distance. Ahead and left of the complex and out towards the south walls there was a flurry of movement. Sol looked first at Diera and then Jonas. Finally, he winked at young Hirad.
‘Ready to run?’
‘Where?’ asked Jonas. ‘Trapped, aren’t we?’
‘Trust your old father, all right? Opportunity approaches.’ Sol raised his voice a little. ‘Thraun. Be ready. Allies to our left. Sirendor, don’t let me fall and don’t go too fast for Diera.’
‘What’s going on?’ asked Sirendor.
‘Eyes front for answers,’ said Sol.
Sol never tired of watching them in action. Auum appeared from the crowds to the left. He was at head height, his left leg and arm outstretched ahead of him, right leg tucked beneath him and right arm cocked to punch. He slammed into the first of the crouching mages, cannoning him into the second.
‘Defence down,’ said Ilkar.
‘Run, Raven,’ said Sol.
Thraun’s wolves split one left and two right as the motley assortment of wounded, women and children began to run towards the tower complex. The animals patrolled the flanks, snapping in the direction of any man who thought to move in.
Brynar was running hard, Ilkar behind him. Ahead, Auum landed, spun and sprinted towards the tower guards. Ghaal and Miirt powered in from the left. Ghaal dropped low, sweeping the legs from a soldier and smacking the heel of his palm into the fallen man’s forehead, bouncing it from the stone steps.
Miirt ducked under a clumsily drawn sword, blocked the sword arm to the right and butted her victim in the head, sending him down in a shower of blood from his nose. Auum planted a roundhouse kick into the side of Suarav’s head. The old general fell like a sack of potatoes. Auum stepped over him, spread his arms and beckoned the next men on. There were no takers.
Screams to the right took the attention of one who didn’t even see the ClawBound pair striding to the tower complex doors. A fist doubled him up and a knee to the chin put him on the ground. The mages had dispersed back into the entrance hallway of the complex. The doors began to close. The ClawBound pair ran inside, quickly followed by Ghaal. The doors stopped moving and shrieks echoed out.
Sol moved as fast as his aching body would let him. He leaned on Sirendor and used Diera for balance. In front of him, Jonas was holding young Hirad’s hand and the little lad was laughing with the excitement of it all.
He was too small to see Auum leap and dive over the last rank of guardsmen, landing behind them and striking out at two before any had the chance to turn. The gap he made was enough for Brynar, who darted inside. Moments later, a deep blue Ilkar’s Defence thrust out, beating back any defenders from the left.
Miirt and Auum faced right. In front of them, swords had been drawn by six guards. Auum took a single pace forward, dropped to his hands and spun round, legs whipping out and in. Three men fell. Miirt moved forward.
‘Time to run,’ she said.
And so they did.
‘Clear inside!’ called Brynar.
Sol nodded to Jonas to go in. Auum and Miirt shadowed him and his brother. Sol limped in with Diera, young Hirad and Jonas, and last came Thraun and the wolves. Brynar shifted the Defence spell, placing it in front of the doors.
‘Well-timed, Auum,’ said Sol. ‘Lucky you got here.’
‘We were waiting for you. Luck was not involved. Yniss keeps all of us for sterner tests.’
Sol took a quick look round. The ClawBound pair had pinned eight mages against a wall. The panther was padding up and down in front of them, the elf studying their every twitch, looking for a reason to attack. From within the complex Sol could hear running feet and the clash of metal.
‘Best you go,’ said Brynar. ‘I’ll hold the passage up to Densyr’s tower as long as I can.’
Sol unhitched himself from Diera and Sirendor and limped over to the mage.
‘You have done greater service than you know, Brynar. Your masters should be proud but they are blind instead. The Garonin will be back. Get out of here. Head west with your people. If what we’re attempting works, we’ll find you. Don’t let them get you. The world, whichever world it is, will need mages like you.’
‘But what if I am merely a man?’ said Brynar.
Sol tapped his chest. ‘In here is where you are strongest.’
Brynar blushed. Sol turned.
‘Raven,’ he said. ‘Raven with me.’
Chapter 30
‘Get me some strong spirit.’ Densyr snapped his fingers at Dystran.
‘Quickly. Same cabinet where you kept it.’
Dystran huffed and walked across the room. Densyr squatted back down by Septern. He had long ago turned from the sounds of combat emanating up from below.
‘Hey. Snap out if it. Don’t lose yourself in there.’
‘Safe inn… side,’ mumbled Septern. ‘Nottt harm we.’
‘What the hell is he muttering about?’ Dystran poured a clear oily liquid into a goblet and handed it to Densyr. ‘Just don’t let him lose the grid.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ said Densyr.
He tuned into the mana spectrum. The shapes that signified the Heart and Septern were no longer distinct. Like the Heart had reached out and grabbed him, part-consumed him. Or that he had decided to become one with it. The Heart itself appeared normal in terms of flow and density but Septern’s mind map was confused and flickering.
‘Septern. Septern, can you hear me?’ Densyr laid a hand on Septern’s arm. ‘Dystran, I think you might want to join us. Is Vuldaroq anywhere nearby?’
‘In the catacomb chambers, working on resonance theory with Sharyr,’ said Dystran. Densyr heard him kneel down. ‘Are you going to use that spirit or…? Oh dear Gods drowning.’
‘Septern, what are you doing?’ demanded Densyr.
‘I didn’t even think this was possible,’ said Dystran.
Densyr shook his head. At least the remnants of the ward grid appeared to be calm. He’d done something to stop the loose ends flailing. A gentle blue pulse was running along the existing lines. A circuit had been closed, temporarily at least.
‘Nor me. Septern?’
‘Mmmm… ore control. Beauty. Form fails.’
Septern’s breathing was shallow and rapid.
‘He’s pouring himself into the Heart,’ said Dystran.
‘He can’t,’ hissed Densyr. ‘It’s like making yourself the wind or fire or something. Can’t be done.’
‘Can we be sure?’ asked Dystran. ‘On the point of death, when our soul is about to leave our body, who’s to say what is possible?’
Densyr heard wonder in Dystran’s voice. ‘I think you’re missing the point, rather. He’s supposed to be buffering the failing grid from feeding back into the Heart and blowing it to smithereens.’
‘And who’s to say he isn’t doing just that? Presumably you want to know whether we should try to bounce him out using the spirit.’
‘And?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Smashing,’ said Densyr. ‘Septern. How long can you survive like this?’
‘Approaching… near. Survival no. Change. Have seee nn… Nottt harm we.’
‘Septern, you are making no sense. Can you keep the grid secure any more?’
‘Always always. Housssseess safe.’
‘He’s delusional, Dystran. If he loses his mind, he loses any hold on anything.’
