Hirad turned. Rebraal was smiling despite the prevailing mood and Auum wore that curled-lip expression that denoted utter contempt. The TaiGethen spoke.
'Humans are so stupid,' he said in elvish that Rebraal translated. 'Always you ignore your past enemies because you think them unimportant by the mere fact of their apparent passing. And yet you wonder why it is you have no future.'
'Care to enlighten us?' said Dystran.
'Charanack is a play on an ancient elvish term,' said Rebraal. 'Chorun-y-ayck. It means man-of-the-west. I trust I don't need to make further connection.'
Hirad exhaled a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. Shaking his head he pushed himself to his feet and walked stiffly over to Dystran's balcony doors where Thraun and Ark stood on guard. He was exhausted. Gods drowning, they all were. Erienne and Denser practically spent. All the warriors carrying cuts, muscle tears and the aches of a long time out of the routine of battle. Like all of them, Hirad couldn't wait to get his head down for a few hours. Perhaps even feel the benefit of a WarmHeal from someone. For now, they were as safe as they could get on Balaia. He only had to look down to know that to be true.
The doors were open and he strode outside and looked down on the reclaimed college. The courtyard was crawling with Wesmen. They had clearly just repulsed another demon attack. Around two thousand warriors and their Shamen had brought a quite extraordinary optimism to the college. Their songs echoed into the sky, their cook fires burned bright and the smells of the provisions they had brought with them were driving the taste-starved Xeteskians to distraction.
They had occupied the open spaces, the stables, the barracks, three of the long rooms, and liberated the library and mana bowl.
They had access to the courtyard and stable wells and they were using the surfeit of water to wash demon slime and corpses from the stones towards the edge of the ColdRoom shell. They seemed to have no fear of the enemy gathered scant yards from them though as he watched, Hirad saw Tessaya stride into the centre of the courtyard to begin marshalling something or other.
An extraordinary man and one of the few to live up to Hirad's expectations. He watched the Wesmen forming into more cohesive defensive units in front of the gaps in the walls through which they could see the karron. The lesser demons hadn't attacked the Cold-Room so far but clearly Tessaya's distrust of magic wasn't appeased.
'So,' he said. 'Before we all fall asleep, who's coming with me to ask the great man a big favour?'
He felt the pulse of pure panic through them all and the massing of the malevolence close at hand. They pushed and tore where the fabric between the living and the dead was stretched. Gone were the feelings of light and warmth, of closeness and joy. Replaced by a marauding dread and a chasm opening to an eternity of absence.
Those others that he sought for communication had gone with the mass pressed as far from the threat as they could be. Though distance held no real meaning. But he would not run. There was nowhere safe. The threat had to be removed. He sought again the light of those he loved through the thinning fabric. How had the malevolence gained such strength? He had no conception, no answer. Time was a meaningless measure.
He felt a presence near him. Strong. Calming. Reminiscent but not loved. How would he describe it . . . respected. Revered. He felt urging and saw the images of running feet and fast-flowing water. He felt the words too. They signified security.
I have found you.
He communicated, still moving toward his goal, his impetus increased. In his mind the blurred began to focus. He felt clarity and direction such as he had not developed in the presence of any of the others.
I will show you.
The presence by him dominated his mind now. It held disdain for the malevolence nor did it fear the threat. He saw images. Blood
flowing and a body hitting cold earth. He saw arms raised in triumph. He saw a building and felt the burgeoning of that power he knew had to be shut off. The feelings of urging intensified.
The living have little time.
Who are you?
A friend.
He journeyed on towards the place of greatest threat. Comforted. Justified. Near him he felt the brief touch of a bright living light. Alien. He tried to connect with it but it shied from him, seeming to glow brighter when it turned towards the mass. Ilkar felt the spring of a new thought. But all around him, the helpless fear only deepened. There was sudden and enormous pressure. Light dimmed. Feelings chilled.
They were inside. It was not just the living for whom time was short. He thought of the name and shouted for help.
Hirad would have pitched down the stairs but for The Unknown's broad back breaking his fall. He turned and caught the barbarian, ignoring the sharp pain in his hip.
'Hirad? Hirad!'
The Raven clustered around him. He was holding his hands clamped to his head. His eyes were wide and searching. His mouth, initially clamped shut, began to move. A frown deepened the lines of his forehead.
'Let's get him to the next landing. Thraun, take his legs.'
They moved off. The Unknown backed down the spiral, using the outside wall and rail to guide him.
'What do you think. Sha-Kaan?'
The Unknown shook his head. Sha-Kaan's presence caused a relaxation in Hirad's body. This was more like a seizure. Hirad's eyes held a deep anxiety he hadn't seen before. He experienced similar misgivings as they laid the barbarian down on the landing, a cloak under his head.
'Ilkar?' suggested Erienne.
The sound of the elf s name seemed to echo in the enclosed space. The Unknown felt a shudder pass through him.
'Let's hope so,' he said. 'But it's never been like this before.'
'No indeed,' said Rebraal, coming to Hirad's side. 'Listen to him, my friend. Listen hard. Try to understand.'
The sounds of renewed battle filtered up to them. The Unknown ignored them. He clasped one of Hirad's tight-bunched fists.
'All right, Coldheart,' he said. 'We're all here with you. Breathe easy.'
But he wasn't. His chest was fluttering and his face pale. The Unknown looked to Erienne who was stroking Hirad's hair back across his head. Her expression reflected his concerns.
'Can you do anything?'
'I daren't,' she said. 'Look at him. It's deep in his mind. This is all physical symptom. I can't stop it. I wouldn't know how.'
'And you mustn't try,' said Rebraal.
'Just checking.'
Erienne smiled. They all looked back at Hirad. His eyes still jerked and his mouth moved. He was whispering. The Unknown put his head closer.
'Where are you?' Hirad's voice was very quiet, his breath shallow and pained.
'Right here, old son,' said The Unknown.
'I can't see you. Can feel you, Ilks.'
The Unknown glanced up.
'It is Ilkar,' he confirmed.
'Let me through.' Dystran's voice was over-loud. He shouldered his way through his guards and more gendy eased Denser and Thraun aside. 'What's going on? Why did no one think to tell me? I could have walked out there alone. Hardly fitting.'
'Hirad's got a contact. Just be quiet,' said The Unknown.
Dystran inhaled sharply.
'Don't disturb him,' said Rebraal. 'It would be dangerous for both of them.'
'A contact. Who with, that damned dragon?'
The Unknown looked up into Dystran's face and saw the arrogance still there.
'No, Dystran,' he replied, his voice deliberately cold. 'Ilkar. In another dimension you've placed at risk.'
'But he's dead, surely?'
'Yes,' replied Rebraal.
'Yes but—'
'Just accept it,' snapped Erienne. 'Leave us alone.'
The Unknown became aware of a growing noise from outside. Below them, in the complex, men were shouting.
'You have to run,' shouted Hirad.