The wagon slewed hard right, dirt and grass flying up from under its wheels. Denser shifted the focus of his ForceCone, driving a wedge through the demons, dismissing the spell before it could threaten either Hirad or their transport. The barbarian battered his way towards Thraun, mace in both hands now. He felt a claw swipe across the top of his head and the blood began to run. He staggered and straightened, took two more paces and was knocked clean from his feet. Pain scorched into his side, winding him. Demons closed around him, their calls and shouts mixing with those of The Raven.
Rolling onto his back, he saw sky above him and the wings of demons closing in. He carried on rolling, a claw missing his face by a hair. A weapon whispered across his body. He heard a thud and a cry of frustration. A fist grabbed his collar and hauled him upright.
'Get on board, Coldheart,' said The Unknown.
Thraun had reached the back of the cart. Kas and Ark flanked him still, their weapons keeping the baying demon pack at bay. IceWind, bleak yellow and Julatsan, swept out from the roof of the wagon. The TaiGethen sprinted past him and vaulted to the wagon's roof to
join the fight. Denser and Eilaan paced backwards, the latter's ForceCone still under control, still keeping the enemy back from the sky above.
'The roof, Unknown. We need to get there.'
'Not you,' said The Unknown. 'In the back. You're hurt. I'll take the bench with Darrick.'
'Hurt?'
'Yes.'
The Unknown's mace struck again. He ducked a flailing tail, dragging Hirad with him into the lee of the wagon. He pushed the barbarian to the tailgate and thrust him at Ark.
'Don't let him go.'
Hirad frowned. His head was swimming a little but otherwise he was fine. He smiled up at Ark but the Protector's face was impassive.
'Get aboard,' he said.
Hirad thought to disagree but he took one more pace and stag gered, legs suddenly lacking strength. He glanced down and saw the blood from his side staining his leather. He began to shiver.
His last certainty was hearing The Unknown shout for Darrick to get the wagon going. But after Ark had picked him up and he thought he'd heard Rebraal order more ForceCones, everything else was a chill blur.
Chapter 31
Sharyr and Brynel knelt to prepare the ward. They were far from the gates of the college and could hear the sounds of demons whose attentions were mercifully still diverted elsewhere. Next to them stood Suarav. He was the only man they would have trusted to look over them. It was a curious strength they had gained from their ordeal in the library. None of them had truly recovered from it. They all still shivered intermittently and felt the chill of demon touch and proximity.
Yet it had instilled in them a fierce fatalism and brought the three of them together in a bond of mutual respect and belief. It was something that would be put to severe test in the hours to come.
'Attach it to the corner there,' whispered Sharyr.
Brynel nodded. The ward structure was simple and designed for a closely directed effect. Positioned on the junction of streets running away to the broken north gate, to the cloth market, and the college itself, it was a key focus of Chandyr's plan to help the Julatsans into Xetesk. Another key part of that plan was the three of them.
Sharyr watched his charge meld the ward into the building. When it was fixed he fed in exclusions to its activation to ensure no stray human or elven approach caused disaster. It was a quick process.
'All right,' he said, standing and helping Brynel up. 'That's our lot.'
'Well done,' said Suarav.
The three men looked at each other in the gloom of the street. The quiet was eerie and suffocating. Each knew what the others would be feeling. The desire to run back to the college. The dread at what they had volunteered to do. The pride at their own strength and the trust that had been bestowed upon them.
While other trios, some classic mage-defender structure, com-
pleted the ward lattice to Chandyr's design, they would be leaving Xetesk to contact the approaching allies. No one had to tell them the risk they were taking. No one had to remind them of their chances of success. They already knew that Chandyr had a contingency for their failure. It wasn't supposed to discomfort them, it was simple reality.
'Do you need to rest?' asked the gruff guard captain.
Both mages shook their heads. .
'We should go,' said Sharyr.
'Just remember to follow my lead and keep yourself moving. To stop is to die,' said Suarav.
Sharyr chuckled. 'Only that?'
'Strength,' said Suarav.
'Let's go,' said Brynel. 'It's cold standing here.'
Denser looked down at his wife and a tear dropped from his check onto hers. It was the deep of night. The demons were attacking again. He could hear their calls echoing across the wagon train as it rolled inexorably on towards the gates of Xetesk. Feet skipped across the roof struts overhead and he could see the stress in the canvas in the half-light that permeated the wagon.
Rebraal had said the night would be the worst and so it was. Because the demons, indefatigable, lit up the sky with the colours of their bodies. They set up a stunning array of lights, at once terrifying and undeniably beautiful. Shifting patterns across the rainbow of colour, bright washes and gentle tones that were quite extraordinary, almost mesmerising. But they denied man, elf and horse any rest. Their calls gnawed at the nerves. And periodically, they would swoop into attack. Not with the intention of destroying the convoy, but in the knowledge that with the dawn would come new fear.
Denser tried to put it from his mind while he considered the folly of what The Raven would soon be attempting. Next to Erienne, Hirad lay sleeping fitfully, his many scratches and wounds bound and treated and his body shivering. He was strong. He would come back. But Erienne was a different case. Denser tried to believe that she was as strong-willed and determined as the woman he had met all those years before. But tragedy had dogged her and the pressure to be what she did not want to be was tearing up her soul.
Her facade cracked often yet still she tried to achieve what The Raven desired and what Balaia and all its linked dimensions needed. Out there in the fields as they had run towards the ColdRoom shell and the security it represented, Erienne had attempted something new, something awesome.
Denser understood what it was. She had created a structure that expanded on encountering the air and had evacuated the space it covered of any vestige of mana. But this super-ColdRoom wasn't the end. She had then stripped an element from demons that they could not survive an instant without. Something that bound their flesh. It would be like taking water from a human body. Whatever it was she had seen in their make-up, she had used to devastating effect. But as with all the castings of the One, there was risk in the new idea.
And the second time she had cast, she had let too much of the power flood her body. Her collapse had been her body's defence mechanism against a complete disaster for her and for Balaia. They had been lucky. The storms Erienne would unleash if out of control would make those that Lyanna had triggered seem like puffs of breeze.
But when would she awake from this latest trauma? And when she did, what would she be like? He could only hope that somewhere in her mind, Cleress was with her.
'Why did you try it, love?' he asked, stroking her warm cheek, wiping away his tear. 'There's nothing you need to prove to us. Nothing.'
Around him in the wagon, resting Al-Arynaar mages and humans including Pheone kept their thoughts to themselves, respecting his need for whatever privacy of mind he could eke out. A strong hand rested on his shoulder.
'Deep inside, she knows even that. But she cannot deny that part of her that desires to experiment. To find her limits.'
Denser turned his head to look at Thraun. The big blond shapechanger was seated behind them, sword across his knees. He would not leave her side while she was helpless. He never would. Thraun had known her longer than any of them. He'd seen her twins grow and had buried them alongside her first husband. Theirs
was a bond that comforted Denser. Something he knew would never fail.
'What makes you say that?'