It was in her mind, taunting her with visions of her daughter running free through meadows and woods. Just let go, it was saying and you can be anything you desire and have anything you desire. You can be the One above all. You can be the only mage. Let me have Julatsa.
It tore at her, the temptation undermining her strength, but she carried on, drawing the cold, bleak dark away from the Heart and into herself where the true One power extinguished it. The toll on her body was tremendous. She was aware her legs were shaking and that she should have collapsed by now but for something holding her upright. She searched briefly for what it was and the charge of knowledge revitalised her.
'You will not have me,' she said to the shadow. 'You will not use my daughter against me.'
She drew more power into her mind and began to force the shadow away.
Denser had left the familiars to the Lysternan mages, who kept them away with careful use of DeathHail and focused Orbs. One of the demons already lay charring, deep in the Heart pit. Denser had seen Erienne swaying, her legs beginning to lose their strength and had run to her, catching her before she had fallen.
'It's all right, love,' he said, though he knew she couldn't hear him. 'I've got you.'
She was dead weight in his arms but what he saw pushed all thoughts of losing grip from his mind.
The shuddering deep within the ground intensified, loose stones on the surface bouncing and skipping, but the mages stood rock solid, each completely in tune with the movement below them. And from the pit came the sounds of stone grinding against stone, and the indefinable feeling that whatever the movement was, it was upwards.
A gout of dust burst from the pit, sparks following it. The ground heaved once more and Denser heard a rumbling, deep and powerful. The edges of the pit fell inwards, cracks forked out across the cobblestones, rippling beneath them, fracturing them, spitting some into the air. And, finally, came the Heart itself. Its casing was a column a hundred feet wide and wreathed in dark smoke. Carvings adorned its outside and they seemed to come to life as the sun touched them.
Denser stared in simple awe as the stone emerged from its grave, shedding dust as it rose, inch by slow inch.
'Come on, come on,' he breathed. 'You can do this.'
He saw the ancient Julatsan runes standing proud on its surface, the intricate friezes of the building of the college, the wars that led to balance and the rise of Julatsan magic. Ilkar had spoken of them many a time. Normally encased in the outer skin of the Tower, they were never seen by mages from other colleges but Denser was privileged.
It climbed, Denser watching it go to a height of twenty feet, the rasping as it came almost musical. And then it paused. Time stood still for a moment and Erienne slumped in his arms, a low moan escaping her lips.
'Come on, love,' he whispered. 'Come on.'
She shifted in his arms, opened her eyes. She saw the Heart and smiled.
'Pheone,' she muttered. 'Keep the faith.'
The Heart edged upwards again. Denser could feel the effort and glanced around at the casting mages. Every one of them wore their effort in their expressions. Arms quivered, teeth ground and tears squeezed from tightly closed eyes.
They would do it. Unmolested they would succeed. Determination radiated like a physical force. But only a few hundred feet away, the Xeteskians were pressing like never before. And Denser wasn't sure the Julatsans and elves would be given the time they deserved.
Chapter 44
Thraun knew he had to save Hirad. He growled loud to attract The Raven who were already running in the direction of the prone barbarian but he was the closest. There were four enemies nearby, each wanting to make the killing blow and earn the right to say that they had killed the legendary Raven man.
He could not let that happen.
So Thraun ran faster than he had ever done before. He felt the smells of the forest in his nostrils, the closeness of the pack and the warm scent of his prey ahead. The sounds of the battle around him dimmed but he heard someone call his name. Or he thought it was his name.
He wanted to heft his sword, to throw it at them all but there was nothing in his hands. He ignored the thought, snarled, snapped his jaws and leapt.
The prey screamed beneath him but he would show no mercy. He dashed a claw through its back and plunged his teeth into its neck, the hot blood pouring into his mouth. Leaving the prey to die he turned on the other three, seeing them back away. With one bound, he was on the next, paws thumping into his chest and knocking him flat. A single claw tore out his throat and he moved again, fangs locking into the calf of the third. And while he yelled for help, the last fell dead beside him, a wound dividing its stomach, another across its face. The one he held fell too, cries stilled.
Thraun let the leg go and swung around. Two stood over him. Not prey. He backed away to the one he had to save, hunched to pounce should any threaten him.
He howled.
Izack drove his cavalry on at a gallop through the streets of Julatsa for what he prayed would be the last time The cavalry met no resistance. Chandyr had committed all bis men in ibe battle at the gates now they were down, and his perimeter guard had deserted their posts to join in.
Izack gave his horse its head and yelled a battle cry to clear his mind. Forty men were at his back, swordsmen and mages. He could see those still outside the college unable to get in, the spray of bodies that spoke of an attack by the TaiGethen, and he could see the clouds of smoke rising above the walls and the shattered gates.
The Xeteskians barely saw them until they were attacked. Izack drove in hard, slicing down right-handed, taking the ear off one man, his blade going on to shear through shoulder, ribs and vital organs. He raised his sword again and lashed out, deeply denting the helmet of another, stunning him senseless. A blade came at him but it was blocked by another of his men. More and more pushed into the left-hand side and inexorably, the Xeteskians began to fall back.
But as they did, they fought hard. He saw three of his men taken down by a group of soldiers working together out on the left periphery. Crossbows and arrows sliced through the air, one whistling by his ear to bury itself in the shoulder of a cavalryman behind him.
'About wheel!' he ordered. 'Reform! Mages, give me shields.'
He dragged the reins about, all the time chopping down at his enemies and kicking with his stirruped feet. A blade dragged across his right leg and he saw below him a man who surely should be dead, half his lower jaw missing, still trying to fight. He acknowledged the bravery and ran him through the heart.
He kicked his horse to leap out of the press, his men following him. He galloped away to the edge of the square, turned, gathered and charged again.
The appearance of the shapechanger had caused confusion and panic in Thraun's immediate circle. Xeteskians, Julatsans and elves alike had scattered. His howls had chilled the fraught air of the battle and led to a critical uncertainty that The Unknown was not going to allow to pass him by. Thraun himself was pacing up and down before the prone form of Hirad, daring any to try and take the barbarian's life. There were no takers.
'Leave him,' ordered The Unknown, catching Darrick's arm. 'You can trust him. This way.'
Xeteskian soldiers were trying to force their way through to the Heart pit. Cavalry were behind, being tackled by a group of Al-Arynaar. Rebraal was still there, he could see, still fighting hard. He should have gone to the elf s aid but there were more pressing concerns. Auum was in the thick of the batde for control of die passage to the helpless mages behind and being slowly pushed back. Only four TaiGethen stood with him.
The Unknown flung himself into the attack, trying not to think that Hirad wasn't by his side. He dared not even contemplate what Thraun had done to himself by assuming his wolven form after so long. The Raven were all over the place in the college and he didn't like it. Best he got them back together again.