'Erienne, stop,' shouted Denser but she couldn't hear him.
The spears still rattled away across the gap, seeking their targets, but around Erienne a coil formed. It gained in intensity at frightening speed. Rebraal shielded his eyes from the glare but was captivated by what he saw. Where they stood, the demon conduits started to moan and shiver. Their bodies bucked and twisted as if they were trying to break shackles far too strong for them. All too human faces stared out of the light, eyes imploring mercy.
The coil around Erienne tightened and flew away. It struck the nearer demon, travelled up its body, across the arc and into the second in less than a heartbeat. It bled into the canopy of light and down into the gap. The conduits struggled, suffocating as the coils pulled tighter and tighter. Eyes bulged from sockets and breath was forced from tortured lungs. They pleaded for the pain to stop and stop it did.
Erienne opened her eyes, closed both fists and uttered a single word.
The world went black and the wind began to howl.
The karron were coming. Blackthorne could hear them pounding on the doors that led down to the kitchens. It hadn't been two days. Ferouc had beaten them. Too many demons, too few defenders and no respite. Incessant and draining, the karron had attacked. He had lost men in the grand hall, in the cloisters by his council chamber and in the banqueting hall. He had fought the enemy all the way down the stairs to the armoury and around the corner to the quartermaster's stores. He had held them at the servants' chambers and driven them back briefly but the result had never been in any doubt.
And now he and the thirteen that were left with him were holed up with no place left to run. Blackthorne was tired beyond belief. His left arm was broken and bound to his side so he could still strap on a shield and his left leg bore deep cuts raked by a karron spike.
But still he stood in the middle of the line, waiting for them. Still the ColdRoom was in operation and he could take some of them with him. He heard timbers splinter and the sound of karron feet tramping down the stairs. He knew Ferouc would be behind them, far enough to avoid harm himself.
The first hammer on the kitchen door sprang a hinge but the second barely made an indent. The third was more a gentle knock
and there was no fourth. He heard squawks and shrieks echo about his castle. And then he heard nothing at all.
He took a pace towards the door and stopped, wondering how long it would be before he dared believe that they had won.
Hirad found that there was light. It came in from the fires surrounding the entrance to the edifice and from those that still burned around the mouths of the dead Kaan dragons. He opened his eyes against the gale. The conduit demons were screaming in terror that had no end. Their bodies were being stretched into the arc that joined them. Little by little, they were picked apart. Their heads distended, their legs split and their bodies twisted and elongated. How they still lived he didn't care but that sound they made cut him right to the bone and he prayed for it to stop.
From the gap he heard a sucking sound. Above, the darkened canopy bowed inwards, its centre drew closer and closer to the gap. It touched and shattered and for a moment the room was filled with a dazzling light. The conduit demons wailed their last and were sucked into the arc which fed at dizzying speed into the canopy which in turn was snapped up by the gap. The howling of the wind reached a crescendo, then with a bass thud that slammed through Hirad's skull the gap closed.
He lay where he was for a moment, listening to the sound of his heart and feeling the energy drain from his body. He had no more to give but then, there was no more he had to give. And yet he felt no joy, no victory. Instead he felt cheated. They had closed the path to Balaia and cut off the demons' power. The mana would dissipate through the Balaian dimension and the demons would not be able to sustain themselves for long. The Raven had saved their world and yet for them there was nothing. Sha-Kaan was silent.
It wasn't right.
Hirad dragged himself to a sitting position and let his eyes become accustomed to the darkness. There was movement around him and the sound of sobbing near him. He pushed himself to his feet and found The Unknown helping him up. He swayed. Blood was running from his face, his hands, his left shoulder and his right leg. The big man was in little better condition. He limped heavily and reaver claws had left his right ear flapping and pumping blood.
But it was as nothing to Erienne. She lay sprawled at the scene of her triumph. Denser was sitting at her bloodied head, stroking her face, and the shake in his shoulders told him everything. He knew he should move to comfort the Xeteskian but he couldn't bring himself to break into his grief. Perhaps it was better that way.
'We won, then,' he said to The Unknown.
The big man shook his head. 'No, Hirad, we lost. Balaia won. We have nothing. And Denser has lost everything.'
Around them, people were forcing themselves to their feet. Auum supported Evunn who was clearly barely conscious. Thraun was staring at Erienne, his head shaking, his lips moving in denial and his feet taking him gradually closer to grim truth. Ark was wobbling on his feet but found Rebraal's shoulder on which to lean. All of them gravitated slowly to Erienne and Denser.
Hirad could see her stillness. Her eyes closed and her chest unmoving. She lay on her back, her arms thrown above her head.
'I'm so sorry, Denser,' he said.
Denser didn't move. 'Not you as well,' he whispered. 'Not you as well.'
They all spun at a sudden infuriated din from outside. Hirad's heart pounded anew. The noise grew and grew, the voices screaming revenge, promising purgatory.
'Not again,' said Thraun.
'What did we expect?' said The Unknown.
Karron, albino, reaver and master walked, flew or floated into the edifice. Strike-strain buzzed around them. The mass grew and grew. They advanced across a floor wide and unblemished. They took their time. After all, The Raven had nowhere to run.
'We have to keep fighting,' Hirad said. 'Sha-Kaan might still be able to save us. If he can make it back to Beshara he can open the portal to me. We can make it.'
But those that faced him plainly did not believe him. They couldn't conceive of hope, they just wanted rest. And even as he uttered the words he didn't really believe them himself. Demons were crowding the space and Sha-Kaan was going to be too late.
He glanced over his shoulder. 'Sleep well, Erienne. Best you didn't live to see this.'
Chapter 46
Tessaya shuddered under the blow from the hammer limb, pushing it aside with the flat of his axe. He was running with sweat despite the frost of late evening. He drew in another exhausted breath and worked his axe back, fending off the spike from the same karron. The creature writhed its pincers, looking for a hold. A blade flashed across in front of him, severing the sinuous limb. The strike continued up, connecting with a reaver diving overhead.
Tessaya pulled his axe back across his body and buried it in the ul-karron neck. He glanced sideways and nodded his thanks to Suarav. The old soldier still stood though he had no right to. A spike had torn a gash in his left shoulder and reaver claws had dragged the armour from his back, missing his soul by a hair. He had refused to leave the line and rest. Tessaya could see his point. The end was upon them. Better to die in defence than be taken in your sleep.
More karron, backed by reavers and a cloud of strike-strain, were heading through the main wall breach. They crowded behind those already pressing against his faltering warriors. The ul-karron had wreaked dreadful havoc, weakening even their traditionally indomitable spirit. Tessaya opened his mouth and began to sing again.