Demonstorm

'You never taught me,' said Hirad.

'You could never be with us long enough to learn,' replied Auum.

'What can you see?' asked The Unknown.

Auum pointed ahead of them. 'Tumbledown settiement. All but dust now. Just a few stones. The plain is broad and barren. Behind, there will be shelter. The land is folded. If we are lucky, we'll find a cave.'

'That would be very useful,' said The Unknown. 'That way it is, then.'

He stooped and dragged his pack out of the mud and icy water. One strap remained and he slung it over his left shoulder. He felt a great stiffness in his hip and shook his head.

'I'm too old for this.'

Hirad clapped him on the back. 'Don't worry, big man, it'll all be over soon.'

'Hirad, you are no comfort whatsoever.'

Auum and his Tai led the way, clearly ill at ease. The stagnant water continued for over a quarter of a mile before they began to

travel up slope. The drier ground beneath their feet was a welcome change and the slope afforded some protection against the biting wind. Even so the elves set a cruel pace, driving up the shale at close to a trot. And while their every pace found firm purchase around the loose stone, The Raven slipped and slithered continually, adding grazes and bruises to their shivers and aches.

'Whose idea was this?' grumbled Hirad, picking himself up and brushing shards of stone from his now gauntleted hands.

'Yours, I think,' said Denser. 'Unless my memory fails me, it was you who arrived on Herendeneth and said that something had to be done.'

Herendeneth. The Unknown felt sudden sadness welling up. Every day, his wife and son would stand on the rock overlooking the anchorage awaiting his return. He brought images to his mind of Diera's smile and the wind blowing her hair about her face. And of his son, shouting with wild excitement as he toddled towards his father's open arms. And there really was no going back.

'It's for you,' he whispered. 'This is all for you.'

They continued to climb. Beyond the slopes they could see from the swamp, others revealed themselves, giving the truth to Auum's assessment of the land. The higher they went, the colder and more barren it became; and after an hour's walk, there was no vegetation around them whatever. It was a desolate scene. With their backs to a damp crag that towered hundreds of feet above their heads, they stood or sat to rest.

The Unknown crouched by Rebraal, the two friends looking back over the way they'd travelled.

'Just look at this place,' said The Unknown.

'Small wonder the cursyrd covet Balaia,' said Rebraal.

'Well, for Balaia's vistas today, substitute this glorious view in a few years' time.'

'Unless we put a stop to it.'

'Right.' The Unknown turned to him. 'So, what do your eyes tell you?'

Rebraal shrugged and gazed long out over the decayed landscape. 'It meets exactly the expressions of desolation in the texts in Aryn-deneth. This is what the cursyrd do and it is why the sanctity of the

dead must be maintained. If it is not, all dimensions will ultimately fall to this state.

'There is nothing out there, Unknown. The settlement we could see that is just so much dust and rot is the only one as far as any of us can see or sense. The only break from the wind that we can gauge is the hills at our backs. So the topsoil is eroded and the vegetation has died because it has no purchase. There are no trees. Unknown, there are no trees. So the low-lying land will flood as it rains and more and more is leeched from the earth. And so it dies. As will the air because the vegetation provides the last part in the cycle of life.' He shook his head. 'If this scene is repeated across this dimension then soon it will not be possible to breathe here. And where is the power source my brother said he would set us near? It is not out there.'

'Then we must hope it is behind us.' The Unknown looked down at Erienne and Denser. Both were struggling with the cold. 'Come on, let's move on. Can't have The Raven's mages catching cold.' He helped the pair to their feet. 'Not far now.'

'I hope you're right,' said Denser. 'My cloak wasn't made to carry this much mud.'

'I'll have a servant clean and dry it the moment we arrive.'

Denser smiled. 'And have him draw a bath too, would you?'

Auum trotted down a shallow slope to the right of the crag. Beneath his paint, the elf s face was impassive but The Unknown thought he could detect the ghost of a smile.

'What have we got?'

'Shelter,' said Auum. 'This way. But quick and quiet. The cursyrd are beyond these hills.'

Hovering behind his new karron force, Ferouc berated Blackthorne for his stupidity and cursed him for the time he was wasting. It merely served to fire his spirit. He led his warriors out of the castle keep and down the steps, driving headlong into the karron taking lumps out of his walls. He carried long sword and kite shield, his armour was his ceremonial chain and in his belly his anger was a cold knot.

Blackthorne thundered his shield into an enemy, knocking it backwards. It flung out a pincer but didn't connect. The Baron stepped after it and drove his blade into its gut, wrenching it

sideways before dragging it clear. The beast died at his feet, belching dark blood.

He roared his approval and swung hard at the next. Its hammer limb sheared off.

'Yes!' His shield blocked a pincer and he reversed his blade into its face. 'Keep them moving backwards!'

Twenty men had run out with him to stop the destruction of his castle. The shields half of them wore represented all the armoury had to offer. But all carried swords sharpened or maces that gleamed in the half-light.

At his right-hand side, one of his men struck out, catching a karron on the side of the head. Its skull was crushed but still it came at him. One pincer gripped his shoulder and the spike limb flashed in, driving straight through his chest. The man was flung back to slide on the marble floor of the keep. The karron died under a welter of blows.

Blackthorne cursed and struck out again. His shield thumped into a karron left and his sword flicked out right, nicking a pincer limb. Gore sprayed into the evening air. The limb coiled quickly and snapped out at him, glancing into his side. He felt the air knocked from him but his armour held. He rebalanced quickly, fending off a hammer and striking right to left, carving into unprotected flesh.

Above the karron, reavers screeched their displeasure.

'Beware overhead,' warned Blackthorne.

To the left of his tight line on the steps and under the overhang of the grand door stones, one of his men took a hammer in the side and was flung into those next to him. Three men went down. The karron, moving faster than they had any right to, bounded up the steps and slaughtered the trio where they had fallen.

Blackthorne's eyes narrowed. He flung himself left. His sword drove through the chest of a karron rising from its bloody task and his shield jabbed up and took a second under the chin, the force snapping the creature's neck. A third swung at him but he caught the blow on his shield, bracing his feet and chopping down through the karron's shoulder.

Reavers prepared to dive on them. Left and right now, the karron attack was faltering. More were massing but Ferouc hadn't ordered them in.

 

'Back off!' ordered Blackthorne. He pointed his sword at Ferouc. 'One day it'll be you, Fidget. For every man that dies, we take six of yours. Sound familiar, you bastard?'

'You fight against the inevitable, Blackthorne. Two days and you are crushed.'

Blackthorne made sure he was the last man inside. Five of the twenty lay dead. Some of their weapons had been snatched away but their bodies would have to lie where they fell.

'Your ambition is not matched by your ability, Fidget. You won't beat us. You don't have the will.'

He stepped back inside the castle and the doors were swung shut behind him. He handed his sword to a footman and clapped the man on the back.