Shadowheart

Chapter 39

Erienne listened to them for as long as she could. Men standing round maps discussing the futures of other men. Who lived and who died being tossed around like an orange stolen by children in a market. She wondered if they ever actually stopped to think about what they were doing. That positioning that man there and that man there actually condemned one man and saved the other.

Probably, they didn't. And a part of her didn't blame them because they made the same decisions about themselves and lived or died by them. But the larger part thought of them as playing gods because they mentioned her name and assumed her compliance without knowing any longer what she was capable of doing. They remembered her Dordovan magical skills. She didn't think she could use them any more.

She tried to tell them but they wouldn't listen. All they could find to say was that they would help her, that they would be there and that they were The Raven. So instead she walked out into the sunlight to watch the attempt to raise the Heart. She didn't feel much of the warmth of the sun and everything seemed a little detached. She knew why. The One was probing her senses, keeping her away from the people she needed in any way it could. It was trying to deprive her of her humanity. Her hearing, her sight and her touch all seemed to be under attack.

Erienne watched the elven and Julatsan mages gather around the Heart. Almost two hundred of them in two concentric rings coming no nearer than forty feet. Though she might not be able to feel the warmth of the sun, she could certainly sense the atmosphere. She had never known one so tense around a casting. They should all have been confident. Instead, they feared a dropout of the mana focus, a darkening of the shadow. It would be catastrophic.

Pheone stood next to Dila'heth, the elf relaying the human's instructions. A thought clear as spring water came to Erienne's mind. She probed the Heart of Julatsa. The sight jerked her back to herself. She should not have been able to view the mana with such clarity, almost as if she were Julatsan herself. Another thought. Of course, she was every mage now. Magic was just one element. For her it was no longer split along the lines of college and lore.

Feeling an almost voyeuristic excitement, Erienne tuned back into the Julatsan mana spectrum and watched, expanding her viewpoint to take in the mages congregated around the Heart pit.

The Heart itself exhibited all the signs of a mortally sick organ. It pulsed rather than flowed at its deepest level, sending vibrations into the flow around it. Its energy was low, constricted by the shadow that sought to crush the life from it altogether..

What should have been a brilliant yellow oval, imbuing every Julatsan mage, was in reality a stuttering tarnished teardrop. The desperation to raise the Heart was all too easy to understand. It had to be returned to its exact previous position to stop it deteriorating further. Like a sundial partially hidden in shadow, it had to be moved to where its effect could be maximised. And then enough Julatsan mages had to be trained to build its strength. Pheone had asked her opinion on Geren's theory. She had thought him almost certainly right. That meant raising the Heart was only one step on a long trail back to strength.

Erienne noted with great interest, the effect of the mana flow on the elemental power streams about it. The pure magical force dragged them into similar shapes, upsetting their own rhythm. The free energy of the air and earth around the Heart were weak in its presence and she could feel the solidity of the buildings surrounding the courtyard.

The combination of the elements was so potent. Beguiling almost. She knew she could draw on any of it, all of it. That the failure of all the colleges would not stop her practising magic. She could be the only mage, giving true title to the name of her magic. One.

Erienne clamped down on the thought and felt the pressure of the One entity ease. She fought her breathing back to near normal and refocused, seeing the structure for the raise begin to form.

Like so many core castings, the structure was inherently simple.

To Erienne, it looked like nothing more than an eight-sided splint. Each panel of the splint was linked to those adjacent by cords of pulsating mana and inside it, there were as many links into the Heart itself as there were mages to cast the spell.

All of these links were mirrored by poles of mana on the outside of the splint, one representing each mind. The formation was quick and without error, each mage feeding in as much energy as the next to keep the balance perfect.

When it was done, they paused. Erienne heard Pheone issue a series of quick commands, tidying up a slightly tattered edge here, filling in a striation in one of the splint panels there. When Pheone was finished teasing at the few imperfections, they waited again, all watching the dull-coloured but powerful shape, making sure it was settled.

Now it got tricky. Slowly, on a single command, all the mages tensed their minds in unison, clenching their fists for emphasis and raising their arms gradually as their minds gripped, dragging the Heart upwards, agonisingly slowly. But move it did. Inching upwards, the mages taking the strain.

Erienne sampled their minds, felt the draining effects of the expense of such levels of energy. So much poured in to keep the shape true through the shadow that covered everything they did. She could see the delicacy of their operation. Every mage had to push at precisely the same rate, the balance had to remain perfect. Each was responsible for making sure their rate of input placed no lateral strain on the structure. And where they did, Pheone linked in, cajoling or smoothing, evening the flow. She was a natural.

Erienne felt a twinge in the elemental forces surrounding the Heart and focused in. There, buried deep within the stone of the building that housed the Heart, and that they raised along with this most vital of mana structures, was a mote of darkness.

She could see the mass of the energy from the earth, air and stone spiralling in support, dragged upwards by the intensity of the mana and mimicking the shape of the sheath. But there was a blemish and it was fast infecting the point at the base of the Heart.

She couldn't tell whether it was a coincidence or a direct result of the casting but it was happening all the same. The swallowhole in the elemental energy expanded quickly, soaking up into the Heart, distending its shape fractionally at first but then faster and faster. It was enough to begin a chain reaction, the Heart darkening, deep shadow consuming its already dull colour. And all the time around Erienne, the mages continued to inch the Heart and its surrounds towards the surface.

They seemed oblivious, they were oblivious. The focus was failing and none of them had noticed. For a heartbeat, panic gripped Erienne and she considered trying to absorb die black hole in the elemental energies, cover the vortex that was destroying the focus. But a beat later, she knew she could not. Dark lines pulled and shadows thickened over the surface of Julatsa's Heart.

And still they lifted it, their minds so concentrated on the splint and its coherence, and on the stamina they were having to feed in that the drain on them was escaping their attention. Their minds were linked as one to the construct, their combined force stopping them sensing what any one individual would see instandy.

There was nothing Erienne could do to slow the rate of the shadow's advance. At the base of the Heart, yellow was gone, replaced by grey and darkening every moment.

'Pheone,' she said, her voice loud, pitched to penetrate. 'Release the structure now. The focus is failing.'

'So close,' moaned the mage. 'We can do it.'

The spell had her, like it had them all.

'No,' barked Erienne. 'Trust me, listen to me. Abort the attempt now.'

'Nearly there, we have momentum.'

'Dammit!' spat Erienne. Without thinking, she reached out, harnessing the elemental energies surrounding the splint. They coalesced immediately into a hard edge. In the centre of the splint, darkness was flying along the length of the Heart. When it eclipsed it entirely, the splint would collapse violendy, reversing its energy through every Julatsan mage mind. It would mean the end of the college.

Erienne had no time to think of the short-term pain she was about to cause. She forced her mind to firm the edge still more, feeling the One entity surge painfully within her. Trying so hard to keep the stopper in its power, she whipped the edge through the poles of mana spiking the outside of the splint, releasing mage after mage as she sheered through them.

It was so easy, Julatsan magic so weak and unable to resist. The One edge flashed bright, sucking in the raw mana it freed, Erienne fighting to keep it sharp, imagining with increasing desperation a knife carving through water, up and down.

Quickly, with fewer and fewer mages feeding power into the splint, it began to sag, the Heart falling back down. From its apex, the raising construct unravelled, Erienne scything through the poles while the blackness gorged on the Heart. Abruptly, the spell collapsed and Erienne shut off the edge with the last of her energy. She opened her eyes and tried to pick out Pheone who was standing close by. The mage was blurred to her sight as she swayed on her feet.

Somewhere she could here people running. Elsewhere, shouts of anger and gasps of pain.

'What did you do?' demanded a voice. Pheone, she thought. Yes, definitely Pheone. ‘Ifelt you. It had to be you. We were so close. What have you done?'

'Done?' she repeated, feeling her strength give way. 'Not much. Saved your college and the lot of you. That's all.'

She tottered and crumpled.

'How is she?' asked The Unknown.

Denser turned from Erienne's bed in the infirmary and shrugged.

'Hard to tell,' he said. 'She's not as bad as before. I think it's just the exertion but there's no sense from her yet.'

Denser stood and looked towards the doors. They were open, letting the mid-afternoon light and breeze into the spodessly clean building. The warmth touched the four occupied beds of the fifty in the infirmary. Three elven mages had been injured when Erienne disrupted the Heart-raise attempt. Their damage was, like hers, difficult to assess, though for different reasons. Mind-damage from the backwash of a spell was always so.

'Come on,' he said, beginning to walk. ‘Idon't want to stay in here right now.'

'Stay with her, Denser,' said The Unknown. 'We can prepare without you.'

'It's all right,' he said. 'This place is just too full of memories. I'm having her moved to our rooms.'

The Unknown nodded. He felt it too. In fact he felt it all over the college. A battle site revisited. So much had been rebuilt since the Wesmen invasion and not a speck of blood remained. But the memories were still fresh. The infirmary had seen the results of the suffering on the walls and gates. And it was where Will Begman of The Raven had lost his fight for life. Thraun wouldn't go near the place. Not even for Erienne.

'She did save them, didn't she?' asked The Unknown.

'All of them,' said Denser. 'The mana-focus failure followed the same path as all the others, according to Pheone. They were lucky Erienne was watching.'

'And is the focus still gone?'

'Apparently not but it makes little difference. Every Julatsan and elven mage has gone to rest. None will cast again before tomorrow.'

'That could prove costly. We're liable to face familiars.'

Outside, the waiting was beginning to tell. The TaiGethen, Claw-Bound and Izack were all hidden around the city and the Mayor and entire city council were being watched. Darrick wasn't risking what he'd heard of their actions becoming outright betrayal. The gates of the college were closed and the dust cloud signifying the approaching Xeteskian army was almost at the city borders.

Lookouts were spread around the college walls, with a heavy presence at the gatehouse where Darrick, Hirad and Thraun stood with the impressively determined Commander Vale. The Unknown and Denser headed in their direction, feeling the mood. The optimism of the morning was gone, replaced by a sombre introspection. Their best chance was already gone and the enemy was not even at their gates. The Heart remained buried and without spell protection they faced a force they could not stop with swords and arrows alone for long. A force that would be on them within the hour. And it wasn't the men that worried them the most. Enough familiars could make the difference if they were employed in the right way.

And as he walked up the steps of the gatehouse tower, a thought struck The Unknown hard.

'Are you feeling strong, Denser?'

Denser managed a smile. 'That thought has occurred to you too, has it?'

'Only just now.'

'Do you think Darrick overlooked it?'

'You'd think not, but even great generals are fallible.'

Not this one, though, Denser thought a short while later. At least, not this time.

'It isn't the plan I would have chosen,' Darrick said, 'but we have no choice. We do have some protection here. We can keep them on their toes for as long as we have arrows but that's as far as it goes. After all, there will be magical shielding though soldiers might not enjoy the same protection as the mages. It depends how many mages they have and how many the Xeteskian commander thinks he needs to knock over the walls. Everyone here is briefed to watch and move in the case of spell attack. Izack and Auum both have their targets. I had to leave the cavalry mages with Izack. He represents our best chance of winning this so long as he can deal with the Xeteskian horsemen.'

'And meanwhile, we just stand here as targets?' said Hirad.

'No, Hirad, you stand here and don't turn away. Strength for us, anxiety for those attacking us. That is why all The Raven are here. To be seen. Anyway, the more spells they waste on the walls, the better I like it for the time being. Assuming Pheone's assessment of the shielding is not too generous.'

'What about the ClawBound?' asked The Unknown.

'Well they're out there,' said Darrick. 'But since they don't really even like to speak to the TaiGethen, you can imagine how far I got. Anything they do is a bonus.'

'You know what the Xeteskians will do once they realise we have no spells, don't you?' said Denser.

Darrick nodded. 'It had not escaped my attention. I have grouped the Al-Arynaar archers and they are fast around the walls. Pius, Izack knows what to look for. Any conventionally shielded concentration of mages is a prime target.'

'And what if they make, say, four groups?' asked Hirad.

'They'll need twenty at least in any group-casting to do breaching damage,' said Darrick. ‘Idon't think they have enough strength to make four such groups.'

'Or you hope they don't.'

'Hirad, if there is only one variable in this battle, I will be very happy.'

'Whatever you say.'

'We're standing above the weak point now, where we need to be. This is where they will come.'

And they did, widiin the hour as predicted. Marching through the streets, cavalry outriders keeping them ordered. The noise of their approach wasn't triumphal. None of the few citizens who looked on from upper windows waved, cheered or quailed. There were no songs, no taunts, no jeers. Every side had lost too much to make any assumptions. But there was purpose and there was belief. The Unknown worried about that. The moments to come would be critical.

The college of Julatsa was an island surrounded by a sea of cobbles. Heading off the square were roads to the central market, the grain store, the merchant quarter arid the north tenements. Without a fuss, the Xeteskians surrounded their goal under the watchful eyes of The Raven, Commander Vale and his small but loyal guard, a handful of volunteers. The Al-Arynaar looked on with blank contempt.

The Unknown saw Darrick stiffen as the enemy general rode up to the gate house, flanked by two riders carrying flags of parley in white and deep blue quarters. A shield mage rode behind him. He led a disciplined force. There was no talking in the ranks, they just stared, their confidence in their numbers obvious.

‘Ibelieve I should be addressing Commander Vale or a mage named Pheone,' said the Xeteskian. 'Though, and I mean no disrespect, I am before perhaps more illustrious company. General Darrick, it is an honour to remake your acquaintance.'

‘Iremember you well, Commander Chandyr,' said Darrick. 'However, I do not speak for the college of Julatsa. Commander Vale stands to my right.'

‘Iam Vale,' he said. 'What is it you wish to discuss?'

'Commander Vale, my request is simple. Open your gates. Lead those inside from the college grounds. You will not be harmed, merely disarmed. We have come to take control of Julatsa.' Chandyr's voice echoed for all to hear this side of the college. Vale's was similarly resounding.

'You understand that what you ask is impossible,' said Vale.

The Unknown watched him, confident he would not flinch. Talking with him had been to hear a man possessed of a keen understanding of what was at stake here. Not just for Julatsa, but for Balaia. A shame his erstwhile council colleagues had not been so well informed.

'Any student of magical history is aware of the critical importance of maintaining a balance between the colleges,' continued Vale. 'Each strand of the art as supporter and moderator of the others. Leaving our college would lead to irrevocable destruction of that balance.

'Our counter request is also simple. We call for an end to this conflict and aid in placing our college back on an even footing. We ask that for ourselves, yes, and also for the whole of our country, which we can all agree has surely suffered enough. If we do not work together as we did until so recently, magic across our land will ultimately die.

'Finally, I would remind every Xeteskian mage of the personal consequences every Julatsan mage faces should you destroy this college's Heart. I cannot speak from knowledge but I have seen the haunted expressions of those contemplating a life without magic. Ask your mages what they fear the most. For all of them it is the same. Can they willingly submit their fellows to that appalling fate?'

Chandyr did not reply immediately. He was a man confident in command and aware enough to test the atmosphere among his own men. He turned in his saddle to see what, if anything, his mages betrayed. When he looked back, his face was bleak. He shrugged.

'The reality of war is harsh, Commander. The victors gain what they desire and the vanquished suffer. Sometimes this is death, at other times imprisonment or servitude. And for mages in this conflict, it will be the loss of their life purpose and worse.

‘Icannot be sentimental. War is fought by at least two sides. Neither are blameless, neither desires the pain they inflict but they see there is no alternative. War comes when every other option is exhausted. Commander, I will repeat my offer. Surrender the college. No one else has to die. The conflict will end and Julatsa will remain self-governing.'

'We will not surrender,' said Vale. 'We cannot.'

'I know you can't, Commander. But I am not an honourable man if I do not offer you terms. I also offer you this. One hour to talk and think. If the gates are not open in that time, you will be attacked.'

Vale nodded. 'Go sharpen your swords, Commander Chandyr. You will need them. Should we relinquish this college, it will be at the severest cost to yourselves that we can inflict. And we have allies. Are you so sure you can defend against them after that cost is borne?'

'One hour,' said Chandyr.

He turned his horse and rode away with his men back to his lines. The Unknown watched him go before following Vale and The Raven back down into the courtyard inside the gates.

‘Ithink a cool drink is in order,' said Vale, leading them to the refectory.

'It was a fine performance,' said The Unknown. 'It will give him cause for thought.';

'It'll do more than that,' said Darrick. 'Your last comment about his strength even should he win was very well judged. It will make him cautious.'

'It only occurred to me at the last moment,' admitted Vale.

'Such things turn battles,' said Darrick. ~

'So, General,' said Hirad. 'How well did you train him, then?'

'He was a good student,' said Darrick. 'But Lysternan soldiers always had extra lectures and training. Wouldn't do to tell them absolutely everything, would it?'

'Bloody hell,' said Hirad. 'Even thinking about fighting them as you taught them.'

'Yes Hirad,' said Darrick, ushering him into the refectory. 'And learning about all of their weaknesses too. And Chandyr is about to show us one of his.'

'Which is?'

'Impatience.'