The enemy began to panic.
‘We have them,’ called Hirad. ‘Keep it going.’
The broken groups of dead moved to reform. Garonin were cut off in their midst. Sol landed at the next breach, the last breach. He laid his hand on it, fused it shut in moments. The noise of the gales was gone. The pull of the void shut off. Silence but for the dying cries of the last Garonin. The soulless sent to nowhere.
The dead were crying victory. They packed together and moved on up the incline. Far ahead, a pale glow was evident. Hirad nodded his satisfaction. The Raven and the elves came together.
‘Everyone all right?’ he asked.
‘Never better,’ said Ilkar. ‘Besides being dead, that is.’
‘Hardly a surprise,’ said Hirad. ‘I didn’t see you making holes in the Garonin.’
‘Fighting never was my thing, Coldheart, you know that. And magic doesn’t seem to work in here. Thought I’d be better used keeping the dead moving in the right direction.’
‘Will they be back?’ asked Sol.
‘They will not,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘Not here in the void.’
Hirad sensed him very close. He looked about him. There, by the right-hand wall, the Great Kaan was cruising alongside them. He had burns the length of his body and perilously close to one of those huge glorious eyes. His wings looked in tatters.
‘You look a complete mess,’ said Hirad.
‘At least I still live,’ rumbled the dragon, a warmth filling the corridor.
‘Still crap at jokes though, aren’t you?’
‘I had a fine tutor in that regard,’ said Sha-Kaan.
‘Still good at insulting you, though, isn’t he, Hirad?’ said Ilkar.
‘What’s next?’ asked Sol.
‘The Kaan must go to rest. We will watch Balaia when we can. The enemy still move in Beshara and we must look to defend our lands even now. They are not beaten anywhere. Do not relax.’
‘And will you find us when we reach our new home?’ asked Hirad.
‘When Jonas reaches there, I will find him,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘As I will now. The healing streams are stronger within a Klene than out here.’
‘Tell him how we’re doing, won’t you?’ said Sol.
‘I will. And I will speak with your wife, Sol, if I can. Don’t speak now; I know it is difficult. I know what you would wish to say to her.’
Sol’s sudden grief washed through them all. Hirad felt it as keenly as if it were his own.
‘Thank you, Great Kaan,’ said Sol.
‘This is goodbye,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘Where you go now, I cannot follow.’
Hirad nodded and smiled. Though none of them could see his smile, they would be able to feel it.
‘Your touch has been joy, old friend,’ he said.
‘For me also.’
‘Farewell,’ said Hirad.
‘Always believe,’ said Sha-Kaan.
And he was gone.
Sol bowed his head. He hadn’t thought to feel grief. Perhaps there was something in what Ilkar said about the path between life and death. If that was the case, he just wanted it to be done. He gazed back the way they had come and immediately felt comfort from the closeness of The Raven.
‘No way back, big man,’ said Hirad. ‘Only way is on.’
‘I know, it’s just . . .’ Sol sighed. ‘So much time I was away from her. And she never ever failed in her love for me. I never told her how much that meant.’
‘You don’t think so?’ said Hirad. ‘You told her every day you were with her. You didn’t need words to say it, Unknown. You should have seen the way she looked at you even when she was angry.’
‘Not always,’ said Sol.
‘Always,’ said Hirad.
‘I wonder how fa—’
Sol stopped in his tracks. He was standing in a wide, open, featureless place. Around him, below and above, all he could sense was a pale ivory colour. Slowly, distantly, dark specks appeared in his vision. He was here. Ulandeneth. He looked all around him and felt the crushing weight of defeat on his shoulders.
He was alone.
It was never too late to learn. Sharyr had returned to the dimensional research chambers to study what he could about the doorway through which only the dead could travel. The pale light still shone from the doorway and he could see nothing through it. Like staring into sand.
Dropping into the mana spectrum briefly, he studied the mana lattice that framed it. Densyr had created a network of fine lines that anchored in space. None of them did any more than touch the very edges of the doorway yet the frame was utterly rigid. He pushed at it with his mind. The force that returned through the spectrum was enough to sit him on his backside.
‘Wow,’ he said.
He brushed his hands together, stood up and had another look into the light. Garonin soldiers were clustered against the doorway. Sharyr shouted a warning but there was no one else to hear it. He backed away, still staring. Something wasn’t right about this. The Garonin had their hands against the entrance. They brought curious-looking instruments to bear on it. One in particular had a blade that revolved at high speed. It was clear that this piece of equipment was being pushed against the doorway but was having no effect.
Sharyr smiled. ‘Can’t get out, can you?’
His smile was short-lived. They might not be able to get out, but since they had got in somehow, what was the state of any allies within? It didn’t bode well at all. Sharyr moved forward again to stand beneath the opening. He pressed his fingertips against it, just able to reach it if he stood on the tips of his toes.
They could see him. He saw weapons brought to bear. He didn’t move, confident in what he believed. White tears splashed against the entrance, dispersing harmlessly. Sharyr laughed and beckoned them on with both hands. Fists thumped soundlessly and uselessly against the doorway.
The Garonin withdrew a pace. One looked over his shoulder. Three of them threw themselves back against the doorway, clawing and scrabbling. Abruptly, the doorway vibrated and Sharyr feared his goading would be his undoing. He watched helplessly as the frame buckled, held for a moment and folded in on itself. He saw a last desperate Garonin fist hammering on the opening before it winked out of existence leaving nothing but the faint whiff of burnt mana.
‘What was all that about?’ he whispered.
Sharyr hurried back to Dystran’s quarters to report all he had seen to Lord Densyr.
‘How can it end here like this?’ whispered Sol, fear gripping him.
He felt as if he was shaking but his shadow form revealed nothing. Ulandeneth was empty. The black flecks moved in the distance but perhaps they were a trick of his eyes this time.
‘Where do I go? What do I do?’
So much he had yet to learn. So many assumptions he had made. About those who would stand by him to help him. Those who would show him the way. All gone now. He truly was alone.
‘Where are you!’ he shouted. ‘Hirad! Raven! Where are you?’
Where are you?
A door. He needed a door. But there was none. He needed a sign, something to set him off in the right direction. All his life the path had been before him. The solution had always presented itself. He had always known when to talk or to fight or to run.
‘But you’re not alive now, are you? And none of the rules apply.’
Sol stood where he had appeared. He turned another slow circle. For all its vastness, the place bore down on him, closed around him, sought to smother him. He dropped to his haunches to feel the ground beneath his feet but his hands transmitted nothing to him. Neither did they sink in.
‘There is substance here.’
In his mind time passed terribly quickly. Only he could help the living and the dead and he had no idea where to start. He forced his mind back over what he knew. Ulandeneth was a place where he had been. Where he had fought and lived and from where he had escaped. It was the place, so Auum and Sha-Kaan had it, that held the doorways to all other places.