Demonstorm

Chapter 19

Tessaya had had a great deal of time to think since his retreat from Xetesk two years before. In rotation, he had released his warriors to return to the Heartlands on leave and he had allowed himself similar time. He had returned to a land where old tribal tensions had resurfaced in those that had been left behind. And his lack of a victory had done nothing to reaffirm his influence and standing.

Tribal conflict had robbed him of warriors and more than one attempt had been made on his life during his times away from the East. That these attempts had failed reminded him whom the Spirits had chosen to lead the Wesmen to dominion over Balaia.

And so he had been able to keep his counsel during the upheaval and wait for the blood to cool and the tempers of the enraged to ebb. It had not always been easy for his people to be branded cowards in the face of provocation. But he had their unflinching loyalty after so many years of provident rule and he rewarded it again. Once the tribal struggles had burned themselves to mere sparking embers, the Paleon remained the strongest tribe in the Heartlands.

Once again the tribal lords had been driven to kneel to him. Those who had backed the opposition to him had been banished to that place where the spirit would never find rest.

With the Heartlands at relative peace and with those he trusted most ruling the tribes he most feared, he could turn his mind once again to conquest of the East. And for the first time he wondered if it would be truly possible. Mages he could wear down. Mere men he could defeat by force of arms and courage. But he had no weapon against the demons.

Worse, if they defeated the eastern mages, they could eventually threaten him and his people. It was a curious paradox. On the one

side, he had travelled back from the mage lands knowing that the rule of magic on Balaia was finally at an end. Yet on trie other, he had confronted an adversary of which die Spirits themselves were scared. He had no reason to suspect that they would attempt to invade the Heartlands but there was trouble among the dead and he had no way to calm it.

Tessaya was sitting outside his farmhouse under a porch of woven thatch that kept away the heat of the sun* as it climbed into early afternoon. It had been hot this late spring and they had been concerned about the survival of their main crop. It had been fortunate that hostilities among the tribes had concluded with enough time to see irrigation organised, the crops saved and starvation averted.

Around him, his small village was alive. A hundred farmsteads grouped in concentric circles with his at their hub. Young animals ran free in their paddocks, wheat, corn and potato crops burgeoned and swayed in the cooling breeze. Children laughed, men and women put their backs to their work.

From the small stone temple that was the spiritual centre of every Wesmen settlement, Tessaya watched his ancient Shaman, Arnoan, bustle towards him. Across the dirt road that separated their buildings he came. Tessaya called his wife and asked for more pressed fruit and spice juice. The old man would be out of breath at the rate he approached.

Arnoan was red in the face by the time he had crossed the short distance. Tessaya pulled up a chair for him and helped him up the few steps onto his porch.

'Sit, sit before you fall,' he said.

Arnoan, dressed in the heavy cream robes of his office despite the weather, waved him back to his own seat.

'It is not me you have to be concerned about, Tessaya.'

He was the only man whom Tessaya allowed to use his name without prefix, and then only in private.

'You have received wisdom, my Shaman?' He handed Arnoan the cup of juice his wife had poured. The Shaman gulped at it gratefully. The remaining wisps of his pure white hair blew about his head and the spotted skin on his face lightened visibly as he cooled. He

regarded Tessaya with those sunken grey eyes that the Wesmen lord had long thought were years past death.

'How long ago was it? That the dragons came from the stain in the sky and you told me you had no need of spirits?'

Tessaya chuckled. 'You have a long memory, old man.'

'And I know how the world turns, Tessaya. And the problems you face are far more severe than any you have faced thus far.'

Tessaya raised his eyebrows. 'Really? How so?'

'Tell me. Do you truly believe in the strength of the Spirits?'

'They have influence over the hearts and minds of the Wesmen,' he conceded. 'They are wise and have helped us in difficult times past.'

'And if they were no longer there, my Lord, what then?'

'Then we would have to seek our path in this world without the guidance of our dead,' said Tessaya after a pause.

'No, Tessaya. Because there would be no path for us. The demons would take it from us.'

Tessaya laughed but he felt a moment's anxiety. 'They cannot touch us. The Easterners are weak and their souls are taken easily. Ours not so.'

Arnoan leaned forward and gripped Tessaya's arm hard. 'We only resist because the Spirits protect us, you know that.'

'And they always will.' Tessaya looked down at Arnoan's hand. The Shaman did not relax his hold.

'Should the demons defeat the East, they can strike west or south without opposition. They desire passage to the Spirit world from this one.'

'How?'

'That I don't know but the Spirits believe they will find it here. And should they succeed we are all forfeit to them on a whim.'

Tessaya shook his head. 'This is madness. How can the demons threaten the dead? The heat has upset your reason.'

'Perhaps it has, Tessaya.' Arnoan let go his grip and fell back into his chair. The weave creaked. 'After all, I am just an old man overdue to join them, am I not?'

'Maybe you are. I would not be tempted to think so if you made sense.'

T can do no more than issue the warning that I have been given. The contact is never transparent, Tessaya, you know that.'

Tessaya threw up his hands. 'But isn't it part of the Shaman's art to decipher the jumble they receive?'

'And it is a miracle we understand as much as we do.'

'Tell me what it is you must.'

'You must prepare, Lord Tessaya. A battle is coming and help will appear from an unbidden angle.'

'Is that it?' Tessaya pushed a hand through his hair.

'The Spirits are in ferment, Tessaya. They fear the invaders and so should you. They have to be repelled. All I know is that you will not be alone in your struggle.'

During the night that followed, Tessaya slept little. His mind was plagued by visions he could not begin to understand. He did not know whether it was the Spirits who talked to him or if it was his own mind churning over Arnoan's words. When morning came, he could not deny that the Shaman had shaken him, but he had no answers.

He went to the temple to pray before returning to the East and Xetesk.

It was a sight that no dragon had ever thought to see. Not Skoor, Veret, Gost, or Stara. And least of all Kaan or Naik. A sight that would have fired the breath of the ancients. But so it happened and word of mouth did so much more than their entreaties ever could.

Sha-Kaan and Yasal-Naik, flying wing to wing. Allied if not friends. Carrying a simple message. A plea.

The Great Kaan's feelings were mixed. The cessation of hostilities between the two mightiest broods of Beshara was a triumph but left him deeply dissatisfied in spirit. He knew Yasal would be feeling the same. Both would have preferred the other's capitulation and extinction. So it was with warring broods.

Yet linked to his deep-seated unease, Sha-Kaan could not shift the feeling that he had embarked on a task of soaring magnitude. A task that would secure, if it was successful, the survival of dragons. Which broods would prosper beyond that survival, he could not begin to guess.

'Does it not concern you, Sha-Kaan, that broods might pledge

their support then not deliver it when the time came? It would leave such broods with an overwhelming advantage in Beshara.'

Sha-Kaan regarded Yasal with his left eye. The pair were flying south across the great ocean, the aquatic Brood Veret their destination. For this meeting they had no need of escort and flew unaccompanied in the upper thermals.

'It is something I had assumed you would consider, Yasal,' he said, not unkindly. 'Indeed I would have been disappointed if you had not. But it is exactly that which we must counter in the minds of the brood leaders.'

'Might they not also consider this an elaborate ruse on our part to gain dominion?'

'Yasal, if you still harbour such issues yourself, then speak them openly, not from behind another's mouth.'

Yasal grumbled in his throat. 'Not all of my brood believe you. None of them trust you even as far as I have chosen to do for now. How will you. .we, answer them?'

Sha-Kaan sighed. 'It is simple. I will lead by example and so will you. All but those who must remain in my Broodlands will fly with me. There will be no defence because there is no point. My brood will go first to the battle. If others choose not to follow but remain to destroy my home then they will be killing themselves for the briefest satisfaction. That is my belief and I back it with the lives of all those I rule. This is not a gamble. If we are not together, we will all perish.'

Yasal-Naik said nothing but Sha-Kaan caught die change of scent on the breeze and saw the deferential tip of his wings.

'I need you by me, Yasal-Naik.'

'I will be there, Great Kaan.'

Below them, the bass-throated calls of the Veret floated up to them and they began their descent towards the ocean.

By the time The Raven were called to dinner, Blackthorne had regained his composure. They sat around one end of the grand banqueting table in the central hall of the castle to eat. The tapestries still depicted glorious deeds past; the arches still flew to balconied heights and the fires roared in nearby grates to ease the chill of

evening. But in every other way, this was most unlike the celebration of a meeting of old friends.

They could not spare the candles for anything more than light by which to eat. The kitchen duty staff brought through the meagre platters themselves-, and the quiet of the castle told them everything about the paucity of people Blackthorne had at his disposal.

In front of him, Hirad saw green vegetables, a sprinkling of chicken, and potatoes. Not exactly a Blackthorne feast of old but a step up from the broth he was assured they ate most other times. Still, they all had enough to satisfy them. And while they ate, they talked.

Blackthorne's eyes gleamed dark in the candlelight and his expression was set with a grim smile.

'This feast you enjoy is in honour of the return of The Raven,' he said. 'And the elves we are humbled to count among our friends. But for the life of me, I have absolutely no idea why it is you are here.'

'News, advice and weapons,' said Darrick.

'Yes, but really,' replied Blackthorne. 'Plenty of stories have surfaced as you might expect. We are led to believe you slaves to the demons; mastering the resistance; living with dragons; and hiding on Calaius. It is clearly none of these.'

Hirad took a long sip of his vintage and quite exquisite Blackthorne red.

'Until recently, Baron, the latter was the most accurate,' he said. 'But I would like to correct the man who claimed we were hiding.'

T feel he would be in need of some of The Unknown's famous administrative guidance,' said Denser.

A chuckle ran round the table. Even Blackthorne allowed a smile.

'Oh, I have no doubt that hiding was the very last thing you were doing.' His face sobered. 'What concerns me is why you are here now. Don't misunderstand me, your arrival has brought new hope to everyone here but, well, this was already a desperate situation you were well away from. Why put yourselves in it? Have events turned further for the worse?'

The Unknown told him everything they knew. For Hirad, every time he heard it, he doubted that little bit more that Balaia would survive. Blackthorne listened without interrupting a single time. But

as the enormity of the crisis was revealed to him, he sagged visibly, scratched at his grey-flecked beard and chewed his lip.

A silence broken only by the unnaturally loud sounds of cutlery on crockery followed The Unknown's summary. When at last Blackthorne spoke, there was a weariness in his voice. It described so eloquently the slow crushing of his spirit since the demons had invaded.

'I'd always believed we were doing more than simply existing. For two seasons we even made ground. Tortuously slowly, but we made it. Took back some of those the demons had taken from us. Some even got to sleep in their own beds again.' He paused, memories replaying. 'But we paid every time. They killed our friends in revenge for everyone we took. Just as they will do tonight. And every time, we all die a little more but we can't let them see it.

'Strange, but we actually felt we were winning the fight. We wouldn't let ourselves see it, I suppose. How could we afford to? Not even when we reached the limits of our ColdRoom capability. Even when it became obvious that we couldn't help anyone still outside without losing as many as we saved.

'Still we waited, though. And worked and planned and thought. And hoped. Just that others were resisting. It had to be true or we'd have been overwhelmed. But after another season or more we heard nothing. We sent out brave souls who never returned. We risked our mages in linked Communion. But we had to carry on hoping. What other choice was there? For us, for our friends outside, slaves and prey to demons.

'Do you know how hard it is to lift the spirit of everyone you meet on the days that your own is beaten to nothing?'

Blackthorne stopped. He took a long, measured drain of his wine. His guests did not twitch a muscle. Barely even blinked. Beside him, Luke gazed at him transfixed with pure adoration. Blackthorne looked across at him and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. Luke dropped his gaze to the table.

'We have known such despair. Looking out at misery from our own prison. Waiting for the end in whatever guise it came. We go hungry. We are sick so often. The weakest we buried a long time ago. Women are barren, their men impotent. Eggs are laid sour. Livestock is diseased. Milk yield is almost nothing. We are dwindling

slowly, though we try to pretend it isn't happening. All those bastards really have to do is wait for us to die but of course we're no good to them dead, are we?

'And then you come from a blue morning and for a moment, we are reborn. Feel the energy from our victory if you will! But the reality is that we lost four mages and seven soldiers bringing you in and now I've heard you I'm not sure whether you are here as our saviours or to read us our last letters before death.'

His eyes glittered as they welled up.

'I want so much to believe you can save us. Can you really?' It ended as a hoarse whisper.

Hirad looked around the table. At Auum who would have understood only snatches but who reflected the mood in his eyes. At Thraun who took it all in without a flicker of emotion but who he knew would be replaying the run in here as a wolf and living the nightmare afresh. At Denser on whose shoulder Erienne rested her head, the two of them reflecting Blackthorne's pain as if it were their own. At Darrick whose eyes displayed fierce determination and the indomitable spirit that made him such a leader of men. The spirit that Blackthorne would never let fail while he was with his own people. And finally at The Unknown who understood the Baron perhaps better than any of them. He nodded at Hirad.

'Tell him,' he said and the ghost of a smile touched his lips. 'You know. In your own words.'

Hirad knew exactly what he wanted to say. He wasn't exacdy sure how it would come out but he was certain he'd get his meaning across.

'The only reason we are here is because men like you never give up on what you believe. You remind us of us. And that means we can win, but only because you're behind us, fighting all the way.

'Baron, outside of The Raven, you are the bravest man I know and we need you to help us. Every demon you kill makes our job more possible. Every demon you occupy here is one less that can strike north, and so you help the colleges to survive, and survive they must.

'Everything you have done has been right. You've got people who love you and will die for you. You and I know how valuable that is. And there will be others like you. There must be resistance in Korina

and the Baronies. Baron Gresse is surely still alive — he'll be taking this as a personal insult. But everyone has to believe like The Raven do that these bastards can be destroyed. If you let go that hope for a moment, we are all lost.

'Look around this table, Baron. Do you see anyone who doubts that we will eventually triumph? This is our land. And no one is going to take it from us.'

Blackthorne did look around. He searched all of their faces carefully. Hirad could see it in Blackthorne's face. This wasn't any sort of bravado. He absolutely had to know.

'When you say it, it all sounds so simple,' he said.

'He does simple very well,' said Denser.

There was a burst of laughter. Hirad pointed a finger at the Xeteskian.

'Now that was almost worthy of Ilkar.'

'I'm honoured you think so.'

'You should be.'

The Unknown held up a hand for peace.

'All right,' he said. 'Down to business. Baron, we wouldn't be here if we didn't think we could turn this around. I've left my family behind and I will see them again.'

'Of course,' said Blackthorne. 'Now, what is it you need from me?'

'Later, Darrick will need to visit the armoury for weaponry but right now, there are two things. First, you've fought and studied the demons for two years now. Anything you can tell us, no matter how insignificant, could help. Not necessarily now and not necessarily you. Throw it open to your warriors, mages, everyone. Anyone can approach any of us with information.'

'No problem,' said Blackthorne. 'Luke, handle that for me, will you?'

Luke nodded. 'Now?'

'Time is short,' said The Unknown.

Blackthorne smiled at Luke's retreating figure. The young man was upright, confident and full of energy despite everything.

'I don't know what I'd do without him to run the place.'

'He's why you can't ever give up,' said Hirad.

'I know. Now, you said there were two things?'

'Yes. Well, clearly the demons feel they have us trapped. So we need a way out.' The Unknown had the decency to look apologetic.

'Now there I can help you. As you know, our cellars are particularly extensive and we've extended them further.' He allowed a smile. 'Actually, we've built quite a network of tunnels to exit points beyond our ColdRooms, like I'm sure anyone else still holding out must have done. We rotate their use and close sections from time to time and as it happens have just completed another. You could be its first users. When do you want to leave?'

'Good question,' said The Unknown. 'Short answer is, soon. More helpfully, I think it rather depends on how we all feel tomorrow, Thraun in particular.'

T can run,' said Thraun.

'We may need more than that, old son,' said Hirad.

'Ideally, we'd like to leave tomorrow night. There's a favourable tide early the next morning and we should be on it,' said The Unknown.

'It'll give us time to sort out a few things for you,' said Darrick. 'We've been working on some tactics I can adapt for you.'

'Well, it'll give our warriors something to tell their grandchildren, won't it? Taught batde tactics by General Darrick of The Raven,' said Blackthorne.

'And the more they listen, the more likely it is they'll actually be able to relate it,' said Darrick. 'I'll need them in squads of twenty or thirty or it'll get too ungainly.'

'I'll see it's organised for you. Or rather, Luke will.'

'There is one more thing,' said The Unknown.

'Really. That makes three, doesn't it?' Blackthorne was smiling a litde more easily now.

'He never was too good with numbers,' explained Hirad.

'Gods drowning, hark at that,' said Erienne, stirring herself from Denser's shoulder. She looked very tired. Her eyes were a little sunken but they still held their mischievous spark. 'The barbarian looking down on another's numeracy.'

'Isn't it time you turned in?' said Hirad. 'I'm sure you and Cleress have much to talk about.'

'I don't think she can hear me, Hirad,' said Erienne, sobering. 'I can't feel her in my mind.'

Hirad frowned. 'But I thought. .?'

'I was on Herendeneth for two years, Hirad. I wasn't tending the garden all that time. I learned things.' Erienne's tone was testy, impatient. 'I can hold it back without her now. It's hard but I can do it.'

'What else?' he asked.

'The rest we'll just have to wait and see, won't we? You'll know if I do it wrong, that's for sure.'

Hirad shook his head. T don't understand.'

'No, Hirad, you don't.' Erienne rose and moved towards the doors of the hall, all eyes on her. 'You don't know what it's like to go to sleep at night and wonder what state your mind will be in when you wake. You'll never have to experience the dread of using a magic you barely comprehend and that has the capacity to destroy you utterly. And you'll never once wonder, when you uncap the power, if the casting you make will help the people you love the most or instead kill them in an instant. That's me, Hirad. Me.'

Hirad listened to her footsteps echoing away towards the stairs to their two small rooms; all that Blackthorne could spare.

'Sorry, Denser. I didn't mean. .'

'It's all right,' said the Xeteskian. 'She's finding it difficult right now. When she gets used to Cleress not being there, I'm sure she'll be less moody.'

'Sure?'

Denser looked squarely at him and sighed. 'Actually, Hirad, I haven't got a clue. That's the most she's said about the One for ten days. I think you might even have done me a favour.'

'We're all here for her, you know,' said Hirad, feeling guilt grip his heart.

'She knows that. But sometimes I think she's so alone in her mind that not even we can be of any real use. That's hard.'

'Here,' said Blackthorne, pushing the decanter across the table. 'Fill your glasses. I don't pretend to understand any of what I've just heard so I'm going to change the subject in as obvious a fashion as I can muster.'

He waited for all their glasses to be charged then lifted his. The crystal caught the candlelight and the smooth red liquid within danced and sparkled.

'I'd rather Erienne were here but still, there's always tomorrow. To The Raven. To mankind across Balaia and to the endless support of the elven nation. May we all live to look back on this when we're old and infirm.'

They drank. It didn't ease Hirad's sense of guilt about Erienne and what he had forced her to reveal but it did lighten the mood.

'So,' said Blackthorne. 'What was this third thing?'

'It's a difficult one,' said The Unknown. 'There's something we're going to need you to consider very carefully. It may never come to this but if it does, you'll receive a message, I promise you that.'

'Go on.'

'It's something you must do. You must make contingency for abandoning Blackthorne and for travelling north to Xetesk with everyone you can save.'

Blackthorne's glass had paused midway to his lips. 'Gods drowned, Unknown, why?'

'Because if we don't make it, it could be the only chance the rest of you have to give the demons one final bloody nose. Now, I know you say you've heard nothing from any other pockets of resistance. But not all of your scouts have failed to return, surely?'

Blackthorne smiled. 'There are always methods of getting information. I'll tell you what I know.'