'Reverse!' he shouted. 'Reverse!'
He tried to ignore everything around him. The wails of dying men on the walls and right by his side. The clouds of dust billowing into the night sky. The unfettered discs of pure cobalt brutality destroying the walls.
Dragging in everything he had left, Sharyr forced his will on the seeker pulse, switching its polarity. 'Push,' he gasped. 'Damn you, push.'
The building shook. Dimly, he heard a deep rumbling. The dust was in his nose and mouth and had forced itself into his eyes. He could feel the irritation and the tears but had to ignore them. He pushed against the tide of inter-dimensional energy, those that remained with him taking his lead. Around them, the storm continued. Next to the tower, the parapet collapsed, spilling Wesmen seventy feet to the streets. A series of detonations sounded. The discs had bulged into huge, harsh teardrops and they poured into the walls, the street, the tower and buildings all around. Only luck was keeping Sharyr and his team alive.
Sharyr gathered himself again, feeling the seeker pulse finally move under his control. 'Got you.'
Quickly, the movement gained momentum. Sharyr and the remains of his team pressed. The pulse whipped up into the night sky. Ahead of it, the teardrops lost their strength, unable to fight against the opposing force. Up to and through the hole went the pulse. And
the tear itself, without the energy flowing through it and with no spell keeping it open, shut hard.
Sharyr had no strength in his legs. He sagged to his knees, staring at the point in the night sky where the tear had been. It glittered blue. He frowned.
'Someone check that,' he said, gesturing upwards. 'That isn't right.'
He became aware that the silence following the end of the spell had given way to a growing tumult of voices and action. He dragged himself back to his feet and walked unsteadily towards the edge of the building to see what he had wrought in the name of Xetesk and its Lord of the Mount.
His heart chilled at what he saw through the clouds of dust and smoke blowing all around him. Bodies lay everywhere, few moving and many burning. Around them, Xeteskian soldiers hurried to fulfil Chandyr's barked orders. In front of him, the target tower was gone, rubble was all that remained. It had taken with it the parapets to either side. Stone had fallen clear across the street to destroy other buildings.
But there was far, far worse and the reason for Chandyr's urgent shouts became all too clear. And all Sharyr could do now was watch.
Truly the Spirits kept Tessaya alive for a greater purpose. The great purpose. That much was evident now. He had been blown from his feet when the first screaming lights from the sky had struck. Catapulted out of the tower doorway to sprawl in shadow under the parapet.
He had watched the Xeteskians' spell break their own walls and kill their own men even as it took brave warriors to the glory of death in batde. But he had once again been spared.
He had heard the crack of the failing walkway above him and scrambled to safety in a doorway while chaos descended. Mute, he had seen it collapse with the deaths of so many. He had seen the tower shiver and slide to the ground. He knew he shouldn't smile as the smoke and dust cleared in front of him. Indeed Riasu was surely among those dead. But in their attempts to break the Wesmen spirit, they had sealed their own dooms.
The walls of Xetesk were breached.
Chapter 4
His head fuzzy with the after-effects of too much red wine, Hirad led The Eaven from the college and city of Julatsa with the sun climbing high into a beautiful, clear spring sky.
He had made his peace with Ilkar. His anger at his friend's death was much diminished. It was time to move on and, despite the knowledge of their immediate destination, he wasn't sure where he wanted to move on to.
One thing he felt well able to do, though, was put as much distance between himself and the war as was physically possible. The Raven felt the same way, a feeling shared by many in Julatsa. But not all had their choice. Almost all of the elves were staying on for the time being. The threat from outside, though not as potent, was still present. And with the mage strength that much greater and the Heart beating strong once more, there was much restorative work that could now be done.
Some, though, had to return to Calaius. It was as he had surmised sitting on the steps of the college refectory the night before. Rebraal to gather together the remnants of the Al-Arynaar; and Auum to tackle the enormous task of rebuilding the TaiGethen order. With him went Duele and Evunn, ever his shadows. To complete the odd assortment came the one ClawBound pair to survive Balaia. They yearned for the touch of the rainforest and the calls of their kind. No one invited them to travel south. No one questioned them either. Hirad was just glad to have them nearby.
Their route to Blackthorne and thence to the Bay of Gyernath to await the Calaian Sun was of necessity going to be, initially at least, circuitous. They had decided to travel due east for a day and a half before turning south. Even then, they would have to travel carefully through the forests, what was left of them, and low hills that made
tip the eastern border of the mage lands. Darrick considered that <t<n though the focus of aggression would once again fall on Xi'U'sk, Dordovan patrols would be looking for The Raven, and Erlenne in particular. And they might well be backed by Lysternan forces. Once beyond the mage lands south, they would be able to breathe more easily but that was days away.
Hirad shook his head. The Raven, hunted by those they had fought so long to save. At least ordinary Balaians would still hold them in high regard, those that even knew who they were. He let a smile cross his face. Their fame was countrywide and no doubt embellished in story and verse in places they had never even been. But he wondered how many actually knew what they looked like.
It was a question that would be put to the test later in the day. Darrick knew of a hamlet that they should reach by late afternoon or early evening. A comfortable place to sleep and the chance to buy supplies before ten days in the open was an attractive prospect. They had taken very little from Julatsa. The Gods knew the city was struggling even to feed its own people let alone groups of ex-mercenaries.
With the ClawBound pair of tall, black-and-white-painted elf and sleek black panther ranging ahead and south-east, The Raven felt able to ride in the open, making good time over easy ground. Beside them ran the elven quartet, their regular long strides conserving energy and making the pace for the horses.
The first hours of their journey were peculiar for the almost complete silence in which they were conducted. There was none of the banter Hirad associated with The Raven riding to their next job, running from enemies or returning home from a fight. In every face he saw reflection, and felt a sense of loss himself.
Erienne was deep within herself-as she had been for much of the time after the battle to lift the Heart. The fact of Cleress's continued survival had been a source of great comfort but scared her more than she would admit. The elven Al-Drechar mage was instructing her even now in points of the One magic. It would mean exposing herself to more danger and Denser wasn't sure his wife was ready for it.
Erienne's introspection led Denser to the same state. He barely left her side when she was awake. And Thraun, who could sense so
much more than he could say, also rode close. Hirad had joked that he'd have shared Erienne and Denser's bed if he'd been allowed. No one had laughed.
Darrick, when left alone, descended to an anger he refused to let loose in word or action. But Hirad could see it in his eyes. He felt betrayed by those he had served so faithfully. He had placed the security of his college, city and country above his own for years and they had expressed their gratitude by giving him a death sentence. Hirad knew how he felt.