The Raven Collection Part 287

The shapechanger was pulling on his s.h.i.+rt as he trotted over from the longboat. Hirad watched him kneel and touch the ground. He crumbled earth in his palm and rubbed gra.s.s between his fingers. He breathed deeply over the bloodstains and scorch marks. And finally he sat back on his haunches and gazed all around him.

'The air is still bad,' he said. 'And the blood is human. Less than twenty days since a man walked here.' He turned towards them. 'But who?'

'Now that is an extremely good question,' said Denser, coming to the shoulders of the warriors. 'After all, Blackthorne is sure every free mage is in one or other of the colleges.'

'Looks like he was wrong,' said Hirad.

'How many involved in the fight, do you think, General?' asked The Unknown.

'Given the combat area, upwards of fifty swords and magic,' he replied. 'The G.o.ds only know how many demons.'

'Hmm,' The Unknown sighed. 'This isn't good. I think we can forget any ideas of a fire tonight. We should take the longboat across the lake and sleep under tree cover. Tomorrow, let's see if we can't piece together what happened in the light of day. Any objections? Good, then let's get to it and remember, there have been demons here. They'll know this place now and the mana flow around here. We're not safe.'

Hirad found himself quite happy at the prospect of sleeping under the trees. He hoped it would remind him of the rainforest, a place he would very much rather have been.

Chapter 21.

'South-east quadrant!' yelled Blackthorne. 'New attack. Luke, commit the reserve.'

Blackthorne was already running to the northern incursion. Flags in the castle towers signalled Luke's shouted order, flas.h.i.+ng green and white in Blackthorne's periphery. He ran down the central stairway and through the arched hallway, leaping down the wide castle steps and on through the courtyard gates. Shouts came from all around him. Men, women, children. Running, screaming, calling out alarms or orders.

Above him the ColdRoom lattice held firm, but circling around it incessantly were demons. Soul stealers all, with their leathered or gossamer wings, their long taloned fingers and bald skulls on which the skin writhed in tune with their excitement. They were every hue he had ever seen, from the deepest blue to the most vivid of red or yellow. Their shrieks echoed around the buildings and their threats chilled his heart.

Beneath the lattice, spotters stood on every vantage point, watching the skies. They could come in anywhere. Usually it was in groups but occasionally they had taken to trying to s.n.a.t.c.h a vulnerable individual alone. It was a nervous time but they were holding.

Blackthorne called a guard to him and barrelled through the tight streets in front of the castle. He could hear the sounds of the battle on the northern periphery of the ColdRooms where he had stood six days before with The Raven. He had thought at the time that Ferouc would not take kindly to their escape. He had been right.

Entering the cleared ground, Blackthorne a.s.sessed the situation. Not thirty yards from him, thirty of his men had formed a tight square, s.h.i.+elds and maces a barrier against a concerted attack by a greater number of demons. Circling just above and outside the lattice other enemies waited, and on the ground more squads of swordsmen darted into the backs of the demons, striking hard and running away before they could be overwhelmed.

It was exactly as Darrick had taught them and Blackthorne grinned fiercely. The demons were attracted to the largest spread of life energy and had left themselves open to the counter. Satisfied though he was with their defence, these attacks marked a change in Ferouc's att.i.tude. But more than that, they told of the swiftly increasing strength of the invaders. While still vulnerable within the ColdRoom lattice, they were no longer merely sitting targets. Their power lasted long enough for them to make meaningful incursions and the length of time they could fight within the mana-free environment was growing.

Next to Blackthorne, his mage looked on in concern. The young woman's face was thin from lack of food and the worry lines etched deep on her pale features.

'What it is, Kayla?'

'They're different somehow,' she said. 'I can see a mana signature encasing them. It's like they're coming in on bubbles of mana energy which isn't dissipating like it should.'

'That explains a lot.' It was as Ferouc had said in earlier conversations. Mana density was growing. He didn't really need Kayla's confirmation. It was getting very cold now.

A burst of noise from the south-east told of the reserve engaging the demon attack there. Blackthorne wiped a gauntleted hand across his mouth and tightened grip on s.h.i.+eld and sword.

'Kayla, back to cover. Three of you go with her. The rest, with me. Time for some fun.'

Blackthorne ran in, feeling the cold air fill his lungs, blowing away the cobwebs from his mind and body. Ahead of him, the demons were upping their frenzy. More fell from the sky to join those attacking the square. Beyond the thras.h.i.+ng limbs and beating wings of the blue, black and green soul stealers he could see the faces of his men. Scared for their lives but determined. They focused on what Darrick had taught them. Heavy body blows to weaken. Drive them back, don't break ranks. s.h.i.+elds up and to the fore. Don't blink, don't flinch.

A tall, wiry demon staggered backwards from a mace blow to the chest, its flailing hand missing its target by a hair's breadth. Blackthorne scythed his sword through its back, slicing its left wing from its body. Dark blood sprayed and the creature screeched and tried to turn. Blackthorne backed up one pace. The demon's skin writhed. Veins pulsed and its colour snapped to a startling blue. Unbalanced by the loss of its wing, it couldn't face up to attack and Blackthorne drove his sword deep into its gut and heaved it up and out. It dropped.

'Back!' he yelled to his guard. 'Looking up!'

Four of them dropped from above. Claws in front, wings swept back and tails streaking behind them. As he had been taught, Blackthorne held his s.h.i.+eld above his head and peered round it, waiting for the beasts to strike. He and his men bunched close.

'Steady,' he said. 'Waiting.' The demons were on them. 'Crouch!'

They dropped to their haunches, feeling the clatter of demons on their s.h.i.+elds and the swish of claws. Next to him, one of his guard crumpled, talon marks deep in his face, his soul taken. Blackthorne bellowed fury and surged upright, bringing his other four men with him. The demons flittered away but the killer not far enough. Blackthorne smashed his s.h.i.+eld into its face and whipped his sword through its chest, practically dividing it in two. Like its victim, it didn't have time to scream.

Around him, his guards beat back the others, leaving Blackthorne a run back towards the square which was holding firm. Sword squads ran in from three sides and he joined them. Demons were cut down, blades opening up their backs, the cuts as easy as scything corn.

'Hold, they're weakening,' he called. 'Let's hear you!'

A roar greeted his shout and he punched the air with his sword, backing off a pace again, collecting his guards and looking up. Around the periphery, the activity was lessening. Ferouc was up there, flitting from side to side, his pigment close to white in his unfettered rage.

'Got you this time you b.a.s.t.a.r.d!' Blackthorne laughed upwards.

And it was true. The sword squads came in again. More demons perished, more alien blood spattered his ground. With one ear-splitting shriek, Ferouc called the attack off. Blackthorne saw winged figures climbing back into the sky from three locations and heard cheers sound around his town.

He nodded and breathed out heavily. A quick count around him told him he'd lost eight men, but the price for the demons had been much heavier. Even so, it was an attrition rate with only one outcome. He turned to a guardsman.

'Find me Luke. They'll be back and they won't be so easy next time.'

Blackthorne strode back towards the castle. He could see Ferouc's game plan. It was as obvious as day followed night. Weaken them enough, then go after the lattice mages. He wasn't sure if the demons really knew where they were but he would have to increase the guard on them. Either that or pull them further underground. It was an option but doing so reduced the ceiling above the town.

He and Luke had much to discuss.

Dystran and Vuldaroq stood side by side and watched the demons drift slowly across the ColdRoom s.h.i.+eld above Xetesk. There were hundreds of them, if not thousands, like a carpet across the sky. So many that the light of day was dimmed and lanterns were lit inside. It was a new departure for them and a new cla.s.s of demon. Unlike the cla.s.sic terror shapes of myth, legend and now hideous reality, these had already been dubbed 'gliders' when they first appeared in the sky two days before. Since then, their number had multiplied dramatically and he had received reports of flights of gliders heading north towards Julatsa and north-east to Lystern.

They were a strange-looking demon and that was among a race of unusual creatures. Flat, coloured and textured not unlike a beaten and tenderised steak. Thousands of fine hairs covered their undersides, which also housed eyes and mouth. These hairs rippled and swayed as the creatures moved, undulating their bodies gently. They had little in the way of limbs. Vestigial arms either side of their head section and no legs at all.

That they weren't soul stealers had become apparent very early on, not to mention a huge relief. The gliders were present in numbers enough to really threaten them but instead they had crawled over the lattice, directed by the tentacled masters who hovered nearby, eyes on everything.

'You know what they're doing, don't you?' said Vuldaroq.

Dystran looked across at the man at his side. He had discovered a respect for his former enemy during the few days of their enforced close contact. The Dordovan Arch Mage had worked tirelessly with Suarav and Sharyr, helping them in the aftermath of their ordeal in the library and bringing them, if not out of their shock, then at least to a place where they could begin to deal with it. Neither had taken up his duties to the full and the other survivor, Brynel, was still in the makes.h.i.+ft infirmary, the chill deep in his body.

'Enlighten me,' he said.

'Watch the way they move across the s.h.i.+eld. It looks random when you first look but there is an order to it. I've counted greater densities in some areas that then disperse and allow other even more concentrated groups to form in the same place. Like they're confirming what they think they've discovered. It's actually very logical.'

'You haven't done a lot else but stare at them, I take it.'

Vuldaroq shrugged. 'There is so much time for your mind to play tricks on you and undermine you. Best to keep busy.'

'What are they tracking?'

'The mana trails feeding the ColdRooms, I think.'

Dystran pulled his cloak tight around him, a chill gust whistling through the open doors of the tower complex in whose shadow they stood.

'That's a worrying thought.'

'I suppose it rather depends why they're doing it,' said Vuldaroq.

'Much as I'd like to, I can't believe it would be out of curiosity,' said Dystran.

'No, but there is more than one possibility.' Vuldaroq had never had much of a sense of humour but these last two years had removed whatever vestiges remained.

'They shouldn't be able to detect the trails, you know,' said Dystran as the thought occurred. 'They would dissipate instantly on contact with the edge of the construct.'

'Well, I think they can and you only have to see where it is they're hovering for longer periods and where their density increases. It's always above the mana-feed trails.' He shook his head. 'They're getting stronger.'

'Agreed,' said Dystran. 'Mana density is rising fast out there now. So, you think they're coming in?'

'Yes, and it won't be too long. The most likely reason for tracking the feed trails is to target the casting mages. But they could be doing something as simple as probing the linkages. After all, where the overlap is less, we are more vulnerable.'

'But you don't think so.'

'No. If I was them, I'd be wanting to fly straight down the trails as far as I could and take out our only real defensive weapon. It's blindingly obvious.'

Dystran blew out his cheeks. 'And now they think they're strong enough to do it.'

'We're moving into another phase, young Lord. Best we're prepared. '

They a.s.sembled on the plains of Teras over the course of three days. The burnished red Naik; aquamarine Veret; golden-scaled Kaan; dark green Gost; bronze Skoor and pale brown Stara. And these representatives of the largest broods were joined by those of another seventeen. All the colours of the brood spectrum were represented in the largest single gathering of dragons ever seen.

It was a scene that would never be repeated. Sha-Kaan and Yasal-Naik sat on a small rise in front of the ma.s.s of scale and furled wing. Both chose upright, respectful stances, their necks in 'S' shapes and belly scales revealed. Both dragons wore the scars of their recent work. The Skoor had attacked them. Yasal bore a long burn along the top of his head and down the first third of his neck. Sha-Kaan's displayed belly was scorched black and painful. Six Skoor had died before the reluctant emissaries had forced their leader to hear them. Six they could ill afford to lose.

Immediately before Sha and Yasal, the brood fathers were gathered. It was an uncomfortable grouping. Old animosities were barely hidden, postures were hostile. Some would not rest within scent of others. But these dragons had at least agreed to carry the message to their broods gathered behind them. They would relay by thought pulse what could not be heard across the crowded plain.

Sha-Kaan gazed out over Teras and felt enormous pride in his achievement mixed with a deep anxiety. Here lay the greatest risk. Here they had to prove to all a.s.sembled that what they proposed was the only way to save them all. The only way to preserve their right to hate, attack and attempt to eradicate each other. To preserve the dragon's way of life.

Spread out before him, at the edges of his vision in every direction, some two thousand dragons weighed each other up. So far, minor flaring and disagreement had been easily calmed. Kaan, Naik and Veret diplomats moved among the gathering.

But this would decide it. If they couldn't ma.s.s and debate in relative peace on the plains, what hope of constructing a robust attack on the Arakhe to give The Raven the time and backing they needed?

Sha-Kaan scanned the extraordinary a.s.sembly. Far away to his right, dragons were squaring up. Wings were deployed, bellies clas.h.i.+ng. He pulsed to his brood to quell the disturbance. Elsewhere, the rasp of breath and the rustle of wings furling set the ambience. From the north, another flight of Gost approached. He waited for them to land, drinking in the veneration that dominated most of those present.

Not all of them knew why they were here but every dragon knew it was momentous. It couldn't be otherwise.

'It is time,' said Yasal-Naik. 'We cannot hold the peace any longer without giving them something.'

'I will speak for us both if you will allow it.'

Yasal turned an eye to him that spoke everything about the respect in which he was held and about the Naik dragon's aspiration to his position.

'They will listen to you,' he said.

Sha-Kaan rose up on his hind legs. He unfurled his wings and beat them three times. His tail flashed as it made the whip shape for attention and he barked long and loud, a huge gout of flame scorching the air above him. Across the plains, the gathering calmed and quietened. In front of him, the brood fathers prepared to relay his words. Sha-Kaan felt a wash of reverence cross him and he all but choked on his first words. We may hate you, it said, but we are here for you, Great Kaan.

'You know me,' he began, voice booming across the hush. 'I am Sha-Kaan. I stand here wing furled with my sworn enemy, Yasal-Naik. Always we have shared hatred but always we have had respect. And today we stand before you as one. Allied as you all must be.'

There was a rustle through the a.s.sembly, spreading out to the periphery as the pulsed thoughts reached every dragon and the reaction came back.

'Today we face the greatest ever threat to our home dimension. To counter that threat, we must become one brood with one mind. There are those of you who do not know your role, why you are here. I will tell you why. The Arakhe have invaded the melde dimension of the Kaan.'

Noise erupted across the plain. Hoots and barks shattered the calm. Flame gouted into the sky on a battering tide of sound. Sha-Kaan drew breath at the scale of the tumult but kept his bearing proud while he waited for it to subside. He had to wait some time for the last echoes to fade.

'Indeed a cause for celebration.' He felt the wave of mirth. 'Normally. But they will not stop there. We all know their nature. Total conquest of Balaia will grant them access to the dead through the races of the elves and Wesmen. And to Beshara through the surviving Dragonene.'

Sha-Kaan paused to sample the rapt attention. He and Yasal shared a glance and the younger Naik indicated he continue.

'Our task is simple. There are those who seek travel to the dimension of the Arakhe to stop the invasion. They cannot fail. One of them is my Dragonene. When he arrives, we will have our beacon. We will attack in support of these Balaians. We must keep them alive because they can go where we cannot.'

Sha-Kaan spoke through the roars of disapproval.

'You are here because your brood fathers believe that this threat is genuine. But there will be those of you who do not. To you I say, fly to my Broodlands. Destroy them. I shall not raise a wing to stop you. But neither will I lead you to the Arakhe. And when they come here, as surely they will do, I will be deaf to your pleas and entreaties.

'This threat is real. Dragons will perish in repulsing it. Fight together to save us or fight each other to a swift oblivion for us all. The choice is yours.'

Chapter 22.

Auum looked across at the borders of Julatsa from the deep cover of dense heather and the dark of night. So much for the complete overrunning of Balaia by the demons. They had seen very little activity in the outlands and though the air was cold with the flood of mana, the demons were certainly content to concentrate on the major population centres. And this was after two years of invasion.

Of course, it could be that they had swept up any outlying villages and towns and driven the people into the cities. It was no concern of Auum's. All he knew was that he had to get the five of them into the college unseen. He had to nudge from his mind the disbelief that he was here and trying to get into the college for a second time. On his return to the rainforests of Calaius, he had sworn never to leave his sh.o.r.es again. And again it was humans who had caused him to travel north. Enough.

'Thoughts,' he said.

'Baron Blackthorne is certain all the colleges operate tunnel systems to keep their supply lines open, such as they are,' said Rebraal. 'One thing we do know is that they won't be hidden magically.'

Auum nodded. 'Then we can search using the old ways. An unexpected pleasure. Eilaan. Prepare nothing. Just follow. Rebraal, be with him. Tai, we move.'

Julatsa was a quiet city. Barring the circle of light and life that signified the college itself, precious little illumination punctured the darkness. Away to the south of the city, some lights burned from windows in what looked like long, low warehouse structures, and ahead of them lanterns bobbed on poles, lighting a group of people on their journey back into the city. Above them, demons hovered, watching. None of the slaves made any noise whatever.

They were returning to the city from the farmed fields that stretched left and right in a ring that disappeared around the city and presumably encircled it.

'Look for the signs of pa.s.sage. Elven not human,' whispered Auum. 'Spread five paces and sweep.'

The TaiGethen leader brought his people quickly to the edge of the fields. The crops were whole and hearty, apparently untroubled by the air temperature. Thick stalks of corn jostled in the breeze. Root crops grew well in ordered banked rows, their leaves strong and broad.