The realisation had fired the tribes and the first battle had been a short, intense slaughter. The quick winged demons were more resilient than the lumbering karron but all fell to the released frustration of a Wesmen army previously impotent to inflict anything more than temporary disability.
Gallons of demon blood had washed the stone flags of the college courtyard, mixed with mere splashes of their own, before the demons had withdrawn. The Wesmen songs had begun then and had barely let up since. This was not just victory over the demons, this was the knowledge of where they stood as masters. Tessaya slapped his Shaman, Arnoan, on the back and laughed as he listened.
'Hear that? Today, we have met our destiny.'
'You are being a little premature,' said Arnoan. 'We have not beaten the demons yet.'
'But when we do, we will be standing as victors in the heart of the Dark College. It is surely a matter of time.'
Arnoan frowned. 'The Spirits would have it another way. They are scared and under threat. There is more to this than you or I can see.'
Tessaya looked above him at the towers of Xetesk where his erstwhile enemies gazed out over the Wesmen in their midst. He turned his eyes to the sky where the borders of the invisible Cold-Room shell were marked by the demons that travelled its outer surface. There were those that waited their moment to attack at speed; and those who sought the location of the casting and directed the attacks on the mages they divined.
Four incursions were under way that he could see from his part-covered position near the barracks. All from reavers trying to snatch the elven mages. His warriors guarded them. Dragged the enemies from the sky. Split their skulls and tore off their wings. It was the Wesmen way.
On the ground the karron stood mute. Tessaya could see diem through the holes they had torn in the walls and the gates they had destroyed before the ColdRooms had pushed them back outside the college grounds. They were strong in attack but weak in body. They succumbed so quickly to the effects of the ColdRooms. 'Lesser' the elf Rebraal termed them. Tessaya agreed.
'You worry too much,' said Tessaya. 'The Spirits are far from us and their minds are confused more than they are clear. Look at the demons now. Futile, isn't it? Why don't they use all their force to attack, do you think? They outnumber us by ten to one at the very least. It's because they know that in here we can beat them. They don't fight well. They rely on fear and we are not afraid.'
Arnoan shook his head. 'Perhaps, my Lord. Perhaps.'
'You disagree?'
'I think we have merely been contained. While they grow stronger. How long will the karron remain so weak they are barely able to enter the mage casting? They have all the time in their hands and we grow weaker.'
'I think not.'
'I mean them.' Arnoan pointed at the towers. 'When the mages are gone, we have no weapon. Why else do you think they have not tried to attack us until today if not that we can be kept until all meaningful defence is gone?'
'We will prevail,' said Tessaya.
Arnoan raised his eyebrows. 'I need to pray.'
'Try and calm your Spirits, my Shaman.'
Tessaya watched Arnoan go to the shrine he had created in the barracks' officer quarters. The attacks had broken off for the moment and Wesmen jeers chased the demons out of the casting. Drenoul was up there too, gazing down on the mistake he had made by leaving the Wesmen unchallenged. A movement in the tallest tower caught his eye and he glanced up. Arnoan's words returned unbidden to his mind and he frowned.
The atmosphere inside the tower complex was one of relief, not victory as it was outside, and he found himself doubting his confidence. He wondered what news The Raven had brought to Xetesk and what his part in it would be. He had asked not to be involved in their debate and was beginning to regret that decision though it had seemed the right one at the time. His presence would have been inflammatory both among the tribal lords and high in the towers he detested so much; and for now at least, they had to be a united force against the common enemy.
Finally, he stared through the gates at the karron. Thousands of them. Waiting. He had to accept the fact that Arnoan might be right and so instead of taking to his bed for an hour as he had thought to do, he barked for his commanders to attend him. There was defensive planning to be done.
Hirad wasn't sure if Dystran or Vuldaroq had listened to a great deal of what The Unknown said. Both men could barely take their eyes from Erienne. She sat leaning on her husband, the grief evident in her face and her hands still shaking from her One castings, still so recent.
Enough to know what was being asked of them but little more. Hirad was feeling tired and sore. His mind was full of images of Darrick. He was furious that he hadn't been able to save him and he wasn't in the mood for anything but the answers he wanted. He barely waited for The Unknown to finish speaking.
'Either of you know who's been talking?'
His voice, loud and sharp, brought both their heads round.
'I beg your pardon?' said Dystran.
'It's just that The Unknown is sitting beside me and you barely looked at him.'
'Your point being?'
'That we're offering the one chance all of us have to beat these bastards but the pair of you are eyeing up Erienne like a prime steak. Let me make a couple of things absolutely clear.'
The Unknown tensed but didn't speak.
'We have fought our way in here to do what has to be done to save our country from the problems you have caused it. And not just our country but probably countless other dimensions in addition to those we know about. Already, we have lost Ry Darrick in the struggle and Auum has lost Duele. We have lost those we sent to try and warn you what was coming. All because of you. But this isn't the time for revenge and recrimination. If it was, you'd be dead already. But what it also means is your desire to control Erienne is also behind us, for the good of us all. Erienne is Raven. She will be coming with us. All you have to worry about is what The Unknown has just asked you. Assuming you were listening. If you can't put aside what is past and gone then none of us have any future. What is it to be?'
Dystran stared at Hirad as if composing a suitable retort. But something in the barbarian's expression changed his mind and instead a wry smile crossed his face. He spread his arms.
'No one underestimates the problem we face or the losses you have suffered. But at heart we remain mages. Erienne, please forgive us but what you are is a unique fascination.'
Erienne shrugged. 'Whatever makes you happy.'
'But as to what you ask . . .' Dystran shook his head. 'We have no way of sending you or anyone to the current demon dimension. Our link to them was all to do with focused mana trails and nothing to do with their location. I'm sorry, but we're going to have to think of another way to beat them.'
'There has to be a way to get us there. It's the only chance to close the tear, stop any more of them coming here and to disperse the mana. Without it, we're all as good as dead, you know that.'
'Yes, we know that,' said Vuldaroq wearily. 'And believe me we're sure there is a way but we just don't know it. We scoured every text we managed to steal from the library for anything useful. And we found something incredibly important. Unfortunately, it speaks of a religious punishment based on an ancient magic that died with a
race called the Charanacks. Find one alive and no doubt we'll be fine.'
'Because?'
'Because according to a note in the margin of one of our demon-ology texts, they, whoever they were, had a link to the demons. That was the punishment apparently. Banishment or some such.' Dystran paused and looked past Hirad. 'Something funny?'