Текст книги "The Raven Collection"

Автор книги: James Barclay

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Текущая страница: 166 (всего у книги 235 страниц)

And as he walked up the steps of the gatehouse tower, a thought struck The Unknown hard.

‘Are you feeling strong, Denser?’

Denser managed a smile. ‘That thought has occurred to you too, has it?’

‘Only just now.’

‘Do you think Darrick overlooked it?’

‘You’d think not, but even great generals are fallible.’

Not this one, though, Denser thought a short while later. At least, not this time.

‘It isn’t the plan I would have chosen,’ Darrick said, ‘but we have no choice. We do have some protection here. We can keep them on their toes for as long as we have arrows but that’s as far as it goes. After all, there will be magical shielding though soldiers might not enjoy the same protection as the mages. It depends how many mages they have and how many the Xeteskian commander thinks he needs to knock over the walls. Everyone here is briefed to watch and move in the case of spell attack. Izack and Auum both have their targets. I had to leave the cavalry mages with Izack. He represents our best chance of winning this so long as he can deal with the Xeteskian horsemen.’

‘And meanwhile, we just stand here as targets?’ said Hirad.

‘No, Hirad, you stand here and don’t turn away. Strength for us, anxiety for those attacking us. That is why all The Raven are here. To be seen. Anyway, the more spells they waste on the walls, the better I like it for the time being. Assuming Pheone’s assessment of the shielding is not too generous.’

‘What about the ClawBound?’ asked The Unknown.

‘Well they’re out there,’ said Darrick. ‘But since they don’t really even like to speak to the TaiGethen, you can imagine how far I got. Anything they do is a bonus.’

‘You know what the Xeteskians will do once they realise we have no spells, don’t you?’ said Denser.

Darrick nodded. ‘It had not escaped my attention. I have grouped the Al-Arynaar archers and they are fast around the walls. Plus, Izack knows what to look for. Any conventionally shielded concentration of mages is a prime target.’

‘And what if they make, say, four groups?’ asked Hirad.

‘They’ll need twenty at least in any group-casting to do breaching damage,’ said Darrick. ‘I don’t think they have enough strength to make four such groups.’

‘Or you hope they don’t.’

‘Hirad, if there is only one variable in this battle, I will be very happy.’

‘Whatever you say.’

‘We’re standing above the weak point now, where we need to be. This is where they will come.’

And they did, within the hour as predicted. Marching through the streets, cavalry outriders keeping them ordered. The noise of their approach wasn’t triumphal. None of the few citizens who looked on from upper windows waved, cheered or quailed. There were no songs, no taunts, no jeers. Every side had lost too much to make any assumptions. But there was purpose and there was belief. The Unknown worried about that. The moments to come would be critical.

The college of Julatsa was an island surrounded by a sea of cobbles. Heading off the square were roads to the central market, the grain store, the merchant quarter and the north tenements. Without a fuss, the Xeteskians surrounded their goal under the watchful eyes of The Raven, Commander Vale and his small but loyal guard, a handful of volunteers. The Al-Arynaar looked on with blank contempt.

The Unknown saw Darrick stiffen as the enemy general rode up to the gate house, flanked by two riders carrying flags of parley in white and deep blue quarters. A shield mage rode behind him. He led a disciplined force. There was no talking in the ranks, they just stared, their confidence in their numbers obvious.

‘I believe I should be addressing Commander Vale or a mage named Pheone,’ said the Xeteskian. ‘Though, and I mean no disrespect, I am before perhaps more illustrious company. General Darrick, it is an honour to remake your acquaintance.’

‘I remember you well, Commander Chandyr,’ said Darrick. ‘However, I do not speak for the college of Julatsa. Commander Vale stands to my right.’

‘I am Vale,’ he said. ‘What is it you wish to discuss?’

‘Commander Vale, my request is simple. Open your gates. Lead those inside from the college grounds. You will not be harmed, merely disarmed. We have come to take control of Julatsa.’ Chandyr’s voice echoed for all to hear this side of the college. Vale’s was similarly resounding.

‘You understand that what you ask is impossible,’ said Vale.

The Unknown watched him, confident he would not flinch. Talking with him had been to hear a man possessed of a keen understanding of what was at stake here. Not just for Julatsa, but for Balaia. A shame his erstwhile council colleagues had not been so well informed.

‘Any student of magical history is aware of the critical importance of maintaining a balance between the colleges,’ continued Vale. ‘Each strand of the art as supporter and moderator of the others. Leaving our college would lead to irrevocable destruction of that balance.

‘Our counter request is also simple. We call for an end to this conflict and aid in placing our college back on an even footing. We ask that for ourselves, yes, and also for the whole of our country, which we can all agree has surely suffered enough. If we do not work together as we did until so recently, magic across our land will ultimately die.

‘Finally, I would remind every Xeteskian mage of the personal consequences every Julatsan mage faces should you destroy this college’s Heart. I cannot speak from knowledge but I have seen the haunted expressions of those contemplating a life without magic. Ask your mages what they fear the most. For all of them it is the same. Can they willingly submit their fellows to that appalling fate?’

Chandyr did not reply immediately. He was a man confident in command and aware enough to test the atmosphere among his own men. He turned in his saddle to see what, if anything, his mages betrayed. When he looked back, his face was bleak. He shrugged.

‘The reality of war is harsh, Commander. The victors gain what they desire and the vanquished suffer. Sometimes this is death, at other times imprisonment or servitude. And for mages in this conflict, it will be the loss of their life purpose and worse.

‘I cannot be sentimental. War is fought by at least two sides. Neither are blameless, neither desires the pain they inflict but they see there is no alternative. War comes when every other option is exhausted. Commander, I will repeat my offer. Surrender the college. No one else has to die. The conflict will end and Julatsa will remain self-governing.’

‘We will not surrender,’ said Vale. ‘We cannot.’

‘I know you can’t, Commander. But I am not an honourable man if I do not offer you terms. I also offer you this. One hour to talk and think. If the gates are not open in that time, you will be attacked.’

Vale nodded. ‘Go sharpen your swords, Commander Chandyr. You will need them. Should we relinquish this college, it will be at the severest cost to yourselves that we can inflict. And we have allies. Are you so sure you can defend against them after that cost is borne?’

‘One hour,’ said Chandyr.

He turned his horse and rode away with his men back to his lines. The Unknown watched him go before following Vale and The Raven back down into the courtyard inside the gates.

‘I think a cool drink is in order,’ said Vale, leading them to the refectory.

‘It was a fine performance,’ said The Unknown. ‘It will give him cause for thought.’

‘It’ll do more than that,’ said Darrick. ‘Your last comment about his strength even should he win was very well judged. It will make him cautious.’

‘It only occurred to me at the last moment,’ admitted Vale.

‘Such things turn battles,’ said Darrick.

‘So, General,’ said Hirad. ‘How well did you train him, then?’

‘He was a good student,’ said Darrick. ‘But Lysternan soldiers always had extra lectures and training. Wouldn’t do to tell them absolutely everything, would it?’

‘Bloody hell,’ said Hirad. ‘Even thinking about fighting them as you taught them.’

‘Yes Hirad,’ said Darrick, ushering him into the refectory. ‘And learning about all of their weaknesses too. And Chandyr is about to show us one of his.’

‘Which is?’

‘Impatience.’

Chapter 40

Darrick had a last look around him as Chandyr’s patience ran out. His forces were stretched so thin. All it would take was the Xeteskian to see the opportunity and the college could fall before nightfall. He had played his cards and now he had to trust those outside to save them when the time came, if it came.

Around the walls, the waiting was all but over. He had committed all of his bowmen to the walls, forty in the arc around the gatehouse, the one entrance into the college. Around the walls, they were collected in five groups of fifteen, each connected by hastily trained flagmen of the Julatsan guardsmen and knots of Al-Arynaar warriors.

The solitary fit mage, Denser, stood with him, as did all The Raven. They were powerless right now but should a breach be forced in gate or wall, The Raven would be all that stood between Xetesk and a rout. They would never turn their backs and run.

Buildings obstructed his view across the college, as they did at points all around the walls. Communication, he had insisted, would be critical if they were to react to Xetesk’s moves. This would not be a conventional siege. Xetesk had to get in before the Heart could be raised or risk facing enough Julatsan magical power to hold them off.

Darrick wasn’t surprised Chandyr had chosen to attack tonight but he thought it was a mistake. His men had marched for three and a half days, covering the ground quickly. Their horses would be tired too. He had familiars and mages high in the sky, looking at what they could see from beyond spell range but they should have been looking further out into the city. Out there, their enemies were far more deadly.

Chandyr might be aware that the cavalry weren’t saddled and ready in the compound, but Darrick doubted he’d thought about the possibility of the small allied forces being split inside and outside the college walls. He was soon to get one of those lessons Darrick kept for Lysternans only.

‘Let’s be ready,’ said Darrick. ‘Signalman, flag the stand-by.’

‘Yes sir,’ the young guardsman, excited by the chance to stand with not just General Darrick but The Raven too, turned and held his flag horizontally above his head, hands either side of the bright yellow material. The signal was passed quickly around the walls.

Chandyr had massed his cavalry, a hundred of them, behind his lines facing the gate. It was all the evidence Darrick needed that the Xeteskian had no idea where Izack was and it was the move he and his former second-in-command had been counting on. But Chandyr wasn’t showing his entire hand. He still had his foot soldiers scattered in a loose ring around the college, and of the mage group there was no clear sign.

Chandyr rode up and down in front of his men, watching the walls of the college, waiting and hoping. He would have waited until the day he died for the gates to be opened for him.

‘Here it comes,’ said Darrick. ‘Signalman, when it starts, listen to my commands. We will need our response to be instant.’

‘Yes sir.’

Chandyr stopped, dragged his horse to face his enemies, nodded once towards them and held up his sword in salute. He kicked into the flanks of his horse and dragged back on the reins. The animal reared, his sword swept down and the battle commenced.

Orders rang out around the courtyard and Chandyr’s soldiers formed up. Shield bearers moved to the head of two large groups in front of the gates, crossbowmen and archers behind them. In the centre of each group, unarmed men who had to be mages, came together. Darrick counted twenty at least in each group. Swordsmen stood at the flanks but as they approached, he could see the rear of each group not defended.

‘Archers, pick your targets!’ he shouted. ‘I don’t want to see a single shaft strike a shield. Signalman, flag the attack. I want your response as soon as you have it. Don’t be polite.’

‘Sir.’

‘Waiting,’ said Darrick. ‘Waiting. When those spells come over, remember what we practised.’

The message passed along the lines immediately left and right. Al-Arynaar archers stood ready, Julatsan guardsmen creating the illusion of numbers though Darrick was keen to ensure no concentrations of men. Scattering was still an option. Above the gatehouse, the carved stone roof gave significant protection. Elsewhere on the walls, no such protection existed. Gods, they never thought they’d need it again and even above Darrick, the stone was more ornament than armour.

Forty yards from the gates, more orders and the groups stopped. To Darrick’s left, a bowstring twanged, the shaft skipping off the cobbles well ahead of the enemy. The General glared at the guardsman.

‘Take your lead from the elves,’ he hissed. ‘Elevation, timing, everything. We do not have the arrows to waste.’

Two ranks of men held shields, the first at ground level, the second at head height. It was a decent wall but there weren’t enough to go around. A good archer would find the gaps. Another shouted order from the courtyard and arrows and crossbow bolts began to fly, smacking into walls and flying high over the parapet. It was a poor first salvo but that wouldn’t last.

‘Return fire!’ ordered Darrick. ‘Do not flinch, they will be casting now.’

His order was translated and forty elven bows were brought to bear. The air filled with metal-tipped shafts carving their way into the enemy, slamming into armour, shields and exposed flesh, forcing Chandyr’s bowmen to duck their heads. Another volley from the elves took out more along the flanks but the mages were well-protected. A third volley bounced off HardShields, none getting through.

‘Come on, Auum, where are you?’ whispered Darrick.

‘Sir, single group attack to the rear. No others,’ reported the signalman.

‘Thank you. Move two groups of archers rear.’

‘Sir.’

The deep blue glow was visible a split second before the spell was cast. It was a single FlameOrb, the size of a covered wagon. It appeared above the heads of the left hand group, a second mimicking it above the right hand group. They hung for a heartbeat before flying straight and fast towards the gatehouse, one for the defenders, one for the wood.

‘Watching!’ roared Darrick. ‘Watching!’

The lower Orb ploughed in fast, shaking the walls around it, blue fire splattering wide.

‘Go!’

The gatehouse defenders ran left and right as instructed, clearing the area in moments, scattering around the walls, crouching below the ornamental battlements and watching the spell crash in. It burst like a waterskin, fire raining over the roofing, blasting through the open spaces where they had just been standing and shooting high into the sky. The wall bindings crackled but held comfortably, the mana blaze dying away quickly with nothing to feast upon.

‘Form up!’ said Darrick. ‘Let’s stand tall!’

He led the defenders back into the gatehouse, Hirad and The Unknown next to him.

‘This is fun, isn’t it?’ growled Hirad.

‘They can’t cast forever,’ said Darrick.

‘They won’t have to,’ said The Unknown. ‘Not like that. As soon as they know we’re not shielded, they’ll change their attack.’

‘I know,’ said Darrick. ‘I know. Where are—’

A shuddering impact behind them sent smoke and blue flame soaring into the sky from the rear of the college. Into the relative quiet that followed, Darrick heard the sound of hooves on cobbles and, nearer to him, the roar of a panther.

‘Our turn.’

Izack had walked his horses as close as he’d dared while the Xeteskians arranged themselves for battle. Chandyr had shown his naivety as Darrick had hoped, assuming everyone would be inside the college. And the fact that the city had capitulated had worked to their advantage, allowing Chandyr to feel relatively secure he was not about to feel an arrow in his back from every window.

But he had set a perimeter guard nonetheless and before reaching them, Izack had taken the muffles from every hoof and had mounted his men. He had precisely sixty. Fifty swordsmen and ten mages. He knew his route to the rear of the college, aware that a central street would give the attackers thirty yards of warning when he rounded the last right-hand turn. But he would be at a gallop, and their minds would be elsewhere.

Stopping for a moment, he turned in his saddle and nodded at his men. Spell and HardShields were up, his swordsmen were in disciplined order and would spread to fill the street as they entered it. They had their attack orders. He would call the fight after first contact. He faced forwards once more, raised his sword arm and swept it down, simultaneously kicking into the flanks of his horse. The animal sprang away and the Lysternan cavalry pounded through Julatsa, the voices of his men loud and confident.

Izack rounded the last corner, his cavalry fanning out to left and right, straightening and powering in for the college. He saw spells striking the walls, arcing out to scatter defenders. HotRain was falling like a torrent in one quarter, the rocks of an EarthHammer were standing jagged from the cobbles in front of the walls which were displaying the first crack. The Al-Arynaar answered as best they could, picking targets but seeing most of their arrows bouncing from solid magical shields.

They were seen at the full thirty yards’ distance by the perimeter guard whom Izack could see shouting the alarm. The Lysternan cavalry ate up the space between them, closing fast on the thin line of perimeter guard to whom help was coming but too late. Izack, his horse bred for this and not flinching, watched the odd crossbow bolt bounce from the shield surrounding them, held his sword down and to his right. He set himself low in his saddle and whipped his blade up into the defence of the first perimeter guardsman, battering it aside and knocking the man from his feet.

He didn’t look round, knowing the enemy had no chance under the hooves of his cavalry, and drove on. In front of him, Xeteskians were running in from both sides and the tight-formed group attacking the walls was breaking as bowmen turned, swordsmen tried to form up to take on the cavalry and defend their mages who still pounded the walls.

Izack yelled for the charge to increase pace and kicked again, feeling his horse surge beneath him. ‘Single charge and break!’ Although if they could hear him, he’d be surprised. What they would do was follow his lead.

He felt a thrill course through him, the air thick with noise and fear and the strong smells of horse, leather and the acrid taint of spell fire. He set himself again and drove into the half-made rank of Xeteskians, his horse kicking up and out, landing hard. Izack drove his blade straight through the chest guard of his first target, dragging it clear, his momentum carrying him forwards. Next blow took the arm from a bowman and he slowed dramatically, his men widening their attack behind him and sweeping up the flanks of the group.

‘Care your open flank!’ roared Izack, hearing the shout relayed.

He blocked a blow to his right, saw his left-flank man smash his sword into the helmet of another enemy before a third Xeteskian reached up a hand and pulled the man from his saddle. Izack kicked his horse again, and stepped in two more paces, thumping his blade down on the shoulder of an enemy, sending him sprawling. Directly ahead, the mages had broken, some were running right, others casting again.

‘Push!’ shouted Izack. ‘Push!’

He saw a thrust blocked aside but leaned out in his saddle to change his angle and whipped his sword back, right to left, and scored a deep gash in the enemy’s upper arm. Another pace and he was through the defence and into the mages. Knowing it was a brief chance he laid about him with all the energy he could muster, his sword carving into chest, head, arm and back.

All around him, the press of cavalry had broken the Xeteskian group. A handful of riderless horses cantered in confusion but the attack had been a great success. He knew more than to outstay his welcome. Xeteskians were closing in good numbers left and right and he could see, emerging from around the right hand wall of the college, the Xeteskian cavalry.

‘Break!’ he yelled.

Heaving his sword one more time and feeling it connect with unprotected flesh, he dragged on the reins and began to force his way out.

‘Keep form, mages let’s go.’

The Lysternan cavalry clattered their way from the carnage they had made and began to make their escape. In front of Izack, a lone Xeteskian swordsman stabbed straight through the leg of a cavalryman, the blade carrying on into his mount. Both cried out, the horse rearing and galloping away, the rider flung back and left, his leg rotating around the sword as he fell screaming. He was dragged a short way before the blade tore free, the horse, pumping blood, running terrified after its kin.

Izack at a fast canter himself, despatched the swordsman before he had time to turn or grab another weapon and headed off back the way they had come. Shouting encouragement, he drove his remaining cavalry hard, seeing over his shoulder the Xeteskians continuing their chase. Cheers from the walls reached his ears and he could already imagine the arrows starting to fly from elven bows now the Xeteskian shields were down.

Sensibly, the enemy cavalry carried on the pursuit, never closing too much but not letting them out of their sight. Izack, moving through his men to lead once again, galloped through the empty streets across a beautiful blossom-strewn park, through an area of high-walled tenements and out into open land. Behind, the Xeteskian cavalry stopped at the city boundaries.

Izack reined in gently, holding up his sword hand. They slowed to a halt, spread to a line and turned. He had a quick count. Eight of his men were gone but four of their horses were with him.

‘Well done!’ he shouted. ‘That is a blow we can never repeat but you are all exactly the men I thought you to be. Xetesk will not be caught like that again so we must make contact with the TaiGethen before we attack again. Now, we must rest, remember those we have lost, and bind our wounds. We have friends trapped in that college, including General Darrick, so though we may have made small victory today, we have much more to do. Gentlemen, I salute you!’

The answering call warmed his heart and he led his cavalry away.

Auum responded to the call of the ClawBound panther and led his small band of TaiGethen towards the rear of the enemy. Of all those cells that had travelled to Balaia, only five now remained and he led the only one with all of its original members. The toll had been terribly high and would leave them vulnerable to their enemies on Calaius if they did not defeat them here.

On every first street junction beyond the college square, the enemy had posted guards. For him, that presented the immediate threat of only six men but even these he would not strike down yet. They knew how the Xeteskian commander would react to the cavalry attack on the other side of the college and so they waited.

Reminiscent of their concealment in Xetesk, the TaiGethen hid in narrow alleys that let directly onto streets which connected with the main thoroughfare to the college gates. With them, the ClawBound stood quiet. They had called when the cavalry began their charge. Other pairs watched over the enemy lines though Auum was sure he would hear for himself, the moment the inevitable response was made.

He was not disappointed. Simultaneously with the roars of four ClawBound panther throats, the sound of multiple hooves rattled and echoed into the air.

‘Let Yniss watch over you and Tual guide you,’ he said to them all. ‘Tais, we move.’

They sprinted into the street, heading left to the guarded junction. Duele and Evunn as they always were, at his shoulders, the other four Tais in their formations left and right of him. ClawBound padded behind.

Bows were flexed and fired on the run. Two shafts found their targets, another four did not. Auum unclasped his jaqrui pouch and felt inside for a throwing crescent, counting the diminishing number. He gripped one, dragged it out and flicked it away in one movement, hearing its keening wail. The target couldn’t see it against the dark of the buildings and it struck him high on the forehead. The enemy shrieked, clutched at his head and fell, the blood pouring down his face.

The TaiGethen hit the three remaining guards like a wave breaking over sand. The cell to Auum’s right arrived first. Swords flashed, men fell. Only one withstood the first strikes, backing away, fear marking his face. He fended away one more blow but the Tai leader landed a kick in his chest, knocking him back and off balance, leaving him open to the flanking Tais to drag blades through throat and gut respectively.

Auum didn’t break stride, racing down the centre of the street, seeing the gates ahead of him. Up in the gatehouse stood The Raven and Al-Arynaar elves. In front of them, what had to be at least three hundred men in two tight groups. Spells were pounding against the gates, which smoked but held firm. No one looked in their direction but it would not be long. Auum cared little. These enemy deserved the fate that Shorth had in store for them and, face him or not, they would still die.

The street was wide and the TaiGethen spread into a single line. ClawBound joined them, three pairs striding easily alongside. They were no more than ten yards away when the first enemy sensed the silent peril behind him and turned, only to catch an arrow in his throat as he opened his mouth to shout the alarm. Too few Xeteskians were strung across the entrance to the square to mount real resistance. All swung about as their comrade fell choking to the ground in their midst and the mood of the battle changed instantly from confidence to panic.

Auum threw another crescent ahead of him, seeing it gouge into the arm of his target. He took another two paces and leapt, one leg outstretched, the other gathered beneath him, two short swords now in hand. His foot connected with his enemy’s face and he felt the man’s nose crumple and his teeth break beneath the blow.

He landed softly, turned and plunged his sword into the chest of the same man, finishing him. He darted right to dodge a blow from the left, spinning on a heel and reversing his sword into the ear of the nearest opponent. Duele had swept the legs from under a third and dropped his knee into the prone man’s throat, bouncing to his feet and running on.

Ahead of them, the mage groups remained well defended, their guard turning now, bows and sword coming to bear. Around Auum’s right, a ClawBound panther growled and pounced, her partner two steps behind her, jabbing his fingers into the neck of a bowman, ducking under a careless swing and biting into the face of another, bearing the screaming man down, bloodied hands free to rake flesh from his victim’s cheeks.

Auum called Evunn and Duele to him, saw his other cells closing and drove into the Xeteskian rear flank, waiting for the ClawBound call to pull back.

Denser watched the awesome speed of the TaiGethen attack. They were so fluid and quickly so deep into the heart of one of the Xeteskian attack groups that the enemy had no real idea how to defend against them. The elves were too close in for bows, the mages were helpless and swordsmen were being chopped apart, not knowing where the next strike was coming from.

The other attack group had faltered in its mission. Spells had stopped striking at doors and walls and nervous glances were being cast left. Field captains were exhorting them to concentrate but the storm of the few TaiGethen and ClawBound was simply mesmerising.

Denser, like all of The Raven surely, was watching Auum. He was so graceful and so accurate and, with Duele and Evunn next to him, the whole cell appeared quite simply unstoppable. He knew they would be fearful of the MindMelt that had damaged Evunn but it hadn’t stopped them attacking and Denser knew that spell would not be cast. Only the mages they attacked were close enough and none of them would have the peace to construct it.

He tried to follow Auum’s movements, occasionally finding it hard to do so, counting to himself. The TaiGethen leader ducked and struck, leaped high to dodge a blow and was alert enough to lash a leg out as he dropped to shatter an enemy jaw. He whirled on his standing leg to drag his blades through the chest of another, jabbed an elbow into the throat of a third in almost the same movement and head-butted a fourth before taking another pace and trying again.

Denser had counted to six.

But not everything was going right. Behind, the Lysternan cavalry was being driven off, their hoofbeats fading fast. He heard cheers but they were short-lived, the tenor changing. He swung from the spectacular demonstration of fighting below him and could see immediately why. Above, the familiars had stopped circling and watching. They were diving and neither the elves who stood and waited or the guardsmen who scattered, could harm them.

‘Raven!’ he shouted. ‘Trouble!’

He didn’t wait to see if they would follow but began to race around the walls to the opposite side of the college. The problem had been seen by others within and without the college. Elves were chasing ahead of him, guardsmen backing off. Behind Denser, The Unknown barked at them to stand their ground but from below, arrows, crossbow bolts and spells were flying in at suddenly undefended walls.

Denser tried to cover his head with a hand as he ran, hearing arrows biting into the stone around him, feeling the air whip as a shaft passed by just in front of him. HotRain began to fall but it was behind them. Another FlameOrb sailed out.

‘Down!’ roared Hirad.

Denser flattened himself on the walkway, the heat of the Orb singeing hairs on the back of his hands as it passed to fall into the courtyard below. He was up on his feet immediately, looked ahead and saw the first familiar strike down. It collided hard with an Al-Arynaar archer, knocking him off balance. The elf raised his hands to try and grab the demon from his face but it was too strong, its momentum too much and both fell from the walls. Only one struck the ground, the familiar climbing back into the sky, chittering and laughing.