Demonstorm lotr-3

by James Barclay

  'Disengage,' he called. 'Run.'

  He didn't know if they really heard him but one looked back, saw the space and brought his brothers with him. He led bruised, bleeding and shivering warriors into the light, still moving only because the adrenalin kept their exhaustion at bay a few moments longer. The last of them exited the alley. Karron were pouring down it at surprising speed.

  'Dear Gods,' breathed Hirad. There was no one left to stop them. 'Fall back in turn. Disengage by pairs.'

  The order was passed back down the line. Hirad placed himself in the centre of the collapsing pathway. Elven hands on his shoulders guided him backwards. All around him he could hear the cries of demons and the thud of weapons. He gripped his mace in both hands and watched the karron stream on. He wondered if he could hold them long enough to let the elves escape into the playhouse.

  Demons piled into the space they were leaving. Hirad backed up, swinging his mace in a figure eight. It did nothing to halt the tide. They'd be on him in heartbeats. He glanced up. Reavers were massing to dive.

  'Shit,' he muttered.

  He was only four yards from the doors. It was too far through the crowd of elves at his back. Those guiding hands left him but another squeezed his shoulder.

  'Duck.'

  The word in his ear was like cold ale in a summer-dry mouth. He grinned mirthlessly at the advancing demons. And he ducked. The air froze. IceWind seared death into the mouth of the alley. Simultaneously, a ForceCone swept over his head, driving the flanks clear, and FlameOrbs dropped left and right.

  For an instant the demons' triumphal voices were stilled and all

  that could be heard were the shrieks of the burned and frozen, punctuated by elvish orders.

  'You are coming with us,' said The Unknown from his left.

  Rebraal was on his right. Behind was Denser.

  They were all backing away slowly, the elves disengaging with them. The moment's pause ended. The demons attacked again. With renewed pride swelling his heart and strength filling his body, Hirad called out over the heads of the enemy.

  'Raven! Let's see our people inside!'

  With Pheone's ForceCone still deployed and sweeping above, The Raven fought the rearguard action. Hirad snapped a karron hammer aside, stepped inside the spike and smashed his mace high into its forehead, splitting its front eyes. The creature staggered and raised its arms to cover itself. Rebraal skewered its nerve ganglion.

  Left, The Unknown held a mace in either hand now and both dripped with demon gore. He cycled them in quick ovals, striking out at body and limb, yelling his challenge. He caught a reaver on the side of the head sending it skittering into the pack. The karron that took its place took blows to its gut and neck before it could marshal a strike. The Unknown's attack was relentless, forcing it into desperate defence.

  Rebraal's quick hands kept the attackers at bay to the right. His mace in both hands, he weaved a complex defensive pattern that confused the karron facing him. Above them, reavers screamed exhortations to attack while they tried to get themselves under the Cone. And all the time, The Raven backed off. More FlameOrbs fell, relieving the press of bodies. Rebraal grunted under a karron blow, his mace taking its full force but still it unbalanced him. Another blow came in, Rebraal quick enough to duck. And on the next pace, he stepped back into the shadow of the playhouse.

  'Almost there, Raven!' called Hirad, feeling his heel against a step. 'Al-Arynaar step it up, get inside.'

  He moved up a step. More spells flashed out over his head to crash into the defenceless demons, spreading fire and chaos. Karron rained in blows, desperate to take anyone they could in the final flurry. The Unknown's maces whirled defiance. Hirad slammed his mace again and again into heads and limbs. Rebraal took another blow to his side, half blocking it and recovering to defend.

  Hirad felt for the last step. The ForceCone snapped off. Reavers dropped into the attack. Hirad raised his arms to strike out but felt hands dragging him back. He was pulled unceremoniously into the playhouse. The door was slammed against the demon pack. Ward-Lock fizzed across its timbers and not even the hammers of karrons could break it. Not for a while.

  Hirad dragged himself to his feet, his limbs quivering, his mace discarded for the moment. The gloomy playhouse was full of noise, activity and dust. Outside, the demons were hammering on doors, walls and roof, the sound reverberating dully through the heavily draped space. He counted off The Raven. There was a gaping hole in their ranks. Thraun and Denser were kneeling over Erienne who was lying where the injured were being gathered in one part of the standing area that circled the stage.

  Rebraal was with Dila'heth on the stage which rose from the centre of the playhouse. He was already snapping out orders to his warriors, she organising her mages. Spells crackled away, disturbing dust during their otherwise invisible progress across the open space. Al-Arynaar warriors ran to all corners, checking for unforeseen access ways. LightGlobes hung over the scene, casting gentle light that slowly lifted the gloom.

  The Unknown was making for the stage and Hirad followed him, aware of the aches washing over his body. His left arm was still tingling where the karron strike had been blocked and his head itched interminably from the sweat mingling with the scratches inflicted by the strike-strain.

  'Gather all the wounded on the north floor. Pheone and Denser are assessing them,' said Rebraal. 'ColdRoom teams to the stage, please. Prepare and wait for the casting order. Let's hope we don't need you.'

  His smile was grim and weary when he saw Hirad coming towards him. He grasped the barbarian's shoulders.

  'You saved a lot of lives,' he said. 'Thank you.'

  Hirad shrugged. 'Not quite enough, eh?'

  'You know what I mean.'

  'Difficult space to defend,' said The Unknown.

  Hirad could see what he meant. The standing area around the circular stage was flat ground ten yards in all directions. It ended in a

  rail beyond which a series of fourteen rows of benches were bolted onto steep steps. Gangways led from each of the bolted and Ward-Locked doors and a thin path ran all around the periphery of the playhouse. Stairs ran up the side of the outer wall to the. left of each door, leading to the ornate and overhanging boxes for the rich of Xetesk. Empty windows now, drifting with the memories of privilege. Strange. He could all but hear the applause and smell the expectancy of the crowd. As if the walls retained the atmosphere of past triumphs.

  'We need numbers, stamina and sustainability estimates now,' said The Unknown, bringing him back to himself.

  'We also need a way out,' said Rebraal, wheezing.

  'First things first,' said The Unknown. 'Dila'heth, what have you got?'

  Dila blew out her cheeks. 'It's not a good picture,' she said, biting back her emotion. 'We left Julatsa with one hundred and eighty mages not three days ago. And now' — she began indicating as she spoke — 'I have six mages keeping ForceCones on the ceiling. I have thirty investing the walls with WardLock constructs. I have nine ready to cast ColdRooms, five are on healing duty and the other seven are injured too badly to cast. That's fifty-eight including me.'

  'We've all lost people,' muttered Hirad.

  Dila let the figures sink in. Hirad looked about him. It had seemed such a throng when they had run for the playhouse but now, in the enclosed space, the scale of their losses was all too clear.

  'And what about the warriors, Rebraal?' asked The Unknown.

  'Less than a hundred,' he said, face drawn and pained. 'We can't know the numbers Auum still has with him but at worst we've lost well over half our sword and two thirds of our mage strength. And it gets worse, I suspect. Pheone?'

  The Julatsan High Mage looked up from her search of the wounded.

  'How bad is it?'

  Pheone's face was a picture of despair. Her face was streaked with fresh tears and she was shaking, the fear setting in to her body. She took a moment to compose herself and walked onto the stage, the mage Geren at her shoulder.

>   'I've lost almost everyone. There's only ten left. Pathetic isn't it,

  but Geren and I are the only human Julatsan mages left. Everyone else is dead or a non-mage.'

  'There'll be others, Pheone,' said Hirad. 'Hidden and scattered. Blackthorne has Julatsans in his employ. You can rebuild.'

  'From this?' blurted out Geren. 'You talk like it's over and we've won. Look at where we are. We've just swapped one trap for another. There's no way out, is there? Nowhere for us to go.'

  'There is always a way,' said Hirad, his tone ominous and stilling Geren's outburst. 'That's what we do. What you do is go back and get our people fit to fight again. And I will do the same with mine.'

  Geren nodded.

  'And Geren?'

  'What?'

  'We're all tired and scared,' said Hirad. 'But fear is a disease. And it spreads where it shows. Remember that when you look into the eyes of those you are healing or you're no good to us.'

  Geren backed away, Pheone laying a comforting hand on his arm as he retreated. The battering on walls and doors was incessant and intensifying. Loose plaster fell from the balcony-box carvings and from the pillars which were hung with dramatic deep red drapes.

  The Unknown spread his arms. 'So, what's the prognosis? Presumably we're at a stage where we can keep them at bay. The question is, how long can we maintain it?'

  They all looked at Dila'heth.

  'There's no easy way to say this. Even if I cycle the ForceCone mages and rest the WardLock casters now, we can't keep this up until nightfall.' She shrugged. 'Three days in the open and under attack. We just didn't come in here with enough stamina. Then they'll break in and all that we'll have are the ColdRooms. I'm sorry.'

  'Looks like Geren might have been right,' muttered Pheone.

  Hirad looked at her sharply but didn't have the heart to rebuke her. Part of him agreed with her. He could still see walls collapsing and Darrick disappearing beneath them, helpless. He shouldn't have died that way. Not him. Outside, die demons were baying for their souls, sensing the parlous state in which their captives found themselves. The endless thudding on the playhouse was giving Hirad a headache. There would be thousands of them out there, most of

  them just waiting for the inevitable while reavers picked at the roof and karron thrashed at the walls and doors. Far too many for them to hope to break through.

  'Anyone know a secret way out of here?' he asked.

  Rebraal shook his head. 'We've checked. The trapdoors just lead to dressing rooms and closed storage. There are only four ways out and none of them is appealing.'

  Over on the north floor, Denser slapped Thraun on the back, the ghost of a smile on his face. On the ground in front of them, Erienne was stirring.

  It would probably have been better for her had she stayed unconscious.

  Chapter 37

  They had run into the tower complex under a guard of ForceCones, Xeteskian warriors flanking them. The cursyrd had pulled away when they had entered the dome, shrieking their anger and frustration, promising lingering death.

  Auum had barked for healers, for a place to lay Duele. Evunn shadowed him. The Tai was cut and bleeding, his eyes fierce and furious. Someone had shown them the path deep into the catacombs he remembered so well. Through multiple turns and antechambers to where the Xeteskian mages slept under guard to replenish their mana stamina. It was empty now. Just an anonymous chamber with bare walls, a single table and rolls of bedding.

  Al-Arynaar had followed them through the maze and immediately began to prepare. Auum laid Duele on a bedding roll on the table. The Tai moaned feebly, blood bubbling from his lips. Auum smoothed his semi-conscious frown and kissed his forehead.

  'You have come so far, my Tai,' he said. 'Stand with us again and we will complete Yniss's work.' He turned to the elven mages. 'Save him. And if you cannot do that, see he suffers no more pain. Evunn, we pray.'

  The Tai knelt at Duele's feet while the Al-Arynaar worked on him, doing whatever they could.

  'Yniss, our Tai lies before you, broken. His fate is in your hands. It is you who will call upon Shorth or keep him behind you. We are ever your servants and do your work without question. Keep Duele with us. Let Shorth wait for him. We will let your wisdom guide us and will never turn from the path. But. .' Auum breathed deep. Evunn's arms were about his neck pulling him close, their heads on each other's shoulders. 'Do not take from us the best of us, we beg you. His soul is pure. He must run with us, not the ancestors, not

  yet. Save him. Do not let Shorth take him: We are your servants, Yniss. Hear us in our time of direst need. Hear us.'

  Auum rose to his feet, Evunn supported him. He wiped the tears from his face and felt the weight of despair crushing him. He knew before he looked into the eyes of the healers what he would find. But Duele was still breathing. Indeed his eyes blinked open. Auum's heart raced with brief hope.

  'He is dying, isn't he?'

  The mage nodded and Auum's heart faltered. His mind was suffused with a rage he had little desire to control.

  'His chest cavity is crushed beyond repair. His lungs are ruined and his heart is pierced. He should have died when he was struck but his will is so strong,' said the mage. 'Had we been standing over him then, we could not have saved him. I am sorry.'

  'Do not be so,' said Auum. 'You are blameless.'

  'He feels no pain. You should talk to him now. There is little time.'

  The mage moved aside, ushering the others with him. Auum and Evunn stood together in Duele's eyeline, watching his deliberate movements. He raised his hand a couple of inches. Auum grabbed it and squeezed hard. Duele licked his lips, smearing drying blood. His eyes opened, lids flickering a little. He frowned again, trying to focus.

  'Yniss takes me for another purpose,' he managed through wheezing breaths. Every word stung Auum with its optimism. 'Shorth is waiting. I can feel him.'

  'So it is, my Tai,' said Auum. He swallowed hard.

  'Don't grieve,' said Duele. T go to the ancestors.'

  'It is a journey we had pledged to take together. All three,' replied Auum. He gripped Duele's hand harder. 'You were always the best of us. Yniss sees it. Do this for me. Seek the one who seeks Rebraal and Hirad. Seek Ilkar. Shadow him. Protect him. Show him the path.'

  'I will, Auum.' Duele coughed blood and smiled. 'Always orders.'

  'Not orders. A request. A hope.' Auum leant in and kissed Duele's lips. 'Goodbye, Duele. Until we meet, be strong. Serve Yniss. Find Ilkar.'

  He withdrew, letting Evunn take Duele's hand.

  'Forty years TaiGethen,' Evunn said. 'Forty years as one.'

  'And not a day's regret,' said Duele, his voice faint and rasping.

  'There should have been forty more.' Evunn's voice quavered. 'This is not right. This is chance.'

  'It is all Yniss's design. We are his servants.'

  'Yes and we-' Evunn paused. Auum saw his shoulders sag. Evunn leaned in to kiss the Tai. 'Shorth show you the glory you deserve, my friend.' He laid Duele's hand by his side and turned to Auum, his voice breaking. 'He is gone.'

  Auum moved back to Duele, standing opposite Evunn. He took the pouches of paint from his belt and the two of diem re-applied the hunting colours to Duele's face, taking exaggerated care over every detail, leaving no part uncovered. Auum drew Duele's twin short swords and placed one in each of his hands while Evunn unsnapped his jaqrui pouch and laid a whisper crescent high on his broken chest.

  'Where you go now, you go armed,' said Auum.

  'Fight well,' said Evunn. 'Fight strong.'

  In silence, the surviving Tai painted each other's faces, speaking quiet prayers to Yniss to watch over them all, for Tual to keep them strong and for Shorth to take their enemies quickly. Eventually, Auum addressed the chamber; three Al-Arynaar mages and a Xeteskian warrior.

  'No one will touch him until we return. He will remain as he is with no covering. He is of the TaiGethen elite and he still performs the work of Yniss. Evunn, come. We have the memory o
f our Tai to honour. There is cleansing to be done.'

  They ran through the maze, their direction unerring. In the dome, Dystran moved to stand in front of the great doors. Outside, Auum could hear the shrieks of countless demons. Their calls of triumph and mastery; and their promises of failure and enslavement. Auum recognised Dystran instantly. He had no quarrel with the man. Not now in the moment of the greatest need of all Balaian races. Another day he would have killed him for his crimes against the elven nation.

  'Move,' he said.

  Dystran smiled indulgently. T understand your pain. .'

  'No you do not, human.'

  '. . but I cannot let you out there. You will be killed.'

  Auum felt the blood drain from his face. He took a pace forwards.

  'Move,' he repeated.

  Dystran held up a hand to stop his guards closing in. 'Idiots. How close do you think you will get?'

  'We have prayed,' explained Auum, fighting for the words and to retain his calm. 'Now we honour our dead and cleanse our minds.'

  'How?' asked Dystran. 'There is nothing outside but death and demons.'

  'Leave open the doors and watch,' said Auum. 'Move.'

  Dystran clearly knew he would not ask again. He shook his head and stepped aside, nodding to his men. The doors swung gently open.

  'Tai, we move. Tual will guide our bodies.'

  Auum walked calmly out into the cold fresh air. Cursyrd cavorted in the air over the courtyard. Karron had beaten down the gates and were gathered by their shattered remains. A tentacled master floated serenely overhead. All eyes fixed on the TaiGethen pair moving into their midst.

  Auum walked to the edge of die steps, well beyond the periphery of the ColdRoom shell. He spread his arms wide, his head was cocked to the heavens. He felt the desire then, the craving for absolution. Duele would be watching them.

  'I am Auum of the TaiGethen. I stand with Evunn and in the presence of Duele. You know us and you know our calling. Today, you took from us. And for such action, there must be recompense. Which of you will offer yourselves to honour our dead? Which of you will journey with Duele to face the judgement of Shorth? Which of you will send us before him? I, Auum, am waiting.'