Ravensoul

Chapter 29

The panic spread through the western side of the city almost as fast as the explosions from the east. Auum, Miirt and Ghaal ran hard through the periphery of the populous zone, ignoring the shouts of guards and patrols, knowing that in the maze of narrow, deprived alleys, little could be done to stop them.

At the outset the population of Xetesk had crowded onto the streets in huge expectation. The first set of wards had been greeted with cheering. The second set as well. But very quickly the mood had darkened. This was a city of magic. Plenty enough knew that the repetition and speed of the triggering of wards was not what was intended. Either a massive invasion force was pushing through the kill zone or something had gone badly wrong.

By the time the TaiGethen had steered back towards the walls of the college, ordinary folk and a good number wearing the livery of the college guard were making their hurried way to the west gates and out onto open ground. Auum only hoped they weren’t too late. The Garonin were creatures of habit and marched in straight lines everywhere they went, but even they would eventually realise that another path existed. And then stopping the exodus, to herd, corral and massacre the people, would be relatively simple.

Auum led his Tai into the lee of the western walls of the college. The explosives display to the east had turned every head. The barrier before them was some fifty feet high, dark and imposing. But Ghaal merely smiled.

‘Smooth walls and beautifully repeated stonework,’ he said. ‘Old concrete and moss. My trusted friends.’

He reached up with both hands, set his feet into a crack at about hip level and began to climb, his brother and sister following his every move.

Densyr was weeping with the effort. He could easily imagine himself standing between two forces desperate to pull apart and release the power contained within while he held on to each one with every mote of strength that he had. And he wouldn’t be able to hold on forever.

He could feel Septern with him. The master mage was weak but his mind still clung on, and would do for as long as his soul could do the same in his borrowed body. Septern’s grid had come under extraordinary pressure but some sections remained undamaged by their efforts to pull the plug on the Garonin attempt to drag mana direct from Xetesk’s Heart.

Densyr, his own heart flailing and his temples pounding, relaxed enough to be able to look about him in the mana spectrum. The Heart had returned to something like normal balance. The hourglass shape of mana encasing the Heart was no longer distorted like a glass-blower’s nightmare. There were wild pulses within it but the depletion had been halted, with Densyr acting as the door wedged firmly into the frame.

Still, the remains of the grid, particularly at its periphery, were a disaster waiting to happen. What had been a tightly bound structure built on lines of energy criss-crossing in arcs, horizontals and verticals to join each and every ward together, had become a fractured mess.

Loose lines whipped and spat with the remnants of mana within them seeking a place to earth themselves. The entire security of the arc lines was gone, ripped to shreds by the feedback of mana along the grid itself. Eighty per cent of the wards had detonated when they had been torn asunder. Densyr shuddered to think what had happened to the eastern side of his city. The remaining parts of the grid were all active, and that was some relief should the Garonin still pursue their plan to march east to west without deviation.

Unfortunately, it seemed to Densyr that he would be unable to abandon his position. The grid was so unstable that to remove himself, and probably Septern too, from their buffering duties would allow the flailing mana lines to reconnect to the Heart so closing the circuit once more and feeding back the remaining mana. It might only be twenty per cent active, but there was enough power there to do serious damage. Destruction? Only Septern could tell.

‘Did we win?’ asked Septern.

Through the haze of the mana spectrum Densyr could see him slumped in his chair, eyelids fluttering.

‘That depends on your point of view.’

‘Where are the enemy?’

‘I can see no sign of them in the spectrum. But that means little, I suspect. We’ve surely given them a bloody nose and pause for thought.’

Septern chuckled. ‘And now you want me to work out a way to unpick the rest of the grid safely.’

‘It isn’t that I don’t enjoy standing between these two unruly forces, it’s just that I have other duties today.’

‘You are a strong mage, young Densyr. I am not surprised you were entrusted with Dawnthief.’

Densyr felt a warmth radiating through him, calming the forces pummelling him from the outside.

‘I am flattered,’ he said. ‘But let’s raise a glass to ourselves when we’re out of this. I’m tired. You must be exhausted.’

‘I can take the pressure now,’ said Septern. ‘Release yourself. Let me work.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘We’ll find out.’ Another dry chuckle. ‘Just don’t go far.’

Densyr disengaged himself from the point between Heart and grid, feeling Septern take the strain. Densyr sagged back into his chair. The roar of unsuppressed mana faded but there was no peace. He became immediately aware of a low unsettling noise from behind him, to the west. And of angry shouts coming from below, inside the college.

‘Sing if you need me, Septern,’ he said, pushing himself to his feet.

Densyr had to cling on to the arms of his chair just for a moment while the blood rushed away from his head, threatening to black him out. When it cleared, he walked to his balcony doors, took a deep breath and threw them open.

Ten years of rebuilding and pride, wiped out in the time it took to boil a cauldron of water. Densyr felt physically sick. In his mind’s eye he had seen rubble and dust but nothing could have prepared him for this. A few half walls were standing beyond the college gates but aside from that nothing remained of the entire eastern section of the city. On an arc that stretched for four miles left to right and three miles in depth, everything was gone.

‘Who needs the Garonin when we have such means at our disposal? ’ he whispered.

Fires still raged in hundreds of places. The yellow flame of burning wood mixed with the harsh dark blue flame of mana gorging itself on any material with which it came into contact. Those flailing strands of the grid, easily identifiable now, spewing out their energy, adding final insult to the crime that had been committed on Xetesk. The Wesmen had come and been beaten off. The demons had done such awful damage. Yet no enemy had managed quite the complete desolation that Densyr and Septern had been forced to perpetrate to save…

Beneath him the Heart was still intact and the college walls had not been breached. But what of the body of Xetesk? He didn’t even need to look west to know what the rumbling hum was. People were leaving. They were scared and they were running and they didn’t even know where. The security of their college had proved not to be enough.

‘Despair is the province of the weak,’ said a voice behind him.

Densyr straightened his shoulders, lifted his head and turned.

‘What am I saving, Dystran?’ he asked. ‘How am I benefiting Xetesk and Balaia?’

‘Don’t let what you see fool your mind,’ said Dystran gently. ‘When the battle is won, and it may be that it is already, there is but one beacon for the leaderless and it is here. Only one place capable of rebuilding all that we have lost. Only one place with the strength and the desire to make Balaia a power again. And only one place that can rule.

‘The Heart of Xetesk still beats and it must beat on, my Lord of the Mount. It is our destiny to lead and yours to rule. And it is surely all within your grasp.’

Densyr felt almost too tired to argue. ‘You know they are not beaten, don’t you?’

‘Perhaps, but now they have seen the extent of our power and the sacrifices they will have to make to take our Heart. Surely a negotiation is the least we can expect and a withdrawal is something for which we can now hope.’

‘I wish I shared your optimism.’

‘Take a look outside.’ Dystran moved past him and out onto the balcony. Densyr followed a little reluctantly. ‘What do you see? What do you hear?’

‘I see the mess I’ve created in the most beautiful city on Balaia and I hear the sounds of my people panicking and running to the west.’

Densyr glanced below him and then away again, unsure whether to believe what he was seeing.

‘You are being too literal. Perhaps I should have asked what you don’t see and hear. No Garonin foot soldiers. No machine. I-Are you listening to me at all?’

‘Now I really do believe I have seen it all,’ said Densyr by way of a reply.

Coming across the courtyard, with guards and mages closing in, were a man being helped along by a woman and a second man. Two boys walked just in front of them. A third man walked head bowed and arms outstretched and could only be a mage. A fourth man was carrying a fifth and was surrounded by wolves. In front of them all came Brynar, his loyal apprentice, waving people aside as best he could.

‘Erstwhile apprentice,’ muttered Densyr. ‘Little bastard.’

‘Have them killed,’ said Dystran, waving a hand.

‘Without finding out how they survived that inferno? I think not.’

Densyr pulled the bell to summon a servant and didn’t have to question the relief he felt and the smile that was fighting its way onto his lips.

‘The bloody, bastard Raven,’ said Dystran.

‘Yes,’ said Densyr. ‘Amazing, aren’t they?’

‘They aren’t just going to wave us into the tower complex,’ said Sol.

‘What are we going to do?’

‘Get as close as possible,’ said Brynar. ‘Ilkar has us shielded. I don’t think any guards will be drawing weapons with me here.’

‘Don’t count on it.’

‘Move!’ shouted Brynar. ‘Wounded coming through.’

The courtyard was packed with the anxious, the scared and a few with the desire to organise. Thraun’s wolves were keeping all but the most persistent at a safe distance. But mages were gathering at the entrance to the tower complex fifty yards ahead and guardsmen were with them in good numbers. Left and right they were being shadowed by more.

Ilkar’s Mage Shelter gave them the protection they needed from targeted magical attack and no one was going to fire arrows in such a crowded space. But all it would take was a guard captain with a little courage and they would be arrested immediately. Brynar was not going to let anyone fight and for their part The Raven had neither the desire nor the capacity to do so.

It was a question of whose nerve would hold the longest.

College guards were creating a path in front of them, pushing people back on either side. The clear view it gave of the doors to the tower complex was not encouraging.

‘Keep moving,’ said Brynar.

Thraun came to Sol’s left. ‘I can scatter them.’

‘Wait,’ said Sol. ‘Let’s see their intent.’

‘That’s close enough!’

An old soldier moved out in front of those guarding the doors. Suarav, captain at the time of the demon invasion. General now. A much-decorated hero.

‘We must see the Lord of the Mount,’ said Brynar, not pausing in his stride. ‘We must speak with him and with Septern.’

‘Not here and not now, Brynar,’ said Suarav. ‘Stop. You will yield to me.’

‘Can’t do that, General,’ said Brynar. ‘There is no time left.’

‘Correct,’ said Suarav.

He nodded. Two mages stepped forward, knelt and cast. Ilkar gasped, stumbled and refound his footing.

‘Ilkar’s Defence,’ he said. ‘How apt.’

‘Can you hold?’ asked Sol.

‘They aren’t pushing. But there’s no way I can move forward.’

To their left and right, soldiers were lining the path. Behind the wolves more came but stayed at a careful distance. Ahead and left of the complex and out towards the south walls there was a flurry of movement. Sol looked first at Diera and then Jonas. Finally, he winked at young Hirad.

‘Ready to run?’

‘Where?’ asked Jonas. ‘Trapped, aren’t we?’

‘Trust your old father, all right? Opportunity approaches.’ Sol raised his voice a little. ‘Thraun. Be ready. Allies to our left. Sirendor, don’t let me fall and don’t go too fast for Diera.’

‘What’s going on?’ asked Sirendor.

‘Eyes front for answers,’ said Sol.

Sol never tired of watching them in action. Auum appeared from the crowds to the left. He was at head height, his left leg and arm outstretched ahead of him, right leg tucked beneath him and right arm cocked to punch. He slammed into the first of the crouching mages, cannoning him into the second.

‘Defence down,’ said Ilkar.

‘Run, Raven,’ said Sol.

Thraun’s wolves split one left and two right as the motley assortment of wounded, women and children began to run towards the tower complex. The animals patrolled the flanks, snapping in the direction of any man who thought to move in.

Brynar was running hard, Ilkar behind him. Ahead, Auum landed, spun and sprinted towards the tower guards. Ghaal and Miirt powered in from the left. Ghaal dropped low, sweeping the legs from a soldier and smacking the heel of his palm into the fallen man’s forehead, bouncing it from the stone steps.

Miirt ducked under a clumsily drawn sword, blocked the sword arm to the right and butted her victim in the head, sending him down in a shower of blood from his nose. Auum planted a roundhouse kick into the side of Suarav’s head. The old general fell like a sack of potatoes. Auum stepped over him, spread his arms and beckoned the next men on. There were no takers.

Screams to the right took the attention of one who didn’t even see the ClawBound pair striding to the tower complex doors. A fist doubled him up and a knee to the chin put him on the ground. The mages had dispersed back into the entrance hallway of the complex. The doors began to close. The ClawBound pair ran inside, quickly followed by Ghaal. The doors stopped moving and shrieks echoed out.

Sol moved as fast as his aching body would let him. He leaned on Sirendor and used Diera for balance. In front of him, Jonas was holding young Hirad’s hand and the little lad was laughing with the excitement of it all.

He was too small to see Auum leap and dive over the last rank of guardsmen, landing behind them and striking out at two before any had the chance to turn. The gap he made was enough for Brynar, who darted inside. Moments later, a deep blue Ilkar’s Defence thrust out, beating back any defenders from the left.

Miirt and Auum faced right. In front of them, swords had been drawn by six guards. Auum took a single pace forward, dropped to his hands and spun round, legs whipping out and in. Three men fell. Miirt moved forward.

‘Time to run,’ she said.

And so they did.

‘Clear inside!’ called Brynar.

Sol nodded to Jonas to go in. Auum and Miirt shadowed him and his brother. Sol limped in with Diera, young Hirad and Jonas, and last came Thraun and the wolves. Brynar shifted the Defence spell, placing it in front of the doors.

‘Well-timed, Auum,’ said Sol. ‘Lucky you got here.’

‘We were waiting for you. Luck was not involved. Yniss keeps all of us for sterner tests.’

Sol took a quick look round. The ClawBound pair had pinned eight mages against a wall. The panther was padding up and down in front of them, the elf studying their every twitch, looking for a reason to attack. From within the complex Sol could hear running feet and the clash of metal.

‘Best you go,’ said Brynar. ‘I’ll hold the passage up to Densyr’s tower as long as I can.’

Sol unhitched himself from Diera and Sirendor and limped over to the mage.

‘You have done greater service than you know, Brynar. Your masters should be proud but they are blind instead. The Garonin will be back. Get out of here. Head west with your people. If what we’re attempting works, we’ll find you. Don’t let them get you. The world, whichever world it is, will need mages like you.’

‘But what if I am merely a man?’ said Brynar.

Sol tapped his chest. ‘In here is where you are strongest.’

Brynar blushed. Sol turned.

‘Raven,’ he said. ‘Raven with me.’