Demonstorm

Almost four hundred dragons had perished in flame and fall, taking from him more than a fifth of those who had originally assembled on the plains and offered such hope. Now, they numbered a little over fourteen hundred. It would have to be enough.

Around him, the Kaan and most of the Naik circled, guarding against further trouble. Yasal was on the ground, talking with representatives of the recendy warring broods while those that had taken no part were flying distant defensive patterns. It would take time to gather them all and Sha-Kaan was not confident that all would come.

He rose high above the circling Kaan and Naik and gouted flame long into the clear sky. He roared and dived, pulsing out his message, demanding their attention and their respect.

'Our time is now,' he sent. 'Gather in the skies, my allied broods. Put aside your petty squabbles. We are already weakened and we cannot afford further diminution of our strengths. The battle for our futures and for all those of our melde dimensions begins for us.

'Fly, my friends. Fly to me.'

Sha-Kaan dipped below his brood who were forming up as they had drilled. Around them, Naik did likewise. From the ground, he saw the dust flood the air, a thousand wings beating skywards. The pulse message would be passed out among the Stara, Veret and Gost. Soon those that still believed would come.

Yasal-Naik barked his relief that the call had finally come through.

'So your human has survived and made his journey.'

Sha-Kaan pulsed feelings of warmth and pride. 'Did I not toll you he was tenacious? I never doubted him.'

'Then you were alone.'

'I alone understand his capabilities.' Sha-Kaan turned his head to Yasal as they flew side by side. 'And what were the results of your diplomacy, young Naik?'

'I have salvaged much of the support but none will fly with the Skoor. They are dismissed and with them must go an equal number of Kaan and Naik to ensure they do not abuse their temporary advantage in our skies.'

'It is as much as I could have hoped,' said Sha-Kaan. 'But it leaves us a further eighty mouths short. We take with us barely more than thirteen hundred to do battle with our enemy.'

'Then we must all fight as hard as two,' said Yasal.

Sha-Kaan inclined his head in respect. 'You have grown, Yasal. It makes me almost glad this crisis fell upon us.'

'And I, Great Kaan.' Yasal's mind pulsed regret. 'We have lost so many to each other over the cycles. Perhaps our future will be more productive.'

'We can rule the skies together.'

'Yes, we can.'

The two master dragons flew into the centre of the gathering. Though they were much reduced in number, the acreage of wing and scale remained truly awesome. The days of drills and organisation had benefited them in structure in the sky. Each brood was formed and solid. The outlying patrols swept and dove and the mass was prepared.

'Now is the time of greatest risk,' said Sha-Kaan. 'Now we will know whether our talk was believed.'

'Does it matter if it is not? If you see what I mean.'

'I do and to us perhaps it does not. But it matters to Hirad Coldheart. He expects and we must deliver.'

Sha-Kaan led Yasal high above the massed ranks of dragons. Beshara's last and only hope.

'Now is the moment of trust. You know me and you know my honour. Yes, many of us have battled in the past but now that must be consigned to history. Now we fight for our survival. And for that

I give to each of you the trace signature of my Dragonene who sustains me.' He pulsed the signature.

'And now, I exhort you all to follow me. Save us, save every dimension we hold dear. Be ready to fight.'

He switched out of Beshara and drove through the void to Hirad Coldheart.

Tessaya's warriors were holding but only just. Elves were with them, their fast blades and skilled movement disrupting the ul-karron attacks. Reavers and strike-strain concentrated on attacks from above, quick-fire strikes that dealt swift death to those snatched but cost the enemy more than the allies.

The Lord of the Wesmen, flanked by four lieutenants, strode into the tower complex and demanded audience with Dystran and whoever else commanded the eastern forces, such as they were.

'They are in conference,' he was told by a callow youth, barely strong enough to hold the sword scabbarded at his waist. 'They cannot be disturbed.'

Tessaya hefted his axe meaningfully. A silence had descended on the complex, punctuated by the muted sounds of batde without and the rhythmic dripping of demon blood from his axe to the marble floor.

'And on what do they confer, boy?' he said quiedy.

'The defence of the college,' said the youth. His face was red with anxiety and he couldn't keep his hands still.

'The defence which I alone conduct while they cower in their towers!' Tessaya's voice rang around the complex. In front of him, the youth jumped backwards. 'Get them down here now or so help me, boy, I will take my warriors and leave the demons to feast on your rotting souls.'

The youth hesitated.

'GO!'

The youth ran through into a curtained passage. Tessaya let his gaze travel around the people sitting in the complex. Some with swords resting on walls beside them. Some plainly mages, wringing their hands in their impotence.

'Is there not one of you with the desire to stand by me and live or die a hero? Yes, that's it . . . turn away. Block your ears to what happens beyond your cocoon. The Wesmen are dying for you. And this is how you demonstrate your gratitude?' Tessaya shook his

head. 'There are those who have travelled the path of banishment by choice because they believe it the only way to victory, Each one of you I would gladly consign there as cowards in the lace of battle.'

There was a rustling of bodies and the odd mutter.

'So prove me wrong,' said Tessaya. 'Stand with the Wesmen. Fight for your lives.'

Movement from the passage revealed itself to be Dystran and the Dordovan, Vuldaroq. Behind them came two women, one an elf, and two more men, both soldiers, both scarred from battle. Tessaya recognised both women and one of the men. All three should have been resting after their ordeal in the playhouse and before on the road from Julatsa. He had heard their stories.

'Lord Tessaya, you asked to see me,' said Dystran, smiling and opening his arms in welcome.

T need support out there,' said Tessaya. 'You have men and mages idle. Give them to me. Right now, Wesmen and elves are keeping you alive. You have had your rest. It is time to fight.'

'Now we need to keep reserves and ensure the sanctity of the Heart. Our involvement will and must be on need alone.'

'That need is now,' growled Tessaya. 'My warriors die to protect you.' He pointed at Dila'heth and Pheone. 'Their people die to protect you. Be visible or we will leave you to your fate.'

'And what exactly do you suggest?' asked Dystran.

Tessaya sniffed. 'Spells will kill more enemy than swords ever will. We have seen that. Warriors will occupy their ul-karron, you must cast to destroy their commanders and their reserve.'

'My Lord Tessaya, you must know that we cannot cast inside the ColdRoom shells,' said Dystran.

'You must think me an ignorant savage,' said Tessaya, carefully holding onto his temper, 'if you think that pathetic excuse will impress me.'

'Now listen—'

'The elven mages stand at risk in the spaces between the castings they have made so we can fight and they do what they can. But they are not enough. Mages must travel outside the college. Come into the back of the demon lines and kill them where they wait the order to attack. Defence alone is no longer enough. It will not give The Raven time enough to act, should they be able to do so.'

Dystran paused and held up his hands in a placatory gesture.

'Now let's not get carried away. What you suggest sounds plausible but surely mages scattered outside the college will be committing suicide, not supporting the defence.'