‘You could have chosen a wider body,’ said Hirad. ‘You’re a bit weedy for us all to cower behind.’
‘You know that in all the years I was dead, all I ever dreamed about was being an elven shield for your filthy carcass.’
Hirad laughed. ‘I knew you always loved me best.’
‘All right,’ said Ilkar. ‘On the count of three. I’ll cast and move the spell to the door. Everything else, I leave to your imaginations. One, two, three . . .’
Ilkar cast. The Defence hung in the air in front of him. Solid, shot through with yellow, rotating gently about its axis. He pushed out his arms slowly. The conical shape lengthened, the flat circle expanded to take in the door and then the entirety of the wall of the building. He could see the pulsing of the ward as the Julatsan casting neared it.
‘Be ready,’ he said, voice distant with effort.
‘For what?’ asked Hirad.
‘To sweep me into an ash bucket if this goes wrong.’
Ilkar crabbed his hands to better grip the spell and thrust it against door and wall. The ward triggered. Blinding blue light flashed across the surface of the Defence. Ilkar leaned his weight against his spell while the FlameOrbs, or whatever fancy name they had these days, formed and crashed into it again and again.
He shuddered. Nausea gripped him. The spell shimmered. Ilkar grunted defiance and forced more strength into the head of his casting. The Defence steadied again. Blue light rippled across its surface, fizzed into the ground and slapped back against the building. Fire leaked around the edges of the spell and lashed at the air and the ground at Ilkar’s feet. Sweat dripped into his eyes.
Ilkar could see the end coming. The effort of dragging in so much unfocused mana told eventually. There was not enough flow to keep the construct steady for long. The sides of the cone wobbled. The lattice unpicked from front to back. Another orb slammed into the cone and the spell collapsed.
‘Down!’ yelled Ilkar.
He angled his hands up. The final orb deflected off the remnants of his spell and arced away into the dawn sky. He followed its lazy movement up until it reached its zenith and began to fall back down.
‘This is not good,’ he said.
The Unknown had seen it too. ‘Up! Up! Get inside. Move it, Raven.’
He picked up Jonas by the back of his collar and charged through the wrecked entrance of the building. Sirendor and Hirad were scrambling to their feet, the barbarian cursing at the pain from his burned foot. But still he stopped to grab Ilkar and help the tired mage up.
The orb fell to the ground on the right-hand side of the street. Hirad and Ilkar dived inside the house, rolling away from the opening and heading for the stairs up which The Unknown was already running. The orb splattered across wall and street, triggering wards all around it.
Flame lashed inside the building, reducing broken timbers to ash and engulfing the stairs in fire. Ilkar dived headlong onto the landing from the top step. A whoosh of heat behind him and a crackling of paint on the walls told him how close he had been to incineration.
The ground heaved beneath them. Great rending sounds of stone on stone, rock smashing into rock and the splintering of wood sounded far too close. Ilkar came back to his feet and grabbed Hirad’s arm, helping him along. The others were ahead, stampeding up another stairway towards the roof. A massive column of stone broke through the floor and carved its way up through the bedrooms on Ilkar’s right.
‘EarthHammer!’ he shouted into the tumult but no one could possibly hear him.
Plaster dust and debris filled the air. The house rocked. Detonations of more columns of stone breaking upwards could be heard surrounding them. Hirad made the stairs and took them three at a time, wounded foot almost forgotten in his desperation to escape. Ilkar was right on his heels, pushing him faster.
Light poured in from above. A great swathe of the roof slipped and fell into the street, showering shattered tiles down on the fleeing Raven. Up ahead, Ilkar saw The Unknown battering down a door with his feet and running into clear sky. The front wall of the house cracked along a jagged horizontal, the upper portion teetering and falling outwards, dragging roof and beam with it.
Ilkar gave Hirad a mighty shove and rolled out of the top door after him. Hands grabbed him, almost lifting him from his feet and running him towards the shuddering building’s edge. He cried out as he left the ground, cycled his legs and landed on the other side in a heap. He turned to watch Hirad make the jump. The barbarian’s poor foot gave way beneath him. He didn’t have the height to clear the balustrade. His hands grabbed at guttering and he disappeared from view.
Behind him, the house crumbled to the ground, sending up clouds of dust that glowed in the blue flame of Xeteskian wards. As the sound of the collapse rolled away, Ilkar could hear Hirad swearing. The Unknown ran to the building’s edge and hauled the barbarian to safety
Ilkar felt someone’s gaze on him. He looked round. A man was standing by him, four wolves at his feet. He recognised those hands as the ones that had helped him escape. Others were there too. A woman and a boy who would bring joy to The Unknown’s heart and, oddly, Brynar, Densyr’s apprentice.
The man with the wolves was smiling. The sun on him projected his shadow onto the wall of a dormer window behind him. It was of a tall, powerful man with hair tied in a long ponytail at his back. Ilkar felt a comforting warmth.
‘Hello, Thraun,’ he said. ‘Glad you happened by when you did.’
Chapter 27
Auum led his Tai to the city walls. Leaping and climbing, rolling and dodging, they had easily kept ahead of the Garonin sent to chase them down. Yet the vydosphere had not changed its course. Indeed, it had not moved, and Auum worried what that might mean. Threads of comfort sprang from the knowledge that despite all their might, the Garonin were still prey to feelings of revenge. It was the reason they were chased and the reason the Ravensoul was sought.
The enemy knew that harm could be done to them. Men could be lost, perhaps enough to affect their battles elsewhere. This deflected their attention only minutely, but minutely could be enough to buy the time they so desperately needed.
Once on the walls, the TaiGethen ran free, putting real distance between them and their pursuers. Auum tore around the battlements and through abandoned watchtowers. He scaled the outer sides of the south gates and dropped onto the roof of the gatehouse. Only here did he pause. He climbed onto the crenellations.
From here he could see across the city to the walls of the college. The towers within stood proud and he could make out a solitary figure on the uppermost balcony of the central edifice. Auum whispered a short prayer to Shorth. He let his eye wander to the east, to the deserted streets of Xetesk bathed in a watery sunlight.
Auum could pick out figures running across rooftops. In amongst them, he could make out the bulk of Sol and the flashing shapes of wolves. And he could see the Garonin advancing too. In the skies above, the vydosphere sucked up its fuel. The clouds still darkened and the swirl still gained pace. He wondered briefly when Densyr would realise the appalling mistake he had made.
‘Auum.’
It was Ghaal. He was perched on the crenellations looking out over the west of the city. Auum followed his gaze and his heart fell into his boots. When you saw one, suddenly, thousands were revealed. People. Ordinary Xeteskians with their faith in a college that would inevitably fail them.
‘Cattle awaiting slaughter,’ said Ghaal.
‘Enjoying the dawn of their last day in this or any other life,’ said Miirt.
‘And we will free them when we can,’ said Auum. ‘Now, my friends, it is time to break into the college.’