“Not really,” said Thraun. “Have you any idea what will trigger it?”
“Someone breaking the shape, I expect,” said Erienne a little petulantly.
“I need you to be more specific,” said Thraun. “What exactly passing through the shape will break it?”
“I don't follow you.”
“Remind me how a ward works,” said Thraun.
“Why?”
“Humour me, please.” His tone was insistent.
“A ward is a shape of static mana positioned to protect a target,” quoted Erienne. “The base lore of the shape allows the caster to include or exclude any class of object or being, living or inanimate. So what?” There was an edge to her voice.
“Do you think you can match the mana shape?” asked Thraun.
Erienne sucked her lip and shrugged. “No,” she said at last. “Not without considerable risk to us all.”
“In that case, I suggest you concentrate on finding out if there are any exclusions to the ward,” said Thraun quietly.
Erienne stared at Thraun as if he had slapped her, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. “You suggest?” She reddened. “What are you, all of a sudden, some kind of ward constitution specialist? No, I'll tell you what you are, you're a walking slab of muscle who shouldn't presume to speak on subjects you have no knowledge of. How dare you try to teach me?”
“It was just a suggestion. A simple no would have done.” For all Thraun's voice remained calm and quiet, there was an animal menace in his very slight change of stance.
Will, who had been happy to watch the exchange from the door, now stepped forward, anxious to calm the situation and only too aware of the precarious position they were in.
“Do you have an alternative idea if, indeed, you can't match the ward shape?” he asked.
“With one sweep of my hand I could end all this, how about that?” she said coldly, lifting an arm.
“I mean a sensible one. There's no point in losing everything.”
“Not for you. In case you've forgotten, I already have.” Erienne moved her arm closer to the ring. She sneered. “Look at you. Big man Thraun and clever little Will. I have the power of life and death over you both. How easy it is to snuff out life.” Abruptly her eyes were full of tears.
Will and Thraun shared a glance. Thraun nodded.
“Erienne, you know how much we grieve for your loss,” said Will, moving toward her. “We loved your children and we loved Alun and no one can compensate for their deaths. But right now, we need you to help us. We need this ring and we don't have much time before we're caught.” He laid a hand on her arm to draw her to face him. “Please, Erienne. There is time to cry when we're out of this tomb.”
Erienne stared at Will while tears rolled down either cheek. She shook off his hand and wiped at her face.
“The answer to your question, Thraun, is that, like most Dordovan wards, it excludes people by being triggered by human brain activity, and anything inanimate that passes through it will trigger it too.” Her voice was shaking but she appeared to have regained rationality. “Not that knowing that does us any good.”
“On the contrary, it means your work is done,” said Thraun.
“Apart from finding and training an animal to take the ring.” The fire was back in Erienne's eyes. “In case you hadn't noticed, there are none in here.”
“That's not strictly true,” said Thraun.
“What do you mean, not strictly true?”
“Thraun—” Will had tumbled to Thraun's thoughts. He walked over and stood close to the other man. “You retain a critical part of your sentience. I don't think that qualifies you as an animal,” he hissed.
“We don't have time for anything else,” said Thraun evenly. “And Erienne can't move the ward. It's our only option.”
“Will you two stop talking riddles? What are you suggesting?”
“Are you sure about this?” asked Will. Thraun nodded. “Then you can explain.”
“I wish one of you would,” said Erienne, irritation edging her tone.
Thraun took a deep breath. “It's quite simple.” He shrugged. “I'm a shapechanger.”
In its cage, the Familiar chittered loudly, like a monkey. It hopped from claw to claw, unfurled its wings as far as the bars allowed, hissed, spat and taunted.
“Close to death, Dordovan, close to death.”
For his part, the mage kept as calm as the situation allowed, never taking his attention from the door, his chosen mana shape part prepared and quick to complete.
The taunting stopped.
“Now,” hissed the Familiar. It turned its back and covered its head with its wings, actions the mage didn't see. Perhaps if he had, he would have been prepared. Perhaps.
The windows at his back blew in, glass and wood splinters showering the room. Next came Denser, ShadowWings sweeping back as he shot feet first into the middle of the floor.
The mage, disorientated by the sudden explosion behind him, was only halfway up and turned when Denser's fist caught him full on the jaw. He staggered back, concentration broken, spell lost and unable to raise a defence to the next punch to his nose or the boot in his gut. He collapsed on to the floor, sliding down the door by which he'd been so sure Denser would enter.
The Xeteskian stood over him, hauled him to his feet, dark eyes burning into him with uncontrolled hatred.
“More will arrive, you can't beat us all,” said the Dordovan.
Denser's laugh was pure scorn. “Too late for you.” A headbutt split the Dordovan's lips open, spattering blood. Denser dragged him toward the mana cage.
“You'll never open it,” said the Dordovan defiantly. “And I'll die before I help you free that thing.”
“So foolish.” Denser, his voice suddenly quiet, held the other's face close to his. “So very, very blind. One magic, one mage.” He dropped the man back to the floor and simply flipped the latch. The mana cage dissolved and a ball of fury came boiling out.
Jandyr stared through the gate at the house, which was partially obscured by trees and other buildings. All appeared quiet in the Dordovan College. The street outside had some passing traffic but certainly wasn't busy, and the guard at the gate seemed unconcerned by his attention.
He was at something of a loss. He knew he wouldn't gain entry to the College at this hour but took the lack of activity as a sign that nothing more had gone wrong after the taking of the cat. All he could do was wait and see.
Away behind him, toward the centre of the City, he heard a commotion.
The shouting resolved into the sound of hooves getting closer.
Pain flared briefly in Erienne's skull and she staggered, clutching at the sides of her head. She dropped to her knees as the jolt momentarily robbed her of her balance. She felt dazed and squeezed her eyes tight shut. She heard Will rush to her side.
“What is it? Are you all right?”
“Gods, that hurt,” she spluttered, shaking her head as the rattling in her brain subsided. She calmed herself, probing the mana trails that ran the length and breadth of the Tower, looking for the breach. It was in the Tower's top storey, and when she found it, she gasped.
“There's a Xeteskian in the Tower,” she grated, staggered by the audacity of the act.
“Denser?” asked Will.
“Who else?” She pulled herself to her feet. “He'll have woken every mage in the building.” She looked at Thraun. “Whatever you're going to do, make it quick. We've just run out of time.” Thraun's revelation of his nature had at once shocked Erienne and made perfect sense. How else could he see like an elf in the dark? How else could he track and trail as silently as a hunting animal? How indeed? She had no idea whether to be afraid, fascinated, disgusted or amazed at him.
Thraun immediately began stripping off his clothes.
“Listen, Erienne, the change is quick but people tend to find it horrible. Feel free to look away if you need to, I won't be offended because I won't know. Will, don't leave my gea
r, I won't get a chance to re-form until we're away from here.”
Will nodded. “I hope you know what you're doing. Good luck.”
Once naked, Thraun lay down on the cold stone floor, flinching at its touch. He lay on his side, legs drawn half up and arms straight out in front of him. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing before tapping into that part of his mind which he feared, loved, loathed and cherished.
In a heartbeat his thought patterns changed. His mind filled with dreams of the pack, the joy of the chase and the glory of the kill. He could scent blood in his nostrils and the myriad odours of the forest. He dreamed of speed and the muscles of his limbs thickened, bones shifting, pads forming. He dreamed of the power in his face and his jaws extended, fangs growing, tongue flattening, nostrils developing. He dreamed he could hear the noises of the world all around him and his ears rose from the top of his skull. He dreamed of strength and his rib cage rounded, lungs expanded and heart pumped faster.
He could feel the sky above him, remember the prey at his feet and hear the sounds of his brethren calling him. He knew he had come home, but deep in his psyche, a voice tolled one word: “Remember.”
He rose quickly to his feet, growling deep in his chest, strength pouring into his re-formed muscle. He saw the woman-friend move backward and the man-packbrother raise a hand that all was well. He turned his attention to the lid of the tomb.
Erienne had always prided herself that she could view anything with an objective eye. The horrors she had seen during her training had numbed her to most things, but Thraun's transformation was something completely out of her experience. He was right, it was quick, but it would live with her for ever. And now he was standing, about four feet at the shoulder, massive jaws slightly apart, just staring at her with those same yellow-tinged eyes. His coat was a pale brown, flecked with grey, and down his neck ran a stripe of pure white. Beside her, Will waved, and at that, Thraun leapt on to Arteche's tomb, walked through the ward, sweeping up the ring with his tongue, then jumped down again. He dropped the ring at his feet and looked up squarely at Will.
Relief flooded Erienne. Had Thraun triggered the ward, they would have been obliterated, and Will's lack of fear at the sight of the wolf had an instantly calming effect on her nerves. She reached out and Thraun sniffed her hand.
“You'd better move that ward outside again,” said Will. “I've left my key in the door, just give it half a turn.” He whistled to attract Thraun's attention. “When we leave, we will be running. You can re-form back in the forest. It will be dangerous. Follow me.” He half crouched and reached out a hand to the ring. Thraun growled and placed a paw on it. “You keep it then.”
“How much of that did he understand?” asked Erienne. She had the door open and was looking over her shoulder at Will, who shrugged.
“It's hard to say. He gets the gist of most things, I think, and there are certain words I know he understands. Unfortunately, he can't remember how he understands, just that he does.”
Thraun took his paw from the ring and licked it back into his mouth. There would be threat, man-packbrother had said. He would be running. There would be a forest. The calls of the brethren echoed in his ears once more.
Reversing the ward was easy, fortunately. The construction of the mana shape meant the bubble couldn't be burst from the inside. But because the trap spell could still be triggered, Erienne had to move it aside. It was the work of seconds.
“Will he follow us?”
“Yes,” said Will. “But remember he's completely independent. He won't necessarily listen to anyone, not even me, and that makes him dangerous.”
“To us?”
“No, he knows we're friends. But he's essentially a wild animal and will react to threat as such.”
“Right.” Erienne set off, the globe above her head lighting the way.
“Thraun, let's go,” said Will loudly. He jogged after Erienne, hearing his friend loping along in his wake, padded feet kissing the floor gently.
The demon streaked across the space to the mage and buried the claws of its feet in the man's shoulders. All pretence at bravado gone, he gibbered and whimpered, thrashing his limbs on the floor but unable to strike the beast that drooled on his face.
“Kill him,” said Denser.
“No!” wailed the mage. “Please.”
The demon cut him off, pushing his mouth closed with one hand. “Your soul is mine,” it said. It arched its back, spread its arms wide, clenched its fists and brought them back to impact the sides of the mage's head with massive force. His skull crumpled like pottery between stones, his brain exploding into the Familiar's delighted face. It fed, gorged itself on blood and brain while Denser looked on, dispassionate but appeased.
He became aware of people approaching the room. Multiple footsteps hurrying, and an urgent sound of voices.
“Enough,” said Denser. The Familiar looked up, disappointed. “We have company.” Denser prepared another set of ShadowWings, his reserves of mana stamina falling low.
“Disperse them and find Erienne. Downstairs. Bring them to the gate and be sure she remains unharmed. I'll be watching over you.”
The Familiar smiled, blood dripping from its chin. “You will always watch over me?” it asked.
“Until the day my soul departs this world,” responded Denser. He turned and flew from the shattered window, rising into the night sky and augmenting his vision to bring the house and its surrounds into bright focus.
The Familiar, content and sated, paused on its way to the doors, deciding to let whoever it was open them. It hovered a few feet above the corpse of the mage, sitting cross-legged on the air, wings beating time.
The doors crashed open and more than half a dozen people spilled in, guards with swords glinting and mages with hands free for casting. They pulled up short at the sight of their brother, head a mass of brain, blood and shards of bone. A beat later, they saw the Familiar. It laughed, a cold sound delighting at the death and mayhem it had created. Then it was among them, talons outstretched, wings beating around heads, saliva flying, tail flashing, roaring with mirth as they ducked and scattered, shouting alarm and fear.
It paused to see its handiwork, took in the bloody faces and the expressions of confusion and disbelief, turned a loop and stormed down the central stairwell, laughter echoing from the portraits hung at every level.
Jandyr stepped back into the street as Sol powered his horse through the protesting Dordovans. He ignored them, reining in by the elf and dismounting.
“Go to the inn,” he said. “Bring the other horses here.” He handed Jandyr the reins. “You will be quicker on this,” he said, every word carefully spoken as if his vocal cords were stiff from under-use. “Please,” he added before running for the gates, hands free, weapons on his back.
“What's going on?” called Jandyr after him.
“Trouble.”
Jandyr shrugged, mounted up and hurried back to the inn stables.
Erienne hit the stairs at a dead run. She'd felt the life force of a mage dissipate violently through the mana, and anger at Denser's assumed action swamped her already frail thoughts of caution.
“The ward, Erienne!” shouted Will. Labouring under the weight of the mana, he was trailing her by a good many paces.
“Too late to worry about it. That idiot's already seen to that.”
“Who?”
“You know who.” There was disappointment in her voice but sympathy in her mind. Her LightGlobe triggered the ward, setting off a clarion call that echoed through the Tower and battered at Will's ears. Behind him, Thraun yelped and accelerated past, bounding up the stairs and overtaking Erienne as she opened the door.
The hallway was empty, but as the alarm faded away, the sounds of angry voices and movement came from all quarters. Thraun chased to the front doors and pawed ineffectually at the handles with Erienne only a few paces behind him. They both missed the descending Familiar but Will, last out of the crypt, was greeted by
a sight far beyond his worst nightmare.
He had glanced around to check for enemies and had just seen Erienne open one of the main doors when his vision was filled with the blood-smeared face of Denser's demon. Its skull pulsed and crawled and it laughed wildly, raising a claw to strike before recognising him. It leaned into him and said:
“Come, come. Out. Out to the gate.”
Will opened his mouth and screamed.
Denser saw it all unfold. As Jandyr rode for the city centre, Sol strode up to the guard and felled him with a single punch. He ran into a College which had woken to mayhem.
Erienne emerged from the Tower, followed by a massive wolf, but before Denser could even think how to stop it catching and killing her, it had turned and run back inside.
Erienne faltered too, half turning as she dashed for the gate. She stumbled.
“No, no!” hissed Denser, and dived for the path. Mages, guards and acolytes were coming from everywhere, giving Erienne a shield of chaos. One even helped her to her feet. Denser shot in toward Sol.
“See her out,” he shouted above the rising noise of discovery, anger and organisation. “And find my Other. I'm going to help Jandyr.” Sol nodded and Denser flitted back into the sky, trailing the elf astride Sol's fast-moving horse.
Erienne smiled at the mage who had helped her up and dashed back toward the Tower.
“What's happening?” asked the mage, making to chase her.
“There's a Xeteskian in the College.” She ran on into the house, sliding to a stop at the scene that greeted her eyes.
Thraun and what she assumed had to be Denser's Familiar circled each other in the centre of the hall, loosely ringed by a group of four disbelieving mages. The winged beast darted left, right, up and down while Thraun lashed claws and bit at empty space. He already sported a deep cut on his nose. She couldn't see Will.
The only thought in Erienne's mind as she shouted at them to stop was that she might get badly hurt. But there was no time for any other action. She ran in front of Thraun, who snarled in frustration as his target was obscured. She put her back to him and shuddered as the Familiar dropped into her view. She felt Thraun tensing behind her.
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