Текст книги "The Raven Collection"

Автор книги: James Barclay

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 178 (всего у книги 235 страниц)

Chapter 12

They all went in the end. Something about Hirad’s manner meant that though the case had been introduced poorly, the notion that events worlds away would impact on them was never in doubt.

Darrick supported Cleress on her right side with the former Protector, Ark, on her left. She said little but there was a knowing look in her eyes. Like she had expected it all along.

Darrick left her to her thoughts. Walking apart from the rest of The Raven, he had the opportunity to assess them as he would have done his cavalry before a battle; searching for a weak spot. He knew he wouldn’t find one but The Raven’s demeanour was a constant source of fascination. They drew strength from each other. There was a power about them. You felt it on the inside and could see it from the outside. Like an aura. They moved so naturally around one another. The Unknown at their centre, Hirad next to him like always and the others grouped in close attendance. Darrick felt a surge of pride at being one of them.

The image was punctured by Jonas, who trotted along next to The Unknown, his tiny hand engulfed by his father’s huge fist. And by Diera, who had forgiven Hirad to the extent that the pair strolled arm in arm. It was at Hirad’s behest that so many would meet the dragon. And including Diera and Jonas in the group was a master-stroke. The pair had spent much time in the company of Sha-Kaan when he was marooned in Balaia and rested on Herendeneth. Diera would listen to him.

They were heading for the stone needle that dominated the island from its highest point. It was for no other reason than that Sha-Kaan had expressed a desire to see the island from the top.

They gathered in quiet anticipation, Hirad to the fore. He had told them what to expect but they all still took an unconscious pace back. A tall rectangle traced in the air in front of them. It drew itself slowly on three sides with the ground making up the fourth, and brightened from black to a blazing white. The doorway, half the size of a barn’s, filled with swirling colours that moved sluggishly, like oil poured onto still water.

‘Behind here would normally be a robing room and an antechamber before the main hall but I think the design has been changed,’ said Hirad.

The doorway dissolved, the intense edge light reducing to a warm orange glow and the slow-moving colours dimming to reveal a dimly lit interior. The scents of wood and oil carried on the breeze, sharp and pungent, but there was little sound from inside barring the crackle of fires. Heat flooded out, its humidity swamping the dry warmth of Herendeneth.

‘Just like old times, eh, Unknown?’ said Hirad.

‘One old time only, Hirad,’ said The Unknown. ‘And the familiarity ends with my sense of impending doom.’

‘Better not keep him waiting.’

‘Hell, no,’ muttered Denser.

They moved inside, the relative gloom resolving itself into a short arched hallway, painted in dark green silhouettes of landscapes and dragons. Beautiful in their simplicity, sombre in their depiction.

At the end of the hallway, huge double doors stood ajar letting onto a vast space. Hirad led them in. The chamber was vaulted and stone-clad, its sides scored and fluted horizontally. It reminded Darrick of a healer’s sketch of a muscle. The walls were otherwise unadorned but fires burned in grates at ten-yard intervals in the one-hundred-yard-square space, filling it with an oppressive, moist heat. Sha-Kaan sat in the middle of the chamber, his head and neck resting on the ground, his body a mound behind him and his tail flipping idly about his hind legs.

Little Jonas broke free of The Unknown’s grip and ran forwards. He displayed no fear, toddling towards a creature that could swallow him whole. He stopped in front of the great dragon’s jaws and half-turned towards his mother as he pointed.

‘Kaan!’ he said.

‘Yes, darling,’ said Diera, walking forwards to join him.

The Raven hung back, watching the reunion from a respectful distance. Sha-Kaan moved his head slowly off the ground, speaking softly just above the boy’s head.

‘Hello, little man,’ he said, voice so tender in a beast so large. ‘You have grown. I had not expected to see you again. And I am sad that I must at this time.’

Jonas didn’t respond verbally, instead reaching up to rub the horned scales at the front of Sha-Kaan’s muzzle. The dragon turned his attention to Diera.

‘Your son is beautiful,’ he said, voice a bass rumble, his eyes a brilliant blue, shining with affection.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It is good to see you.’

‘But the reason why breaks your heart.’

She nodded. Darrick saw her hands clench together.

‘I don’t understand why anything that happens on Balaia should affect my husband. He has earned the right to peace.’

Sha-Kaan sighed. ‘I cannot argue against what you say. You married an exceptional man who is part of an exceptional group. And when the world is in trouble, it calls on such people and expects them to respond. It is the mark of their greatness that they choose to do so, though it is also your misfortune, is it not?’

‘There must be someone else now.’

‘You must listen to what I have to say. I think you will agree that there is not.’

Darrick saw her shoulders sag as she nodded her head and pulled Jonas to her. Sha-Kaan raised his head a little.

‘Approach, all of you,’ he said. ‘I have no desire to shout.’

Hirad chuckled and led them forwards. ‘Your whisper would carry clear across the Southern Ocean, Great Kaan.’

‘It gladdens my heart to see you, Hirad Coldheart.’

‘And you, Sha. You’re looking well.’

‘The air of Beshara and the streams of inter-dimensional space are kind to me.’ Sha-Kaan shifted. ‘How do you like my Klene?’

Hirad gave the chamber, where dragons came to rest and heal in inter-dimensional space, an appraising glance.

‘It’s a little plainer than your old one. Decorating not finished yet, or something?’

Darrick had to smile. Never in his most vivid dreams had he ever thought to witness a man debating wall coverings with a 120-foot-long dragon. Next to him, The Unknown had also seen the humour in the moment.

‘Effectiveness over aesthetics. The shape of the chamber and those grooves in the walls are efficient channels for the healing streams.’

‘Oh, right.’

Sha-Kaan rattled phlegm in his throat, the sound echoing in the chamber and startling Jonas who clutched his mother tight.

‘But in the fullness of time, we will hang the walls with tapestries, if it bothers you that much.’

‘Not for me to say, Sha-Kaan,’ said Hirad. ‘I just have to be at one end so you can use this thing, I don’t necessarily have to look at it.’

‘I fear we are straying from the point,’ said Sha-Kaan, a hint of irritation in his voice. He looked beyond Hirad to those grouped in front of him. ‘I remember the days when I considered all humans except the Dragonene mages to be unworthy of the attention of dragons. Hirad Coldheart changed that assumption and you before me are examples of my folly.

‘It makes it all the harder then to ask one more task of you. I am not surprised to see the elves represented by their best. You understand in a way humans do not the link between the living and the dead. Cleress, your presence honours me. Those who were Protectors, I am the happier to be able to gaze upon your faces. And The Raven. My friends. The fears that Hirad expressed to me are well founded. Our position is already desperate. Many will be involved in defence and attack; you will be the spearhead. And for that necessity, my heart is heavy with fear for you.’

‘You’re selling it well so far,’ said Denser.

Sha-Kaan’s head snapped round to regard the mage with slitted pupil narrowed.

‘Would you rather I lied about the challenge ahead, frail human?’ he asked. ‘Would you rather begin your journey one-eyed?’

‘Not at all,’ said Denser. ‘But you have to understand that for most of us we had no inkling of any problem until Hirad put to shore. I’m still getting round the shock of it.’

‘Then let me explain what has happened.’ Sha-Kaan breathed heavily, the air rushing over their heads, sour and sharp. ‘Kaan birthings began a little more than two cycles ago, a little less than two years for you. It is a time when our efforts are focused solely on our brood and when the paths of inter-dimensional space are closed to us because the resonance set up by the brood at birth upsets our directional sense. It is the time when the Vestare repair and improve the Klenes.

‘But you will understand that it is a time when we are most at risk from attack. The brood has fought in the skies every day of the birthings and the damage we sustain can only be salved by the ministrations of the Vestare. The fight has left us weak but the enemy broods of the Naik and the Skoor have not been able to break us and for that we give thanks. Now we are building our strength again. Our young are strong and, like Jonas, they grow fast and are confident, unafraid.’

He paused, reflective. Darrick searched his face for expression but the mass of scales obscured anything but a tightening of the muscles around his eyes.

‘Our joy has been tempered, though, by what we found when the Klenes were opened again and we tried to communicate with our Dragonene partners here on Balaia. Many were simply not there. And those that were, were in a state of such panic their minds were barely coherent. Worse, the Kaan have been attacked in their Klenes by the Arakhe, who are marauding in inter-dimensional space. They are strong and getting stronger and that only happens when they find a new home. That home is here.’

Sha-Kaan’s last words hung in the air, resonant and laden with ruin. Darrick felt a chill in his body despite the heat of the chamber. He’d heard all this once already but first-hand from Sha-Kaan made it so appallingly close.

‘So the demons have invaded Balaia?’ said Denser.

‘Yes,’ replied Sha-Kaan. ‘And they will enslave every man, woman and child in this dimension. Then they will bleed them dry of their souls and when the land is spent, they will move on. They must be stopped.’

‘I still don’t understand why this affects the dead,’ said The Unknown.

‘Balaia is a key dimension for the demons and you must understand their nature. They are nomadic. They exist outside the boundaries we understand, taking dimensions where they can to increase their strength and, like I said, moving on when they are spent.

‘But Balaia is different. They need it for the long term and that is why they have chosen enslavement rather than massacre. It marks a departure in their nature. A mode of organisation that is worrying to us all. Another reason they need Balaia is the links that both elves and Wesmen have with the spirit dimension. If they can break the will of either race, they believe they will have free access to the dead and all their myriad souls. I believe them to be right. As, I am sure, does Cleress. And the dead are under greater pressure than at any time in their fight against the Arakhe. From what the elves tell us, that much is clear. What do you say, Cleress?’

‘It is a future I have seen, though it is uncertain,’ said Cleress. ‘There is still hope, therefore.’

‘So why didn’t they attack Calaius or the Wesmen directly?’ asked Erienne.

‘For two reasons,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘They have been waiting for a way in for millennia. Xetesk finally gave them that way in by meddling with powers they did not understand and causing a breach in the fabric of the Balaian dimensional shell. The souls of mages are prized and will give them great strength for battles to come. Second, they are attacking the colleges and the wider east of your country first because if they can remove magic, then none in this dimension have a weapon against them.

‘The Brood Kaan, and through us every brood on Beshara, is at risk. The Arakhe are our enemy of eons. We cannot afford to grant them access to our home or they would overwhelm us as they will Balaia.’

‘They are that strong?’ questioned The Unknown.

Sha-Kaan said nothing. Darrick watched him see everyone digesting the situation as best they could. Darrick couldn’t see all their faces but those he could told him they believed. Gods, they had to.

‘Xetesk has a great deal to answer for.’

It was a heartbeat before Darrick realised who had said that.

‘But no one blames you, Denser,’ said Hirad.

‘Every Xeteskian mage is to blame, and I am one,’ he said. ‘We all swore the oath that brought us to Xeteskian magic, we all wanted to see the development of dimensional spells and we all gladly accepted the deal with the demons that brought us the increased mana flow.’

‘There will be a reckoning if there still is a Xetesk when the Arakhe are beaten,’ rumbled Sha-Kaan. ‘Your guilt is natural but Hirad is right. You cannot be to blame for that over which you have no control.’

‘It doesn’t make me feel any better.’

‘Then use your anger,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘Fight.’

‘But how?’ Denser threw up his arms. ‘It sounds as if we are already too late.’

‘Not yet.’ Sha-Kaan shifted again, his claws grinding against the stone floor. Diera shushed Jonas who had become restless.

‘Perhaps you should take him back outside,’ said The Unknown.

‘I need to hear this,’ said Diera. ‘For me and for him. I have to be able to tell him what happened if you don’t ever come back.’

The Unknown looked pained. He drew a hand down her cheek. ‘I always come back. I promise you this will be no exception.’

‘You promised you would never leave again unless I was with you,’ said Diera though there was no accusation in her tone. ‘Why did I marry a Raven warrior, eh?’

‘We cannot choose who we love,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘In that if nothing else, we and you are the same.’

Diera knelt by her boy. ‘Will you be good for me and your father? We need you to be quiet just a little longer while Sha-Kaan speaks.’

‘Then will he fly away again?’ asked Jonas, his bright eyes on his mother. She shrugged.

‘I expect so, darling. He can’t stay in here all the time.’

‘How will he get out?’

‘Well,’ said Diera. ‘He’ll probably use the doors like we will.’

Jonas’s face held such an expression of doubt that Darrick had to fight back a laugh. In a voice that was meant to be a whisper, the boy said, ‘I don’t think they’re big enough, Mummy.’

It broke the tension at least. All of them laughed hard, Hirad almost doubled over, leaning on The Unknown for support the big man was in no position to give. Sha-Kaan rumbled loud, the sound booming in the chamber, and Cleress had to wipe the tears from her eyes.

‘Perceptive for such a nipper, isn’t he?’ said Hirad.

‘You’d better believe it,’ said The Unknown. ‘Like father like son.’

‘He’ll get stuck!’ shouted Jonas, revelling in his new-found confidence and all the attention. ‘But we could pull him out.’

‘Calm down now, sweetheart,’ said Diera. ‘There’s a good boy.’

‘But he will!’ insisted Jonas. ‘He will.’

He found himself confronted by Sha-Kaan’s muzzle, canted to one side so he could be seen by one enormous eye.

‘I do not have to use doors,’ the dragon said. ‘I will use the pathways of . . .’ He paused. ‘I will use magic. One day I will show you. But not today.’

Jonas sat down hard on his behind under the force of Sha-Kaan’s breath. He was still smiling.

‘All right now?’ asked Diera. The boy nodded.

‘Let us discuss what must be done,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘Because the fight for Balaia will be difficult and, like the fight for the spirit dimension, will not be fought here, not by The Raven at least. And then I will prove to you all that Jonas was right. But while I cannot fit through the doors, I can poke out my head and look again on this beautiful island.’

They ate outside that night. A breeze kept the air fresh and the tide was sending waves onto the southern coast, the sound comforting, bringing them all back to reality, at least for the time being.

They set up tables along the southern cliff edge so that they could see out across the expanse of ocean while the sun dipped down in the west, sending spectacular reds across the water. With a lamb gently turning on the spit and the young wine flowing, The Raven talked about everything but that which was to come. Around them, the elves and the former Protectors were relatively quiet but they listened intently, interjecting when they could.

When Jonas complained once too often, Diera took him to his bed. Hirad turned to The Unknown as soon as she was out of earshot.

‘You could stay, Unknown,’ he said. ‘Look at her. Her heart is broken but she can still smile and laugh. But we’re going to have to go and what then?’

The Unknown’s eyes shined in the moonlight as he watched his wife walk away up to the house.

‘You know I can’t stay,’ he said. ‘But thank you for the offer, even though you didn’t really mean it. I always said I would fight for the world in which my family could grow up in peace. I thought that here, and eventually back on Balaia, I had achieved that. But now it is clear that there is still one more enemy to be beaten and I will be there to do my part for Diera, for Jonas and for The Raven. This isn’t going to be anything but personal for me and I think we’ll all work better if we feel the same way.’

‘The Raven never work apart,’ added Thraun. ‘And what good would any of us feel if we didn’t join the fight and that fight failed? We would die just as surely.’

‘Myriell once spoke to you, didn’t she?’ said Cleress. ‘About the One magic and why it must survive?’

Hirad turned his head to see the Al-Drechar looking at him and The Unknown, her eyes as strong as ever, burning with the barely suppressed energy of the One.

‘She did,’ said Hirad. ‘After we’d beaten off the Dordovans from Herendeneth, if I recall correctly.’

‘You do,’ said The Unknown.

‘But you probably don’t remember what she said. She knew even then as we all did that there was a threat coming to Balaia and, we feared, to other dimensions. She told you that the One had to survive because it would be a potent weapon in the fight to come, whatever form it took. That time has arrived. The world will be grateful you kept your side of the bargain and that Erienne still lives.’

‘Thanks for keeping the pressure off me, Cleress,’ said Erienne.

‘Ah, but you must understand what you can bring that no one else can,’ she said. ‘Yours is a magic that doesn’t rely solely on mana for creation. It is one of the reasons the demons will want you gone. They will fear you as they will fear all The Raven because your belief, not just your power, makes you dangerous. Sha-Kaan sees it or he would not have involved you.’

‘But it’s not as if I can create extra devastation at will and forever,’ protested Erienne. ‘I get tired too and if Sha-Kaan is right, there’s one hell of a lot of demons out there.’

‘Think, child,’ said Cleress. ‘Remember what we learned so recently? How easy it is to strip one element from the target area? Mana is one element.’

The silence around the table grew ever more knowing and, slowly, a smile spread across Erienne’s face.

‘We have a couple of days before the tides will be right,’ said Cleress. ‘You and I have a lot of work to do.’

‘Better pass me the meat and wine, then,’ said Erienne. ‘Looks like I’m going to need all the strength I can get.’

Chapter 13

It was dawn when it happened. Damp and chilly with low, brooding cloud. An altogether fitting atmosphere for the state of Xetesk. Later, Dystran would see the fortune of the weather front but first sight had simply depressed him.

It was the day they had identified for the raid on the library. Dystran was contemplating the task ahead when shapes began dropping out of the cloud. At first he assumed them to be more demons. But the clarion calls, gale of noise and thrash of action from the streets told him instantly that they were anything but.

They were a way distant, probably a couple of miles and maybe more, and the demons were clamouring to get at them, whoever they were. Dystran took a quick look down into the occupied parts of the college. It was all but deserted. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the ColdRoom construct and onto his balcony, signalling his guards to flank him, ready to haul him back if any threat appeared.

Immediately, the feel of mana energised his body, a tonic for the weary like the sun on cold skin. He wasted no time in casting to augment his vision and reaching out to see what was approaching.

Men, flying. Mages. Pursued by demons who were bursting through the clouds around them and faced by more rising up from Xetesk. They flew hard, pushing the limits of ShadowWings, dodging, splitting, reforming. A battle where a single touch would be fatal. Where one side could not strike at all.

He concentrated harder, searching their faces, and his jaw dropped. At their head, a man who despite the weight that had fallen from him was immediately recognisable.

Dystran turned and ran from the tower, shouting for his mages, shouting for his library raiders. It was the diversion of his prayers and he was going to grab the opportunity with both hands.

Vuldaroq had no idea how any of them had maintained their concentration in the freezing air high above the clouds. They had started out exhausted, they had trimmed their wings for speed and they had pushed the limits from the word go.

But that was not all. The escape had been a nightmare scene of pulsing demon bodies; brave men facing them down, sacrificing themselves for their mages. It had been dark, dark corridors, shadowed halls and the stench of rotting flesh. It had been the pleading cries of the enslaved; the squeals of the newborn into horror and the briefest graze of a demon’s finger that had chilled his soul. And ultimately, it had been the flight through the glass domes that roofed the chamber of light with the shrieking of demons just far enough adrift.

All leading to a day of pure torment. As quickly as they outpaced a demon pack, another would rise to block their path south and west. They could smell the mana from so far away. It meant they could not rest in each other’s arms as they had planned and so cycle their effort.

How many times had they cowered behind clouds, dived at suicidal pace or spun dangerously close to each other risking collision? It was something of a miracle that they had lost only one of their scarce number. There was no time for reflection. There had not been time to mourn the fading scream.

And so they faced the final run. They’d dived from the clouds a little early but that didn’t bother him. What did was whether Xetesk had seen them or not. It took only a few heartbeats to realise the demons had. Like a multi-hued cloud in the morning gloom, they lifted off, their alien calls taken up by their current pursuers who drove a little harder.

‘Come on!’ called Vuldaroq though he knew his words were lost in the battering wind on their faces.

He led the four remaining mages down sharply, off-balancing the pursuers who lost a little ground. Any chance was worth taking. Vuldaroq was surprised to feel a thrill pass through him. So close to death for so long but with relative sanctuary almost within reach, he had never felt more alive.

He breathed the feeling in deep, felt the energy revitalise his aching body and pushed more speed from his ShadowWings.

‘Come on, Dystran, you bastard, now’s the time.’

Vuldaroq glanced back through his gossamer-thin wings, the protective film over his eyes adding to the slightly unfocused outlook. They were all still with him. The demons flitted in and out of his vision, blurred reds and blues, trying to steal a few feet to pressure the mistake. It was hard to tell how many there were. Ten or twelve at least.

But he considered them too far adrift if he and his could maintain their punishing pace just a little longer. To maximise their speed, the mages were all flying head first, arms pressed to their sides, legs straight and feet pointed backwards. It left little room for communication but they had organised a few signals in quieter moments of the flight and Vuldaroq knew they would all be looking at him for their cues.

In front of them, the seven towers of Xetesk stood grim and gaunt against the dull sky. A few lights burned in Dystran’s but the others appeared closed and dead. Much like the city. It was wreathed in an undulating dawn mist trapped within its walls and punctured only by the glimmer of a handful of fires.

The demons rising from the city had fanned into a wide net. Some were streaming towards them, others hanging back. There had to be two hundred at least, thronging the air above the silent buildings, flashing greens and deep blues.

Vuldaroq went hard at the line approaching them, saw it straighten to counter their expected direction. It was a surprisingly naïve move, but then the leader caste was not among this vanguard and without them there was little spatial awareness.

Dordover’s Arch Mage flickered his fingers to draw his mages’ attention. Then, he pointed up with his index fingers before splaying his hands. All he could do now was hope they had seen him and trust they would react when he did. Delay carried the severest of consequences.

Vuldaroq clung to his courage. He closed with the demons at high speed and sensed his few mages come onto his shoulders in a tight group. The demons mimicked them instantly, a good sign.

‘Keep coming,’ he breathed. ‘That’s it.’

He was so close he could hear their calls when he angled upwards at practically ninety degrees. The mana shape controlling the wings strained. Physical wings would surely have snapped. Vuldaroq felt the braking force across his whole body like he was going into reverse. If not for the demons racing beneath him and the undeniable forward motion driving him on, he would have believed it.

One quick look told him they’d all made it this far. Below him, the demons were braking and turning from all directions. Vuldaroq spread his arms, his body adopting a cruciform shape, falling forwards in the air to arrow vertically down.

They all knew the sign. It was the last run and, of necessity, it was every man for himself. Mouthing good luck to any that were watching, he plunged groundwards. He had about a mile of distance and a thousand feet of height to lose. No distance at all but surely the longest flight of his life.

‘We’re moving!’ shouted Dystran. ‘Now!’

He pounded along the corridors from his tower and into the dome complex, seeing the torpid surprise register on dozens of faces.

‘Up. Warriors to the doors. Mages, let’s be thinking about focused Orbs. We’re going outside. Library team, make ready.’

His orders were carried on down into the catacombs. Puzzled expressions faced him. He paused.

‘I do not have time to explain,’ he said. ‘Time to trust me. Allies are flying in from the north-east.’

‘Allies?’ a warrior, standing, questioned.

Dystran grabbed the filthy blue kerchief tied at his neck and pulled. ‘Yes, allies. Anyone who isn’t a demon is an ally now. Clear?’

‘Yes, my Lord.’

The sound of running feet came from all quarters and he waited for the gaunt, sick-looking figure of Commander Chandyr to appear before issuing orders.

‘No time for whys. Dordovans in the sky heading this way. The demons have all but cleared the college to hunt them. I want eight mages out there giving covering fire as they come in. Another four will defend the flanks from demons still hidden inside the grounds. Twenty warriors as spotters, in and outside the doors. And the library team is going in now. We’ll not get a better chance. Move.’

‘All right, you heard him!’ Chandyr clapped his hands together. ‘Mage teams one and two, cover duty. Swords two and three, spotters. Sword four, you’re on the doors as back-up. Library raiders, to me. Gentlemen, it is time for some fun.’

Dystran had to admit Chandyr was good. They moved for him, respected him. The Lord of the Mount himself, they just feared. He liked it that way.

Noise battered around the dome. Men shouting, weapons and armour clashing. Metal-shod boots ringing on stone and marble. Dystran swallowed on a dry throat. The great doors swung open onto the cool, misty dawn.

‘Go!’ shouted Chandyr. ‘Forming up flanks quickly. Focused Orbs for attack, I want an IceWind cover for area attack, ForceCones on defence. Ready for changes any time on Lord Dystran’s word.’ His voice cleared the din easily. A commander’s voice brought back to life by the promise of action. ‘Spotters, I only want to hear numbers and direction.’

Soldiers and mages ran through the doors, across the marble apron and down the stairs in front of the tower complex. Out of the protection of the ColdRoom lattice.

Dystran followed them, buoyed by the flow of mana that coursed through him and the beautiful fresh air in his lungs. He pulled in the shape for a focused Orb, following three mages taking up a central position. A quick glance showed him the defence and spotters deploying. Behind him, Captain Suarav led the library raiding party left and out of sight. His last three archivists were with the scarred garrison commander under the eye of Sharyr. It was a gamble that couldn’t afford to fail.

In the grey sky north of Xetesk, the desperate flight neared its conclusion. Tens, hundreds of demons thronged the sky, a net for the five shapes that darted, twisted, ducked and soared trying to dodge them. It was hard to see how any of them would get through.

‘A path,’ muttered Dystran, then raised his voice. ‘Let’s make them a path. Concentrate on the area dead ahead, where the lead flyer is coming in. Time it, my mages. The gaps we make will fill quickly.’

Spells flew and the first demons perished in fire and ice, blasted aside to give Xetesk’s erstwhile enemies a chance of life.

Blessed emptiness on the approach. The raiding team slipped left, passed the dome defence and trotted quickly and quietly around the base of the complex. The library doors stood open, hanging from their hinges. The timelock ward was no use now, broken when the timbers had been battered apart in the early days of the occupation.

In the bloom of spells across the spectrum, the augmentation they gave their sight to counteract the gloom inside the library went unnoticed. Sharyr led three archivists, Captain Suarav and a spotter soldier up the edge of the broad steps where the shadows remained deep enough and the mist clung to the stone.