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.’
‘Can it be done?’ asked Ghaal, he and Miirt jumping back onto the roof.
Auum put a hand on each of their shoulders. ‘With Yniss to guide us, we must believe it so. Tai, we pray.’
Densyr had been staring straight at where he had left The Raven when it happened. He watched the single blue orb fly skywards and did not even consider why it had travelled in that direction, so consumed was he with watching it fall to the earth. No time to get Septern to deactivate the cell. Time only to pray the wards would not trigger.
A prayer that went unanswered.
Ten wards. He knew the number so very bloody well though it was impossible to count them going off individually, such was the force and speed of the multiple detonations. Flames lashed from both sides of the narrow street on shallow angles, incinerating everything taller than a house cat. God’s Eyes pounded the enclosed area and EarthHammers shoved their fingers of stone high into the sky, ripping apart buildings and standing as insulting gestures in his mind. He was stricken with a sudden regret.
Last night, he had been so cocksure that leaving them trapped was the best way to neutralise them until he decided to free them. So sure that they would not attempt an escape. Ilkar might have been shorn of his college’s Heart but he was no fool and would be able to detect active wards given the amount of time he had.
‘What did you do, my old friends?’ whispered Densyr. ‘Why did you try to outwit the master? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry it had to end like this.’
Densyr took one last look at the dust cloud that covered the scene of their deaths and closed the balcony shutters on his crime. In his deep armchair by the fire, Septern was studying the ward lattice. The sheen of sweat on his face didn’t encourage Densyr’s confidence.
He sank into the chair opposite and sipped at the tea his servants had left them. All the way down the line, he’d made the right decisions. He was certain of it. What the dead had told him really did make no sense. There was no other home. No escape route. Just like every time before, Balaia had to stand up and fight for herself. And win. Just like every other time.
Maybe he had been a little heavy-handed with those he once counted as close friends and allies. But decisions had to be made and some people always had their noses put out of joint. Not everyone would ever be happy. And at least his people, the Xeteskian people, knew he was doing all this for them.
Should it have worried him that Auum claimed to have seen all this before? Surely not. If indeed he was thousands of years old as he claimed, things move on. The elves had had no magic back then, no defence. Densyr had the might of Xetesk and the unexpected advantage of Septern. Balaia had to survive, and for that to happen, Xetesk had to remain strong. The right decisions still had to be made.
Even if it meant his friends had to die.
‘Septern, can you hear me?’
‘Of course,’ said Septern, his voice clear enough though a little strained.
‘You needn’t concern yourself with The Raven now.’
‘I know. I felt it. Saw it. Doesn’t feel so much like casualties of war now, does it?’
‘No,’ whispered Densyr. ‘Tell me what you can do.’
‘The news isn’t too good.’
Densyr’s heart skipped a beat. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The enemy is cleverer than I thought.’
‘Smarter than you?’
‘Let’s not give them too much credit. The problem lies in shutting off the mana flow.’
‘Not doing so isn’t an option I’m prepared to entertain.’
‘I know, Densyr. But the risk to the Heart is greater than I thought. It is possible that they intend us to shut off the flow, triggering an explosion in the Heart. Mana will be pumped up into the atmosphere…’
‘To be collected by the machine hanging up there for just that purpose, if it can collect mana that way.’
‘Precisely.’
‘But you can stop that, Septern, can’t you?’
Septern’s face held the first element of doubt Densyr had seen.
‘Probably,’ he said.
‘Probably isn’t good enough.’ Densyr leaned forward in his chair. ‘You know the stakes here. We cannot fail. Not now.’
‘Now your friends are dead.’
‘Indeed.’ Densyr pressed his lips together. ‘And anything you do, do quickly. We don’t have much time.’
‘I shall attempt the cell-by-cell closedown. That way, I can isolate surges in mana being fed back and dissipate them through harmless areas of the grid.’
‘If you say so. And what if it begins to go wrong?’
‘A mage can always act as a buffer if necessary,’ said Septern.
‘Get going.’
‘They know what we intend, I’m certain of it,’ said Sol. ‘Brynar. Hirad needs attention. Ilkar, Sirendor. Assess the next jump and the bridge the ClawBound has left. Thraun, let’s see if we can’t find ourselves a better route than the one we already have. But don’t go far. Quickly. The enemy are closing.’
He stood with Diera and his boys. All four of them in a huddle and he at least realising that it could be their last. The Garonin still came on. He had counted eight of them. Moving carefully over the rooftops, no doubt aware of the capacity of the TaiGethen and hopefully unaware of their current whereabouts.
