Demonstorm

Chapter 36

Hirad stood in front of the two mages and swept his mace ahead of him again. Strike-strain were flung right. He brought the weapon down sharply, connecting with the claw of a reaver, sniping in from the left. Beside him, The Unknown stood, a massive presence. Mace in one hand, long sword in the other, he fought like the Protector he had once been. Hirad at once drew strength from him and feared for him. The blow to his head had slowed him. Blood ran freely over his face and slicked his arms. And his old hip wound was locking his right leg periodically, threatening his balance.

Hirad spoke over his shoulder at the mage crouched at the door's heavy lock.

'We don't have much time,' he said.

'I am aware of that,' came the testy reply.

'I am not losing any more of my friends.'

'Then leave me to work.'

The second mage swept his ForceCone back out over the elven-wrought pathway through the throng of demons, scattering the enemy from the sky. On the ground, three steps below, the situation worsened by the heartbeat. Demons were pressing in hard from both sides. Karron were at the fore, backed by reavers. The Al-Arynaar were fighting a desperate rearguard action, trying to keep the pathway open for those still in the alleyway.

The elves barely had room to fight now. They had been forced into close quarters and most had dropped swords for knives and daggers. In the midst of them, Ark battered away, oblivious to the strike-strain covering his huge body. He used his mace in both hands as a ram, relying on the elves flanking him to keep away the flailing limbs of other karron.

Back in the alley, Thraun held Erienne and was ready to run. With

him, Denser, Pheone and the two surviving Xeteskian emissaries. All three mages had ForceCones deployed. Hirad knew that without that trio of spells, they would all have been killed already. But even so, inch by gradual inch, the demons were forcing the elves back into each other. Already, the pathway was barely two men wide and it was closing visibly.

At his back he heard the plop of molten metal and felt a brief wash of heat.

'Come on, come on,' he whispered.

There was a click. 'Got it.'

'Well done,' said Hirad. He thudded his mace into a reaver's face, feeling its skull crack. The creature shrieked and flew high, straight into the path of the elven ForceCone that drove it across the street to slap into the part-rubbled wall of the building opposite. 'Both of you, get inside. WardLock the other doors. Go!'

He didn't look,round. Instead he drew in breath and roared: 'Mages! Mages to me.'

The chaos was instantaneous. Al-Arynaar warriors ran to fill spaces in the wall left and right as their mage companions withdrew. They rushed from the alley under the protection of Denser and Pheone, neither of whom made any move to leave Thraun. Suarav and Sharyr began to run, the latter with his ForceCone playing over his head, shielding those that came with him.

To either side, the demons surged. The Al-Arynaar held firm, Ark in their midst, bellowing his defiance. Hirad saw the hammer of a karron crush the skull of an elf, driving his body into the ground. Standing next to him, Ark's face darkened and he grabbed the creature by its throat and crashed his mace single-handed into the top of its skull again and again before flinging the squat body into the press behind it.

The first mages reached the stairs and the door to the playhouse. The Unknown and Hirad made space for them to pass, the barbarian issuing orders to each as they went.

'We need light inside. Globes to rid every shadow. I want Force — Cones on every window above head height. Let's start investing WardLock in the stone. These karron do not need to use doors. Prepare IceWind, hold it in reserve. Not one demon gets in before I do, understand?'

Elves were pouring through the decreasing gap. At the alley end, karron had forced the Al-Arynaar back, threatening the rest of The Raven.

'Unknown, stay here,' he said. 'I've got to get back for the others.'

'I'm not going anywhere.'

Hirad jumped off the steps and pushed back towards the alley, roaring on the elves that passed him. He found Rebraal in the line and pulled him back.

'Get to the steps. We need the defence marshalled inside.'

Rebraal, blood dripping from his nose, nodded and moved away. Hirad pushed on. Just seven yards.

'Thraun! Get ready. Denser, keep that Cone up.'

Hirad clattered back into the action at the mouth of the alley. Karron had killed two Al-Arynaar. Their broken bodies were dragged clear down the narrow passageway giving Hirad room. He swung his mace down, striking a dripping spiked limb, and immediately up into the throat of the same karron. The demon staggered and Hirad helped it back, driving into its body with his, regaining a little lost space.

'Faster. You have to move faster.'

His voice echoed into the alley. Still the Al-Arynaar poured out. At the back of their number, the battle continued as it had since they ran from The Thread. Karron poured in from all sides through shattered buildings.

Hirad pushed away, feeling revulsion at the writhing body matting. He brought his mace down on its head, keeping it back. From his left he saw the swinging spike of another karron. He blocked it aside. The limb struck him on the upper arm, spikes just grazing his back. His left arm numbed under the blow which shunted him sideways and into the alley mouth.

He heard a satisfied squawk. More karron pressed in. Hirad levered himself from the wall, striking out with his mace. He felt it connect with flesh but couldn't see where in the confusion. Al-Arynaar drove in again. Kicks swept low, unbalancing the enemy. He heard the roar of falling stone. A cloud of dust erupted from the alley. He shuddered.

'Thraun, Denser, move!' yelled Hirad.

And so it began. Denser came first, hanging onto his ForceCone and still sweeping it above their heads. Thraun was after him, Erienne still in his arms, with Pheone in his footprints.

Hirad rocked back and thudded a straight kick into an enemy midriff. In the moment's space, he glanced down the alley. Through the clogging dust, he could see Al-Arynaar fighting the karron. Just a handful against the storm, unaware of the situation at their backs.

'Disengage,' he called. 'Run.'

He didn't know if they really heard him but one looked back, saw the space and brought his brothers with him. He led bruised, bleeding and shivering warriors into the light, still moving only because the adrenalin kept their exhaustion at bay a few moments longer. The last of them exited the alley. Karron were pouring down it at surprising speed.

'Dear Gods,' breathed Hirad. There was no one left to stop them. 'Fall back in turn. Disengage by pairs.'

The order was passed back down the line. Hirad placed himself in the centre of the collapsing pathway. Elven hands on his shoulders guided him backwards. All around him he could hear the cries of demons and the thud of weapons. He gripped his mace in both hands and watched the karron stream on. He wondered if he could hold them long enough to let the elves escape into the playhouse.

Demons piled into the space they were leaving. Hirad backed up, swinging his mace in a figure eight. It did nothing to halt the tide. They'd be on him in heartbeats. He glanced up. Reavers were massing to dive.

'Shit,' he muttered.

He was only four yards from the doors. It was too far through the crowd of elves at his back. Those guiding hands left him but another squeezed his shoulder.

'Duck.'

The word in his ear was like cold ale in a summer-dry mouth. He grinned mirthlessly at the advancing demons. And he ducked. The air froze. IceWind seared death into the mouth of the alley. Simultaneously, a ForceCone swept over his head, driving the flanks clear, and FlameOrbs dropped left and right.

For an instant the demons' triumphal voices were stilled and all

that could be heard were the shrieks of the burned and frozen, punctuated by elvish orders.

'You are coming with us,' said The Unknown from his left.

Rebraal was on his right. Behind was Denser.

They were all backing away slowly, the elves disengaging with them. The moment's pause ended. The demons attacked again. With renewed pride swelling his heart and strength filling his body, Hirad called out over the heads of the enemy.

'Raven! Let's see our people inside!'

With Pheone's ForceCone still deployed and sweeping above, The Raven fought the rearguard action. Hirad snapped a karron hammer aside, stepped inside the spike and smashed his mace high into its forehead, splitting its front eyes. The creature staggered and raised its arms to cover itself. Rebraal skewered its nerve ganglion.

Left, The Unknown held a mace in either hand now and both dripped with demon gore. He cycled them in quick ovals, striking out at body and limb, yelling his challenge. He caught a reaver on the side of the head sending it skittering into the pack. The karron that took its place took blows to its gut and neck before it could marshal a strike. The Unknown's attack was relentless, forcing it into desperate defence.

Rebraal's quick hands kept the attackers at bay to the right. His mace in both hands, he weaved a complex defensive pattern that confused the karron facing him. Above them, reavers screamed exhortations to attack while they tried to get themselves under the Cone. And all the time, The Raven backed off. More FlameOrbs fell, relieving the press of bodies. Rebraal grunted under a karron blow, his mace taking its full force but still it unbalanced him. Another blow came in, Rebraal quick enough to duck. And on the next pace, he stepped back into the shadow of the playhouse.

'Almost there, Raven!' called Hirad, feeling his heel against a step. 'Al-Arynaar step it up, get inside.'

He moved up a step. More spells flashed out over his head to crash into the defenceless demons, spreading fire and chaos. Karron rained in blows, desperate to take anyone they could in the final flurry. The Unknown's maces whirled defiance. Hirad slammed his mace again and again into heads and limbs. Rebraal took another blow to his side, half blocking it and recovering to defend.

Hirad felt for the last step. The ForceCone snapped off. Reavers dropped into the attack. Hirad raised his arms to strike out but felt hands dragging him back. He was pulled unceremoniously into the playhouse. The door was slammed against the demon pack. Ward-Lock fizzed across its timbers and not even the hammers of karrons could break it. Not for a while.

Hirad dragged himself to his feet, his limbs quivering, his mace discarded for the moment. The gloomy playhouse was full of noise, activity and dust. Outside, the demons were hammering on doors, walls and roof, the sound reverberating dully through the heavily draped space. He counted off The Raven. There was a gaping hole in their ranks. Thraun and Denser were kneeling over Erienne who was lying where the injured were being gathered in one part of the standing area that circled the stage.

Rebraal was with Dila'heth on the stage which rose from the centre of the playhouse. He was already snapping out orders to his warriors, she organising her mages. Spells crackled away, disturbing dust during their otherwise invisible progress across the open space. Al-Arynaar warriors ran to all corners, checking for unforeseen access ways. LightGlobes hung over the scene, casting gentle light that slowly lifted the gloom.

The Unknown was making for the stage and Hirad followed him, aware of the aches washing over his body. His left arm was still tingling where the karron strike had been blocked and his head itched interminably from the sweat mingling with the scratches inflicted by the strike-strain.

'Gather all the wounded on the north floor. Pheone and Denser are assessing them,' said Rebraal. 'ColdRoom teams to the stage, please. Prepare and wait for the casting order. Let's hope we don't need you.'

His smile was grim and weary when he saw Hirad coming towards him. He grasped the barbarian's shoulders.

'You saved a lot of lives,' he said. 'Thank you.'

Hirad shrugged. 'Not quite enough, eh?'

'You know what I mean.'

'Difficult space to defend,' said The Unknown.

Hirad could see what he meant. The standing area around the circular stage was flat ground ten yards in all directions. It ended in a

rail beyond which a series of fourteen rows of benches were bolted onto steep steps. Gangways led from each of the bolted and Ward-Locked doors and a thin path ran all around the periphery of the playhouse. Stairs ran up the side of the outer wall to the. left of each door, leading to the ornate and overhanging boxes for the rich of Xetesk. Empty windows now, drifting with the memories of privilege. Strange. He could all but hear the applause and smell the expectancy of the crowd. As if the walls retained the atmosphere of past triumphs.

'We need numbers, stamina and sustainability estimates now,' said The Unknown, bringing him back to himself.

'We also need a way out,' said Rebraal, wheezing.

'First things first,' said The Unknown. 'Dila'heth, what have you got?'

Dila blew out her cheeks. 'It's not a good picture,' she said, biting back her emotion. 'We left Julatsa with one hundred and eighty mages not three days ago. And now' — she began indicating as she spoke — 'I have six mages keeping ForceCones on the ceiling. I have thirty investing the walls with WardLock constructs. I have nine ready to cast ColdRooms, five are on healing duty and the other seven are injured too badly to cast. That's fifty-eight including me.'

'We've all lost people,' muttered Hirad.

Dila let the figures sink in. Hirad looked about him. It had seemed such a throng when they had run for the playhouse but now, in the enclosed space, the scale of their losses was all too clear.

'And what about the warriors, Rebraal?' asked The Unknown.

'Less than a hundred,' he said, face drawn and pained. 'We can't know the numbers Auum still has with him but at worst we've lost well over half our sword and two thirds of our mage strength. And it gets worse, I suspect. Pheone?'

The Julatsan High Mage looked up from her search of the wounded.

'How bad is it?'

Pheone's face was a picture of despair. Her face was streaked with fresh tears and she was shaking, the fear setting in to her body. She took a moment to compose herself and walked onto the stage, the mage Geren at her shoulder.

'I've lost almost everyone. There's only ten left. Pathetic isn't it,

but Geren and I are the only human Julatsan mages left. Everyone else is dead or a non-mage.'

'There'll be others, Pheone,' said Hirad. 'Hidden and scattered. Blackthorne has Julatsans in his employ. You can rebuild.'

'From this?' blurted out Geren. 'You talk like it's over and we've won. Look at where we are. We've just swapped one trap for another. There's no way out, is there? Nowhere for us to go.'

'There is always a way,' said Hirad, his tone ominous and stilling Geren's outburst. 'That's what we do. What you do is go back and get our people fit to fight again. And I will do the same with mine.'

Geren nodded.

'And Geren?'

'What?'

'We're all tired and scared,' said Hirad. 'But fear is a disease. And it spreads where it shows. Remember that when you look into the eyes of those you are healing or you're no good to us.'

Geren backed away, Pheone laying a comforting hand on his arm as he retreated. The battering on walls and doors was incessant and intensifying. Loose plaster fell from the balcony-box carvings and from the pillars which were hung with dramatic deep red drapes.

The Unknown spread his arms. 'So, what's the prognosis? Presumably we're at a stage where we can keep them at bay. The question is, how long can we maintain it?'

They all looked at Dila'heth.

'There's no easy way to say this. Even if I cycle the ForceCone mages and rest the WardLock casters now, we can't keep this up until nightfall.' She shrugged. 'Three days in the open and under attack. We just didn't come in here with enough stamina. Then they'll break in and all that we'll have are the ColdRooms. I'm sorry.'

'Looks like Geren might have been right,' muttered Pheone.

Hirad looked at her sharply but didn't have the heart to rebuke her. Part of him agreed with her. He could still see walls collapsing and Darrick disappearing beneath them, helpless. He shouldn't have died that way. Not him. Outside, die demons were baying for their souls, sensing the parlous state in which their captives found themselves. The endless thudding on the playhouse was giving Hirad a headache. There would be thousands of them out there, most of

them just waiting for the inevitable while reavers picked at the roof and karron thrashed at the walls and doors. Far too many for them to hope to break through.

'Anyone know a secret way out of here?' he asked.

Rebraal shook his head. 'We've checked. The trapdoors just lead to dressing rooms and closed storage. There are only four ways out and none of them is appealing.'

Over on the north floor, Denser slapped Thraun on the back, the ghost of a smile on his face. On the ground in front of them, Erienne was stirring.

It would probably have been better for her had she stayed unconscious.