Rebraal took off in his last three paces and planted a two-footed kick into the chest of the second of Hirad's flanking attackers. He landed atop the man, heard ribs crack and turned to get the barbarian's grateful nod before the pair of them carved into the last standing swordsman, putting him down in a heartbeat.
The archers backed off in a hurry, taking the defending mages with them towards the courtyard. From around the side of the library, Auum led the TaiGethen into view right on cue.
'Raven, let's go!' called The Unknown.
But from across the college to their right, from the barracks and stables, came more of the enemy. And simultaneously, the western gates of the college swung open and men poured in, heading straight for them.
'Oh dear Gods,' said Hirad, breathing hard, the muscles in his arms protesting, his thighs burning with exertion.
The Raven's move faltered almost before it started, the TaiGethen gathering around them. From everywhere, it seemed, Xeteskian forces converged on foot and even on horseback. Arrows and bolts filled the air, clattering against Erienne's HardShield.
'We aren't going to make it,' said Darrick. 'They've got us trapped.'
'Ideas?' demanded The Unknown. 'We're out of time.'
'Only one place we can defend,' said Denser and he was already moving back towards the tower complex. 'Follow me.'
'Back to the dome, back to the dome!' yelled Hirad. 'Rebraal, bring your people.'
The raiding party turned and ran headlong for the steps up to the open doors and relative safety. The shadows shortened right in front of Rebraal, Xeteskian spells rushed through the air, crashing down on the rear of the group. He heard Gireeth scream in pain, turned his head and saw the mage's shield go. There was a wash of heat, hard cobalt light flashed and the lone FlameOrb burst on to the TaiGethen below.
Elves, burning and dying, were driven to the ground, their cries lost against the fire that rushed up the steps, biting at all their heels.
'Faster!'
Hirad, breathing in gasps, upped his pace in front. The doors were within a couple of paces. Auum led his Tai cell in, The Raven charging in behind, the survivors of the collapsed shield in their bootprints.
Thraun and The Unknown bent their shoulders to the doors, shoving the well-oiled and counterbalanced side fast closed, hearing arrows rattle against the wood.
'Denser, WardLock now,' ordered The Unknown.
'Ahead of you there.'
The casting was quick and efficient. Pale blue light crackled across the lock and through the veins of wood-and-iron binding. Rebraal slid to a stop in the blood of the fight so recently played out. He turned and took them all in, elf and Raven alike. Three TaiGethen and two Al-Arynaar mages hadn't made it. And alive though the rest of them might be, the same thought ran through all their minds.
In the centre of the Dark College, they were trapped.
'Ah, gentlemen, so glad you could all make it on this quite unbelievable evening.' Dystran smiled thinly from his seat in Ranyl's dining chamber on the second landing of the tower.
The dying lord himself was upstairs resting. The remainder of the Circle Seven were seated at the table.
'You'll note there are no refreshments,' continued Dystran. 'You'll also note that despite my request, Captain Suarav has so far been unable to join us. Would you like me to summarise why that is?'
He looked around the table, seeing the group of men, all of whom were at least twice his age. None of them would look him in the face. There was a phrase concerning ivory towers. He'd have to look into ways of seeing they saw more of the world beyond their noses.
'It is because this college is under attack by a few ageing mercenaries and some extremely impressive elves.' No meaningful reaction. He slammed his fist on the table. 'They are tearing up my college! Surely even you heard the odd shout or the odd spell marking our once pristine walls?'
'My Lord,' acknowledged someone though Dystran was barely listening.
'Tell me, Myx, where are The Raven and their elven friends at this moment?'
'They have just run into the dome, my Lord,' said Myx. 'The doors have been WardLocked.'
There was a stirring around the table.
'Yes, gentlemen, they are scant feet below us. Fortunately, there is a small bright spot I can apprise you of. On Herendeneth, a proactive young mage by the name of-' He clicked his fingers.
'Nyam, my Lord,' said Myx.
'Nyam has confirmed beyond reasonable doubt that the Al-Drechar are shielding a One mage. As you know, we feel that mage to be Erienne of the same Raven who are currently trapped beneath us. Here is what we will do.
'First of all, we need to send a message to some old friends. Then, I intend to prove that Erienne is that mage, and you must be ready to act on the mana spectrum the moment that proof is clear. We have always said that we should be able to adequately protect a One mage from his own mind while the awakening process completes, then school that mage in the art as laid down in certain of our more precious texts.
'It is time for us to make good on that assertion.' He turned to Myx. 'Your brothers, how close are they to their positions outside the Tower complex?'
'Before the hour turns, they will all be ready, my Lord.'
'Good. In that case instruct our new friend Nyam that when the hour turns, he is to kill the Al-Drechar currently shielding Erienne.' Dystran turned back to the table and examined the ends of his fingers before looking up into the blank faces of his Circle Seven. 'That should give us our proof, don't you think?'
'We can't stay here,' said Denser.
'No, really?' snapped Hirad. He rubbed a bloody hand through his hair. 'And there was me thinking we'd set up camp here, wait for the trouble to die down.' There was an impact on the doors. Timbers creaked but it seemed half-hearted, an act of frustration more than a serious attempt to break in. 'Gods, this is just like Lystern, except we don't have horses waiting saddled and this city has walls.'
'Quiet, Hirad,' said The Unknown. 'Denser, facts and quickly. What do you have in mind?'
'This is an indefensible position, despite how it might look. Outside, they'll be waiting for instructions from the Circle Seven who will be in here somewhere. Look, it's grim. Our escape route is blocked. Right now, I don't think there's a way out for us. At least in here, or rather, in the catacombs, we can achieve something and hold out longer.'
'Like what?' asked Hirad.
'Got a dragon to send home, haven't you? I know where the research is held. Maybe we can last long enough to effect the casting. Depends how simple it is.'
'You aren't confident about our chances, then?' said The Unknown.
Denser shook his head.
'It's the best plan we've got,' said Hirad. 'Rebraal, you hearing this?'
The elf nodded. 'I've relayed it to the TaiGethen. We all knew it was a risk coming here. We're with you.'
'And the Aryn Hiil?' asked Denser.
'It will not fall back into their hands. We'll destroy it first.'
'Good, then let's go,' said the dark mage. 'One last thing, Unknown. Where we think this research is, and the lead mage. It's near the Soul Tank. I'm sorry.'
The Unknown nodded. 'I'll be all right. Just don't ask me how I'm feeling, any of you. You already know.'
'Follow me, then,' said Denser. 'I-'
A high-pitched sound flashed round the dome. Loud and piercing, it dug at the ears and vibrated through heads. Hirad clapped his hands to the sides of his head, grunting involuntarily. Across the dome, swords clattered to the floor and the elves were dropping to their knees, their pain written on their faces.
Abruptly, the sound ceased, leaving behind it the impression of great space. A voice, amplified by every surface and clear as a bell, filled the space.
'Now I have your attention, I have a proposal for you. You can hear me, can't you, dear Raven, dear elves?'
The voice echoed away. Hirad picked up his blade and scanned around, looking for the source. He saw Thraun breathing hard, his eyes closed, face pale. The elves were faring no better. The Unknown was glaring at the ceiling, chest puffed out, sword once again in his hand. Darrick was rubbing at his ears, face carrying that expression of irritation that was becoming a trademark, while Erienne stood close to Denser, looking to him for an answer which he duly provided.
'Dystran, how unnecessarily loud to hear your voice.'
'I rather thought you'd be impressed by it. You should be. You have gathered in the most perfect place for Intonation. Bear that in mind. I can be much, much louder.'
'Yes we are all duly impressed by your ability,' said Denser, his tone bored. 'What do you want?'
'I want to end the bloodshed,' said Dystran. 'You have proved your prowess fighting my people but that's over now. You are caught, you know you are. But you need not die. I have a deal for you. Surrender yourselves now and none of you will be harmed. The elves we will guarantee safe passage back to Calaius once this siege is broken, assuming they let us have back what was taken from our library. And The Raven will remain here as our guests until this unseemly conflict is over. General Darrick, as a man under sentence of death in your own college, I should think that a very happy solution. Denser, you can reacquaint yourself with the place that made you. Sol, you can be sure your family are safe, talk to them through your Protector brothers whenever you like and Erienne . . . Erienne, with us you can fulfil your potential.
'It is tempting, I know. But you'll want to discuss it so I give you a short time to do so. Then open the doors. The other way is pain and suffering, believe me.'
Dystran's voice echoed away to nothing. Hirad opened his mouth but saw Denser put a finger to his lips and point up. Then he spread his arms wide, asking the question. Every head shook. Denser smiled, put his finger back to his lips and beckoned them all on, pointing to Rebraal to come close.
'They'll have the entrances to the catacombs guarded. Perhaps Auum could do the honours,' he said into the elf's ear.
Rebraal nodded. 'We will see to it.' He walked over to Auum and relayed the message.
Led by the TaiGethen, The Raven entered the catacombs of Xetesk.
Pheone walked alone around the crater that hid the Heart of Julatsa, her mind torn between grief and hope. Her people had reached the Xeteskian siege lines and contacted the Al-Arynaar. Communion had confirmed what she wanted to hear. They would come but had a mission to perform before leaving the lines and heading north. The news had filled her with an optimism she had never thought to feel again. But so quickly, her heart had been crushed again.
The Raven were in the game, it seemed, though their location was a closely guarded secret because of trouble with both Lystern and Dordover. But she hadn't really listened to the reasons why. Because when she had asked after Ilkar, she had been told of his death. The Communion had broken then and there, and the loss and emptiness had swept through her like a gale that had no end.
She had run from her friends, where they had been conducting the linked Communion, and they had been respectful in turn, leaving her to herself and her thoughts.
She had cried long for Ilkar, his smile, his energy and his sheer presence. The touch she would never feel again, the pain that must have accompanied his death from the Elfsorrow. She thought of The Raven too. Such a close friendship now destroyed by something they couldn't fight. Helplessness. She knew how that felt all right.
Finally, she pushed the images of the elf she had loved from her mind and tuned in to the mana spectrum. The shadow was there, covering the Heart, smothering its colour, dulling its power. And the effect they'd noticed in the last couple of days was there, and growing too. The shadow was sending out flares of gloom like spears into the mass of the spectrum. She wondered what that meant. So far they had come up with nothing.
At least it hadn't led to any further failures of the Julatsan focus. But it was inevitable that some would come. Every spell they cast took so much more effort, left them that much more drained than they should be. And the problems would be amplified for those casting outside of the college and city.
Pheone stopped walking and gazed down into the perfect blackness that the moonlight could not penetrate, letting her tears fall into its depth. Like the dark below, the shadow was intensifying, little by little, day after day. And every day, the chances of being able to raise the Heart when the elves arrived diminished a little more.
She prayed they would not arrive too late but the abyss was yawning wide.
Chapter 21.
The most feared place on Balaia without question, the catacombs beneath the towers of Xetesk were told of in legend and myth, in dark tales and to keep children in bed. They inspired extraordinary exaggeration based on ignorance but some of the invention was shot through with truth.
Here was where the research to which the students weren't privy was carried out. Where experiments on human subjects dragged there by Protectors had been carried out in years gone by. Where contact with the demon dimension was first established and the power of Xetesk enhanced. Where the Circle Seven had exclusive run with their teams of talented adepts in the neverending race for political influence through spell development. And where the Soul Tank lay.
But as they hurried past the guards so easily killed by Auum and Evunn and on into the labyrinthine passages designed to confuse the unwelcome walker, Hirad noted that the descriptions of jagged rock tunnels, narrow and dripping with water feeding underground pools stocked with hideous monsters were far from accurate.
'What do you think we are, savages?' said Denser. 'Left here, Rebraal. Take the stairway down, then left again.'
'Well no, but still. It's a bit smart, isn't it?'
Denser shrugged and followed Rebraal and Auum down the stairs. 'I don't know. I've never known it any other way. Just because it isn't the way you heard it was . . .'
Far from the dank, rough underground horror he'd been led to expect, Hirad was walking through carefully constructed passages the quality of which wouldn't have been out of place in a mansion house. Wide enough for three people walking abreast, the roughly circular corridors had been smoothed with plaster and painted in pastel colours. There were even a few paintings hung on the walls.
The whole place glowed with a gentle blue light and air circulated, keeping the passages fresh.
'Mind you,' continued Denser. 'We haven't reached the depths yet. This is just the upper level. Rebraal, straight on, then hard right. More steps. Wait at the bottom. That's where the fun starts.'
'How do you mean?' asked The Unknown.
'Hold on. Wait until we reach the bottom of these stairs.'
'Ever the man of mystery,' muttered Erienne.
'Yeah,' said Hirad.
The base of the stairs marked a change in the catacombs. Although the light remained, gone were the pleasant decorations, replaced by stark murals and smooth, unpainted rock faces. They stood in a domed chamber, the ceiling eight feet or more above The Unknown's head. Passages led off it in four directions and the air was cooler. It was the first open space they'd encountered since they'd entered.
'We need to stop,' said Denser.
'Why?' asked Hirad.
'Because you all need to understand how this works as far as you are able.'
'So talk,' said Rebraal.
He stood at the head of a group of confused and irritated elves. They were uncomfortable here below ground, beyond anything they could readily recognise.
'I think we've bought ourselves a little time. It's best spent here,' Denser said. 'Rebraal, please relay this as best you can.'
'Whatever you say.' His face betrayed some anxiety.
'All right, listen,' Denser said instead. 'You have to understand the nature of the catacombs. They've been built over fifteen centuries, no one knows exactly what area they cover because there's never been any organisation to their building. Generation upon generation of Circle Seven mages have built as they saw fit, extending their predecessors' areas, digging their own, sealing off what they don't want. Where I have brought you now is the full extent of my knowledge.
'This is what we call a hub room. It's the central point of a Circle Seven mage's catacomb chambers, in this case, Dystran's. Looks to me as though he hasn't spent too much time on decoration recently. There are hub rooms all over the catacombs, dozens. Some mages own several. Dystran undoubtedly does.
'Right, directly ahead of us is the place we want to be. You can expect alarm wards across most passages in the hub areas but we may not have time to look for them all and disarm them. Doors we need to worry about. Traps are as common as mistrust down here.'
'Isn't there a map of the catacombs at all?' asked The Unknown.