they first appeared in the sky two days before. Since then, their number had multiplied dramatically and he had received reports of flights of gliders heading north towards Julatsa and north-east to Lystern.
They were a strange-looking demon and that was among a race of unusual creatures. Flat, coloured and textured not unlike a beaten and tenderised steak. Thousands of fine hairs covered their undersides, which also housed eyes and mouth. These hairs rippled and swayed as the creatures moved, undulating their bodies gently. They had little in the way of limbs. Vestigial arms either side of their head section and no legs at all.
That they weren't soul stealers had become apparent very early on, not to mention a huge relief. The gliders were present in numbers enough to really threaten them but instead they had crawled over the lattice, directed by the tentacled masters who hovered nearby, eyes on everything.
'You know what they're doing, don't you?' said Vuldaroq.
Dystran looked across at the man at his side. He had discovered a respect for his former enemy during the few days of their enforced close contact. The Dordovan Arch Mage had worked tirelessly with Suarav and Sharyr, helping them in the aftermath of their ordeal in the library and bringing them, if not out of their shock, then at least to a place where they could begin to deal with it. Neither had taken up his duties to the full and the other survivor, Brynel, was still in the makeshift infirmary, the chill deep in his body.
'Enlighten me,' he said.
'Watch the way they move across the shield. It looks random when you first look but there is an order to it. I've counted greater densities in some areas that then disperse and allow other even more concentrated groups to form in the same place. Like they're confirming what they think they've discovered. It's actually very logical.'
'You haven't done a lot else but stare at them, I take it.'
Vuldaroq shrugged. 'There is so much time for your mind to play tricks on you and undermine you. Best to keep busy.'
'What are they tracking?'
'The mana trails feeding the ColdRooms, I think.'
Dystran pulled his cloak tight around him, a chill gust whisding through the open doors of the tower complex in whose shadow they stood.
'That's a worrying thought.'
T suppose it rather depends why they're doing it,' said Vuldaroq.
'Much as I'd like to, I can't believe it would be out of curiosity,' said Dystran.
'No, but there is more than one possibility.' Vuldaroq had never had much of a sense of humour but these last two years had removed whatever vestiges remained.
'They shouldn't be able to detect the trails, you know,' said Dystran as the thought occurred. 'They would dissipate instantly on contact with the edge of the construct.'
'Well, I think they can and you only have to see where it is they're hovering for longer periods and where their density increases. It's always above the mana-feed trails.' He shook his head. 'They're getting stronger.'
'Agreed,' said Dystran. 'Mana density is rising fast out there now. So, you dunk they're coming in?'
'Yes, and it won't be too long. The most likely reason for tracking the feed trails is to target the casting mages. But they could be doing something as simple as probing the linkages. After all, where the overlap is less, we are more vulnerable.'
'But you don't think so.'
'No. If I was them, I'd be wanting to fly straight down the trails as far as I could and take out our only real defensive weapon. It's blindingly obvious.'
Dystran blew out his cheeks. 'And now they think they're strong enough to do it.'
'We're moving into another phase, young Lord. Best we're prepared.'
They assembled on the plains of Teras over the course of three days. The burnished red Naik; aquamarine Veret; golden-scaled Kaan; dark green Gost; bronze Skoor and pale brown Stara. And these representatives of the largest broods were joined by those of another seventeen. All the colours of the brood spectrum were represented in the largest single gathering of dragons ever seen.
It was a scene that would never be repeated. Sha-Kaan and Yasal-Naik sat on a small rise in front of the mass of scale and furled wing. Both chose upright, respectful stances, their necks in 'S' shapes and belly scales revealed. Both dragons wore the scars of their recent work. The Skoor had attacked them. Yasal bore a long burn along the top of his head and down the first third of his neck. Sha-Kaan's displayed belly was scorched black and painful. Six Skoor had died before the reluctant emissaries had forced their leader to hear them. Six diey could ill afford to lose.
Immediately before Sha and Yasal, the brood fathers were gathered. It was an uncomfortable grouping. Old animosities were barely hidden, postures were hostile. Some would not rest within scent of others. But these dragons had at least agreed to carry the message to their broods gathered behind them. They would relay by thought pulse what could not be heard across the crowded plain.
Sha-Kaan gazed out over Teras and felt enormous pride in his achievement mixed with a deep anxiety. Here lay the greatest risk.
Here they had to prove to all assembled that what they proposed was the only way to save them all. The only way to preserve their right to hate, attack and attempt to eradicate each other. To preserve the dragon's way of life.
Spread out before him, at the edges of his vision in every direction, some two thousand dragons weighed each other up. So far, minor flaring and disagreement had been easily calmed. Kaan, Naik and Veret diplomats moved among the gathering.
But this would decide it. If they couldn't mass and debate in relative peace on the plains, what hope of constructing a robust attack on the Arakhe to give The Raven the time and backing they needed?
Sha-Kaan scanned the extraordinary assembly. Far away to his right, dragons were squaring up. Wings were deployed, bellies clashing. He pulsed to his brood to quell the disturbance. Else where, the rasp of breath and the rustle of wings furling set the ambience. From the north, an
other flight of Gost approached. He waited for them to land, drinking in the veneration that dominated most of those present.
Not ail of them knew why they were here but every dragon knew it was momentous. It couldn't be otherwise.
'It is time,' said Yasal-Naik. 'We cannot hold the peace any longer without giving them something.'
'I will speak for us both if you will allow it.'
Yasal turned an eye to him that spoke everything about the respect in which he was held and about the Naik dragon's aspiration to his position.
'They will listen to you,' he said.
Sha-Kaan rose up on his hind legs. He unfurled his wings and beat them three times. His tail flashed as it made the whip shape for attention and he barked long and loud, a huge gout of flame scorching the air above him. Across the plains, the gathering calmed and quietened. In front of him, the brood fathers prepared to relay his words. Sha-Kaan felt a wash of reverence cross him and he all but choked on his first words. We may hate you, it said, but we are here for you, Great Kaan.
'You know me,' he began, voice booming across the hush. 'I am Sha-Kaan. I stand here wing furled with my sworn enemy,
Yasal-Naik. Always we have shared hatred but always we have had respect. And today we stand before you as one. Allied as you all must be.'
There was a rustle through the assembly, spreading out to the periphery as the pulsed thoughts reached every dragon and the reaction came back.
'Today we face the greatest ever threat to our home dimension. To counter that threat, we must become one brood with one mind. There are those of you who do not know your role, why you are here. I will tell you why. The Arakhe have invaded the melde dimension of the Kaan.'
Noise erupted across the plain. Hoots and barks shattered the calm. Flame gouted into the sky on a battering tide of sound. Sha-Kaan drew breath at the scale of the tumult but kept his bearing proud while he waited for it to subside. He had to wait some time for the last echoes to fade.
'Indeed a cause for celebration.' He felt the wave of mirth. 'Normally. But they will not stop there. We all know their nature. Total conquest of Balaia will grant them access to the dead through the races of the elves and Wesmen. And to Beshara through the surviving Dragonene.'
Sha-Kaan paused to sample the rapt attention. He and Yasal shared a glance and the younger Naik indicated he continue.
'Our task is simple. There are those who seek travel to the dimension of the Arakhe to stop the invasion. They cannot fail. One of them is my Dragonene. When he arrives, we will have our beacon. We will attack in support of these Balaians. We must keep them alive because they can go where we cannot.'
Sha-Kaan spoke through the roars of disapproval.
'You are here because your brood fathers believe that this threat is genuine. But there will be those of you who do not. To you I say, fly to my Broodlands. Destroy them. I shall not raise a wing to stop you. But neither will I lead you to the Arakhe. And when they come here, as surely they will do, I will be deaf to your pleas and entreaties.
'This threat is real. Dragons will perish in repulsing it. Fight together to save us or fight each other to a swift oblivion for us all. The choice is yours.'
Chapter 22
Auum looked across at the borders of Julatsa from the deep cover of dense heather and the dark of night. So much for the complete overrunning of Balaia by the demons. They had seen very little activity in the outlands and though the air was cold with the flood of mana, the demons were certainly content to concentrate on the major population centres. And this was after two years of invasion.
Of course, it could be that they had swept up any outlying villages and towns and driven the people into the cities. It was no concern of Auum's. All he knew was that he had to get the five of them into the college unseen. He had to nudge from his mind the disbelief that he was here and trying to get into the college for a second time. On his return to the rainforests of Calaius, he had sworn never to leave his shores again. And again it was humans who had caused him to travel north. Enough.
'Thoughts,' he said.
'Baron Blackthorne is certain all the colleges operate tunnel systems to keep their supply lines open, such as they are,' said Rebraal. 'One thing we do know is that they won't be hidden magically.'
Auum nodded. 'Then we can search using the old ways. An unexpected pleasure. Eilaan. Prepare nothing. Just follow. Rebraal, be with him. Tai, we move.'
Julatsa was a quiet city. Barring the circle of light and life that signified the college itself, precious little illumination punctured the darkness. Away to the south of the city, some lights burned from windows in what looked like long, low warehouse structures, and ahead of them lanterns bobbed on poles, lighting a group of people on their journey back into the city. Above them, demons hovered, watching. None of the slaves made any noise whatever.
They were returning to the city from the farmed fields that stretched left and right in a ring that disappeared around the city and presumably encircled it.
'Look for the signs of passage. Elven not human,' whispered Auum. 'Spread five paces and sweep.'
The TaiGethen leader brought his people quickly to the edge of the fields. The crops were whole and hearty, apparently untroubled by the air temperature. Thick stalks of corn jostled in the breeze. Root crops grew well in ordered banked rows, their leaves strong and broad.
Auum paused, listening to the ebb and flow of the wind. He could hear the diminishing echoes of demon calls and sporadic cries from young, scared mouths. Dying away slowly. Like Balaia.
He waved his Tai on towards a low barn set between two corn fields, aiming to skirt it to its far side and approach the college from the north. To his right, he could just make out Duele's progress through the stalks. Behind him, Rebraal and Eilaan kept as quiet as they were able. Left, Evunn had paused. Signalling stop, Auum joined him in the deep shadow cast by the barn.
Evunn pointed at three tiny holes in one of the timbers. They sat below a timber split and splintered by arrow strikes. Only a rainforest elf would have understood their significance.
'Hope or expectation?' whispered Evunn.
'Good habits,' replied Auum. 'And Yniss brought you here to find them.' He touched Evunn's shoulder. 'We have direction.'
A sharp wave of the hand and the elves moved off again, a little faster now. Entering the first streets of Julatsa, silence fell abruptly, the wind broken by a high stone courtyard wall. Auum paused briefly, cupped a hand to his ear and put a finger across his mouth for the benefit of the Al-Arynaar. Here, the merest sound could be heard streets away.
Twenty yards ahead, Evunn had found another marker, this time mere grazes on the wooden wall of a dark empty house. Further into the city, the lights of the college burned unnaturally bright, casting a halo over the surrounding buildings.
Auum indicated he turn into a side alley away from the wan wash of light. They continued on, veering right, further north of the college. Elves had been busy everywhere. The tiny marks were visible on buildings and brazier stands, on windows and the bark of trees.
They were taken in a lazy curve that would end near the college and, Auum presumed, a tunnel entrance. He resisted the temptation to run, hard though it was. Not just the muted stench of human civilisation insulted his senses but the insidious evil of the cursyrd that pervaded everything, even the air he breathed.
Leading them through a network of tight-packed houses, Auum picked up a faint scratching sound ahead and left. He held up his hand. Behind him movement ceased and the silence closed around him. Even he could not discern without looking that any others stood behind him. He angled his palm left and held out his index finger. Moments later, he felt Duele's breath on his neck.
The scratching echoed faintly in the cramped space. The passages they travelled were narrow enough in places that their shoulders all but grazed the damp, moss-covered stone and timber either side. In hunter's stance, Auum paced deliberately towards the opening in the left. His weight was sligh
tly forward, short blade in hand, his feet probing the ground ahead each pace.
In this city of shadows and silence, it might have been a rat but his instincts told him otherwise. The sound was too ordered. He edged his head slowly around the opening. Crouched facing die right-hand wall, the cursyrd was dragging a piece of flint repeatedly over the same foot-long section of stone wall. It was completely rapt in its task, oblivious to the world around it.
Auum frowned. One reason for its action came immediately to mind. It would have to be stopped. Auum reached back and touched Duele, never taking his eyes from the slim, wingless creature he guessed would be about his height if it stood up straight. It had a small head on wiry shoulders and a covering of fine hair. Little apparent muscle and a solid dark hue were strange make-up for the cursyrd; surely a lesser creature in their hierarchy.
Duele could see the cursyrd now. Auum pointed to himself then at the target. He tapped his leg, indicated the target again and finally Duele. The Tai nodded his understanding.
In the next instant, Auum had sprung, landing square on the cursyrd, driving it flat to the ground face down, one of his hands clamped across its mouth. A beat later and Duele had pinned its legs
down. It tried to bite, shout and scratch. Its body rippled strength despite its slender frame and a kaleidoscope of colour chased across its writhing skin. Auum held it until he felt the thrashing pass its peak. He put his lips by one of the flat slits it had for ears and spoke pure elven.
'You know my race. You know my calling. You cannot take me,' he whispered. The cursyrd subsided immediately. 'Struggle is pain.' All that heaved now were its lungs. 'Good. Do not test me.' Auum half turned his head. 'Duele, release and watch.'
The creature was pulled upright, Auum's hand still over its mouth, his short sword at its eye. They both knew die weapon wouldn't kill it. But the pain would bite so deep.
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