With the human dead, Thraun barked them to him and looked for the next target. The riders and prey were aware of them now, and more turned to fend them off while the clashing and shouting continued behind them.
Thraun's heart froze as he saw a man with mist over his soul staring at them. He had no sharp and was all the more terrible for it. Thraun made to dart forward but was blocked by one of the pack. Barking to scatter them, he ran at the man, leaping as globes of fire erupted from his hands, sailed over Thraun's head and landed behind him. With his jaws clamped on the man's face and his paws raking his chest, he heard the awful yelps and whines of the pack.
He bit down to finish the human, turned and ran, pulling up short when he saw them. They hadn't scattered as he had asked, the proximity of prey and blood had been too much. And now three were down and one staggering. All were ablaze, all in agony, all dying. Thraun looked on helplessly as the unnatural fires ate at their fur and flesh, stole their voices and stopped their bodies. At the last, one found Thraun's eyes and as the wolfs gaze dimmed, he read the message in them.
Betrayal, wrong death.
Thraun sat by the burning carcasses and howled, heedless of the enemy around him and not caring whether he was attacked or not. He
had let them down. The pack were gone and it was his instincts that had cost them their lives. He had failed them just as he had failed-
A stab of long buried memory flashed through his desperate mind. Of a small human. Another man-packbrother, covered in white, his eyes closed, his chest not moving.
Confused, Thraun had neither the strength for revenge nor flight. So he lay where he was, last guardian of the dead pack, and watched the prey and riders flow around him as if through eyes that saw slowly.
And with every heartbeat a word, a word, gained in intensity and dominion. Deep inside, he knew he could not ignore it.
Remember.
Arlen turned this way and that in his saddle as he sought some way to enforce order. He and his men had spilled on to the dockside past raging fires and collapsed buildings to encounter a batde in full flow. College cavalry were set against Protectors, the violence of the fighting shocking as it flowed over the cobbles of his docks. Men roared, horses screamed, and spells crashed on all sides, flaring over shields or pouring their might over helpless victims.
The eye-watering odours of scorched wood and flesh filled the air through the pouring rain. Swords clashed together or against armour, the ringing echoing in all directions, and in the firelight great slicks of rain-diluted blood ran towards the sea, men and horses splashing dirough them as they engaged their enemies.
In the harbour, the Ocean Elm was sailing clear, sails full, driving her on to the lake while to his left, another batde near the Calaian Sun was taking place in front of tumbled and splintered warehouses and the flames that swept a hundred feet into the night sky. The noise was deafening, the sight appalling and Arlen had no idea how to stop it.
Around him, his townspeople had faltered, their energy draining away as they saw death surround them. Some of them had run away and Arlen couldn't blame them for doing so. Only his guards had formed up in proper defence and they had been attacked on two sides, some falling prey to Protectors beating a path back to the centre of the town, others by Dordovans determined to stop them. Eventually, he had withdrawn and now the survivors looked to him for help.
One of the men he'd sent to assess the spread of fighting through the town sprinted up to him, gasping for breath.
'Report,' said Arlen.
'It's everywhere,' said the youngster, not more than twenty years of age and scared half to death. 'There're fires burning right through to the jail and into the Salt Quarter. One side of Centenary Square is ablaze with fire carried on the wind and there's fighting in a dozen pockets.' He stopped, breathing hard. 'Protectors are marauding all through the town and the Dordovan mages are casting at them from rooftops and windows. Our people are on the run. There are hundreds heading north to the castle but I don't think they'll stop there. It's like the whole place is falling down. What will we do, my Lord?'
The young man looked at him, pleading.
Arlen wanted to yell at him that he didn't know. That nothing they did could stop the fight which raged out of control, as did the fires that ate the buildings. There were too many of them. Hundreds fought on the docks and through the town and he had less than thirty scared men at his disposal. There was nothing they could do but he had to force them into some sort of action. They had to be doing something.
'Listen men!' he shouted. 'Get off the docks. We'll set up a safe zone in the square. Give somewhere for our people to run, then stage them back to the castle. Forget these bastards, let them kill themselves. Let's save our own. Go!'
He turned his horse and led his men away, guilt lying like a lead weight across his shoulders. He'd saved a few for now but the awful realisation was that he'd lost control of his town. He wondered how many of them would realise it too when the relief of escape from the dock wore off. If the Protectors and Dordovans wanted to destroy Arlen, there was nothing he could do to stop them.
'Unknown!' roared Hirad. 'No!'
He launched himself at the cavalryman who had struck down his friend. Five paces and a jump that gave him the perfect angle to strike. The Dordovan was wheeling his horse and presented his body as a target. Hirad was in the air as he brought his sword through
right to left, cleaving the man's head from his neck, his body toppling back, blood spraying into the rain-drenched sky.
Hirad ignored the horse and dashed to stand astride The Unknown's body, not daring to look down in case he saw the big man was dead. He had already seen it once before and twice would be too much.
'Aeb! Protectors!' he shouted. 'Help me!'
But they already were, pouring into a frontal attack while those behind stayed the rear advance. Dual weapons scorching through the air, the Protectors stormed into the cavalry, axes carving into horse flesh, swords blocking desperate swings before savaging into the riders.
Dordovans came at Hirad, hoping for an easy target; a man relatively defenceless as he attempted to help a downed friend. The first lost his left leg as Hirad swayed under a roundhouse blow, the second had his horse killed under him. After that, the Protectors were with him, Aeb to his left, forming a circle of steel that gave The Unknown sanctuary.
'Ilkar, check him!' he called as he blocked a sword thrust aside, caught the rider's arm and pulled him from his horse, where Aeb crashed his axe through the unprotected stomach.
'Right behind you, Hirad. Keep going,' said Ilkar
Hirad's heart was thudding wildly as he fought to keep perspective. Every sinew begged him to dive into the cavalry headlong, let his blood instinct take over and see how many he could bring down before they killed him. But he denied the urge, forcing himself to remember the man he was defending.
'He's still alive but it's bad. I need Denser, Hirad. Quickly.'
'Leave it to me,' said Hirad, his body awash with sudden vital energy. 'Aeb, we have to break them now. Front and rear.'
'Yes, I understand. We will move with you.'
Hirad nodded, looked up and saw the Dordovans organising for another run. Twenty bodies were scattered on the ground and, forming more barriers, horses, dead and in distress, lay on the dock. It would be a broken charge and Hirad determined to use that to his advantage.
Along die line, the Protectors waited, silent and unmoving. Their casualties were light but couldn't be ignored. The time was now.
'Come on!' Hirad sprang away, running full tilt at the Dordovan horsemen, and hearing the footfalls of the Protectors as they made their progress. A shout went up from the cavalry, who began to move, riders struggling with horses unwilling to ride into the face of the masked killers Hirad led. Their heads down, they could smell the blood of the dead and dying and their hooves were uncertain on the crowded, slick ground.