‘Hold on!’ shouted Sha-Kaan above the din of the gale.
The dragon’s neck twisted and his head darted towards the hole, which was as big as a house. Loose debris was being dragged out of the hole, through which Sol could see nothing but a roiling brown mass shot with pale flecks like snow. Sha-Kaan opened his mouth and discharged a searing tongue of flame into the void. The sound of screams was surely a figment of Sol’s imagination.
What wasn’t his imagination was the increase in the power of the wind in the Klene, nor the voracious nature of the hole in its side. The ragged edge was growing by the heartbeat. Sol saw pieces being torn away and sucked into the void. And Sha-Kaan was beginning to slide himself.
‘How do we stop this?’ yelled Sol, but the noise was far too great to be heard.
Like the scything of a mighty claw, a rent was dragged in the left-hand wall of the Klene. The wind of the void was all-consuming. It roared from side to side. It tore the mantels from the walls, ash from the grates and the Kaan crest from above the Great Kaan.
Down on the ground, Ilkar, Hirad and Sirendor were hanging on desperately to Sha-Kaan’s claws even while the dragon was being dragged slowly across the floor to the larger hole. Sha-Kaan’s head spun and he looked first at Jonas before twisting down to Sol.
‘We must make purchase on Balaia. Then I can fight.’
‘Anywhere,’ said Sol.
The Klene rattled as if some ancient God had picked it up and shaken it. Sol’s grasp was broken. Jonas, poor unconscious Jonas, was thrown like a rag doll into the teeth of the wind and sucked helplessly towards the gaping, expanding opening. Sha-Kaan roared.
‘Jonas!’ Sol cried and tried to steady himself.
Pressed against the floor, he found a little purchase. Above him, Sha-Kaan’s neck writhed and twisted as he fought to keep Jonas from being drawn into the void. But it was as if the wind had fingers and they plucked the boy away from him.
Sha-Kaan moved to place his bulk against the hole. A second rent appeared in the opposite wall. And a third. Sol saw the flash of metal beyond, just for a beat. Jonas had woken and was screaming for help. There was blood on his face. Sol didn’t pause. He sprang from the floor, diving upwards.
The wind caught him and propelled him further up. Jonas flashed by. Sol reached out a hand and grasped his son’s leg. Their combined weight brought them both down to the stone floor, hard. Sol landed back first, Jonas square on top of him, winding him. His wound flared pain.
‘It’s all right, son. It’s all right, I’ve got you.’ The stone floor shuddered. Slabs rippled and bucked. ‘Oh no.’
Sol turned his head where he lay. Sha-Kaan was moving across the floor towards them. Of Hirad, Sirendor and Ilkar, there was no sign. The Great Kaan’s head snaked out, mouth agape. A thundering crash reverberated through the Klene. The wind strengthened yet more. And Sol, with Jonas clinging to him, was sliding feet first along the floor.
‘Hang on!’
About ten yards ahead of them much of the floor had gone. They picked up speed. Sol tried to dig in his feet but there was no grip to be had on the polished stone. A shadow whipped overhead. Sha-Kaan’s head and neck arced past and thrust into the hole. Flame gorged out. He withdrew.
Sol’s slide was unstoppable. His back bumped over broken stone at the edge of the hole. He flailed with one hand and gripped briefly but the gale was too strong.
‘Close your eyes, Jonas. It’ll be over soon.’
Sol felt hot breath firing over his shoulder. His vision filled with scale and fangs and he was airborne once again. He grabbed Jonas even closer to him as they swung wildly in the air. Sha-Kaan’s neck withdrew to the formal ‘s’ shape and he reared high. Sol felt the bone of the dragon’s fangs scrape his shoulders and upper right arm. Sha-Kaan held him as lightly as he could.
Through the smashed floor of the Klene, in the midst of the maelstrom, Sol could make out indistinct shapes.
‘What now?’ he yelled.
‘Now we land,’ said Jonas, and he’d be damned if the boy wasn’t actually smiling.
Abruptly, the Klene stopped its juddering and the wind lost much of its power. Sol could still hear the roar as the chaos passed by the openings the Garonin had torn in the fabric of the Klene but the sucking and grabbing strength had ebbed almost to nothing.
Sha-Kaan moved swiftly, placing Jonas and Sol on the ground.
‘Beware,’ he said. ‘They are outside.’
Sol became acutely aware that he had neither armour nor weapons. He backed away to a safer section of wall, keeping Jonas behind him.
‘Where are the others?’ he asked, imagining them being pulled helplessly into eternal night.
‘They chose a safer place to be,’ said Sha-Kaan, glancing back over his body.
And there they were. All three of them. Unclasping their arms from the very tip of Sha-Kaan’s tail. Hirad stood and brushed himself down; Ilkar was rolling his shoulders and Sirendor flexing his legs. All looked battered and bruised. But still here.
Without warning, Sha-Kaan turned his head and breathed fire into the gaping hole in the floor. Flame boiled around its edges, smoke billowed. This time Sol did hear the screams above the roaring of the wind.
‘You must leave now,’ said Sha-Kaan.
‘We need to stay and fight with you,’ said Hirad.
‘No. They cannot hurt me. In a blink I will be back on Beshara.’
The door began to open inwards, revealing a night-time scene.
‘Where are we?’ asked Sirendor.
‘We’re about to find out,’ said Hirad.
Sol walked towards the door, the others following him.
‘Jonas,’ said Sha-Kaan.
‘Yes, Sha.’
‘Your mother is quite close. Go. I will be here when you need me again.’
Jonas smiled. Sol put an arm about his shoulder, as much for support for himself as comfort for his son. His back, shoulder, arm and legs were all protesting.
‘I must warn you of one thing,’ said Sha-Kaan. Sol turned. The dragon was not looking at them but tracking something beyond the Klene. ‘They are closer than you think. And they move faster than you know. Good luck, my friends.’
The Raven and Jonas walked out into a mercifully quiet night in Xetesk.
Chapter 23
Auum haunted the empty streets by the east gates of Xetesk. Miirt and Ghaal ran the rooftops above him. A ClawBound pair sat in the shadows on the gates themselves, sampling the air and looking back at the college or out over the open ground to where the clouds were gathering.
Sol and Hirad were here somewhere, he could sense it. Diera’s mumblings had been mere confirmation. The ClawBound had chosen the hiding place in the small park well. The bordering houses belonged exclusively to the mage elite and all of them were ensconced full time in the college. The odd servant had been in residence but none now remained at large to cause any trouble. It was amazing how good a jailor a single wolf could be. No bars had been necessary.
Auum heard footsteps. He faded into the shadows and indicated to Ghaal and Miirt that an intruder was approaching. A man appeared from an intersection of the narrow, winding artisans’ quarter. He turned right and towards Auum. The TaiGethen withdrew further into his chosen doorway and ceased all movement. He watched.
The man was dressed in plain shirt and trousers and wore a light cloak about his shoulders. He was of average height, with short dark hair. He appeared unhurried. However, his actions marked him out as a man not merely out for a stroll. He was criss-crossing the street, crouching occasionally and laying his hands on blank stone or timber. Each time he did so, he uttered words of incantation.