Demonstorm

'Move,' he said.

Dystran smiled indulgently. T understand your pain . . .'

'No you do not, human.'

 

'. . . but I cannot let you out there. You will be killed.'

Auum felt the blood drain from his face. He took a pace forwards.

'Move,' he repeated.

Dystran held up a hand to stop his guards closing in. 'Idiots. How close do you think you will get?'

'We have prayed,' explained Auum, fighting for the words and to retain his calm. 'Now we honour our dead and cleanse our minds.'

'How?' asked Dystran. 'There is nothing outside but death and demons.'

'Leave open the doors and watch,' said Auum. 'Move.'

Dystran clearly knew he would not ask again. He shook his head and stepped aside, nodding to his men. The doors swung gently open.

'Tai, we move. Tual will guide our bodies.'

Auum walked calmly out into the cold fresh air. Cursyrd cavorted in the air over the courtyard. Karron had beaten down the gates and were gathered by their shattered remains. A tentacled master floated serenely overhead. All eyes fixed on the TaiGethen pair moving into their midst.

Auum walked to the edge of die steps, well beyond the periphery of the ColdRoom shell. He spread his arms wide, his head was cocked to the heavens. He felt the desire then, the craving for absolution. Duele would be watching them.

'I am Auum of the TaiGethen. I stand with Evunn and in the presence of Duele. You know us and you know our calling. Today, you took from us. And for such action, there must be recompense. Which of you will offer yourselves to honour our dead? Which of you will journey with Duele to face the judgement of Shorth? Which of you will send us before him? I, Auum, am waiting.'

T, Evunn, am waiting.'

Screeching with pleasure, the cursyrd descended.

The pressure on the ForceCones was intensifying. Reavers had torn away windows and ripped timbers and stone from the roof. Only the spells kept them out now. At ground level the situation was no less difficult. WardLocks and investitures bowed under the incessant hammering of the karron. Yellow mana light crackled across

groaning joints. Plaster castings cracked and crumbled, thudding to the floor.

The Al-Arynaar waited, their calm spreading to all but one corner of the playhouse. Hirad wasn't hearing the roar of the demons gathered outside, baying for their souls. He was stalking around Rebraal, whose leather and shirt lay on the floor nearby. Denser and Pheone were studying him. Both had hands on his right arm and chest, their eyes closed as the mana probed his badly bruised body.

'You didn't think it something we needed to know?' Hirad couldn't believe it. He fought to keep his temper, aware that they needed focus for what was sure to come. 'What if we needed you in the line?'

Rebraal faced up to him, expression set. 'Organisation had to be done. We had to be secure above anything.'

'We're capable, Rebraal. Or hadn't you noticed? I can speak elvish.'

T wanted to be sure.'

Hirad shook his head. 'How bad is it?'

'Ribs, arm, shoulder . . .' Rebraal shrugged and half smiled. 'The rest just aches.'

'Anything broken?'

'Of course there is,' said Denser, opening his eyes. 'And of course he also knows that to fix it we'll have to put him to sleep. Fractured collar-bone, three cracked ribs and one broken and leaning on his lung.'

'Bloody hell, Rebraal,' said Hirad. 'What good do you think you're going to be like that?'

Rebraal's eyes flared. 'More than if I'm lying over there asleep. I am not in your Raven. I will fight beside you and with my people if I choose.'

'Perfect,' growled Hirad. 'Want to tell me how you propose to tie up the right-hand side when you can't hold a mace?'

'I have two hands,' snapped Rebraal. 'I'll fight on the left instead.'

'And who's on my right, Sirendor Larn? Only he's been dead for eight years. Want to be joining him today?'

'Hirad, enough,' said The Unknown, striding over from the healer mages. The cut on his forehead had been closed by a

WarmHeal. It glowed unnaturally red and was edged dark yellow, almost gold in the Globe light. 'Let's get thinking.'

'That'd be a novelty.'

'Coldheart, stop it.'

Hirad leaned into Rebraal. 'Fight with us, but withdraw if you're weakening. Promise me. We can't afford to lose you too.'

Rebraal nodded, a reluctant gesture. To their left, a six-foot section of the outer wall gave way to the accompaniment of roars from the massed demons outside. Above the tear, a balcony box teetered and collapsed, thundering to the ground and sending up clouds of plaster dust. Karron moved in, wading through the rubble.

'Get a Cone on that hole!' ordered Rebraal.

'Gheneer, do it,' said Dila'heth.

Gheneer moved forwards quickly and swung his spell from the ceiling to the ground.

'Clear!' he shouted.

Elves ran left and right. The Cone caught the karron, driving them back outside.

'I need another Cone on the roof now,' said Dila. 'Afen'erei. Sorry but I need you.'

The wear)' Al-Arynaar mage dragged herself to her feet. There was not the slightest hint of discontent in her expression. She began to cast.

'Whatever we're going to do, it had better be fast,' said Hirad. 'These investitures aren't going to last.'

As if to confirm his words another gap, longer this time, was dragged in the walls. Dila'heth called for more mage back-up. Healers left their charges and ran to the defence. Pheone moved up to the stage once again, urging greater concentration and efficiency.

'Thraun, all of you, get over here,' called The Unknown into the growing din. 'We're forming up. Someone help Rebraal on with his armour.'

'Gods falling,' said Hirad. 'They're going to bring this place down on top of us.'

'The ForceCones will keep the roof up,' said Dila'heth.

'Not for long,' said Pheone. 'That's a lot of weight and pressure.'

Thraun led Erienne, Denser and Ark over. Around the playhouse, elven warriors readied themselves. Mages prepared offensive spells and led prayers. Demons howled and shrieked. Reavers gathered in the sky, visible through the tears in the roof. Strike-strain clustered. Another gash was ripped in the playhouse wall. Timbers collapsed bringing more balcony boxes down.

'We've got to make a decision here,' said Denser. 'When to drop the spells and use the ColdRoom so at least we can kill some of them.'

'Only when we have nothing else. We're holding for now,' said Pheone.

'Raven, form up,' ordered The Unknown. 'Rebraal, my left. Thraun, switch to the right by Hirad. Ark, far left. Denser, you know where you need to be. Erienne can you cast?'

T don't have much choice, Unknown,' she replied. 'I'll be all right.'

'Use the weakening casts,' said The Unknown. 'We'll do the rest.'

'Whatever you say.' She sounded tired. Frail.

'Ready to move, Raven,' said Hirad. 'Where's Eilaan?'

'Injured but recovering,' answered Pheone. 'I'll back you up.'

'ForceCone overhead,' said The Unknown. 'And thank you.'

Two men ran over to the stage, flinching at the sound of falling stone from behind. Another tear, another weak point. They stopped in front of The Unknown.

'Captain Suarav.'

'Sol,' said the captain, a man already in the Xeteskian college guard when The Unknown had been prepared as a Protector. 'Brynel is gone but we aren't done. It would be an honour to fight in your line.'

The Unknown smiled mirthlessly. 'How the world turns, eh? You're welcome. Our right, by Thraun if you don't mind. Sharyr, I suggest you prepare something suitably lethal. Stand in the mage line.'

'My pleasure.'

'Maces, Raven,' said The Unknown. He raised his voice, cutting across the cacophony, Rebraal translating his words. 'Waiting. Remember, we need to force a viable breach if we're going to break for the college. Al-Arynaar, you have to shore up the flanks and rear. Just keep a holding pattern. Dila, Pheone, we need someone near the wounded to bring them out of sleep if we have to.'