The fire density increased steadily. Either more Garonin were attacking or . . .
‘They are closing,’ said Sol, his voice sounding deep in Ilkar’s head.
‘How are you doing that?’
‘Things are a little different from where I’m sitting. You have squads of Garonin coming in at the far left and right of the shield where it touches the edifice. The main bulk are standing off and there is another force behind them. They will look to get to me. Be wary.’
Ilkar saw the TaiGethen split and move to the flanks. Within the bubble of Erienne’s shield the open ground was quite limited. Perhaps only forty feet square. But the defenders were very thinly spaced.
‘It will only take one to touch me,’ said Sol as if reading his thoughts. ‘And we are lost.’
‘Where’s that help you promised?’ asked Hirad.
‘Just around the corner,’ said Sol. ‘In a manner of speaking.’
‘Ilkar.’ It was Erienne, and her voice sounded as if she were about to break.
‘Not long now,’ he said. ‘Be strong.’
‘I need you to be able to help me,’ she said. ‘They are speaking to me.’
‘They’re what? Who?’
The sky over Ulandeneth turned black.
Chapter 46
Ark’s last living memory was of the moments before the demons took his soul. Beyond that, the awful pain of their torment and, later still, the dread knowledge that even when the demons were destroyed, his soul’s fate was eternity in the vast screaming purgatory of the void. Over and over, he had lived the last beats of his heart. The ice of the demons’ touch. The dragging of their claws through his body and the freezing agony of a reaver’s grip on his soul.
Unlooked-for and beyond his capacity to hope, the touch of Sol had found him. Somewhere a door had been opened and he had been pulled towards it, helpless to avoid its embrace whether it be fair or foul. Then had come the strength of Sol, imbuing his soul with light and hope. And with it had come the rush of voices in what he began to think of again as his mind. Comforting, supporting, powerful. As one. Their souls mingled but this time not in the thrall of the Soul Tank. No demons forced them to their work. This time they did so as free men under the banner of the first to have escaped the order of the Protectors. The first to stand in battle without a mask.
For Sol they gathered, and for Sol they would fight.
Images played out across the sky above them while the Garonin weapons blinded them head on. Erienne was groaning with effort and slowly losing her own personal battle. Ilkar prayed that she didn’t look up but he could see her head moving as if someone were forcing it back.
‘Don’t do it,’ he said. ‘Face front or close your eyes.’
‘I . . . No. NO!’
Erienne’s arms trembled. Her whole body shook and her fingers, splayed out to keep the shield taut, began to draw into fists. Above her Xetesk destroyed. Barely recognisable. Yet in the middle of the ruined college figures ran while white tears bit at their feet and spat at the ground right behind them. Wolves flanked them, blood running from their blackened flanks.
‘Please no,’ said Erienne. ‘Don’t let it be true.’
Denser. Running for his life. And with him all that was precious to Sol and to Thraun.
‘Don’t believe it. Don’t trust it.’ Sol’s voice sounded loud but even his tones carried a tremble to them. ‘Be strong and we will save them all.’
Garonin burst through the opaque shield to the left, running along the wall of the edifice, firing as they came. Thraun howled and leapt to the attack. Auum and Duele closed in. Hirad made to move.
‘Stop, Hirad,’ boomed Sol. ‘More coming at you. Hold the line, Raven.’
Ilkar stood up behind Erienne. He drew his short blade from its scabbard. The weapon felt heavy and unbalanced in his hand. Four Garonin had punched through the shield. White tears fled across the enclosed space, missing their targets. Thraun’s leap took him onto the shoulders of the lead Garonin, bringing him down. Auum hurdled the pair of them. He landed, spun and kicked up and out. The sole of his right foot slammed into the chest of his target, rocking him back. Auum continued his spin. His blade snaked out, slicing into neck and faceplate. The Garonin staggered.
Duele whispered past Auum. He ducked a stream of energy fire, bounced back up and hammered his blade into the ribcage of his enemy. The man fell against the last of the four invaders. Weapons were triggered reflexively. White tears ripped into the walls of the edifice. Cracks ran away along its surface.
Auum jabbed his blade into the gut of his victim. Without pause, he grabbed a jaqrui and threw. The keening wail was brief. The razor edge sliced through the arm of the last attacker. His weapon fell from his hand. Duele leapt to carve his blade into the Garonin’s faceplate. Auum followed up his jaqrui and buried his blade two-handed into the gut of the wounded man. Ilkar heard the blade shriek as it exited his back and scraped the edifice behind.
Another howl from Thraun. The wolf sprang up and ran right. Ilkar followed him. Garonin had pushed through the barrier. White light filled the space. Ghaal ducked but not quickly enough. He took the full force of two streams of fire in his face. His head was engulfed in flame. His body juddered and was thrown back to slide across the floor. Ilkar had to turn away. Ghaal’s neck smoked, his skull was blasted to shards.
In front, Hirad called a warning. Ilkar heard the clash of weapons. But to the right was the greater threat. Thraun had his jaws clamped around the leg of a Garonin soldier who was beating the wolf’s skull with the butt of his weapon. Evunn and Miirt surged into the attack. But one Garonin was free. He could see Sol, sitting helpless, light streaming into him and away from him. The door open to invasion. Auum, running headlong, was not going to make it in time. Ilkar hefted his blade. He was standing no more than ten yards from Sol.
‘Get this wrong and it ends here,’ he said to himself.
Ilkar hurled his blade. It caught the Garonin in the right thigh. The soldier stumbled, slowed and regained his feet. He ran on, a shout of victory ripping from his alien lips. He reached out to Sol, to touch him and render everything the great man had died for a waste.
The Garonin did not make contact. An axe materialised in the air before him, swinging across with frightening power. Behind it the body of a huge man in jet-black armour washed into being. The blade savaged straight through the Garonin’s neck, taking his head clean off to bounce across the floor towards Ilkar.
The elf blinked to dispel the illusion but it didn’t shift. There stood Ark. Protector and Raven. He was carrying the sword and axe of Xetesk’s dread calling. He wore their colours but without the mask that bound them to the demons. Ark roared. His arms shook and his fists ground against his weapons. His face cleared and he stared square at Ilkar. Blood dripped from his axe.
‘We are come.’
Hirad pushed the Garonin’s weapon to the left and swung his sword high. The edge slid from the man’s shoulder and clattered up into the side of his helmet. The Garonin stumbled. Darrick’s reverse sweep carved a gash deep into his chest. The Garonin gasped. Hirad thrust up under his chin strap.
Hirad was aware of shouting from behind him and resisted the urge to turn. More Garonin came through the barrier in front of him. To his right Sirendor ducked a stream of white tears, swayed left as he came back up and jabbed up into the armpit of his attacker. Hirad paced forward. He switched his sword to his left hand, dropped to his haunches and swung the blade low across him, feeling a satisfying connection. Blood spurted from the Garonin’s right shin. The soldier stumbled forward. Hirad darted right, reversed his blade and cracked it into the back of his opponent’s knees.