Blue flame encased the tower. Denser and Dystran screamed and clutched at their heads. Defence spells failed. Enemies dropped into their midst, followed by the feet and blades of the TaiGethen. A wind howled through the tower, threatening to pluck them all from their precarious perch and throw them down to their deaths.
Sol crouched and laid his arms across his family. The flame gathered density; it curled and twisted into a spire above them, wreathing and pulsing. The pressure built quickly. Septern was juddering in his chair as if shaken by unseen hands. Densyr was flat on his back, tears streaming from his eyes. Dystran was unconscious.
The Garonin fire increased but every tear that hit the mana spire deflected harmlessly away. The spire's blue deepened almost to black and a spear of mana punched upwards and crashed into the underside of the machine, knocking it sideways through the air. The carriage hanging beneath it disintegrated in a ball of flame, scattering debris and bodies to fall to the earth.
Briefly, the colour of the spire lightened. Septern squeezed his eyes shut. Another spear shot up. This one skewered the machine's bulbous bell.
'Oh dear God's falling,' whispered Sol.
The machine exploded. White, blue and grey light flashed like hot sun into a blackout room. Flame ripped across the circumference of the bell. Repeated detonations rippled its hide, sending fresh flame clawing at the sky. The shock wave reflected down, rattling the tower and sending a great swathe of heat across the college. Flame dispersed over the cylinder of mana encircling the tower.
The machine hung in tatters in the air for a moment, flaps of burning skin clinging to the ribs of its skeleton, before dipping left and crashing down onto the east walls. Sol could hear the screams of Garonin soldiers. Melodious no more but a lament just the same.
Spells still fell, taking out the remaining invaders. Sol slowly dragged himself to his feet. He could hear cheering from the courtyard. And barked orders. Suarav and Chandyr were still cautious. Sol looked down on his family. Diera was cuddling young Hirad, whose shocked white face stared into his.
'It's all right now, little one,' said Sol. 'It's all over for now.'
'We've won,' breathed Densyr. 'We've actually won.'
Jonas stirred from his slumber in the mind of Sha-Kaan and his face was full of regret.
'No, Lord Densyr, I'm afraid we haven't.'
Chapter 32.
TaiGethen had found and secured the old trail that ran from the abandoned, destroyed Wesman fishing village on North Bay. It ran away through the foothills of Sunara's Teeth and down a long tree-studded valley that stretched away out of sight and led, they had to hope, through the mountains and into Wesman lands proper. The valley was broad and its slopes ran up to a jumble of outcrops and crags. It was bleak but the air was fresh. The scents of the land and of Tual's creatures gave the ClawBound panthers a strut to their stride.
While Al-Arynaar disembarked elves on the beach before moving them on in ordered groups to the first of the camps just to the south of the old village, Rebraal was with the forward party, looking for a second campsite. The day was young and the ground was easy. Panthers scouted ahead while their Bound elves ran the flanks of the force of thirty TaiGethen cells and four hundred Al-Arynaar.
Dila'heth was at his side. She, like every Al-Arynaar mage, wore the cloak of loss that Julatsa's fall had thrown about their shoulders. They could still cast, but even the simplest spell had been rendered difficult, tiring and even dangerous.
'How will it feel in our new home?' asked Rebraal.
'Different,' said Dila. 'We have little expectation of being able to cast in a wholly separate dimension. But mana is everywhere, and if it should exist there, we can eventually build a new Heart to focus it. We will have hope for the future once we have arrived home. Here, we have precious little.'
Heat blossomed to their right. The ground heaved and shuddered. Rebraal pitched forward, turning a forward roll before coming back to a crouch. Elves across the force stopped to look. A ClawBound panther's mournful warning echoed against mountain and valley side.
And there they were. Blinking out of nowhere. Standing still for a few moments before marching downslope, firing as they came. Garonin. Hundreds of them.
'Shields!' yelled Rebraal as the first teardrops tore into the Al-Arynaar. 'Dila, get your mages casting whatever they can. Al-Arynaar, we are attacked. Break and skirmish. Go!'
Explosions ripped up the ground at Rebraal's feet. He hurled himself left and rolled into the lee of a standing stone. Back along the elven line, he saw his brothers and sisters ripped to shreds by the concentration of fire from the Garonin weapons. Blood misted in the air, mingling with the screams of the injured and dying.
He drew his blade.
'How did they find us so soon?'
But there was no one to answer. The TaiGethen were on the attack. A ClawBound elf stood astride a Garonin soldier, plunging his sharpened nails into flesh again and again until the white fire blew his head from his shoulders. Time to fight. Time to die. Rebraal raced up the slope, rage blinding his fear.
'Al-Arynaar. For Tual! For Yniss and for your brothers!'
Rebraal ducked under a Garonin weapon and rammed his sword up and into the neck of his enemy. The man gurgled and collapsed. Rebraal pulled his blade clear. Left, the TaiGethen were too quick for the ponderous Garonin. Elves leapt, spun and kicked at the huge invaders. They dropped, rolled and dodged. Their strikes were fast and deadly.
Bodies littered the valley side. Small fires burned all over. Rebraal ran back into the thickening smoke at the centre of the fight. Ten Al-Arynaar were with him. Once the shock of the appearance of the Garonin force had dissipated, the elves had quickly split to surround their foe. With the TaiGethen leading the way, they had got in amongst the Garonin, making every shot they fired a risk to their own.
Ahead of Rebraal, a stream of teardrops pulsed from a weapon, deluging a pair of Al-Arynaar not quick enough to dive aside. The next instant, a TaiGethen boot had kicked the weapon aside and a jaqrui throwing crescent had lodged in its wielder's helmet. The Garonin fell, the last thing he would have seen, the blade that took him through the eye.
Rebraal ran at a tight knot of Garonin. There were five of them, back to back and tracking elves with their weapons but not firing. Rebraal grunted satisfaction. They were conserving power, no question about it.
'Break up and move in,' said Rebraal. 'Watch them closely. Those weapons will still have plenty in them. Dila. Drop something on them. Anything.'
Dila'heth stopped running and crouched low to begin casting. Rebraal's warriors spread out in a wide arc and closed in, keeping low to the ground and moving fast. All around them weapons still fired. Smoke hung thick over the ground and the screams of the wounded haunted the air.
The enemy saw them coming and weapons were brought to bear. Rebraal prayed to Tual to guide the hands of his warriors and deflect those of his enemies. And then Dila'heth's spell struck. The cone of pure mana rammed into the Garonin. Shielded as they were from many offensive spells, they had little defence against the bludgeoning force Dila sent against them. Three were downed; the other two scrambled left and right to escape a similar fate.
Rebraal sprinted in, calling his warriors to him. They fell on the helpless enemy, leaping to hack and slash at heads and necks. This was close to frenzy and Rebraal did not like the way it felt. He saw the lust in the eyes of some of his warriors. Rebraal stooped to deal a quick killing blow to the last Garonin and stood back.
'Remember who you are,' he said. 'We are Al-Arynaar. Keepers of our faith. Leaders of our people. Fight and fight well.'
He turned to look out over the battlefield. A weapon sounded from close by. Teardrops ripped through a cloud of smoke. He dived left but one caught his right arm, sending him spinning to the ground. His sword fell from his hand and he cried out as a burning pain hit him with nauseating force.
Rebraal clutched his right forearm and brought his hand up to his face where he lay writhing on the ground. His wrist was smashed. The skin was blackened across his hand and down almost to his elbow. He could see gory daylight through the centre of his arm where the teardrop had cut straight through him. The smell of burned flesh clogged his nostrils.
He screamed until the breath left him. And then he dragged in another breath and screamed again. It was like nothing he had ever experienced. A crawling agony that filled his arm and his entire body. He barely felt the comforting hands on him. He could see nothing beyond his ruined limb. A cool palm caressed his forehead and the pain ebbed away.
Rebraal was brought to a sitting position. Dila'heth was in front of him. Behind her, another cone of mana struck the Garonin who had fired, but this time it seemed to slide past him. Yet the adaptation to the spell did not help him. A TaiGethen elf whirled past him, slicing a cut deep into his chest through his shining armour, and a ClawBound panther sprang and tore out his throat.
The valley side was silent but for the breeze blowing the smoke gently away and the cries of those still in pain. Rebraal swallowed and looked at his arm again. He felt sick. The wound, blackened and cauterised, looked even larger than it had the first time. He could not move his fingers and a dull ache was spreading down from his shoulder.
'Oh Dila,' he said. 'Look what they've done to me.'
'You'll be all right,' she said. 'In time. You still have your hand and we can make the nerves regrow. Be strong, Rebraal.'
The Garonin were in full retreat but they had nowhere to go. With the TaiGethen after them, they chose cowardice rather than valour and began to blink out of existence. Dila'heth bent to her task. She whispered words Rebraal could not understand and placed her hand around his wrist.
A moment's intense heat was washed away by a freezing cold that penetrated the wound and spread up his arm, numbing all sensation. Rebraal watched while the blackened, burned skin began to pale at his elbow and recede downwards towards the centre of the wound, turning to a healthy tone.
When he looked back up at her, Dila was done, and the slump in her shoulders and the sweat on her brow told of her efforts. Rebraal could still see the wound clearly enough. It was red raw and the ache was spreading in again. But he had some movement in his hand now.
'It will need bandaging and cleaning. I can do no more. It will heal completely, given time.'
Rebraal rose to his feet and reached out for Dila to help her up. He pulled her into an embrace.
'Tual will reward you every day for all that you have ever done in his service,' he said. 'Walk with me. I will support you.'
But there was to be nowhere to go. A flat harsh sound echoed from the mountains, pressing on the ears. The Garonin attack had been a mere prelude. From within the clouds vydospheres descended gracefully. Four of them in the valley. Rebraal stared back towards the beach and the open sea. He could count another five, hanging above the last remnants of the elven race and waiting to pounce.
Garonin soldiers appeared in their hundreds and thousands. High on the peaks and on both sides of the valley. Elves began to move back down to the centre of the path. TaiGethen and ClawBound set up a perimeter and waited for the attack, yet none appeared imminent.
'They have us,' said Rebraal. 'They must have been tracking us all along.'
'Why don't they attack? Why are they waiting?'
'I really have no idea,' said Rebraal.
'What can we do?'
'At the moment, nothing. They have the numbers to slaughter us before we get close to them. Until the TaiGethen report a weakness, we can do nothing but sit and wait.'
'For what?'
Rebraal looked at her and shrugged. 'The end.'
'Father, you have to make him listen to me,' said Jonas. 'Please, there isn't much time.'
'Jonas, we hear you,' said Densyr. 'But we have to get out of this tower.'
'But you aren't listening.'
'Jonas!' snapped Sol. 'Wait. Let me deal with it.'
Dystran and Densyr were standing over Septern.
'He's dead, isn't he?' said Ilkar.
Densyr nodded. 'A true hero. He saved all of us.'
'Forget the pathos,' said Sol. 'Now we have to find another who can perform the ritual. And we won't do so standing up here in this teetering edifice.'
Densyr straightened. 'You cannot seriously be thinking of going through with your suicide on behalf of the dead? There's no need. We've won.'
'It is a small victory in a war you will still lose,' said Auum. 'You should be listening to Jonas.'
Densyr tensed and bit down on a retort. Instead, he took a moment to calm himself.
'I am listening. But do you not agree that whether the Garonin are gone or merely pausing for breath, we need to get down from this tower with anyone who can stand the trip.'
'Not entirely,' said Dystran, his voice a little distant. 'Right now I am holding the grid from feeding back, just like before. One of us has to stay here until the other reaches the catacombs and can organise a team to dismantle the grid piece by piece.'
Sol spread his hands. 'Fine. You two sort it out amongst yourselves. But the rest of us need to go. This structure is plainly unsafe. And we need to hear from my son about why it isn't over.'
'And where exactly do you think you'll be going?' asked Densyr.
He checked with Dystran that he was acting as buffer safely and rose to face Sol.
'Where I should have gone long before you interfered. I should have listened to Hirad from the start.'
'I shouldn't have to remind you that you are the King of Balaia whether you like it or not and we have just scored a huge victory. What signal does you running west send out, do you think?'
'How about that we are still in massive danger and the king is searching for an escape route should the worst happen.'
Densyr shook his head. 'I cannot let you do that. I cannot have my people deserting this city on a fool's quest for a promised land.'
Sol straightened. He was taller than Densyr by almost a head.
'Your people? Since when did you own them? The days of college fiefdoms are over and have been for hundreds of years. The people will do what they want.'
'I don't think so, Sol.'
'You know, standing here all alone, with your big ally stuck next to the Heart, you are not in a position to demand or expect anything at all.'
Densyr shrugged. 'Go then. We fought well here and there are more fights to come. But if you would rather run, turn your back and flee like a coward, then do so. And take your elves and your dead with you. And the zoo animals. Xetesk needs none of you.'
Sol glanced briefly over his shoulder and stepped right up to Densyr. He could smell the other man's sweat and the taint of ash and dust on his clothes. And the acid reek of mana from recently cast magic.
'You are fortunate my family are in this room,' said Sol quietly. 'Questioning my courage is very, very dangerous. Jonas, what are you doing?'
His eye had been drawn by Jonas leading Diera and young Hirad to the door, what little was left of it.
'Mother said you are posturing and it is pathetic. I just know it won't make any difference who is braver and who stands and fights. They are coming back.'
'Let them come,' said Densyr. 'We have beaten them once already and we will do so again.'
Auum and his Tai fell into place by Sol's family. Sirendor and Thraun picked up Hirad and began a cautious descent with Ilkar walking in front of them. Auum directed Miirt and a rather shaky Ghaal to follow them down the rubble-strewn stairs. The Lord of the TaiGethen paused.
'The proud do not listen to the wise,' he said. 'Their eyes are blind to the path and the only scent in their nostrils is glory. You have done well but you have beaten nobody. Yet here you stand in the ruins of your majesty and claim victory. The proud celebrate alone and fleetingly.'
Auum spun on his heel and was gone, Sol's family following him at his nod of consent.
'I'm sorry it had to end this way,' said Sol.
'We made a fine team,' said Densyr.
'I thought so. Perhaps I was wrong all along.'
'Don't think ill of me, Sol. I have done only what I thought was right.'
Sol sighed and the regret felt heavy enough to slump his shoulders. 'Oh, Densyr, what else can I think?'
Pressure beat down. Crushing. Bowing the shoulders and weakening the knees. It funnelled into the ears and dragged at the eyes. It tightened the throat and sent the heart into arrhythmia. Densyr clutched at his chest and fell to his knees. Sol staggered, gripping on to a fallen timber and trying to look up through the ruined ceiling. He heard someone stumble and fall on the stairs not far below. Wolves whined.
A piercing sound cut through the fog of Sol's consciousness, quickly falling to a low drone and then fading away altogether. The pressure eased. Sol helped Densyr back to his feet. The two men stared at one another for a moment, Sol seeing virgin doubt in Densyr's eyes.