'Hmm.' Hiela nodded. 'But there is more, isn't there? The Raven are with them now. These are not men who come merely to extend their lifespans. These are men who expect victory and travel only to the places where they believe that chance exists.'
Silence.
'Idiots. Isn't that why you crave their souls? Isn't that why they fascinate you yet more than a mage or an elf? Within them is that life force that is so exquisite it burns us not to be able to touch it. Do you believe such as these would join a hopeless defence?'
'But even for them there is nothing to be done,' said another. 'We will prevail. It is a question of time.'
'Even at the time of our burgeoning strength there lies risk,' said Hiela, letting his colour drift to a brighter blue. 'You swallow too much of what you are told by the masters. They have not dealt with these people before. I have. And this is not a futile gesture. There will be a purpose.'
'But surely there is only one . . .'
Hiela snapped around in his position, floating in their midst, to stare hard at the long-fingered cerebral that had uttered the words. He let the import sink in.
'Yes,' he said. 'And can you think of another reason why the Julatsans would leave their college - the one place where we had doubts about our ability to dominate - and travel to the heart of dimensional research and understanding of our race? And why do the Wesmen still watch? Why are they so close?'
There was a wind blowing across the open lands. It brought a welcome chill though the assembled company barely acknowledged it. Hiela turned a slow rotation in the air, making sure they all heard him.
'Out there, travelling towards us, are those who are capable of beating us, should they receive the help they need. We can suppose that this is why they are travelling to Xetesk. And you can suppose this is why we are ranged here. Because they shall not make the walls of the college. And they shall not ask for what they need, let alone find it.
'This is no longer a battle to defeat the will and farm the souls of those who approach. This is an order to destroy. We have all we need here. Never mind the sweetness of its taste, let us kill that which we can live without. We must focus on this and this alone. What is the state of our conflicts to the south and the college of Lystern?'
'The resistance is weakening in both places but it still holds. These are determined men,' said Drenoul, master of the Xeteskian battle front.
'So they are but that must end. I know your commanders will want the prized souls of those within but we need their strength of numbers here to keep the Wesmen from causing us delay while we face Julatsa and Xetesk combined. Order them to extinguish that which will not be cowed and travel here with all haste.
'It is time to deploy the destructors.'
'Surely they will be too weak yet. The mana density is not high enough,' said Drenoul.
'But not for long and they are many,' said Hiela. 'Summon the karron.'
The malevolence was causing panic throughout. The others were packed far away from the pulse of pure hate that was spreading. Like a battering on the door to their world. And it was getting louder and stronger. He had struggled with the concept of there being a force wanting to harm them. But then he had travelled to a place where the sense of evil intent and salacious desire washed over him in a wave.
While searching for The Raven he had seen in a moment of clarity that the threat was genuine and that they in their countless number were helpless against it. Those who could have heard him in his homeland were gone from there but one had resurfaced near The Raven. It would be his brother, he was sure. It was logical, if logic held sway here, that they were aware of the threat and were battling it.
But did they really know the extent of it? And did they know where to travel? He knew. And now here he was, unsure how to proceed. He had the battering pulse filling his mind and soul. He had The Raven, bright lights surrounding one that dazzled. And he had the sense of the destination. It was a place of enormous power that ebbed slowly as if that power was being drained. He could feel it pass him like a wind through his being and tracing it back had found its source in an otherwise cold and dead land.
The Raven had to go to there and nowhere else in that land. He needed a way to contact them that was not the loose meeting of subconscious minds that he had managed so far. So often, Hirad had almost grasped him but each time the fluidity of dreams had snatched away what he was trying to say.
He concluded that he had to get closer, if closer was possible. Before him, indeed all around him, the battering was weakening the Spirits within. The anxiety had spread through all of them and communication was laced with terror and the knowledge that they had no defence against those wanting to break through. There would come a moment when the door would fall and the panic would overflow and communication would be impossible. But until that time, he had to believe in his own safety and in the strength of the Spirits that wished him success.
He forced himself to concentrate. There was a point between The Raven, the place where they had to go and the door through which they must pass. It was a place of great risk, where the boundaries between worlds were weak and the malevolence waited its chance. But it was the only place he was sure he could make a difference.
Letting the light of his friends suffuse him and protect him, he journeyed on.
Chapter 32.
'You are in no fit state to be standing here,' said The Unknown.
'You can say what you like, Unknown, but I don't think what we're looking at leaves us any choice, do you? You need me here.'
'Gods, just let him do it,' said Denser. 'At least if he dies we won't have to listen to this sort of bleating any more.'
'Thank you, Denser,' said Hirad.
'You are not helping,' said The Unknown.
'I can't believe you're surprised he's here.'
'I'm not surprised, I'm questioning the wisdom of his decision.'
'You think wisdom ever applies to anything Hirad does?'
'All right, Xetesk-man, I thought you were on my side.'
'He is, Hirad,' said The Unknown. 'We all are. If you must do something foolish, why don't you do it in the wagon where you can protect Erienne at the same time?'
'Thraun has got that covered.'
'You are so stubborn.'
Auum shook his head and scratched at his forehead. He would never understand how they had survived this long. Always arguing. He finished applying the green and black paints to Duele's face before leading them all in prayer. Throughout, he could hear The Raven bickering like children over a broken doll.
He brought his Tai back to their feet and they walked to the front of the stationary wagon train. It was dawn and it was cold, very cold. The breath clouded in front of his face and the chill breeze whipped it away. The wagons had been halted when the cursyrd had ceased their attacks an hour or so before first light. They had retreated as far as the edge of the shell and most of them were grouped on the ground. Very few still remained in the air and none encroached on the periphery.
The temptation had been to continue on but both Darrick and Rebraal had advised the stop. It was inconceivable that they would not be attacked severely on their way into Xetesk, which now lay just three miles ahead, and any chance to rest horses and mages had to be taken.
It was a decision that looked at best over-cautious as light had strengthened. It could turn out to be a huge mistake. Beyond those gathered before them, other cursyrd were moving up. These were not reavers and they were not strike-strain. They were a strain none of them had seen before in this conflict.
Auum watched them approach. There were hundreds of them. Squat wingless figures with rolling gaits. They were covered in a dense, dark, fine hair. Each one had eyes to the front and sides of its head and no discernible mouth or nose. But what they did have was arms that ended in what for all the world looked like spiked clubs or hammers.
The assembled company had fallen silent while these things advanced towards the shell. Other cursyrd made way and a screeching filled the air. Auum couldn't make out what it meant but it was more a sound of anger than of anticipation.
'Gods drowning, but they're ugly bastards. What are they?' asked Hirad.
'Karron,' said Auum, the word leaving a harsh taste in his mouth. 'Destructors.'
'This isn't going to be any fun at all,' said Hirad.
'I don't understand this,' said Denser. 'I mean, these look capable of causing us a real problem. Why haven't they thrown them at us before?'
'Because before, they wanted our souls,' said Rebraal. 'Now I fear they just want us dead.'
'That's comforting,' said Hirad.
'Thoughts?' asked The Unknown.
'They're slow but powerful,' said Darrick. 'If I'm not mistaken, we'll be harried as we have come to expect by the winged strains and these will look to break us from the front.'
'Can't we just drive round them?' asked Hirad.
Darrick shook his head. 'If they got into our flanks they could fragment the train. Far better we take them head-on, at least we can marshal forces in the right direction.'
'I don't think it'll be enough,' said The Unknown. 'They're strong enough to stop us moving forwards and that's something we cannot afford. We have to break that line or we'll be surrounded and picked off.'
'I've got an idea,' said Darrick. 'But it's a big risk.'
'Let's hear it,' said The Unknown.
Darrick looked around him. 'Is Pheone here? I need to know our casting strength.'
'Will it make a difference?' asked Hirad. 'We're inside a ColdRoom here.'
Darrick smiled. 'Yes it will. And you know the thing with ColdRooms is you can let them go all of a sudden. If you want to.'
Auum nodded his head. He understood what Darrick was about to suggest. It would be, how would Hirad say it? Interesting.
Tessaya, Lord of the Paleon tribes, stretched his mouth in a prodigious yawn. He had slept well the last night and welcomed the cold of the new day. He wrapped his furs about his shoulders and strode from his tent. Around him, the activity was frenetic. Weapons were being sharpened, fires heated water and broth, warriors ran in all directions taking messages, striking camp and loading pallets. Others foraged for what food they could sweep up easily before the move.
Patience, Tessaya had always said, would pay off and today was that day. Because yesterday he had received the most extraordinary visit of his life. A deputation from Xetesk, in effect inviting him into the heart of the college. He had felt it churlish to refuse, and now two thousand warriors made ready to advance.
The demons had left them alone these past three days and his scouts had reported them massing to the north. They had also reported an approaching dust cloud that was overflown by the enemy and under apparently constant attack. Clearly, others were heading for the college too.
This had been confirmed by the Xeteskians and it was proposed that the Wesmen help these runners into Xetesk and then join the final battle for the freedom of Balaia. He had been given a blank slate to demand whatever he wanted from the Easterners in return for his aid. Short of the end of magic of course. That, he conceded, was unlikely but the deal he had struck would make the Wesmen the dominant power across the whole of the country. The Xeteskians would have seen that. He would have to tread carefully.
Tessaya walked quickly down to the forward positions, trailed by his aides. There he found Arnoan, the ancient Shaman apparently lost in thought. Communing perhaps. Still, it was a reverie easily broken.
'Am I being lured into a trap, do you think?'
'I consider that to be very unlikely,' said Arnoan, focusing on him with a frown. 'The Xeteskians have nothing to gain by so doing barring a hastening of their own demise. I am merely saddened it has taken them so long to see that the Wesmen are their best chance of salvation.'
'And you believe us so to be?'
'I do, my Lord.'
'But let us not fool ourselves,' said Tessaya. 'The Xeteskians have only come to us because the demons allowed them the time to do so. Consider also that the demons themselves may have orchestrated this whole event.'
'Again, unlikely,' said Arnoan. 'After all, we are not even being watched, which I find very curious. They will only know of our decision to move when we are under way.'
Tessaya chuckled and slapped Arnoan on the back. The Shaman staggered and coughed. 'Perhaps their grasp of battle tactics is as poor as yours, my friend.'
'Let us hope so, Tessaya, let us hope so.'
Behind him Tessaya could hear the strains of songs rolling down the slope towards him. They filled his heart with strength and pride. The standards were raised and stood together.
The Wesmen were marching once more.
It had become their only hope of reaching the Julatsans and it was a terrible choice to have to make. They had cowered in renewed terror when the new strain had appeared from the rip and descended to the ground to march away into Xetesk and out towards the Julatsans. They had an aura about them that sucked the will and brought a dead shiver to the limbs.
Sharyr would have welcomed death then but in their hiding place they had been ignored and had been able to watch the gathering of demon forces. It had become obvious then that their plan of running in while the demons were engaged in battle was unworkable. Most of the demons were covering the ground around the periphery of the ColdRoom shell surrounding the wagon train. The only way in was by air.
'I will remain here and see you safe and then return to Xetesk,' said Suarav, the words dragging reluctantly from his mouth.
'No,' said Brynel immediately. 'We are stronger with you. You must come with us.'
Sharyr agreed. 'Without you, I do not believe I have the strength.' Suarav gripped an arm of both of them. 'My friends, you can do this. You have to. And besides, I cannot fly.'
'We can carry your weight between us,' said Sharyr. 'We won't leave you. How much chance do you really think you have of getting back into the college?'
Suarav closed his eyes and Sharyr knew he had touched the reason for the soldier's fear. Alone and travelling back through the streets of Xetesk. One swordsman. It would be suicide.
'But split up, you have a better chance of one of you reaching the Julatsans.'
'The difference is slight. The journey is quick but fraught. I'd rather the confidence of you with us than the extra mobility,' said Brynel.
Suarav sighed. 'Can it really be done?'
'Oh yes,' said Brynel. 'Shadow Wings do not tangle. They aren't corporeal. You hang onto our belts and we fly. Low and fast.'
'One thing more,' said Sharyr. 'When we pierce the ColdRoom, the Wings will disperse very quickly. It'll be a rough landing.'
'I'll bear it in mind.' Suarav sighed again and shook his head. 'You know, I'm too old for this sort of thing.'
'You're never too old to fly,' said Sharyr.
'All right, let's do it. But if I fall, do not come back for me. I outrank you and that is an order.'
Both mages nodded. Brynel turned to Sharyr. 'Ready to cast?'
'Ready. Captain, take your grip now. As soon as we begin to cast, the demons will be aware of us. We're going to have to leave quickly.'
The two mages stood side by side. Suarav knelt between them. His hands gripped the front of their belts, his arms between their legs.
'Cast now,' said Suarav.
The spectrum responded to them and the demons began to howl.
The instructions had been snapped out quickly and Darrick just had to trust that they would be understood. If it worked, they'd break the demon line, he was sure of that. If not, they would be in desperate trouble and praying for a miracle from inside the walls of Xetesk.
Forty Al-Arynaar mages now stood in front of the two lead wagons. They were guarded by an equal number of warriors, leaving the rest to continue normal duties back down the train. The front of the shell was fifty yards ahead of them and it was crowded with karron, reaver and strike-strain. Around the flanks and behind, winged demons waited for their orders to attack, most resting on the ground as they had been since before dawn.
In the traces, the horses were as fresh as they could be. Darrick had handed the reins to another human driver, a man named Brynn whom Rebraal recommended as the ideal man to hold the front line. Darrick went with the elf's decision. Brynn was a man covered in scratches and bandages but clearly unbowed despite the shiver in his body.