Rebraal closed his posture, spun on his uninjured left leg, unwound and took the cursyrd's head from its shoulders, seeing the dead strike-strain fly from the point of his sword moments before impact.
'Shorth bring you eternal pain.'
Rebraal had to act fast. The wagon was heading out of the ColdRoom protection, such as it was. Uttering a quick prayer, he shovelled human and cursyrd bodies from the kicking plate, first taking the reins from the dead elf s hands. He straightened, knocked a strike-strain aside and breathed hard. He had never driven horses before.
Behind him, demons surged onto the wagon and his warriors fought for all their lives. Ahead, elves ran hard, keeping up with the horses, distracted by cursyrd buzzing around their heads and harried by reavers. One slip would be fatal.
'What do I do?' he shouted.
'Slow them!' came the reply. 'Turn them left.'
'And we are all Tual's children,' he breathed. 'That much is obvious.'
He had seen the humans drive. The sure hand, the confident voice of order. He did what he felt Brynn would do. He pulled hard on the reins.
Far too hard.
The horses half-reared in their traces and bolted afresh, the sweat flying from their flanks under the chafing leather. On the roof behind him, elves rebalanced but cursyrd suffered. Wings beat, claws scrabbled. Blood was spilled quickly.
In Rebraal's hands, the horses were an unstoppable force, driving headlong towards certain doom. As they had for two days, cursyrd swarmed outside the shell, waiting for such a moment.
'Stop!' He snapped the reins. The horses merely hastened. 'Gyal's tears, no.'
He stared around the sides of the wagon. In the air directly above, more cursyrd bayed and called, whipping the horses' panic.
Rebraal knew he was helpless but he would not abandon his cargo. He urged the animals to stop. He dragged the reins more softly, pulling left, but they were lost to control. His cars were filled with the protestations of axle and timber, the desperation from within and the calm destruction of cursyrd foolish enough to attack the roof. Dust filled the air around him, clogging his lungs. The horses ploughed on across broken ground. It was a toss-up whether they'd be driven through the edge of the shell aboard the wagon, such was its shaking.
Rebraal consigned his soul to Yniss. Inside the shell, the cursyrd attack was faltering. Outside it, excitement grew. He had watched this from afar three times. Now it was his turn. Again he pressured the reins. Again, nothing.
'Clear!' he shouted down to those Al-Arynaar sprinting alongside the runaway horses. 'Clear!'
They ignored him and he felt proud to die with them.
A detonation sounded beyond the shell. A curious momentary silence followed. Cursyrd bunched then scattered like birds dogged by a predator. A deep green light washed across the space, scattering on impact with the ColdRoom shell. For the first time, Rebraal heard fear in his enemies' cries. The attack faltered. Reavers took to the air. Strike-strain bunched and flew high. And where the green light touched them, the cursyrd melted.
Wings dripped away, bodies sloughed flesh. They fell in their dozens, wailing and agonised. And through the gap they had made, came The Raven, Auum's Tai and the Protectors. Rebraal shouted
his relief though in truth he wasn't sure they would save him. The cursyrd were regrouping quickly, determined not to let their prize escape them, and yet more gathered in the sky above The Raven, wanting to claim the greatest prize of all.
Resigned to his position as passenger and spectator and content to keep the strike-strain away, Rebraal watched the extraordinary approach. Thraun, Darrick, Hirad and The Unknown formed a forward line, maces battering the cursyrd in front of them. Immediately behind strode Denser, his dark cloak flowing behind him. From his fingers, a ForceCone claimed space in the air above them.
And finally, the ace in the pack. Erienne, with a guard that brought laughter from Rebraal's lips. She was flanked by the two Protectors, Kas and Ark, at whose flanks ran Duele and Evunn. They moved as blurs, keeping the space around the One mage's head clear. Almost anonymous, Auum and Eilaan swept behind and the whole advanced with total belief, total control.
Again the glorious green light surged across the field and again the cursyrd panicked and broke. But this time Erienne stumbled and half fell, pushing her hands out towards her husband. Immediately, the formation changed. Evunn and Duele ran ahead of the Raven line. Ark scooped Erienne into his arms, passing her immediately to Thraun, and took up station behind with Kas and Auum. Denser and Eilaan's next ForceCones were directed ahead. And they ran straight for the shell and into the path of the runaway wagon.
Sensing an opportunity, the demons regrouped in the air above the shell. The wagon was suddenly free of concerted attack but the horses showed no inclination to slow. Rebraal turned.
'Al-Arynaar mages to the roof. Now!'
The wagon approached the edge of the shell. The Raven ran on. Rebraal could see The Unknown pointing. Cursyrd flocked in the air. A group of reavers circled behind. A hundred yards from relative safety and it could prove too far.
Rebraal snapped the reins. 'Get on!' he shouted.
The horses had no intention of doing otherwise. Spooked out of any vestige of good sense, they drove on towards the waiting pack who had parted to allow the wagon a way through. Ahead, Hirad and Darrick broke formation and angled towards the bouncing,
bucking cart. Rebraal heard the sounds of elves across the roof of the
wagon. He turned his head.
'ForceCones,' he said. 'The moment we break the shell.'
But facing forwards again, he wondered what he could realistically
achieve. Perhaps a little confusion. It would have to be enough.
Hirad had never run so fast. Trying to remember all that Auum had taught him on his sprint technique, he forged on. Darrick ran beside him, an athlete born to the land. The two raced. And while they did, the fortunes of many were in the balance.
Auum had identified the runaway wagon and the helpless Rebraal holding its reins. While The Raven approached, it had been a curiosity. Now it was a chance at life.
'Coldheart, you are old and slow,' chided Darrick.
'General, you owe me a drink for every failure. This will be one.'
'I'll be proud to buy it.'
'And I to drink it.'
Hirad could feel the breath scorching into his lungs, mixing with the taste of spell residue and demon stench. They were above him and the General now, gathering to dive. And before them, reavers turned into their path to begin attack runs.
The two men hefted their maces, feeling the weight on tired arms. Behind them, Denser unleashed another spell, freezing the air. Demons tumbled from the sky.
'Here they come,' said Darrick.
'Rebraal needs to drive that wagon faster,' said Hirad through gasps.
'Hirad, he isn't driving it at all.'
'Roll!'
The pair dropped to the ground, rolled once and regained their feet. Claws slashed the air above them. Wings beat a down draught across them. Hirad spun and thumped his mace into the back of the nearest enemy. Darrick's blow crushed wing bones in another. It would slow them but no more.
Strike-strain rained down on them as they ran on. Hirad felt claws scratch at his head and neck, teeth nip into his legs through heavy cloth. He ignored the frost that each break in his skin fed into his body, striking out left at a reaver cruising in to the attack. The blow
caught it in the face but it came on, knocking him from his feet. He tumbled and rolled. A tail sliced across his back, cutting into his skin, leaving ice behind.
Not stopping, he scrambled back to his feet. Darrick was ahead of him now, mace cracking strike-strain aside, the feeling of metal on flesh heavy and satisfying. Ahead, the wagon ploughed on. Hirad could see its roof and sides busy with elves and its wheels bouncing on the uneven ground as it rushed towards them. The periphery of the shell moved too, its speed governed by that of the wagons bearing the casting mage
s and mercifully under greater control. Its edge could be estimated by the demons clustering outside of it and Rebraal was all but through it.
Hirad caught Darrick in time to bludgeon away a clutch of strike-strain poised to attack the General's head. Reavers were coming in again too, but this time it was spells that stopped them. Rebraal's wagon plunged out of the ColdRoom shell. Back in the world of mana, his mages cast quickly and efficiently. ForceCones drove rents through the demon clouds, scattering them through the air. Immediately, they were attacked from the rear, the Al-Arynaar fighting hard to keep them away.
'Confident?' shouted Hirad.
'Never not so,' replied Darrick.
They were twenty yards from the wagon and running straight for it. Maces were stowed in belt loops, strike-strain were free to snipe at them.
'Good luck.'
Darrick timed his run to perfection. He angled into the galloping horses, caught the rein harness of the right-hand beast and swung up onto its back. Two paces later, Hirad leapt for the kicking board, impacting heavily on the frame of the wagon. Ignoring the flare of pain in his ribs, he turned to Rebraal, grinning and taking the reins from him.
'Bloody elves. Never did understand horses.' He looked ahead. 'All right, General, let's get this thing pointed the right way!'
He felt a blade whistle above his head. A reaver tumbled away, flaring a ghastly yellow.
'Thanks.'
Rebraal shrugged and sought his next target.
Darrick, flanked by elves, was calming the horses. Commands mixed with soft words in one's ears brought it back to its senses and it began to slow, bringing the other with it, suddenly aware of its peril and needing direction. Hirad provided it, turning them right towards The Raven and snapping the reins to maintain impetus.
His friends were in trouble. Strike-strain in their hundreds had gathered above them and reavers approached from all quarters. The Tai cell fought with grace and control at the head of the running pack, never seeming to break stride. The Unknown and the two Protectors were a power block, delivering shuddering strikes that battered a path clear. Thraun ran alongside Denser and Eilaan in their wake. The two mages clearly held ForceCones above their heads, sweeping them around and behind, denying the demons access to Thraun's vital cargo.
'We need more spells keeping the sky clear,' said Hirad. 'Darrick, get your arse up here. It's going to get interesting.'
Rebraal called out the order. Al-Arynaar mages on the roof of the wagon turned their attention to The Raven. Two followed Denser's example, deploying ForceCones ahead of the horses, using them as battering rams. Hirad waited for Darrick to step nimbly up the horse's back before snapping the reins again, encouraging more speed from the tiring animals.
The two groups closed quickly, demons getting caught between them. Elven ForceCones drove the creatures left, right, up and forwards. Hirad saw the danger.
'Move those Cones!' he shouted, gesturing with his arm as he did so. 'Above head height.'
Rebraal confirmed the order and The Raven could run in under temporary cover. Hirad threw the reins at Darrick.
'Your turn, General. We need Erienne inside at the earliest.'
With that, he thumped to the ground and ran towards The Raven, the ice from his demon cuts stiffening his muscles, the sweat streaming from his forehead and the blood rushing in his veins. And at the periphery of it all, he kept at bay the fear that they all harboured. That these hordes were always within an ace of snuffing them out for ever. That one slip would end it all.
He roared to clear his head and dragged his mace out to smash it
into the back of the first reaver he encountered. It felt good. It felt very good.
'Unknown, get ready,' yelled Hirad, voice carrying over the narrow press of demons separating them.
He saw The Unknown nod and thunder his mace into the skull of a reaver. The creature shrieked and fell backwards, shaking its head, its skin a blazing bright blue. Beside him Ark and Kas, operating with mace and axe, upped their pace. Demons flew from their path. Strike-strain carrying clear over Hirad's head, reavers crumpling and falling, trampled as they tried to rise, shaking off the shock of the blows.
Auum's Tai had dropped behind Thraun and the mages now and were operating with dreadful efficiency. Not for them the path-making power of the mace. Instead, feet and hands denied the demons the rear of the Raven line and, where they fell, they'd find a TaiGethen pounce to deliver the short-sword stab under the arm.
Hirad slapped his mace into the demon pack once more. He could hear the rattling of the carriage and feel the thud of hoof underfoot.
'Break them, break them!' ordered Darrick.
The wagon slewed hard right, dirt and grass flying up from under its wheels. Denser shifted the focus of his ForceCone, driving a wedge through the demons, dismissing the spell before it could threaten either Hirad or their transport. The barbarian battered his way towards Thraun, mace in both hands now. He felt a claw swipe across the top of his head and the blood began to run. He staggered and straightened, took two more paces and was knocked clean from his feet. Pain scorched into his side, winding him. Demons closed around him, their calls and shouts mixing with those of The Raven.
Rolling onto his back, he saw sky above him and the wings of demons closing in. He carried on rolling, a claw missing his face by a hair. A weapon whispered across his body. He heard a thud and a cry of frustration. A fist grabbed his collar and hauled him upright.
'Get on board, Coldheart,' said The Unknown.
Thraun had reached the back of the cart. Kas and Ark flanked him still, their weapons keeping the baying demon pack at bay. IceWind, bleak yellow and Julatsan, swept out from the roof of the wagon. The TaiGethen sprinted past him and vaulted to the wagon's roof to
join the fight. Denser and Eilaan paced backwards, the latter's ForceCone still under control, still keeping the enemy back from the sky above.
'The roof, Unknown. We need to get there.'
'Not you,' said The Unknown. 'In the back. You're hurt. I'll take the bench with Darrick.'
'Hurt?'
'Yes.'
The Unknown's mace struck again. He ducked a flailing tail, dragging Hirad with him into the lee of the wagon. He pushed the barbarian to the tailgate and thrust him at Ark.
'Don't let him go.'
Hirad frowned. His head was swimming a little but otherwise he was fine. He smiled up at Ark but the Protector's face was impassive.
'Get aboard,' he said.
Hirad thought to disagree but he took one more pace and stag gered, legs suddenly lacking strength. He glanced down and saw the blood from his side staining his leather. He began to shiver.
His last certainty was hearing The Unknown shout for Darrick to get the wagon going. But after Ark had picked him up and he thought he'd heard Rebraal order more ForceCones, everything else was a chill blur.
Chapter 31
Sharyr and Brynel knelt to prepare the ward. They were far from the gates of the college and could hear the sounds of demons whose attentions were mercifully still diverted elsewhere. Next to them stood Suarav. He was the only man they would have trusted to look over them. It was a curious strength they had gained from their ordeal in the library. None of them had truly recovered from it. They all still shivered intermittently and felt the chill of demon touch and proximity.
Yet it had instilled in them a fierce fatalism and brought the three of them together in a bond of mutual respect and belief. It was something that would be put to severe test in the hours to come.
'Attach it to the corner there,' whispered Sharyr.
Brynel nodded. The ward structure was simple and designed for a closely directed effect. Positioned on the junction of streets running away to the broken north gate, to the cloth market, and the college itself, it was a key focus of Chandyr's plan to help the Julatsans into Xetesk. Another key part of that plan was the three of them.
Sharyr watched his charge meld the ward into the building. Whe
n it was fixed he fed in exclusions to its activation to ensure no stray human or elven approach caused disaster. It was a quick process.
'All right,' he said, standing and helping Brynel up. 'That's our lot.'
'Well done,' said Suarav.
The three men looked at each other in the gloom of the street. The quiet was eerie and suffocating. Each knew what the others would be feeling. The desire to run back to the college. The dread at what they had volunteered to do. The pride at their own strength and the trust that had been bestowed upon them.
While other trios, some classic mage-defender structure, com-
pleted the ward lattice to Chandyr's design, they would be leaving Xetesk to contact the approaching allies. No one had to tell them the risk they were taking. No one had to remind them of their chances of success. They already knew that Chandyr had a contingency for their failure. It wasn't supposed to discomfort them, it was simple reality.
'Do you need to rest?' asked the gruff guard captain.
Both mages shook their heads.
'We should go,' said Sharyr.
'Just remember to follow my lead and keep yourself moving. To stop is to die,' said Suarav.
Sharyr chuckled. 'Only that?'
'Strength,' said Suarav.
'Let's go,' said Brynel. 'It's cold standing here.'
Denser looked down at his wife and a tear dropped from his check onto hers. It was the deep of night. The demons were attacking again. He could hear their calls echoing across the wagon train as it rolled inexorably on towards the gates of Xetesk. Feet skipped across the roof struts overhead and he could see the stress in the canvas in the half-light that permeated the wagon.
Rebraal had said the night would be the worst and so it was. Because the demons, indefatigable, lit up the sky with the colours of their bodies. They set up a stunning array of lights, at once terrifying and undeniably beautiful. Shifting patterns across the rainbow of colour, bright washes and gentle tones that were quite extraordinary, almost mesmerising. But they denied man, elf and horse any rest. Their calls gnawed at the nerves. And periodically, they would swoop into attack. Not with the intention of destroying the convoy, but in the knowledge that with the dawn would come new fear.
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