'So be it,' he said. 'So be it.' He stretched full length across the warm wet floor of Wingspread and opened his mind to search for his new Dragonene.
It was an hour after noon on a day that had chilled as the sun fled west over the Blackthorne Mountains and cloud bubbled up on the prevailing south-easterly wind. In their sheltered space, The Raven had slept, enjoying the gentle warmth of the stove. The Unknown had watched without break while even Thraun slept, his flank a pillow for the anxious Will's head.
Shortly after midday, Erienne had conducted a Communion, making contact with the refugee mage in the hills to the north of Julatsa. The spell had been relatively short and, as Erienne opened her eyes, Ilkar could see that she didn't know whether to smile or frown. It was a while before she could meet Ilkar's eye.
'Are you stable?' asked Ilkar. Communion, or rather the breaking of it, left channelled mana suddenly without focus but lying still in the mind. Its return to a more normal randomised state sometimes disoriented both caster and contact.
Erienne nodded and gave Denser a little smile. He smoothed some hair that had fallen over her face back behind her ear. Her smile broadened at the small show of affection.
'The College is still standing. The Heart is still intact,' she said and paused. 'I'm not sure which order to say this in.'
'Does the mage know how many Wesmen are in and around Julatsa?' asked The Unknown.
'Yes,' said Erienne, glad for direction. 'She, that is Pheone, says that somewhere around ten thousand Wesmen are occupying Julatsa and erecting a stockade to defend it. They have reinforced since the initial victory and further tented areas to the west hold about five thousand. They haven't yet moved south-east towards Dordover.'
'And what about those who escaped into the hills?' The Unknown ladled himself a mug of coffee.
'They've been ignored so far, Pheone thinks, because the College is still resisting.'
Ilkar felt at once proud and devastated. His city, occupied by invaders; his people, those who escaped, forced to scavenge in the hills. But his College somehow stood against the tide.
'There's more,' said Erienne. 'There are knots of Julatsans all around the city, hiding in the hills and woodlands. She doesn't know how many though a group to the south-east intercepted the Dordovan force that Darrick mentioned, over three thousand foot and cavalry, and stopped their scouts running into the Wesmen lines.'
'So, there is a military leader out there,' said The Unknown. 'Did Pheone say anything about an organised attack being planned?'
'I'm surprised there hasn't already been an assault,' said Hirad. 'Surely they can talk to the mages left inside the College and set up something.'
'No, because no one can talk to the College,' replied Erienne. 'Besides, it's tough to co-ordinate disparate groups all around the city. Communion isn't that easy.'
'Well, why can't anyone Commune with Julatsa?' Ilkar's heart raced. 'Is she sure the Wesmen haven't taken it.'
'Yes, she's certain, because they have magical protection which blocks Communion.' She drew in breath deeply. 'Ilkar, they've erected a DemonShroud.'
'A what?' asked Hirad.
'Gods in the sky, have they really?' said Ilkar, eyes widening in surprise. And now he'd been told, the solution was obvious as the only one that could keep at bay an army of fifteen thousand, no matter how great their fear of magic. But with the knowledge that the Wesmen could not hope to enter the College while the Shroud remained, came the connected problem. Ilkar quickly outlined the workings of the Shroud before giving voice to the issue of which both Erienne and Denser were already aware.
'So how in all the hells do we get in?' demanded Hirad.
'We don't, not until the Shroud is dropped,' replied Ilkar.
'I'd worked that bit out,' said Hirad, tapping his head. 'It isn't hot like yours but it does go round. I mean, when and if the Shroud is dropped, how do we beat ten thousand Wesmen into the Library?'
'We don't,' said The Unknown. 'We have to get them away from the College before that happens. I know that sounds ridiculous but we've got ourselves, God knows how many Julatsans aching for revenge and three thousand professional soldiers, and the Wesmen don't even seem to realise it. There's time enough because the Shade isn't growing that fast and I think we could make something work for us.'
'Really? What exactly?' Denser wasn't alone in his scepticism. But The Unknown didn't have time to explain. The Dark Mage grunted and shook his head. 'Communion,' he said, frowning. 'It's Delyr, I think.' He lay down and closed his eyes to accept the contact from Parve.
It was a contact that would change everything.
Chapter 17.
The Council Chamber was bleak and cold. Outside the College, an eerie silence had fallen. Two men lay dead, dozens would have wounds and Kard had placed instant curfew on the courtyard and grounds. Every non-essential person, was confined inside and the guard on certain doors - two of the Long Rooms in particular - was heavy.
A cordon, eighty strong, secured the base of the Tower and for the first time the remaining guard on the walls looked inward, not out.
Barras, his heart heavy, anticipated, as they all did, the battle that would ensue inside the walls if they kept up the Shroud. He didn't like it and, despite the knowledge of the College's demise, could see the fight couldn't be allowed to happen.
'Why won't they understand?' Endorr was frustrated.
'Where's your family, Endorr?' countered Cordolan, his usual jovial face a distant memory.
'You know I have no family.'
'Then you can never understand why they don't understand.' Cordolan steepled his hands.
'Why?'
'Because your family are not dying while you live unmarked inside these walls. The people you love the best are not in the game of chance for sacrifice. Your greatest terrors for your brothers, sisters and parents are not unfolding before your eyes.'
'The point, Endorr, is this,' said Barras. 'We can no longer presume to uphold the College in the face of so much slaughter. I believed, as no doubt did you, that the College and Julatsan magic were more important than life. They are not. I also didn't believe Senedai would carry out his threat or would stop after one show of bravado. I was wrong.
'I saw the faces of those who died today and the anger of those who confronted us. Unless you are blind, you must see we cannot let this slaughter continue.'
'That is a considerable change of opinion,' said Seldane. 'Not that long ago, we sat here with General Kard and agreed that nothing, not even life, was as important as maintaining the College.'
'Yes, and pious, grossly insensitive and morally indefensible it was too,' said Barras.
'We cannot suffer the College to fall,' said Torvis. 'We cannot see Julatsan magic die. The imbalance in power will destabilise the whole of Balaia.'
'We can bury the Heart,' said Kerela. 'Our life will always beat.'
'Why bother? If we lose the Mana Bowl, The Tower and the Library, we are so much lessened. What does the Heart do but give us a spiritual centre for our magic? It is our books, our architecture and our places of deepest solemnity that make us Julatsan mages. Vital though it is, the Heart is just one of them.' Seldane shook her head.
'If we do nothing, there will be battle inside these walls and I will not have Julatsans spill one another's blood in my College.' Kerela's eyes held an uncompromising power, just as her tears had told of the depth of her pain.
'If we step outside these walls, we will be killed and any non-mage enslaved. I fail to see the purpose of walking into their hands and leaving the College to their mercy,' said Vilif.
'One thing we will not be doing is rolling over, let me assure you of that,' said Kerela.
'If we fight them, we will lose,' said Seldane. 'We can exist here until help arrives.'
'It's not going to!' snapped Kerela, thumping her hand on the table. 'Do you still not see what should have been obvious right from the start? While the Shroud remains, no one will come to our aid. We have erected an impenetrable barrier. We are safe. No one knows what is happening in here and I tell you something, if I was a Dordovan, I wouldn't be rushing on to Wesmen swords with no guarantee of help from those I was supposed to be rescuing. Would you?'
There was a knock on the door and Kard entered. He looked harassed, sweat beading his face which was red and vein-shot.
'Your arrival is most opportune,' said Kerela. 'Please, take a drink, sit yourself down and tell us what is happening out there.'
Kard nodded, grateful for a moment's respite. He unhooked his cloak and draped it over the back of his chair, filled a crystal glass with water and sat down, exhaling loudly. He drained his glass and set it down gently, a more natural colour already returning to his face.
'I'm too old for this,' he said. An embryonic chuckle ran around the table.
'That applies to most of us here,' said Vilif. The General smiled briefly.
'All right, we've put back the cork for now but I can't keep it there indefinitely. These people are not our prisoners, they are not disarmed and they outnumber my soldiers two to one, though that is small concern because we will not fight them hand to hand. Not if a decision, the right decision, comes from this room before noon. We have to stop Senedai's killing.'
'What would you have us do, General?' asked Seldane, her tone terse.
'Remove the Shroud-'
'And leave us open for slaughter just like that?' Endorr was incensed.
'No, young idiot,' snarled Kard, his demeanour changed suddenly, his voice hard, military. 'The College Guard of Julatsa will never leave us open for slaughter or these buildings at their mercy. Save your sharp tongue for your spells.'
'Kard, be calm,' said Barras, reaching out a hand towards the General. 'We are all under great pressure.'
Kard nodded and straightened his uniform tunic.
'A number of events must happen in quick succession if we are to buy the time we need. And much of it falls on the mages in the first instance. If I might make my recommendations without interruption? '
Kerela smiled. 'I think we can agree to that.'
'Good, good.' Kard shot a sharp glance in the direction of Endorr. 'It is my belief that the Dordovans are hidden, probably half a day's ride or more from the city, and also probably in contact with escaped Julatsans. If they aren't, we'll fail.
'After the Shroud is dropped, mages need to complete two tasks the moment the Wesmen raise the alarm as they undoubtedly will. First, Communion to establish contact with anyone who will hear but particularly the Dordovans. We will need them and anyone else who is out there and armed to hit the rear of the Wesmen lines. We may be able to hold them alone for a couple of days, but we may not.
'Second, I need that bastard moving tower destroyed. I don't care how it's done but it'll provide access as well as vision once the Shroud goes.' He paused, refilled his glass and drank.
'My soldiers are ready drilled for their positions and I need your permission to set mage defence around the walls. Lastly, Barras, I need you to speak to Senedai. Tell him we're going to come out in three days. See if you can delay any more of this senseless death. That's all.'
'You want to break out in three days?' asked Torvis.
'No, two. But I don't want the Wesmen ready to receive us. Every moment we buy is precious.'
'We should drop the Shroud at night, then, when there are fewer of them to see it go,' said Endorr.
'Absolutely,' agreed Kard. 'I was thinking of the dark before the dawn. Remember, we don't want to spark trouble in the middle of the night because the Dordovans will be sleeping too. We shouldn't bring down the tower until the Wesmen realise the Shroud is gone. Again, should that buy us an hour in which to mobilise the Dordovans, it could be critical.'
'But this doesn't change the fact that we are surrendering the College,' said Seldane. Kard turned his head and looked long at her.
'My Lady, I have no intention of surrendering this College.'
'So why are we dropping the Shroud for which, I remind you, Deale gave his life?' demanded Endorr.
'Because the time has come again to fight for our freedom. And to gamble that help will arrive. And if the times become desperate again, we can bury the Heart. Julatsa will beat life until we can reclaim it,' said Kard.
'But surely you don't believe we can win?' Endorr's scepticism was written in a sneer all over his face.
'Young man, I never start a battle I believe I can't win. You've seen the energy out there. If we channel it right, and if the help outside the city hits the rear of the Wesmen lines, we can win.'
'Thank you, Kard,' said Kerela. 'I suggest that you and Barras speak to Senedai. We will stay here and discuss the division of mages for your tasks.'
As he and Kard walked, under guard, to the North Gate, Barras could feel the tension in the silent College. In the wood and steel tower, which currently stood overlooking the Long Rooms, half a dozen Wesmen leaned on the parapet, monitoring their movement with only passing interest.
'You should have been a Negotiator, General,' said Barras, a wry smile on his face. 'You're almost as good a liar as I am.'
'I'm sure I don't know what you mean.' Kard fixed his gaze straight ahead but Barras saw the twitching of his lip.
'Outside these walls, there must be ten thousand heavily armed and focused Wesmen. Inside, we have seven hundred soldiers, a few hundred angry men and fewer than two hundred mages. What do you think I mean?'
'Actually, with our estimates of their ability to reinforce, there could be as many as twenty thousand Wesmen out there.'
'And do you really believe the Dordovans are waiting for a sign? Surely they'll have been recalled once Julatsa fell.'
'No, I'd say they were still there somewhere. There just aren't enough of them.'
'So how long can we hold them off?' asked Barras.
Kard shrugged. 'Hard to say. Realistically, perhaps three days but it could be over in one if our spirit crumbles.'
'But you don't think we can win?'
Kard laughed, clapped Barras on the back with one hand and pulled open the door to the North Gate tower with the other.
'I may be old, but I am not senile. I strongly suggest you place your most valuable texts in the Heart prior to burial,' he said and gestured at the stairs. 'After you.'
Lords Blackthorne and Gresse arrived at the southern port of Gyernath too late to lend their ramshackle forces of soldiers and farmers to the battle but not to the clear-up. And as Blackthorne directed his men to their tasks, he felt a sense of relief despite the destruction and death all around them.
They had seen the fires while they were still over a day's march away, an orange glow blooming over the mountains which marked the northern reaches of Gyernath's boundaries. He and Gresse had feared the worst then, could see the sacking of the port and the routing of her army in their minds' eyes and with it, the extinguishing of their still embryonic hopes for victory.
But Gyernath had survived, the remnants of the Wesmen force scattering back towards Blackthorne. The attack had been expected, some of Blackthorne's people had brought warning, and the days of preparation they had been granted had proved the difference.
For eight days, Gyernath had repulsed the waves of Wesmen from both land and sea, eventually breaking the Wesmen spirit as parts of the old port burned and their mage strength dwindled. They had not had to suffer the Shamen's white or black fires like Julatsa but their toll had been heavy nonetheless.
Gyernath's army had lost half of its military and reservist strength to death or injury. Barely a man walked without bearing some sort of wound. And the mages, ruthlessly targeted wherever the Wesmen pierced the line, now numbered less than one hundred.
For Blackthorne, though the salvation of the port was magnificent, it meant he could not hope to take the strength he wanted to attempt the reclamation of his town.
'On the other hand, Blackthorne will be emptier of Wesmen than we expected,' said Gresse, standing at the Baron's shoulder, a dull ache and occasional fuzzy vision all that remained of his heavy concussion.
'That rather depends on how many of this Wesmen force came from Blackthorne and how many directly across the Bay,' said Blackthorne.
'Always the pessimist,' said Gresse.