Demonstorm

Chapter 22

Auum looked across at the borders of Julatsa from the deep cover of dense heather and the dark of night. So much for the complete overrunning of Balaia by the demons. They had seen very little activity in the outlands and though the air was cold with the flood of mana, the demons were certainly content to concentrate on the major population centres. And this was after two years of invasion.

Of course, it could be that they had swept up any outlying villages and towns and driven the people into the cities. It was no concern of Auum's. All he knew was that he had to get the five of them into the college unseen. He had to nudge from his mind the disbelief that he was here and trying to get into the college for a second time. On his return to the rainforests of Calaius, he had sworn never to leave his shores again. And again it was humans who had caused him to travel north. Enough.

'Thoughts,' he said.

'Baron Blackthorne is certain all the colleges operate tunnel systems to keep their supply lines open, such as they are,' said Rebraal. 'One thing we do know is that they won't be hidden magically.'

Auum nodded. 'Then we can search using the old ways. An unexpected pleasure. Eilaan. Prepare nothing. Just follow. Rebraal, be with him. Tai, we move.'

Julatsa was a quiet city. Barring the circle of light and life that signified the college itself, precious little illumination punctured the darkness. Away to the south of the city, some lights burned from windows in what looked like long, low warehouse structures, and ahead of them lanterns bobbed on poles, lighting a group of people on their journey back into the city. Above them, demons hovered, watching. None of the slaves made any noise whatever.

They were returning to the city from the farmed fields that stretched left and right in a ring that disappeared around the city and presumably encircled it.

'Look for the signs of passage. Elven not human,' whispered Auum. 'Spread five paces and sweep.'

The TaiGethen leader brought his people quickly to the edge of the fields. The crops were whole and hearty, apparently untroubled by the air temperature. Thick stalks of corn jostled in the breeze. Root crops grew well in ordered banked rows, their leaves strong and broad.

Auum paused, listening to the ebb and flow of the wind. He could hear the diminishing echoes of demon calls and sporadic cries from young, scared mouths. Dying away slowly. Like Balaia.

He waved his Tai on towards a low barn set between two corn fields, aiming to skirt it to its far side and approach the college from the north. To his right, he could just make out Duele's progress through the stalks. Behind him, Rebraal and Eilaan kept as quiet as they were able. Left, Evunn had paused. Signalling stop, Auum joined him in the deep shadow cast by the barn.

Evunn pointed at three tiny holes in one of the timbers. They sat below a timber split and splintered by arrow strikes. Only a rainforest elf would have understood their significance.

'Hope or expectation?' whispered Evunn.

'Good habits,' replied Auum. 'And Yniss brought you here to find them.' He touched Evunn's shoulder. 'We have direction.'

A sharp wave of the hand and the elves moved off again, a little faster now. Entering the first streets of Julatsa, silence fell abruptly, the wind broken by a high stone courtyard wall. Auum paused briefly, cupped a hand to his ear and put a finger across his mouth for the benefit of the Al-Arynaar. Here, the merest sound could be heard streets away.

Twenty yards ahead, Evunn had found another marker, this time mere grazes on the wooden wall of a dark empty house. Further into the city, the lights of the college burned unnaturally bright, casting a halo over the surrounding buildings.

Auum indicated he turn into a side alley away from the wan wash of light. They continued on, veering right, further north of the college. Elves had been busy everywhere. The tiny marks were visible on buildings and brazier stands, on windows and the bark of trees.

They were taken in a lazy curve that would end near the college and, Auum presumed, a tunnel entrance. He resisted the temptation to run, hard though it was. Not just the muted stench of human civilisation insulted his senses but the insidious evil of the cursyrd that pervaded everything, even the air he breathed.

Leading them through a network of tight-packed houses, Auum picked up a faint scratching sound ahead and left. He held up his hand. Behind him movement ceased and the silence closed around him. Even he could not discern without looking that any others stood behind him. He angled his palm left and held out his index finger. Moments later, he felt Duele's breath on his neck.

The scratching echoed faintly in the cramped space. The passages they travelled were narrow enough in places that their shoulders all but grazed the damp, moss-covered stone and timber either side. In hunter's stance, Auum paced deliberately towards the opening in the left. His weight was slightly forward, short blade in hand, his feet probing the ground ahead each pace.

In this city of shadows and silence, it might have been a rat but his instincts told him otherwise. The sound was too ordered. He edged his head slowly around the opening. Crouched facing die right-hand wall, the cursyrd was dragging a piece of flint repeatedly over the same foot-long section of stone wall. It was completely rapt in its task, oblivious to the world around it.

Auum frowned. One reason for its action came immediately to mind. It would have to be stopped. Auum reached back and touched Duele, never taking his eyes from the slim, wingless creature he guessed would be about his height if it stood up straight. It had a small head on wiry shoulders and a covering of fine hair. Little apparent muscle and a solid dark hue were strange make-up for the cursyrd; surely a lesser creature in their hierarchy.

Duele could see the cursyrd now. Auum pointed to himself then at the target. He tapped his leg, indicated the target again and finally Duele. The Tai nodded his understanding.

In the next instant, Auum had sprung, landing square on the cursyrd, driving it flat to the ground face down, one of his hands clamped across its mouth. A beat later and Duele had pinned its legs

down. It tried to bite, shout and scratch. Its body rippled strength despite its slender frame and a kaleidoscope of colour chased across its writhing skin. Auum held it until he felt the thrashing pass its peak. He put his lips by one of the flat slits it had for ears and spoke pure elven.

'You know my race. You know my calling. You cannot take me,' he whispered. The cursyrd subsided immediately. 'Struggle is pain.' All that heaved now were its lungs. 'Good. Do not test me.' Auum half turned his head. 'Duele, release and watch.'

The creature was pulled upright, Auum's hand still over its mouth, his short sword at its eye. They both knew die weapon wouldn't kill it. But the pain would bite so deep.

'Move.'

Auum drove the restrained cursyrd forwards, following the arc marked out for them. They turned again and again, deep into the heart of Julatsa's slums where the stench was unquenched by time. Duele had taken the lead and when he stopped to read a more detailed mark, Auum knew they were close.

The TaiGethen paced away and round a right turn into a dank dead end. It was bare but for weeds, grass and the detritus of humans long gone. The opening was marked by a delicate pattern in cracked mud that was obscured by grass about halfway down the passage. He knelt and plucked it open, speaking softly into the hole he uncovered.

It was man-width but made by elves. The demons would never find it unless led straight to it. Auum nodded for Duele to continue and the five elves and their demon captive entered the college of Julatsa.

The warrior and mage guard in the tunnel clearly couldn't quite believe what they were seeing. The leaders of the TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar dropping unannounced into their laps and accompanied by a captive demon. Auum had no time for explanations.

'We need a large open room. Defensible. Now.'

One of the warrior guard led them down the tunnel into the college proper. They brushed aside elven questions and the fears of men. The demon, cowed and scared but very alert, was held now by just its arms.

The tunnel ended inside a cellar beneath the library. Their guide

took them through the sparse bookshelves and across the short distance to the single lecture theatre. Already, word was spreading and elf and human alike were being drawn in.

Auum spared one glance up into the sky at the cursyrd circling there and pushed his captive inside. He hurried it to the centre of the stage.

'Rebraal, guard the door,' he said. 'Evunn, stand ready and watch.' He released the cursyrd which backed away confused, deep reds and blues chasing each other across its skin. Auum's smile was bleak. He turned to Duele.

'Fight it.'

Ule backed a little further into the cave. He looked down at Vituul, spent and shivering; and across to his brothers, bloodied, frozen, but unbowed. Both stood to his left, mace and axe in hands, waiting.

'They are coming back.'

Minute nods greeted his words, a tightening of grips on weapons, a shifting of stance.

'When the time comes, you know what to do.'

The three former Protectors stepped forwards to the cave entrance where the gap was at its narrowest. They looked out over the last foothills of the Blackthornes. To their right, Understone, the Pass and a sizeable encampment of Wesmen. To their left, the forward Wesmen positions and the city of Xetesk. Their destination. A day's walk but impossibly distant.

Ule wasn't sure how the demons had detected them as they descended from the peaks into the deep grey and black mass of the range. Perhaps a lone scout. Perhaps the elf mage's aura was too bright. It hardly mattered now.

Upwards of fifty demons were flying at them. Most were soul stealers and all were of the warrior strain popularly termed 'reavers'. They were tall and well muscled with powerful wings, trademark hairless bodies and writiling veins. The band had repulsed three attacks on their descent, with spells accounting for dozens of the enemy, but still the demons came and Vituul had no more to give. His face bore the terror of the fight and the wounds that iced his

blood and sapped his will to a point where he could no longer protect his soul.

Ule had time to appreciate the irony of the position in which he and his brothers found themselves. So long in thrall and so relatively short a time released. Had they never been freed they would be in the halls of Xetesk even now. He breathed in the air, felt it over his face. He experienced a moment of pure release, almost joy. He smiled.

The demons flooded the cave mouth but paused just out of weapon range.

'Ule,' said one, a pulsing deep green creature with huge eyes in an otherwise largely featureless face. 'Return your soul. It belongs to us.'

Ule stared at the demon. He felt calm, at peace. As did his brothers.

'There is no hope,' said the demon. 'You cannot resist us.'

'You will not taste our souls again,' Ule said. 'While we live, we will fight you. And in death, we will escape you.'

'You cannot harm us.'

'Wrong. We cannot kill you. Know pain.'

The Protectors' speed was startling. Ule's mace came from his right side and blurred upwards catching the demon on its chin. The force of the blow echoed in the confined space and catapulted the squealing creature end over end into those massed behind it, wings flapping uselessly.

Ryn and Qex drove into the enemy simultaneously. Ryn flat-bladed his axe into the side of one's head, sending it tumbling sideways, scattering others back and forwards. Qex slammed his mace into the midriff of his target and scythed left to right with his axe, biting deep into the demon's forehead. It fell back, screeching.

The wound did not bleed but instead healed over almost immediately, leaving a livid blue line where it had scored most deeply. And then the demons bunched and charged. Ule faced a blistering assault of claw, tooth and tail. He worked feverishly to keep them at bay. The mace was a potent weapon thudding time and again into head, chest and gut. And with it came the axe; flat-bladed to block strikes, edge-on to inflict pain.

But inexorably, the press grew and deepened. Claws raked his

face. Tails threatened to trip him and fangs bore ever closer. He could feel the desperation beginning to creep into his brothers as he could the chill of the demons' touch through his body. Every time they struck, he felt himself weaken. But he would not let it show.

He dragged the spikes of his mace across the throat of his nearest enemy, deriving strengdi from its strangled yowl. He followed it up with a carving swing into its waist. It was a blow that would have severed a human. But here it cut just so deep, forcing the creature back.

To his left, his brothers suffered. Qex had been on his knees more than once and Ryn's face was a lattice of cuts, bleeding and blue from the cold. They didn't have very long.

'Once more my brothers!' he shouted, his voice bouncing off the cave walls.

He launched a ferocious attack, summoning everything he had left. He battered at the press of demons, seeing his mace buried in face and arm, his axe chop claw from hand, only for it to regrow. He took what pleasure he could from the cries of pain and the anger of his enemies that they had not cowed their prey. And nor would they.

'Duck.'

It was a moment before he realised it was Vituul who had spoken, so unlike him was the voice. But there was no mistaking the intent in the word.

'Brothers, drop!'

And they did, together as always.

The IceWind scoured over their heads and swept into the defenceless demons. And now the screams were of agony and death. Flesh boiled away, wings froze and shattered and eyes glazed. Veins stood out proud and still, the supercooled mana penetrating skin and stopping flow in an instant. The entire front rank of the demons died before Ule could blink and the rest scattered back into the air, howling their anger and fear.

Ule turned to look at Vituul. The elf slumped back onto his side, his breath laboured and his eyes sunken deep into his skull.

'You were spent,' he said.

T am now,' said Vituul between gasps. He managed a smile. 'That really was the last.'

T didn't think you had it in you.'

'Neither did I.' Elf and Protector eyes locked. 'We cannot take another round.'

Ule nodded. T know.'

He swung back to his brothers. Both were leaning on their weapons, exhausted, all but finished. Out in the light, the demons had gathered once more and were approaching cautiously.

'Ule,' said Vituul, dragging his attention around. 'Just make it quick.'

'It is something I am very good at,' he replied.

Vituul chuckled. 'Glad to hear it.'

'My brothers,' said Ule. 'Prepare. They shall not take our souls.'

Each man drew a dagger from his belt, letting his other weapons clatter to the floor of the cave.

'Vituul,' said Ule. 'You understand we will die as one. Your journey must begin sooner.' He knelt by the elf and wiped the tear from the mage's eye. 'Your courage will be remembered among the Protectors. Even in death, we will not forget you.'

The strike was quick and sure.

Ule stood and embraced his brothers. Daggers rested against throats. 'Release is ours, my brothers. We are one.'

'We are one.'

The crowd watching the fight grew steadily. Auum could sense them and at times even hear low words but he didn't ever take his eyes from the scene being played out in front of him.

At first, the cursyrd had been reluctant. It had felt the weakening effects of the ColdRoom construct but slowly had come to terms with it. What it had found more difficult were the probings and lightning strikes of Duele.

The elf tried to goad the cursyrd into retaliation and aggression but for an irritating length of time it merely squealed and backed off, rolling itself into a ball or standing with its hands covering its face. But when Duele jabbed a straight-fingered blow in its throat, its temper snapped and it struck back.

Duele stood his ground while the creature attempted to land blows with its clawed hands, whiplike tail and long fangs. The fluid movements of the TaiGethen left no room for the cursyrd which found its best efforts countered easily. Duele blocked, ducked,

jumped and counterstruck with the speed that had made him so formidable even among the elven elite. Time and again, the cursyrd would lash in left and right with its claws and attempt a bite only to find itself dumped on its backside by foot sweep or the heel of a palm in its chest.

As the weight of Duele's blows and the cumulative effects of the ColdRoom casting took their toll, the cursyrd became at once weaker and further enraged. It knew it would not get out of the college alive and became ever more desperate to inflict damage where it could.

Three times it tried to break away to attack those watching it but Duele was too fast and its screeches of frustration grew louder. But well before it became too weak to defend itself, Auum had seen what he wanted to. The cursyrd didn't once raise its arms over its head to strike, only ever to defend blows to the head, and even then it preferred to duck and move or use its tail.

He moved into its compass.

'Duele, rest now.'

Auum paced forwards, assessing the cursyrd's attention. It switched to him right away, a frown on its face. Its skin modulated from a livid green to a deep, menacing blue. It was breathing hard.

The TaiGethen circled it for a moment, seeing the track of its eyes and the movement of its feet unchanged from its combat with Duele. It was disciplined at least. But it was lagging slighdy, tired and bruised. Auum struck.

He ducked inside a flailing right arm, grabbing its wrist with his left hand and holding the arm high and away from its body. He continued his movement forward, raised his right elbow and smashed it into the cursyrd's exposed armpit. The creature jerked once and collapsed.

Auum stepped back and nodded. 'Everything has its weakness,' he said. 'Everything. Tai, we pray.'

Chapter 23

Pheone kept her distance while the TaiGethen prayed. Around her, all the elves had heads bowed, listening to the words Auum spoke and murmuring in response. By Auum's feet, the demon lay un-moving. Pheone couldn't tell whether it was dead or just stunned. But like all present she had been beguiled by the dance Duele had led the demon and shocked by the sudden violence meted out by Auum.

The import of what she was seeing trickled slowly into her mind. Not the fight with the demon or the fact that Auum had rendered it unconscious or even killed it with a single blow that hadn't broken its skin. The fact he was here at all, with his Tai and Rebraal. Why now? Why ever, come to that. It didn't take a seer to tell her that it wouldn't be good news.

The Tai cell finished their prayers and rose to their feet. Auum gave the demon a cursory glance and said something in elvish. Two Al-Arynaar warriors picked up the body and carried it out of the lecture theatre. Auum watched them go before walking to Pheone. Julatsa's High Mage found herself more titan a little nervous. Auum had an air about him that combined total authority with a controlled menace. A heady blend.

He and Rebraal held a brief conversation and the latter, at last, gave her his attention.

'We apologise for the abrupt entrance and this little display,' he said, gesturing at the stage. 'Auum had to work while the cursyrd was strong.'

'Did he kill it?' Pheone heard herself say despite the dozens of more pressing questions she had.

'Not quite. Warriors will complete the job. The body must be pierced.'

'So what did he prove?'

'That they have a vulnerable spot we can exploit.'

Pheone half-smiled. 'Come on, let's go somewhere more convivial. I think there's some soup on the go.'

She led them out of the lecture theatre and across the dark courtyard to the refectory, trying to marshal her thoughts. The shapes of demons flitted around the periphery of her vision, watching everything. Once seated opposite the two elves, soup and herb tea at hand, she felt a little more in control.

'I do admire your confidence, Rebraal, but don't you feel that it was already weak and Auum caught it with a lucky blow?'

Auum regarded her through the steam from his tea, his expression unreadable.

'The TaiGethen examine every move a prey makes. They chart their strengths, learn their failings. We strike only when prepared. Only humans have a god of fortune; and he has turned against you.'

Pheone felt she should apologise but stopped herself. Instead, she drained a spoonful of soup before speaking.

'It's been two years and it seems like ten,' she said. 'What are you doing here? I'm pleased to see you but I don't think five are going to make a whole lot of difference. Not even if two of them are you two.'

'Nevertheless, we are here to organise the last chance for humans,' said Rebraal. 'The last chance for all of us.'

Pheone almost laughed but the fear in Rebraal's eyes stopped her. She didn't think she'd ever seen an elf afraid before; not like this.

'It's really that bad?'

'What do your reports tell you?'

'That we've reached an impasse,' she said. 'The demons barely press us. They know they can't force a way in with the numbers they have. We think the balance will shift.'

She saw Rebraal's eyes widen.

'Do you have no contact with other colleges?'

'Precious little,' she said. 'Why? Surely when the demons know they can get no further they'll withdraw. Or we'll force them back.'

'Pheone, the cursyrd are home,' he said. 'You haven't heard from Xetesk in the last days, you're sure?'

'Certain,' she replied.

Rebraal and Auum exchanged a look. 'That explains your confusion and the lack of any preparation,' said Rebraal. 'Vituul and the Protectors must have fallen.'

'What is this all about?'

'You will be aware of the increase in mana density, yes?'

'Of course.' She shrugged. 'Comfort for demons.'

Rebraal shook his head. 'You misunderstand. The cursyrd are flooding Balaia with mana from their dimension because they are abandoning it. Soon the density will be enough to overwhelm your castings and the demons will truly rule Balaia. Then they will strike west and south and neither we, and certainly not the Wesmen, have the ability to resist them for long.'

'Unless we stop them, right?'

'Pheone, before I tell you what we must do, you must understand this. We believe Xetesk remains the focal point of their attack, Lystern to be under increasing pressure, and that Dordover has fallen.'

'What?' Pheone felt her heart race and a sick feeling cross her gut. 'Dordover?'

'We can't be certain but Baron Blackthorne, who still resists, reports that his last spies saw no light in the tower. But the Heart still beats because it feeds the demons mana strength. But what has happened to Dordover will happen everywhere unless there is unification. The colleges are the last free outposts of any real substance. If they are picked off one by one we are all lost. Elves, men, Wesmen, dragons and the dead.'

'The what?' Pheone's nervousness allowed a smile to creep onto her face.

'Don't mock what you cannot understand,' snapped Rebraal.

'I'm sorry,' said Pheone quickly. 'It just all sounds so far-fetched.'

'Have you not talked to the Al-Arynaar?' asked Auum. 'Humans are so blind. You do not even know when you are dying.'

'The cursyrd are on the verge of dominating this, and through it, every dimension we hold dear. We must unite to defeat them and it must be now. The fight will not take place here, it will take place in Xetesk. That is why we are here and that is why you must prepare to leave Julatsa.'

Pheone was so surprised that she replayed Rebraal's words to make sure she'd heard him correctly. 'You want us to do what?'

He had known constant fear. And beside that fear there was a pulse that he could sense and it was growing stronger. Malevolent in intent. He distanced himself from it like they all did. It confused his senses, threatened to overwhelm them.

And he experienced utter clarity too. Clarity of thought and memory brought him joy, comfort and a pure sense of belonging. These times were as common as they were craved.

He was aware of meeting others, of their presence and support. Whoever they had been they were immense in character and clear of purpose. And like him, they retained the link to those they had left, though he wasn't sure, like them, if his communication was truly understood.

All his senses were changed, were more complex than mere sight, touch or smell. He had no words to describe them but he understood and used them as if he had been born with them. He could describe without seeing, listen without hearing and speak, if speak it was.

He believed he communicated on his new sensory level without the need for words though he still considered it speech. It produced images, soundless yet they contained the meaning he needed.

When he had arrived here, with its warmth and comfort, with its beauty and calm, and with its threatened borders and fear, it hadn't been the way it was now. How long ago that was, he couldn't say. There was no conception of time passing, though surely the knowledge of change indicated such.

Now, though the link provided his most clear sense of the life he had left, it was no longer the only way. He had become aware that he could sense those for whom he felt enduring love without the need for the link buried in his ancestral homeland. But he couldn't always feel them and he didn't know if he was felt by them.

He felt a growing worry. The sense of threat to their existence was building and he, like all of them, had travelled away from the developing pulse to minimise its effect. But in travelling, he had lost the link and his ability to feel his loved ones. He was certain that distance dulled feeling. Others felt it too and it worried them. The threat was forcing them from the link quite deliberately and it was weakening them, denying them joy and comfort.

He craved the sense of touch and he knew what he must do to try and regain it. Others would follow if they understood his reasoning. He had to approach the pulse, approach the burgeoning fear. He wanted to know if those he loved felt it too and if they could remove it and leave him with the peace and calm that was his by right.

He began to seek the direction of travel, a curious reminiscence flowing over him. The familiarity of purpose and of knowing he would soon be where he knew he truly belonged. He brought the words to his mind and the images washed through him. Had he lips he would have spoken the words. As it was, he felt exhilaration power his soul.

He reached out to them, sought them and pushed away the fear.

Them. The Raven. And within them, one mind and soul was for him so much brighter than the rest.

Hirad's head felt full and it kept him from his sleep. It had been coming on through the evening and he'd bitten his lip several times during the talking they'd done to avoid sparking a dispute. He knew it was something the others couldn't feel or understand. So he'd taken himself to sleep away from them, volunteering to take the last watch before dawn.

He tried to examine the way he felt. It was nothing like the touch of Sha-Kaan, which was warm; a gentle probing that sought permission to enter his mind. What he was experiencing now was more akin to an attack. Like someone was hammering on a door, demanding entrance. Everything was muffled but the pressure grew until he developed a thumping pain in his head.

Denser had offered a casting to give him relief from the pain but he didn't want that because he thought he knew what was causing it. Because as he lay and studied the weight inside his skull, he filtered feelings from the morass. He felt love, strength and the longing for contact, lost in time. And he felt fear too and that was reminiscent of that night in Taanepol.

But unlike that awakening, which had a dreamlike quality to it full of half-remembered images and snatches of sound, this was a solid

block of emotional force. And closer than the dream. Hirad closed his eyes and tried to probe the block but he had no real idea how to. All he knew was that the more he relaxed, the more certain he became that his first impressions had been right.

'Ilkar?' he spoke out loud but softly. 'It is you isn't it? Gods burning, I don't know how but it is. I can feel you, Ilks, but I can't understand you. I don't know how to respond. I'm not a mage, my mind isn't trained. But if you're sending a message keep on.' He chuckled. 'But perhaps you could speak a little quieter, I'm not enjoying the hammering.'

He paused. His words had had no effect. He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the seat of the pain in the back of his skull.

'Ilkar, please. If you can hear this, back off a little. I can't under stand you, it's just coming over as pain and noise in my mind. Ilkar?'

And abruptly, the feelings were gone. Hirad sat bolt upright and closed his eyes against the yawing of his mind and the blackening of his vision as the blood rushed away. There were tears standing in his eyes.

There was something else too. Just like Rebraal had said he'd understood back in Taanepol.

It was a desperate cry for help.

T have to put this to the council,' said Pheone.

'We have no time,' snapped Rebraal, his palm smacking on the table top. 'You have a hundred and eighty mages here, almost two hundred Al-Arynaar warriors. You represent the strongest force on Balaia, don't you understand? Without you, the pressure on Xetesk will become intolerable. And we can't afford that to happen.'

'Well why the bloody hell aren't they coming here then if we're so damned great?' shouted Pheone, losing her cool. She was already tired and hungry and now these elves were putting her under enormous pressure. Damn, why was she the only one of the council awake?

'Because they won't make it and we need the information we know they hold. We have to make preparations now and leave in a day. Every moment is critical.'

'Hold it again,' she said, drawing breath and waving a palm at Rebraal. 'What information?'

Rebraal smiled. 'I haven't been able to tell you everything yet. You're quite a forceful character, you know. Probably what my brother loved about you.'

'Among other things,' said Pheone, relaxing a little. 'Go on.'

'We can't beat diem simply by fighting them here. Our job on Balaia, and more critically, in Xetesk, is to drain them of resource, force them to bring more demons here than they want to. Keep them at bay to give the time to strike them in their own dimension; cut off the mana flood and stop the invasion at a stroke.'

'And you think Xetesk has the knowledge to get people there?'

'We know they do,' said Rebraal. 'Sha-Kaan is certain that the development of their dimensional spells, together with the link they've always had with demons for mana channelling, means they will be able to open a gateway to the demon dimension that we can use.'

'And who're the lucky ones getting the job of going through it?'

Rebraal gestured to his left. 'Auum, his Tai, some Protectors, a litde mage support and The Raven.'

Pheone shook her head, she'd heard it all now and wasn't the least bit surprised to find The Raven cropping up. 'Even after all their time away, why did I half expect you to say it would be them?'

'Perhaps because Ilkar is one of those under threat.'

'Ilkar?'

'I told you, the dead are vulnerable. The demons crave their souls and they are helpless.'

'Gods drowning, this is all too much to take in,' she said. She rubbed a hand across her forehead. 'Look, it'll be dawn in a few hours and I'm exhausted. Let's go through it again with the council, discuss it with the Al-Arynaar and we'll go if everyone agrees it is the right thing.'

Rebraal shook his head.

'What?' demanded Pheone. 'Look, I'm not saying I don't believe everything you have told me and I want to do everything I can to save Ilkar's soul if he is in danger as you say. And I want Balaia to be free. I just won't get driven at one solution when there may be others to consider.'

'The decision is made,' said Rebraal.

'Not yet it isn't.'

'Listen to him,' said Auum in a voice barely above a whisper but that sent a chill down her back. He leant forwards. 'You do not see what is before your face. Rebraal commands the Al-Arynaar. He will issue orders at dawn. They will accompany him. You can stay if you so choose.'

Rebraal held up his hands both to stop Auum saying any more and Pheone retorting.

'I didn't want to fall back on that but Auum is right. But we do need your help. Your college is the one allied most closely to elves. We would not be suggesting this if we thought there was any other way to save it long-term. I want you to agree to this willingly. But if you won't, I will take my warriors and mages anyway and you will be taken.'

'I'll be deserting all those people out there beyond the Cold-Rooms. Abandoning them.' Her voice was quiet now, defeated. They had left her no alternative.

'Sleep on it.'

'Sleep? Fat chance.'

'And then talk to your council, tell them what must be done. We will be leaving at first light the day after tomorrow.' Rebraal covered her hands with his. 'I believe you will be saving more lives this way than if you hold out here for another decade. The Raven believe it too.'

'Oh, Rebraal, I wish I could, I really do.'