Demonstorm

Chapter 34

The demons had come back in force and they'd brought some new friends with them. His teams falling back into the sanctuary of the college had reported the karron disappearing into all quarters of the city. It was too late to tell the Julatsans but they, it seemed, were making good headway.

Dystran stood on the balcony of his tower as he had so often during the past two years and experienced another new hope. That both Wesmen and Julatsans would be flooding his courtyard before noon. Gods, how alien it was but how natural it felt to wish it.

Looking north, he could see the cloud of dust that signalled the Julatsan approach to the city. South, another showed the Wesmen advance. The latter's was under minimal pressure. The demons clearly didn't consider them a threat. Dystran prayed fervently that Tessaya would demonstrate to them otherwise.

Everything was set in the college. Every man, woman and child knew their task when the order was given. Dystran couldn't cloak the excitement he felt. Something had run through the college when it was sure that the Julatsans were coming this way. It gave them all new life and new hope for whatever spurious reasons. This didn't feel like resistance; more like rebellion.

Where would it go wrong, that was the question. He couldn't fault the ward grid. It was something of which Septern himself would have been proud. All it needed was activation and it was he that would take that task. Chandyr's strike and fall-back plans were sound, he knew that. The commander was a skilful tactician and had studied General Darrick for many years.

But he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that the demons were still a step ahead. What was it they had missed? There had to be something. There was always something.

Hirad's wound had been rebound but he had conceded he should travel on the kicking plate of Erienne's wagon, driven once more by Darrick. Thraun still rode inside. The rest of The Raven were out front and just behind the Al-Arynaar line, keeping the path clear.

The success of Darrick's tactic seemed to have confused and demoralised the demons. Half-hearted regroupings of karron had been battered mercilessly aside by the TaiGethen-led elven force. The lumbering demons appeared badly hampered fighting inside the ColdRoom shell.

It had been left to the reavers and strike-strain to continue their sniping attacks. And while they scored small victories, they couldn't slow the advancing wagon train which was crossing the old battlefields in front of the north gate. It was a curious atmosphere dominating the demon forces. Hirad likened it to defeat and he told Darrick so.

'Don't believe it. They'll look to pin us down in some narrow street in the city,' said Darrick.

'Well, we have surprises for them in there too, don't we?' said Hirad.

'And it's all main street,' said Denser, hauling himself up to the bench. 'We can drive two abreast all the way to the college.'

'Simple enough,' said Hirad.

The General shook his head. T doubt that very much.'

It was less than a mile to the college from the north gate. Hirad had travelled in Xetesk enough to know that even the widest of its streets felt tight. Tall and ancient buildings loomed over the equally aged cobbles and stone pathways, blotting out half the sky. Every street in Xetesk had the potential for ambush. The recently arrived Xeteskians needed to be right about their ward work.

They had seen flights of demons heading back towards Xetesk, giving credence to Darrick's observation. The General's initial delight at the outcome of his snap tactic had quickly given way to introspection and now he wore a troubled expression.

'Come on, Darrick,' said Hirad. 'We've broken them. What's the problem?'

'You know it was too easy, don't you?' he replied.

T know we gave them a good hiding.'

Darrick shook his head a second time. 'They were inept in the extreme and I don't buy it. They planned to fail.'

'Hardly. From where I stand they didn't expect us to drop the ColdRoom and we took them down.'

'Maybe they didn't but after that, that's what worries me. They didn't attempt a concerted reformation, they didn't bring up reserves from the rear of the shell. They practically stood there and let us slaughter them. How many did we lose? Five? Ten?'

T think you worry too much,' said Hirad.

'Do I?' Darrick turned his head to stare at the barbarian. 'Think it's plain sailing from here on in, don't you?'

Hirad raised his eyebrows. 'So long as Xetesk lends the hand it has promised. I mean, look at the enemy. They aren't up for this, none of them.'

'Right. And that's what most of the elves think to look at them. Don't let your guard slip for one moment. I'm telling Rebraal the same thing.'

Hirad swallowed his retort. 'You really mean it, don't you?'

'I wouldn't say it otherwise. The demons are not this lame. They're in charge here, never mind what just happened. It is inconceivable that we've broken them.'

'If you say so, General.'

T do.'

Hirad chuckled. 'Lucky we didn't have you join us for your sense of humour.'

'I see nothing to laugh about.'

'Exactly.'

An hour later and barely under attack at all, die Julatsan wagon train rolled through the north gate of Xetesk. The imposing gatehouse edifice, sorely damaged though it was, was the first of many ideal ambush points. Nothing.

'Still sure, General?'

'Don't tempt fate, Hirad. They only need one place, one chance. Keep looking.'

The instant they cleared the gatehouse, the atmosphere changed. The cold intensified. Breath clouded in front of faces, and with no breeze to disperse it, hung in a cloud around the train. The city stank with the scent of fear, death and decay. The quiet set Hirad's

teeth on edge. Not even a demon made a sound. Nothing came from the buildings around them, the streets that ran away into the city or from the college. Not a bird sang or a dog barked. All Hirad could hear was the creaking of the carts, his own breath and the sounds of hoof on stone.

Turning into Norgate Road, the buildings seemed to climb so high into the cold blue sky. Bleak timbers and shuttered windows glowered down on them. Unconsciously, the pace slowed.

'Keep it up ahead,' said Darrick, voice unnaturally loud.

'Can you feel it?' said Hirad.

'It's why we're all whispering,' said Denser. He shuddered.

'Watch for any movement,' hissed Darrick. 'Rebraal, put the word out. Concentrate.'

The demons had gone from the sky. Not a one tracked their progress. The empty shell above them was almost unnerving after so long under attack. On the second wagon of the lead pair the Xeteskians, Suarav and Sharyr, his arm in a makeshift sling, were indicating ward positions. They were pointing ahead at the first crossroads which the train would traverse on its way to the playhouse. That building stood in the middle of the tight Seamstone Square. Once on the square, they would be at their most vulnerable.

Approaching the crossway, Hirad could feel his heart thumping in his chest. He readjusted his sword grip constantly, wiping sweating hands down his trousers. Every hoof-fall was a clarion call for a demon rally. Every nervous whinny or snort an invitation to attack. But still no demons. Darrick's frown deepened still further.

'Where would I do it?' he muttered. 'Where?'

His voice was the only one puncturing the edgy quiet. More than three hundred elves and men travelled the dead streets. Hirad felt his earlier bravado draining away.

'Just one place, you think?'

Darrick nodded. 'And with everything they have got.'

Hirad swallowed on a dry throat. The Al-Arynaar at the head had just entered the junction. To either side, Flame Walls, deep and scorching, sprang up, fifty feet and more high. Drivers fought with suddenly panicked horses. Shouts of alarm rang out in the enclosed space. Hirad swore. He could feel the heat on his face.

'Scared me half to death,' he said.

On the adjacent wagon, Sharyr managed a smile.

'They got the wards out further than I thought. That's good.'

'Would have been nice to have a little more warning.'

'Hmm.' Darrick shrugged then raised his voice, scanning about him to check all horses were back under control. 'Let's keep this tight. Maintain your pace, maintain your focus. Do not give those bastards opportunity.'

Hirad could see the response to the voice of authority. Postures straightened, calls of encouragement bounced around. Swords and axes were gripped with more belief, back to the ready position. The trotting of feet and hoof took on a military rhythm.

'That's more like it,' breathed Darrick. 'Nothing like a little purpose.'

The wagon train drove on up Norgate Way. The detritus of two years' neglect lay underfoot. The collected filth of decay powerful in the nostrils. At the playhouse, they turned right in response to Sharyr's promptings and the FlameWalls burning to the left, obscuring that part of Seamstone Square.

The playhouse was a circular structure with entrances at the four major points of the compass. Around its edge, the square was packed with darkened eateries, inns, shops still displaying gaudy clothes, all topped by two or three storeys of rooms and lodgings.

The sound of their passage was amplified here, echoes reverberating across the enclosed space. It was a sobering counterpart to the silence covering the city. The gargoyles and carved faces gazed down at them, laughing, crying, enraged, desolate. Monitoring the passing of the last desperate attempt to wrest control of Balaia from their nemesis.

Hirad bit his lip. The quiet was picking at their nerves and courage. Every doorway, every window could conceal an enemy. The sky could fill at any moment. There was no safety among the buildings that had once provided security for so many.

'Where are the Xeteskians?' he said, unable to speak at more than a whisper.

'Out of the way,' said Denser.

The train turned left and right to exit the square and start along King's Approach. Nicknamed 'The Thread', the street wound its way to the heart of the city. They could see lights burning in

Dystran's tower in the college, beacons still almost half a mile distant.

Alleys and side streets ran off The Thread all along its length. Some were barely the width of a man. Others as wide as a wagon. All were silent, all deserted.

A short distance further on, The Thread narrowed and twisted around the rear of the central grain store. The Al-Arynaar vanguard closed form. The Unknown, Ark and Kas dropped back and hitched rides on the sides of Erienne's wagon. Hirad noticed Sharyr look behind him and curse.

'Problem?' asked Darrick, noting it too.

'The wards should have triggered behind,' he said. 'Something's dropped out.'

'Or been interfered with,' said Hirad.

'Unlikely,' said Sharyr. 'We-'

The rear of the grain store burst out onto the street, engulfing Sharyr's wagon. The noise, a crack like thunder followed by the bass rumble of an avalanche, pressed on the ears, juddered through their bodies. Huge blocks of stone smashed into the wagon's flimsy side, crushing the roof frame, battering into the horse and its driver. The two helpless Xeteskians were thrown aside. The wagon was driven sideways across the cobbles. The axles collapsed under the pressure and the splintering mass collided with The Raven's wagon in a squeal of torn metal. Standing on its left sideboard, Kas took the fall force of the impact. Darrick, Hirad and Denser were jerked violently left and then away, tumbling onto the ground and into the traces and horses.

Now the air was full of screams and the sudden roar of demon cacophony. Hirad scrambled to his feet and grabbed his sword from the ground, trying to take it all in. He skipped out of the way of the horses which were bucking and trying to drag their wagon forwards, though its wheels were blocked by fallen stone.

There could be no survivors inside the other lead wagon. Suarav and Sharyr were getting to their feet but they were all there was moving. Karron were streaming out of the shattered grain store. Ahead, the Al-Arynaar and Auum's Tai were already engaged in fierce fighting and half cut-off from the wagon train. They weren't

making any real headway. It was obvious why. The crushed wagon had been carrying ColdRoom mages. The demons were protected.

The situation was quickly becoming desperate. Al-Arynaar had rushed to stem the advance of karron from the grain store but were outnumbered and fragmented. An alert group of elven mages was crouched in the open, casting, but above them winged demons were heading into the attack.

'Darrick, Denser. Up, up. Wall side, now.' Hirad led them, coming across a groggy Unknown Warrior being helped to his feet by Ark. 'We've got to get Erienne away. They'll want her.'

The storm of demons thickened, strike-strain barrelling down on them. Hirad led The Raven to the rear of the wagon. Thraun appeared with Erienne in his arms, blood streaming down the side of his head.

'Get her back inside the ColdRoom shell. Run, Thraun, we're right behind you,' ordered Hirad.

The first strike-strain were on them, reavers closing in.

'We need to get Kas,' said Hirad.

'You cannot help him,' said Ark. 'He is released.'

The Raven ran hard. Hirad came to The Unknown's left to help Ark. Demons flew around them, reavers landing in front and stalking into the attack.

'Go,' said The Unknown, his head running with blood, voice a little slurred.

Hirad nodded and ran on, streaking round Thraun's left, Darrick mirroring him right. Both men sheathed their swords but while Darrick drew his mace, Hirad had another idea. There were too many of the reavers for them to take quickly. Al-Arynaar were flooding in to help but weren't going to be fast enough.

Dagger in hand, the barbarian barrelled straight into the clutch of reavers, taking three of them to the ground with him. He landed on top of them, hearing Darrick join the attack and Thraun shout a warning.

The reavers were strong. Hirad took a punch across his face that knocked him half away. He felt hands scrabbling to get purchase under his chin and over his heart, searching for his soul. He blocked a clawed hand and jabbed his fingers into the eyes of the demon struggling to rise from beneath him. The creature howled. Hirad's

next thrust took the creature under the arm. It spasmed and was still. Another pushed him away. Thraun ran by.

'Keep going!' shouted Hirad.

A hand clamped around the top of his head and jerked him backwards. He fell onto his back, fists flailing out to either side. His vision was full of demon flesh. There was a flash of steel. One of his assailants was flung aside. He turned onto his stomach and pushed himself to his haunches. Ark stood above him, The Unknown on one arm, his mace in his other hand.

'Down,' he said. Hirad ducked his head and the mace swept by again. There was a squeal. 'Go.'

Hirad came back to The Unknown's side. 'Not without him. Come on.'

They set off again, Darrick taking up station ahead of them and Denser, a ForceCone directed ahead, clearing a path. Al-Arynaar had surrounded Thraun and were shepherding him back down the train. Demons were flying in all along The Thread now, attacking those within the still-functioning shell. Behind, the fighting was intense. Elves falling back in control. But the way ahead was blocked. The two ruined carts and tons of stone were strewn across the way. Just back inside the shell, Hirad took the time to look hard. He dragged strike-strain from his back as he did so, crushing their bodies in his fists or underfoot.

The two surviving Xeteskians ran past him. He could still make out Auum, leading the Al-Arynaar. There was a huge density of the squat karron in between the TaiGethen and the remainder of the train. He would survive, he always did. And the train had troubles of its own, Under heavy attack from above, there were still efforts to turn it around but in the tight space and with frightened horses it was proving almost impossible.

Thraun, with Erienne crushed close to him, was heading towards the nearest wagon. Denser was by his side. Darrick had run further down the train to oversee the turning of the wagons. The Unknown, coming to his senses, pushed Hirad away.

'I'm all right.'

'You're as bad a judge as me.'

'What's the situation?' asked the big man.

'Auum's cut off but he's all right so far. Darrick's back there. We

have to turn this train around, get out of the east end of the playhouse square. The rest of us are here but Kas has gone. I haven't seen Eilaan or Rebraal. We're in trouble.'

'Very astute,' said The Unknown, smiling through the blood slicking his face.

They paused. Al-Arynaar ran around them. Reavers were beaten back while The Raven headed for relative safety. And Hirad heard a voice that gladdened him. Strong, authoritative, elven.

'Let's get those wagons turned!' shouted Rebraal. 'Move, Al-Arynaar. Yniss protects us.'

Wagons began to move with more purpose, elves and humans goading terrified horses into action. Hirad could see Darrick directing those turning the rear wagons. The General's mouth was moving but he couldn't hear him over the din around them. But whatever he was saying it was generating instant organisation. He smiled and grabbed Denser's arm.

'Look at Darrick. Can't really stop being a commander, can he? I-'

At the back of the line, buildings were burst from the inside left and right. Rubble flew in a storm, tattering the rear wagons, destroying them both and collapsing the rear ColdRoom. Demons poured into the street and from above, driving their advantage home while the Al-Arynaar struggled to regroup. The sound of the collapse slapped into their faces, drained their spirits.

Hirad stared, mouth hanging open, his sentence never to be finished. Darrick was gone, buried under die deluge of rock. Gone. For an instant he thought he saw the General through the dust, struggling to rise, but it could only have been the demons storming into the attack, a trick to torment him.

'Darrick. NO!'

Hirad started to run but Denser got in front of him.

'Hirad, stop.'

'Out of my way, Denser. Darrick's down there.'

'He's gone, Hirad, you know what you saw.'

T saw the building fall, I saw die demons come out. Get out of rny way.'

'Hirad, he's dead. And if we don't do something very quickly, We'll be joining him. Please.'

Hirad looked into Denser's eyes, saw the tears forming there, the desperation for Hirad to understand, to accept. Biting back his anger, he nodded his head.

Around them demons shrieked their delight. Karron roared and pressed their attacks harder. He could hear Rebraal bawling orders. Elves and the few surviving men outside of The Raven fell back towards the centre of the train from both sides. Strike-strain rained in on the closing space. He looked to The Unknown who was wiping blood from his face and looking left and right, disbelief in his eyes.

Darrick was dead. The wagon train was stopped for good. They were trapped.