Sharyr knew he was screaming but he had no desire to stop. He thought perhaps Brynel and Suarav were doing the same and if they weren't, they ought to be. They were moving as one, he leading, shouting commands between his screams and keeping them simple. One thing he couldn't afford was for he and Brynel to pull in opposite directions. It would leave Suarav a dead man.
'Left!'
And they flew left, feeling the wind as a pack of strike-strain missed them to the right. They turned back in towards the shell. The sky lit up with a Julatsan barrage. Sharyr exulted. What a sight.
'Straight in. Trim those wings, Brynel.'
The mages adjusted their wings for raw speed and immediately
began to lose height, Suarav's weight dragging them down. Sharyr heard Suarav shout in shock as the speed struck them. This was a final approach. They wouldn't get another chance. In front of them, the wagons had started to move but there were those who had detached and were heading towards the edge of the shell where they were aiming to break through.
Their way was blocked by strike-strain and reavers, floating in the air ahead of them. Sharyr looked briefly below. They were no more than twenty feet in the air now and still sinking. They had nowhere to go.
'Hold course, Brynel. Close your eyes and let's pray.'
He felt a strange exhilaration. This was the defining moment of his life. For once he had been in control of his own destiny, and had chosen this path. He recalled being browbeaten by Dystran, he recalled his protestations and how he could never hope to have His voice heard. Not this time. So he didn't pray. He bellowed his rebellion.
'Hang on, Suarav. Enjoy the ride.'
They collided with the strike-strain. Sharyr felt the small creatures buffeting him. He put his head down and let it happen. Bodies hurtled into his head, midriff and legs. He felt the drag on his waist when Suarav was struck and just one huge impact that could only be a reaver.
And then he was falling.
He opened his eyes. They were inside the shell and the Wings had dispersed on the instant. The ground rushed towards them. They were travelling so fast. Too fast surely. Then they were all bouncing over the ground. Every impact was a new pain. He felt hard earth on his backside and the sharpness of wood or rock in his gut. He tasted dirt in his mouth and cried out when his shoulder jerked uncomfortably under him as he slid to a stop.
'Oh dear Gods, I'm still alive.' And he began to laugh.
Hands were about him and he could see faces. Voices questioned him, heavily accented. They were elves of the Al-Arynaar. He had heard about them.
'Are you hurt? Can you stand? We have to move now.'
He didn't know the answers. He moved to stand and pain lanced through his back. He winced. The arms helped him slowly to his
feet. He looked about him. Suarav was still on the ground but shaking his head, and moving freely. Brynel was smiling and gasping at the same time, a difficult combination.
Sharyr became aware of the sounds in the shell. The calls of demons and the cries of men and elves. The rattle of wagons, the hoofbeats and the fighting in every quarter.
'The cursyrd attack. We must move.'
'Yes,' he said. 'Yes.'
They started to move. Demons flew down on their heads. Tiny strike-strain nipping at their scalps and ears. He flapped his arms ineffectually. The elves hurried them along.
'They cannot really hurt you,' said the elf running beside him. 'Why are you here?'
T need to speak to the man. . the elf in charge. You need to know about the streets of Xetesk.'
T will take you to Rebraal.'
Sharyr had never heard of him but the reverence in the elf s voice was enough.
'He sounds perfect.'
The elf didn't answer him.
Behind them the wagons were rolling under attack from the skies above. Auum led his Tai through scorched grass and smouldering flesh. The cursyrd line had broken but it was reforming quickly. They, the Al-Arynaar and The Raven had to keep the cursyrd on the back foot. If the karron should reform in any great numbers, the mages' work would be undone.
Working within the compass of the ColdRoom shell, Auum tore into the attack, operating with twin short swords. Duele and Evunn were on either flank.
'Target the karron. Tai, we strike.'
The karron were identically formed, unlike their reaver brethren. The fine hair he had seen from a distance was in fact a writhing, coarse sensory mat. The eyes were small and dim, perhaps only able to tell the difference between light and dark. The squat creature's raw power lay in its trunk and arms. And these latter swung with surprising swiftness, defying its lumbering gait.
Auum ducked a swinging spike limb and lashed his blades into
karron legs. He stepped smardy aside, a hammer thumping the ground where he had been standing. He pulled back, reassessing die creature's speed. It came at him, arms punching and swinging. A bludgeoning tactic but directionless. Auum swayed left, took a pace and lashed in a kick to the side of its head. It grunted and shook its head to clear its senses but Auum was already upon it. He stepped inside its arms and buried both blades in its face.
The karron wailed and collapsed forwards. Auum dropped and rolled backwards, bouncing back onto his feet. Beside him, Duele and Evunn tackled three that worked in unison.
'Feel the dance, my brothers,' said Auum.
Behind him The Raven crashed into the fight. Auum dodged another battering attack and struck out, carving his blades into the club arm and seeing grey gore spurt out of the deep wounds. He moved to deal the killing strike but Hirad got there first. The barbarian's sword sunk deep into the karron's midriff, driving ii backwards.
'Let's keep these bastards going our way!' shouted Hirad.
He dragged his sword clear, grinned at Auum and ran to join The Unknown Warrior. Auum cleared his throat and stepped in to aid his Tai. He breathed deep and achieved the pure state. The karron could not move fast enough to threaten him. He looked into their small eyes, buried deep under heavy brows, and watched the movement of the mat of hair. The limbs followed the sensing of its targets but it could not hope to lay a blow on the TaiGethen.
Auum needed quick kills. He rolled under the arms of his target and hammered his blades into its chest. He stepped right, jumping high and thudding both feet into the face of the next, landing on its stomach as it crashed onto its back. He tore out its throat with a double slash. A club fist whistled towards him. Still too slow. He jumped over it, turned in the air and straight-kicked the assailant. He dropped low, swept its legs from beneath it and jammed his blades high under its left arm. It spasmed and lay still.
He rose to his feet. Duele and Evunn were next to him. The Al-Arynaar and The Raven were deep in the fighting, driving a wedge for the wagons that trundled along behind. Auum felt a burning inside him and realised it was pure pleasure. It was not an emotion
he associated with consigning his enemies to Shorth but he was prepared to enjoy it.
He smiled.
'Tai,' he said. 'As one. We move.'
You could only stand and admire. It all but cost Hirad his life. He had dragged his sword through the ribs of one of the ugly haired demons and watched the creature bleed to death at his feet when he felt a moment of space. It was then he had seen Auum's Tai go to work and had known that for all that he had learned in their company back on Calaius, he would never come close to their ability.
He almost felt sorry for the demons they faced. After all, he couldn't follow every move they made himself. And they were so much in concert that it left no room for inroads into their attack or defence despite the fact that reavers had joined the fight against them.
Auum led them in a ferocious assault dead ahead of the wagons' path. His swords glittered in the early morning sun. Each strike left a trail of blood in its wake. The clumsy karron tried to batter at him but he drove on relentlessly, his blades biting into neck, chest and under the arms where he could deal the fastest death blow. And his accuracy
was matched by the mesmeric moves of his Tai in his defence.
Each elf carried a single short sword at his outer flank which he used to slice into karron flesh at every opportunity. But the main focus was inside and up. Every strike by a karron was parried or countered. Every dive by a reaver met with a kick or a fist, sweeping high over Auum's head. Demons shrieked in frustration or spun away half-senseless. The Tai's focus never wavered. Their understanding of each other was total. It was what The Raven had striven for all their years of fighting. They thought they had achieved it. They weren't even close.
It was a dance that the Tai wove and those who didn't know the steps had no chance of survival.
Hirad staggered under the force of a blow to his stomach. He looked down to see a severed hammer limb strike the ground.
'Gods' sake Hirad, watch yourself The Unknown backhanded
his blade into the face of the same karron and limped a pace to his next target. 'Fight or leave.'
Hirad broke his reverie. The Raven were fighting close to the Tai. The karron were quick but not quick enough. Denser, blade in hand, was watching their backs from attacks by reavers. The Unknown and Darrick ploughed a furrow straight ahead. Furious with himself, Hirad dived back into the action. A club fist came at him. He blocked it away with his blade, feeling the strength of the strike. Quickly, he switched his blade to his left hand and lashed out at the creature's head, bursting one of the eyes on the side of its skull.' It howled and fell back. Hirad pounced after it, slicing through the tendons at the back of its legs. It collapsed and he finished it through the chest.
'That's more like it,' said The Unknown.
'You know it,' said Hirad.
He stretched to deflect a blow aimed at the big man and felt the stitching on his hip give way and blood flow. The pain pounded through him and he swayed. The karron's next strike battered into The Unknown's defence, knocking him into Darrick who stumbled sideways, just avoiding the arm of another enemy.
Hirad dragged himself forward and punctured the karron's side. Grey splashed onto his armour.
'Don't even think about it.'
The Unknown had recovered and unleashed a huge strike left to right, decapitating the karron. The line was almost broken. Reavers flew down to bolster it but the strike-strain were flitting away. Hirad felt a new energy and ran forwards, trying to ignore the tear on his hip.
A shout from behind slowed him and he looked back. The wagons were with them now. The Al-Arynaar flanking the cart horses moved with purpose, using their numbers as a battering ram, and the Julatsan wagon train burst through the demon line and aimed for the sundered north gate of Xetesk.
Chapter 34
The demons had come back in force and they'd brought some new friends with them. His teams falling back into the sanctuary of the college had reported the karron disappearing into all quarters of the city. It was too late to tell the Julatsans but they, it seemed, were making good headway.
Dystran stood on the balcony of his tower as he had so often during the past two years and experienced another new hope. That both Wesmen and Julatsans would be flooding his courtyard before noon. Gods, how alien it was but how natural it felt to wish it.
Looking north, he could see the cloud of dust that signalled the Julatsan approach to the city. South, another showed the Wesmen advance. The latter's was under minimal pressure. The demons clearly didn't consider them a threat. Dystran prayed fervently that Tessaya would demonstrate to them otherwise.
Everything was set in the college. Every man, woman and child knew their task when the order was given. Dystran couldn't cloak the excitement he felt. Something had run through the college when it was sure that the Julatsans were coming this way. It gave them all new life and new hope for whatever spurious reasons. This didn't feel like resistance; more like rebellion.
Where would it go wrong, that was the question. He couldn't fault the ward grid. It was something of which Septern himself would have been proud. All it needed was activation and it was he that would take that task. Chandyr's strike and fall-back plans were sound, he knew that. The commander was a skilful tactician and had studied General Darrick for many years.
But he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that the demons were still a step ahead. What was it they had missed? There had to be something. There was always something.
Hirad's wound had been rebound but he had conceded he should travel on the kicking plate of Erienne's wagon, driven once more by Darrick. Thraun still rode inside. The rest of The Raven were out front and just behind the Al-Arynaar line, keeping the path clear.
The success of Darrick's tactic seemed to have confused and demoralised the demons. Half-hearted regroupings of karron had been battered mercilessly aside by the TaiGethen-led elven force. The lumbering demons appeared badly hampered fighting inside the ColdRoom shell.
It had been left to the reavers and strike-strain to continue their sniping attacks. And while they scored small victories, they couldn't slow the advancing wagon train which was crossing the old battlefields in front of the north gate. It was a curious atmosphere dominating the demon forces. Hirad likened it to defeat and he told Darrick so.
'Don't believe it. They'll look to pin us down in some narrow street in the city,' said Darrick.
'Well, we have surprises for them in there too, don't we?' said Hirad.
'And it's all main street,' said Denser, hauling himself up to the bench. 'We can drive two abreast all the way to the college.'
'Simple enough,' said Hirad.
The General shook his head. T doubt that very much.'
It was less than a mile to the college from the north gate. Hirad had travelled in Xetesk enough to know that even the widest of its streets felt tight. Tall and ancient buildings loomed over the equally aged cobbles and stone pathways, blotting out half the sky. Every street in Xetesk had the potential for ambush. The recently arrived Xeteskians needed to be right about their ward work.
They had seen flights of demons heading back towards Xetesk, giving credence to Darrick's observation. The General's initial delight at the outcome of his snap tactic had quickly given way to introspection and now he wore a troubled expression.
'Come on, Darrick,' said Hirad. 'We've broken them. What's the problem?'
'You know it was too easy, don't you?' he replied.
T know we gave them a good hiding.'
Darrick shook his head a second time. 'They were inept in the extreme and I don't buy it. They planned to fail.'
'Hardly. From where I stand they didn't expect us to drop the ColdRoom and we took them down.'
'Maybe they didn't but after that, that's what worries me. They didn't attempt a concerted reformation, they didn't bring up reserves from the rear of the shell. They practically stood there and let us slaughter them. How many did we lose? Five? Ten?'
T think you worry too much,' said Hirad.
'Do I?' Darrick turned his head to stare at the barbarian. 'Think it's plain sailing from here on in, don't you?'
Hirad raised his eyebrows. 'So long as Xetesk lends the hand it has promised. I mean, look at the enemy. They aren't up for this, none of them.'
'Right. And that's what most of the elves think to look at them. Don't let your guard slip for one moment. I'm telling Rebraal the same thing.'
Hirad swallowed his retort. 'You really mean it, don't you?'
'I wouldn't say it otherwise. The demons are not this lame. They're in charge here, never mind what just happened. It is inconceivable that we've broken them.'
'If you say so, General.'
T do.'
Hirad chuckled. 'Lucky we didn't have you join us for your sense of humour.'
'I see nothing to laugh about.'
'Exactly.'
An hour later and barely under attack at all, die Julatsan wagon train rolled through the north gate of Xetesk. The imposing gatehouse edifice, sorely damaged though it was, was the first of many ideal ambush points. Nothing.
'Still sure
, General?'
'Don't tempt fate, Hirad. They only need one place, one chance. Keep looking.'
The instant they cleared the gatehouse, the atmosphere changed. The cold intensified. Breath clouded in front of faces, and with no breeze to disperse it, hung in a cloud around the train. The city stank with the scent of fear, death and decay. The quiet set Hirad's
teeth on edge. Not even a demon made a sound. Nothing came from the buildings around them, the streets that ran away into the city or from the college. Not a bird sang or a dog barked. All Hirad could hear was the creaking of the carts, his own breath and the sounds of hoof on stone.
Turning into Norgate Road, the buildings seemed to climb so high into the cold blue sky. Bleak timbers and shuttered windows glowered down on them. Unconsciously, the pace slowed.
'Keep it up ahead,' said Darrick, voice unnaturally loud.
'Can you feel it?' said Hirad.
'It's why we're all whispering,' said Denser. He shuddered.
'Watch for any movement,' hissed Darrick. 'Rebraal, put the word out. Concentrate.'
The demons had gone from the sky. Not a one tracked their progress. The empty shell above them was almost unnerving after so long under attack. On the second wagon of the lead pair the Xeteskians, Suarav and Sharyr, his arm in a makeshift sling, were indicating ward positions. They were pointing ahead at the first crossroads which the train would traverse on its way to the playhouse. That building stood in the middle of the tight Seamstone Square. Once on the square, they would be at their most vulnerable.
Approaching the crossway, Hirad could feel his heart thumping in his chest. He readjusted his sword grip constantly, wiping sweating hands down his trousers. Every hoof-fall was a clarion call for a demon rally. Every nervous whinny or snort an invitation to attack. But still no demons. Darrick's frown deepened still further.
'Where would I do it?' he muttered. 'Where?'
His voice was the only one puncturing the edgy quiet. More than three hundred elves and men travelled the dead streets. Hirad felt his earlier bravado draining away.
'Just one place, you think?'
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