Demonstorm

Chapter 38

The karron attacked again, backed by reavers on the ground, underneath Pheone's ForceCone. They swamped the space inside the playhouse, driving hard into The Raven and taking on the Al-Arynaar flanking forces. Erienne cast again, rendering the enemy vulnerable. But without offensive spell back-up, barring Denser and Sharyr, the demons slowly made ground.

'Firm up left,' barked The Unknown.

Rebraal took a glance. The Al-Arynaar had faltered. They were distracted by the rubble and broken benches around them and the slope of the auditorium. Reavers, floating a couple of feet from the ground, were hitting them hard.

'Gheneer,' he called. 'Bring up defence.'

But he knew there was very little of that. He struck out at a karron's hammer limb. The spikes of his mace dragged gouges in its flesh. It reared and fell back. Ark followed up and drove his sword deep into its gut. In the heartbeat's space, Rebraal assessed their situation. It was becoming ever more forlorn. The cursyrd were pressing on every casting, keeping the pressure up on the Force-Cone mages, not letting them have a moment's respite. In five areas around the playhouse and all across the roof, reavers and karron launched themselves at the constructs. And every time they did, more plaster and loose stone was dislodged and a degree of stamina leeched from the caster. It was only a matter of time.

In front of him, more cursyrd poured through the gap which they widened at every stroke. Overhead, the timbers supporting the roof shifted, seeking new solidity they'd never find. The walls of the building were seriously compromised. Without the ForceCones overhead, Rebraal wasn't sure the roof would hold.

They had been forced a few paces back across the floor towards

the stage. Rebraal felt tired. His right arm ached up at the shoulder where the collar-bone was cracked and every breath sent a skewer of pain through his chest. Sweat dripped down his face and he had the first inklings of a shake in his left arm. The mace felt too heavy.

Pheone swept her ForceCone above their heads once more. Strike-strain were dispersed to all points, squeaking frustration. Rebraal blocked a spike arm and reversed his mace across the neck of a reaver following up. The cursyrd reared into the air and was pinned against the wall by the Cone. Ark battered the skull of a karron, sending the creature back into the lines behind. The Unknown jabbed his mace into the eyes of another and he could hear Hirad's shouts clear across the floor. The barbarian demanded more effort. He demanded strength and unbroken will in Darrick's name. All those around him gave it without question.

Taking Ark's lead, Rebraal drove forwards. He ducked a flailing limb and struck left to right. His mace caught the karron on the side of the head, sending it sprawling across the line. The disruption was used instandy. The Unknown moved up and split his next enemy groin to chest. Hirad swivelled and kicked out high, taking his on the chin. Planting his foot he smashed his mace in under its arm, killing the creature instandy.

'Pushing!' he shouted.

Reavers flew low into the line, blocking any move of the allied forces. Rebraal saw a claw rip out and scratch three lines down Ark's face. Strike-strain followed in, buzzing in their faces, distracting their focus. One bit Rebraal high on the right arm. He jerked with die sudden pain, ice flowing into his cracked collar-bone. He moved to snatch it away. A reaver saw its chance and lashed in its tail and a claw simultaneously. Rebraal tripped and went down hard on his right side, his mace just about blocking the claw.

He roared in agony and for a moment thought he was going to pass out. He heard The Unknown shout an order and saw the big man's mace flash across his eyeline and bury itself in the reaver's side. Rebraal pushed himself back and away. Gheneer hurdled him to take his place in the line, sword in hand for now.

He dragged himself to his feet.

'Still standing, Rebraal?' called Hirad.

'Still standing,' he confirmed.

Erienne was at his side. 'You should leave the line. Let me dull this for you.'

'No time,' said Rebraal.

'Down,' ordered Denser.

IceWind again, forcing the cursyrd back, killing them in their dozens. How much stamina he had left was open to debate but it would be plenty. He was the most efficient mage Rebraal had ever seen. Sharyr, though, looked tired. Inexorably, the battle was turning the cursyrd's way.

Rebraal moved back to the front. Gheneer noted him, savaged a cut through reaver wing membrane and ducked backwards. Rebraal moved into the fight once more. His next strike killed the reaver Gheneer had crippled.

'Press!' The Unknown sounded off. 'Erienne, another casting if you can. We have new blood coming in.'

'On its way.'

To the left, a massive section of wall disintegrated inwards. Al-Arynaar were trapped under rubble, others knocked from their feet. Karron poured in through the new gap, reavers at their backs. Rebraal heard Gheneer shout orders. The Unknown joined him.

'Alter the angle of defence, Raven. Let's give them some breathing space.'

The pain in Rebraal's chest was intensifying. His right arm was completely useless now and he held it hard across his chest, trying to account for the lack of balance it created. The Unknown ordered the move and right to left. The Raven angled towards the new attack. The right-hand flank of the Al-Arynaar followed suit, keeping up the pressure, denying the cursyrd freedom to press home on the left.

But the battle front was too wide to hold for too long. Rebraal wielded his mace in front of his face while he thought hard about how they could turn the tide. Above the noise of the cursyrd that reverberated around the playhouse, and the sounds of orders and struggle, Rebraal could hear something else. Like approaching thunder carried on the wind. He fancied he could feel it through his feet too but dismissed the thought.

'Unknown!' he shouted. 'We need to relieve the pressure left. Orbs and IceWind to the gap.'

The Unknown concurred. 'Denser, Sharyr. Redirect. Pheone, keep those strike-strain away.'

The cursyrd were pressing hard on the left. Gheneer had been quick, organising a new defensive line, yet he had lost ten or more warriors. The line hadn't actually broken but it was perilously stretched. Mages from the holding areas behind turned their attention front. FlameOrbs landed in the gap, detonating plaster dust and incinerating enemies.

Rebraal ducked a tongue of fire that scoured into the cursyrd ranks. The air was hot and choking. He followed Ark into a fresh attack, feeling his mace biting deep into exposed cursyrd flesh. The reaver howled and lashed out, catching the top of his head. He felt cold blood flow. He staggered back. Ark was with him, fending off the next attack while he regained his balance.

'Drop back,' said Ark. 'You are not fit.'

But that noise of thunder was getting louder. Something was

happening. If it was cursyrd, they would be washed away. If it was help, they had to hold out. Whichever it turned out to be, there was nothing to be gained by pulling himself out.

'I'll be fine.' And to prove it, he struck out right to left and slightly upward, splintering a karron jaw. The strike it had thought

to put in died with it. 'Can you hear the thunder?'

'Yes.' Ark's blade blocked a hammer limb, the return severed it. 'It is not thunder. It is singing.'

Rebraal fenced away a reaver claw and thrashed above his head at a strike-strain. The kitten-sized cursyrd was dashed to the ground. Ark was right. It was singing and it was definitely getting closer.

'Let's keep them back!' roared Hirad. 'Help is coming.'

Hirad's words were taken up all across the line, giving tired limbs more strength. Rebraal felt invigorated. Hope flowed through his veins. The ache in his arm seemed to diminish. But if they thought the enemy would crumble, they were mistaken. Reavers set up a dreadful cacophony that bounced around the confined space.

The effect was instant. Strike-strain withdrew and bunched just outside the playhouse. Rebraal frowned, wondering why. The karron backed up a pace, some a little further. It was the first concerted move he had seen them undertake.

'Steady!' roared The Unknown. 'Watching.'

A handful of Al-Arynaar moved up. Rebraal and The Raven barked them back. Three were too late. The karron, under the spell of the reavers' voices, whirled back into the attack at astonishing speed. Limbs cycled twice, three times as fast blurring in the air in front of the allies. Those too late and cut off were battered dead in moments, unable to raise a defence in isolation.

Two karron broke through and ran straight at Erienne. Rebraal saw them coming.

'Erienne, your left! Left!'

But she couldn't hear him, lost deep in her casting. Denser too was preparing, unaware of his peril. Al-Arynaar detached and chased. Others moved up from the back but all would be too late.

Rebraal turned left-side-on. The karron in front of him rushed on. Next to him, Ark with his longer reach dismembered the first creature that came into his range and swept his mace at a second. He moved his sword to Rebraal's defence, deflecting the hammer limb. Rebraal fended away the spike and knew he had to detach.

'Ark, cover me.'

He danced back a step, turned and raced into the gap to protect Erienne. The karron squawked, their limbs flowed fast. Rebraal gripped his mace in both hands and felt the pain flooding his shoulder and chest. He drove the weapon through hard and low, taking the first creature across its hammer limb and deep into its chest cavity. The karron reared and flashed its spike limb across its body. Rebraal fenced it off but didn't have the balance to deliver a counter of his own. The speed of the limb beat him. The karron's hammer limb thudded into his defence, hurling him from his feet even as Al-Arynaar blades tore through its body.

He felt the sensation of falling. It was a weightlessness combined with a roaring in his ears and deep inside his mind. Somewhere distant, a voice called his name. He felt no pain until he struck the ground. Darkness closed over him.

T ask you this as an adversary for whom I have developed a certain respect,' said Ferouc.

His hands clicked together and his skin flowed from a deep green to a livid blue, his emotions clashing while he spoke. Blackthorne stood alone before him on the steps of his castle keep, far enough

away that he could turn and escape should Ferouc attack. But he didn't think the demon would. Not that he trusted his enemy. Ferouc simply didn't have to risk himself or any measure of humiliation. Ranged behind him were hundreds of the demon strain he called karron, destructors. Hovering above them a similar number of reavers. The strike-strain were gone. Not needed now.

'Respect is a long time earned, Ferouc,' he replied, choosing not to irritate the occupying commander with his nickname. 'But understanding of the spirit of humans would take you a lifetime. We have been so long resisting you that the thought of surrender can never now enter our minds. And even more so knowing what that surrender would mean. This is not mere captivity and subjugation, after all.'

'But you are beaten,' said Ferouc.

'Not so, my enemy,' said Blackthorne, enjoying the reaction his words provoked. 'We accept that we cannot beat you. Your numbers are vasdy superior. But we are not beaten. One does not necessarily follow the other.'

'The instruction has changed,' said Ferouc. T am to bring about the end of your resistance and if that means taking your lives but not your souls, so be it. You may be relatively few but you are dangerous and I am required to the north to aid in our final victory.'

'And hence these. .' Blackthorne indicated behind Ferouc. 'Karron.'

'They are a race not suited to any but the most mana-dense atmosphere,' said Ferouc, and there was a note of disdain in his voice. 'It is a measure of our inevitable victory that we are now able to use them in Balaia.'

'We will kill them as we will kill any who come against us.'

Ferouc's colour distilled into a bright blue, his anger surfacing strongly. 'I had wanted to taste your soul, Baron Blackthorne, but now I would laugh over your soulless corpse. The karron will tear down your walls and expose you to us. And while they might fear your ColdRooms, we no longer do. Ask your people. Life even if it is brief under the rule of the demons is preferable to ignominious death beneath the rubble of your own castle.'

Blackthorne laughed. 'Oh Fidget, you will never understand. No, it is not. Do you not see that every moment we resist you, our

friends in Xetesk close in on the way to beat you and The Raven get ever closer to your beating heart? Before you came we were a divided nation. It took you to bring us together, to give us the will to fight again as one. And for that, we will always be grateful.

'One day, you will be beaten. You do not believe it I know but that is where your weakness lies. Come, attack us if you will. Taste death in your hundreds and frustration over the days we resist you.'

Blackthorne turned and strode back into his castle, knowing he had to deliver the speech of his life to stop his people being overwhelmed before nightfall.

Hirad thrashed his mace through waist-high. It tore across the karron's hammer limb and into its midriff, ripping flesh away. The knife now in his left hand jabbed into its face. Across the line, the karron were slowing dramatically. They hadn't forced the breakthrough they wanted. The Raven had held firm and the Al-Arynaar had responded with typical courage to the change of pace of the karron attack. But the attack wasn't fading fast enough and Hirad burned with the frustration.

'Someone get to Rebraal. Now!' He battered his mace into a karron skull. 'Get the fuck back.' Every muscle burned. He felt the sweat pouring from his body. 'Erienne, see to him.'

He had glanced around as the Al-Arynaar's leader had taken the blow from the karron, saving Erienne as he did so. He had landed unmoving. The Unknown had led The Raven on the counter, defending until the whirling limbs began to slow. After that it had turned into carnage. Al-Arynaar forged into the karron lines, driving them back towards the holes in the playhouse walls. Reavers shrieked and strike-strain dived but ForceCones kept them away. FlameOrbs crashed again and again into the back of the demon horde already distracted by what was coming up behind them.

'Pushing,' shouted The Unknown. 'Don't lose your focus, Cold-heart. Put these bastards down.'

Hirad let the rage settle on him like Auum had taught him, using it to give him clarity. He kicked the legs from a karron and broke its neck with his mace when it fell in front of him. He straightened and jabbed out with his knife, feeling it connect with flesh. The karron reared. Hirad butted it in the face and struck it under the chin with

his mace. From his right, a laboured spike limb strike curved his way. Thraun had switched to his long sword and took the spike off at the wrist.

Outside, the sounds of approaching running feet and chanting were filling the air. Panicked calls went up from the demons around the playhouse. Hirad watched reavers darting into the air. He saw karron falter and stop at the back of the line.

'Let's break them,' he growled. 'Raven with me.'

He moved and knew he wouldn't stop until they were running or he was dead. His mace crashed again and again into bodies rendered weak through exhaustion and Erienne's casting. His knife licked out, inflicting pain and frustrating riposte. Next to him, The Unknown wielded sword and mace in tandem as did Ark nearby. The karron had no answer. Their ploy had failed. Their enemies too skilled. And with the new threat almost on them, they were called off, broke and ran.

'Holding!' called The Unknown. 'No one move after them.'

Hirad saw the first of the relief pouring into the square. Banners flew, axes and swords glinted in the sunlight and the songs echoed from the louring buildings.

'Gods falling, Wesmen,' said Hirad. 'Now there's something I never thought to see.'

'Let's hope they're offering help,' said Thraun.

'Oh they are,' said Suarav. The college captain had fought quietly and effectively next to Thraun. He was cut and bleeding but still very much alive. 'We'll make the college now.'

Hirad remembered and his relief turned to fear. He spun on his heel and ran to where Rebraal lay near the stage. Erienne and Denser knelt by him. Denser was casting. Hirad could see Erienne's hands shaking. He prayed it was with exhaustion and not grief. He joined them, crouching at Rebraal's feet.

'Oh dear Gods, no,' he said. 'Not you too.'

A trail of blood ran from beneath his head. His face was pale. His mace lay twisted by his side, his left arm underneath his body and his leather torn, buckles broken. At least he was breathing.

Denser finished his casting. 'This is one luck)' elf. He's got a cut on his scalp and no doubt a concussion from the impact. But his mace took the force of the blow, deflected it along his leather here.

It only glanced him or it would have burst his stomach, surely. But when he wakes he's going to be in a lot of pain.'

'Dammit, Rebraal, what did I say to you?' whispered Hirad. 'Why did you have to stay in the fight?'

'Because he's Raven at heart,' said Erienne. 'Because that's what he knew you'd do in his place. What any of us would do. He saved me, Hirad. Think how close we came to losing everything.'

Hirad reached out and smoothed his hair. 'Well done, Ilkar's little brother. Well done.' He looked up to the sky. 'We won this one, General,' he said.

All around him the Wesmen songs filled the air. From the corners of his eyes, he saw warriors pouring into the playhouse and through the gaps he saw them surrounding the building. He heard voices shouting orders and the calls of demons, more distant now.

He became aware of a presence in front of them, standing a respectful distance away. He raised his head. In front of him stood a man with a middle-aged face but whose furs and leather covered what was plainly a powerful body. That face was criss-crossed with scars and fresh cuts. His greying light hair was braided and long, his eyes fierce. He exuded an aura of authority and power. Yet he waited for them to acknowledge him. The huge axe gripped casually in his hand dripped demon gore. Hirad had never set eyes on him before but there was no doubting who he was.

'Lord Tessaya,' he said.

Tessaya inclined his head. 'The Raven. It has been a meeting long in the making.' He frowned and looked hard at Hirad. 'We have all lost brothers. Your loss pierces you. It is written on you as plain as script. Which of you has fallen?'

'A great man,' said Hirad. 'General Darrick.'

'Ahh.' There was genuine regret in Tessaya's voice. 'He, I respected above most men though his actions caused the Wesmen such pain. I wish we could have spoken together. I am saddened by his passing. The Spirits will keep him.'

'His body is still on the street. We can't leave it there,' said Hirad, turning to The Raven. 'We need it. We have a ritual to perform.'

'No,' said Tessaya. 'You cannot.'

'You don't understand,' said Hirad, keeping himself firmly in check. 'He's Raven. We owe him respect.'

Tessaya placed a gentle hand on Hirad's shoulder. 'No,' he repeated. 'It does not matter where he fell, you cannot get to him. The demons are gone but merely to regroup. They will be back and we must make the college grounds before they do. If you stray they will take you.'

'Unknown?' Hirad looked to die big man. 'He's only on The Thread. Just a litde way north.' The Unknown bit his lip and shook his head.

'Then he is behind us and he is lost,' said Tessaya. 'The demons have the north of the city, everything beyond this building.' He glanced around him. Most of the ATArynaar were standing still, plainly without the energy to do anything else. 'Your forces are exhausted. Consign his Spirit through prayer and he will find his way. But you must come now. The storm is building again outside. The Wesmen will guard you all. Run amongst us. And have your mages keep the demons from over our heads.' He allowed himself a small smile. T may detest magic but I concede it has its uses. Particularly today.'

'Unknown?' asked Hirad again. 'Darrick's so close.'

'Not this time, Hirad,' he said. 'We can't risk losing more of us to find him. Look inside yourself. Remember why we are here and what we have to do. You know I'm right.'

Hirad rubbed a hand over his chin, determined not to break in front of Tessaya. T know, I know,' he said, though the words dragged reluctandy from his mouth. He could feel his cheeks burning. His fury, pent up. His frustration at boiling point. 'Tell you something, Unknown, I've had it with these demons. I've had it with enemies destroying my country and killing my friends. Think I was angry before? That was nothing. Nothing. Let's make these bastards regret the day the first of them ever dared breathe our air.'