Demonstorm

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 die 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.

T don't understand this,' said Denser. T 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 Cold-Room here.'

Darrick smiled. 'Yes it will. And you know the thing with Cold-Rooms 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?'

T 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.

Now Darrick stood with The Raven, minus Erienne and Thraun, and the TaiGethen, just behind the line of mages. Hirad had won his battle as they all knew he would and had taken his place at The Unknown's right-hand side. He was plainly discomforted but Darrick for one would rather a half-fit Hirad in the line than no Hirad at all. And it was equally plain on The Unknown's face that, despite his protestations, he felt precisely the same.

Time was almost upon them. There were still karron moving up to the edge of the shell, sorting themselves into dense lines. And overhead, two masters floated. One with the tentacled underbody, the other a rather plain-looking blue demon, small but clearly

important, given its position. Pheone moved in front of her charges, Diia'heth near her. They knew what they had to do. Each one had casting instructions and direction. That they would fail was inconceivable.

A movement caught Darrick's eye to the right beyond the shell's periphery. At first he thought it demons flying in to join the attack but the movement was erratic and had the air of a chase. He brought it to Auum's attention. There was growing consternation among the demons as they too became aware of it. The level of noise, building steadily, had an angry edge to it. Strike-strain left the shell to intercept.

'It is humans,' said Auum. 'Three. Two carrying the other one.'

'Coming this way?'

'Yes,' he said.

Darrick raised his eyebrows. Something had to trigger the attack. He had expected it to be the demon masters. Perhaps it would be this random event. What he couldn't afford was for the Al-Arynaar to be distracted.

'Eyes front!' he ordered. 'Check your targets.'

Rebraal translated his words and focus was restored. The same could not be said of the demons and there was just a small chance that this would work in their favour. It was a chance that did not come off. The trio of flyers, skimming the tree line, dipping and rising suddenly to shake off a growing tail of pursuers, closed on the shell. High above, the masters raced to the back of their main force. The noise rose to a deafening volume and the karron came to shambling readiness.

'Ready!' called Darrick. 'Remember your roles. Do not deviate, do not falter. Diia'heth, cast when ready.' He turned to a flagman. 'Now. Signal the disperse.'

Up on the roof of the lead wagons, flags were waved. Inside the right-hand one, the casting mages dispersed the ColdRoom structure. Demons howled, sensing victory, and from above they poured down to attack. Immediately the flags were seen, the wagons behind began rolling forwards, bringing the remaining ColdRooms closer.

'Come on, come on,' muttered Darrick.

The front line of Al-Arynaar was motionless, lost in casting. The General looked anxiously up to the heavens. The sky was full of

demon bodies, clamouring for their souls, gibbering their desire. The karron upped their pace, trotting over the packed ground, arms pumping, the weapons that replaced their hands glistening. They were followed by packs of reavers and flanked by clouds of strike-strain. This was going to be close.

As one, the elven mages raised their heads. Pheone snapped out an order and the spell barrage was unleashed. ForceCones jabbed into the air, scattering the onrushing winged demons which squealed their displeasure. They were the lucky ones for now. Immediately following the Cone deployment, bright yellow light flashed across the early morning sky. FlameOrbs arced out. At least fifty wheel-sized globes fizzed through the damp air. Steam trailed in their wake.

The karron could see them coming and warning cries echoed out but they could do nothing to protect themselves. Harsh magical fire burst across and through the demon lines. Karron directly beneath the Orbs exploded under their impact. Gobbets of flame splattered far and wide, eating into defenceless flesh. The detonation of spells sent fire hurtling into the sky, trapping three reavers not fast enough to move. Black smoke belched from bodies and trailed behind those falling from the sky.

On the ground, blinded and agonised karron collided with one another as the ordered advance became a chaotic rout. The air stank of charred hair and flesh, it reverberated to the screams of those caught in the holocaust. And the elves had only just begun.

Now, Dila'heth's voice sounded once more and IceWind delivered appalling damage to the still-advancing flanks. Flesh sloughed from bodies, eyes were frozen and voices were stilled in throats. Karron fell shattering to the ground, dark bodies scorched blue and hairless by the cold. Strike-strain fell like fruit from a tree in a gale, cracking on the ground. A terrible wailing was taken up across the battlefield. It was demon rage and it struck at the heart.

Darrick turned his head. The second wagon pair was moving into range, and would fill the space in between the lead pair, bringing with it the respite of a replacement ColdRoom.

'Advance!' he roared.

Dila'heth and Pheone brought their mages back from the mana spectrum and they split left and right, running back along the sides

of the train. The Al-Arynaar and Raven moved forwards towards the demon lines and the ColdRoom covered them once more.

It had been a devastating blow and Darrick was tempted to let the mages strike again. But stamina was finite and the Gods alone knew when they would next be able to replenish. Looking forward through the clearing smoke, he could see the rents they had torn in the demon force. But even now it was beginning to reform and if they were to break through and reach Xetesk, it had to be now.