The Raven Collection Part 302

'And another thing,' said Dystran. 'Will somebody please tell me what in all the h.e.l.ls has happened to our other new friends the Wesmen?'

Auum knew every approach to the college of Xetesk but he felt lost for the first time in his life. Duele was dying in his arms. Every pace he took seemed heavy, referring vibrations through his stricken Tai's body. He held on as gently as he could but surely his arms were like bindings, constricting more and more. His very breath crushed his friend and all his prayers would not be enough.

It was Evunn who retained his purpose and direction and would lead them all to safety. They ran at the head of around fifty Al-Arynaar warriors and mages. The karron would not catch them and many of the strike-strain had chased after The Raven. But enough reavers remained in the sky to threaten them. He could hear them above, harrying him, and he could see them in front, landing and challenging, aware of the relative vulnerability of their quarry.

Evunn was an elf possessed of a focused rage. He led a dozen Al-Arynaar hard at the reavers, snapping out orders and signalling positions. Auum ran in behind the crescent that formed, defended on both flanks and to the rear by more of the elven elite. His Tai did not break his stride under the torrent of taunts and the confusion of wings and cursyrd bodies advancing on him or dropping from the sky. He had his own way to respond.

Auum muttered a short prayer. Evunn struck low, foot sweeping into the ankles of two enemies. They went down even as he bounced back to his feet, snapping kicks into either face and coming down hard on bodies stunned to the ground. Auum heard his voice, indistinct words in the clamour. The Al-Arynaar responded. Blades flicked out. Fists and feet blurred. Cursyrd were driven from their path. Wings were sliced and torn, their owners tumbling from the sky.

Ahead, Evunn faced a powerful, black-skinned reaver. He leapt at it head first, turning onto his back, a move Auum had seen before. In the last instants before impact, the Tai reached forwards, grabbed the creature's shoulders and pivoted around them. The cursyrd didn't know how to react. Evunn's momentum brought him slamming down behind the reaver, ripping it from its feet. They landed hard. The cursyrd squealed its frustration and flailed its arms to try and break Evunn's grip. It was the last mistake it ever made. An Al-Arynaar blade drove into its armpit.

Auum increased his pace. More cursyrd were flying at them from the direction of the college. He ducked under a reaver that flew at his head. It came back for a second pa.s.s. He crouched again. This time, the reaver landed ahead of him, sensing his slight isolation and seeing his burden. It hissed at him, spreading its arms and wings in challenge.

In Auum's arms, Duele moved weakly and coughed blood. He was broken, his soul a mere touch away from being taken. Auum felt the disgust on his tongue. Duele was being targeted like the weak of a herd by its predators. Not Duele.

'You know nothing of our strength,' said Auum, covering the s.p.a.ce between them, accelerating all the way.

He planted his right foot, half turned and struck out with his left. The blow caught the cursyrd on its extended knee, driving the joint backwards. He felt sinew snap and bone crack. The creature screamed, collapsing to its right. Auum followed up, his knee thudding up under its chin as it fell, forcing lower teeth through upper lip.

He didn't pause. Those behind would finish it before it had time to heal. He ran on after Evunn. Scant yards ahead, the fighting was growing more intense and Auum feared they would be overwhelmed. Cursyrd flocked, tracking the elves' movement. Near them, a tentacled master floated, observing the chase. They had not managed to slow Evunn's pace. The wedge he had forged through the cursyrd on the ground was reinforced by those flanking him and Auum, leaving the TaiGethen to run with his cargo.

But the demons would not allow the situation to continue. Dozens, hundreds of reavers had now gathered, interspersed with strike-strain. They curved up into the sky, turned and dived, along the length of the street.

'Yniss preserve us,' breathed Auum. But not even Yniss could counter this. 'Evunn!' he called. 'Shelter. Get to the sides, get inside.'

The Al-Arynaar scattered left and right but they were all going to be too late. Auum prayed again. This time, his plea was answered.

Spells washed across the sky, dashing cursyrd into the sides of buildings. Cold air swept above his head, shattering wings and freezing bodies. Reavers and strike-strain plummeted down. The attack disintegrated. And then the buildings started to erupt. Huge sheets of flame grabbed at the sky from the rooftops. FlameOrbs sheared through cl.u.s.ters of cursyrd trying to regroup. Detonations rocked the ground under his feet. Across the street, a building buckled under the strain of the spell it held and began to crumble.

'My brothers, we move!' yelled Evunn.

He led them, this elf. The light that even Auum needed in this darkest of hours with his friend fading in his arms. Through the smoke and ash they ran. Through the acrid stench of burning and the rubble bouncing down into the streets they went. Heedless of demon attack now that their enemies had a far greater immediate threat to counter. Auum stared through streaming eyes at the figure of Evunn leading the elves to sanctuary. It wasn't only the smoke that brought his tears.

The Xeteskians. At last the Xeteskians had fought back.

'Hang on,' he whispered to Duele though he doubted the elf could hear him. 'Please hang on.'

More IceWind howled above his head. ForceCones battered great swaths through the demon attack force, driving them high and distant. Auum would have laughed aloud but for the clogging dread in his throat and the burning of exhaustion in his lungs, his arms and legs. He pleaded once more with Tual to keep his friend alive. And with Shorth to stay his hand and wait a little longer.

He felt Duele breathe, coughing again as the smoke touched his lungs. But it was life that they could save if they could get him to a healer quickly enough.

Rounding a bend, he saw that the gates of the college were open. And this time he couldn't suppress the shout of triumph.

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 ma.s.sive 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 s.p.a.ces 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 s.p.a.ce for them to pa.s.s, the barbarian issuing orders to each as they went.

'We need light inside. Globes to rid every shadow. I want ForceCones 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sageway 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 s.p.a.ce.

'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 s.p.a.ce, 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 s.p.a.ce 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 G.o.ds,' breathed Hirad. There was no one left to stop them. 'Fall back in turn. Disengage by pairs.'

The order was pa.s.sed 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 s.p.a.ce 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 ma.s.sing to dive.

's.h.i.t,' 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. WardLock 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 s.p.a.ce. 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 s.p.a.ce. 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 a.s.sessing 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 s.p.a.ce 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 s.p.a.ce, 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.