'I don't think it'll be enough,' said The Unknown. 'They're strong enough to stop us moving forwards and that's something we cannot afford. We have to break that line or we'll be surrounded and picked off.'
'I've got an idea,' said Darrick. 'But it's a big risk.'
'Let's hear it,' said The Unknown.
Darrick looked around him. 'Is Pheone here? I need to know our casting strength.'
'Will it make a difference?' asked Hirad. 'We're inside a Cold-Room here.'
Darrick smiled. 'Yes it will. And you know the thing with Cold-Rooms is you can let them go all of a sudden. If you want to.'
Auum nodded his head. He understood what Darrick was about to suggest. It would be, how would Hirad say it? Interesting.
Tessaya, Lord of the Paleon tribes, stretched his mouth in a prodigious yawn. He had slept well the last night and welcomed the cold of the new day. He wrapped his furs about his shoulders and strode from his tent. Around him, the activity was frenetic. Weapons were being sharpened, fires heated water and broth, warriors ran in all directions taking messages, striking camp and loading pallets. Others foraged for what food they could sweep up easily before the move.
Patience, Tessaya had always said, would pay off and today was that day. Because yesterday he had received the most extraordinary visit of his life. A deputation from Xetesk, in effect inviting him into the heart of the college. He had felt it churlish to refuse, and now two thousand warriors made ready to advance.
The demons had left them alone these past three days and his scouts had reported them massing to the north. They had also reported an approaching dust cloud that was overflown by the enemy and under apparently constant attack. Clearly, others were heading for the college too.
This had been confirmed by the Xeteskians and it was proposed that the Wesmen help these runners into Xetesk and then join the final battle for the freedom of Balaia. He had been given a blank
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slate to demand whatever he wanted from the Easterners in return for his aid. Short of the end of magic of course. That, he conceded, was unlikely but the deal he had struck would make the Wesmen the dominant power across the whole of the country. The Xeteskians would have seen that. He would have to tread carefully.
Tessaya walked quickly down to the forward positions, trailed by his aides. There he found Arnoan, the ancient Shaman apparently lost in thought. Communing perhaps. Still, it was a reverie easily broken.
'Am I being lured into a trap, do you think?'
T consider that to be very unlikely,' said Arnoan, focusing on him with a frown. 'The Xeteskians have nothing to gain by so doing barring a hastening of their own demise. I am merely saddened it has taken them so long to see that the Wesmen are their best chance of salvation.'
'And you.believe us so to be?'
'I do, my Lord.'
'But let us not fool ourselves,' said Tessaya. 'The Xeteskians have only come to us because the demons allowed them the time to do so. Consider also that the demons themselves may have orchestrated this whole event.'
'Again, unlikely,' said Arnoan. 'After all, we are not even being watched, which I find very curious. They will only know of our decision to move when we are under way.'
Tessaya chuckled and slapped Arnoan on the back. The Shaman staggered and coughed. 'Perhaps their grasp of battle tactics is as poor as yours, my friend.'
'Let us hope so, Tessaya, let us hope so.'
Behind him Tessaya could hear the strains of songs rolling down the slope towards him. They filled his heart with strength and pride. The standards were raised and stood together.
The Wesmen were marching once more.
It had become their only hope of reaching the Julatsans and it was a terrible choice to have to make. They had cowered in renewed terror when the new strain had appeared from the rip and descended to the ground to march away into Xetesk and out towards the Julatsans.
They had an aura about them that sucked the will and brought a dead shiver to the limbs.
Sharyr would have welcomed death then but in their hiding place they had been ignored and had been able to watch the gathering of demon forces. It had become obvious then that their plan of running in while the demons were engaged in battle was unworkable. Most of the demons were covering the ground around the periphery of the ColdRoom shell surrounding the wagon train. The only way in was by air.
'I will remain here and see you safe and then return to Xetesk,' said Suarav, the words dragging reluctantly from his mouth.
'No,' said Brynel immediately. 'We are stronger with you. You must come with us.'
Sharyr agreed. 'Without you, I do not believe I have the strength.'
Suarav gripped an arm of both of them. 'My friends, you can do this. You have to. And besides, I cannot fly.'
'We can carry your weight between us,' said Sharyr. 'We won't leave you. How much chance do you really think you have of getting back into the college?'
Suarav closed his eyes and Sharyr knew he had touched the reason for the soldier's fear. Alone and travelling back through the streets of Xetesk. One swordsman. It would be suicide.
'But split up, you have a better chance of one of you reaching the Julatsans.'
'The difference is slight. The journey is quick but fraught. I'd rather the confidence of you with us than the extra mobility,' said Brynel.
Suarav sighed. 'Can it really be done?'
'Oh yes,' said Brynel. 'Shadow Wings do not tangle. They aren't corporeal. You hang onto our belts and we fly. Low and fast.'
'One thing more,' said Sharyr. 'When we pierce the ColdRoom, the Wings will disperse very quickly. It'll be a rough landing.'
'I'll bear it in mind.' Suarav sighed again and shook his head. 'You know, I'm too old for this sort of thing.'
'You're never too old to fly,' said Sharyr.
'All right, let's do it. But if I fall, do not come back for me. I outrank you and that is an order.'
Both mages nodded. Brynel turned to Sharyr. 'Ready to cast?'
'Ready. Captain, take your grip now. As soon as we begin to cast, the demons will be aware of us. We're going to have to leave quickly.'
The two mages stood side by side. Suarav knelt between them. His hands gripped the front of their belts, his arms between their legs.
'Cast now,' said Suarav.
The spectrum responded to them and the demons began to howl.
The instructions had been snapped out quickly and Darrick just had to trust that they would be understood. If it worked, they'd break the demon line, he was sure of that. If not, they would be in desperate trouble and praying for a miracle from inside the walls of Xetesk.
Forty Al-Arynaar mages now stood in front of the two lead wagons. They were guarded by an equal number of warriors, leaving the rest to continue normal duties back down the train. The front of the shell was fifty yards ahead of them and it was crowded with karron, reaver and strike-strain. Around the flanks and behind, winged demons waited for their orders to attack, most resting on the ground as they had been since before dawn.
In the traces, the horses were as fresh as they could be. Darrick had handed the reins to another human driver, a man named Brynn whom Rebraal recommended as the ideal man to hold the front line. Darrick went with the elf s decision. Brynn was a man covered in scratches and bandages but clearly unbowed despite the shiver in his body.