Brynar smiled and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. ‘If you insist. Which spell, my Lord?’
Densyr risked a quick glance at Sol.
‘The Ritual of Opening.’
Sol almost tripped on the first flight of stairs. ‘When we get him to some help, you had better keep on running, Densyr. Because if I catch you I am going to flatten your stupid fucking head.’
‘Promises, promises. Don’t be naive, Sol. This is a blood sacrifice. We used to specialise in this sort of thing. Borrowed it from the Wesmen a thousand years ago.’
‘But I thought only Septern-’
‘Not you too, Brynar. All spells that deal with the travel, transport and destruction of souls derive from the same lore. Sol, I need to tell you it is the same base theory that was behind the capture of souls in the Soul Tank for placing the Protectors in thrall.’
For the second time Sol almost tripped. He felt a cold sweat on his forehead and a numbness through his body.
‘I don’t want to hear this.’
‘But it isn’t the same. Trust me; I know how to do this. Theoretically. ’
‘Theoretically?’
‘It’s been a long time since we asked for volunteers to commit suicide.’
A chuckle escaped Sol’s lips. He stopped moving, forcing Densyr to do likewise. Brynar groaned.
‘And why the change of heart? What happened to selfishness and cowardice?’
Densyr winced.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.
‘Gods drowning, Densyr, thousands will die because of your stubbornness. ’
‘I didn’t think they could continue reinforcing, Sol. I really believed they would retreat from us. But they hate us, don’t they? They hate us more than they need their precious fuel, and it drives them to keep on coming back in greater numbers. I can’t beat five of those things. I got it wrong.’
‘Finally you open your eyes.’
‘Now all I can do is help others survive. I’ll face my guilt and, Gods falling, it’s everywhere already.’
Sol moved on.
‘My heart bleeds.’ Sol grunted. ‘When you make a mistake it’s always a fucking belter, isn’t it? Which way?’
They had reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the first of the hub rooms from which multiple passages led. The elves, the Raven and his family were waiting for them.
‘Glad you could make it,’ said Ilkar. ‘But what’s he doing here?’
‘Attempting redemption,’ said Sol.
‘Do we have that much time?’ asked Ilkar.
‘No, we don’t.’ Densyr nodded his head. ‘Straight on. We need Sharyr, Vuldaroq, a couple of old books and a mage to trip the evacuation alarm ward.’
‘Where are we going?’ asked Sirendor.
‘To a new world via a very old one,’ said Sol.
And he dared not look at Diera because he would have seen her tears start to fall.
Chapter 33
General Suarav roared with frustration when the alarm sounded. The system had been put in place after the demon wars to ensure the populace was never ensnared again as it had been a decade ago. A line of wards had been set in the city, maintained by the merest trickle of mana. The key ward was in the catacombs and it triggered the energy to release the rest.
The alarm was simple. Four tones, rising in pitch over an octave and repeating quickly until the Lord of the Mount declared the emergency ended. Suarav crouched in the shelter of one of Xetesk’s long-room doorways and gazed balefully out at the Garonin machines hanging in the air above the college. He thought the alarm might well sound forever.
Every Xeteskian citizen knew what they had to do. Flee the city by whichever gate and by whichever means. Bring food, water and clothing. Bring weapons if you had them, particularly hunting weapons. Be prepared for a long time in the open and on the run. Head for your allotted rendezvous point. Do not return to the city if you value your life.
‘We can still fight,’ said Chandyr. ‘We lost none of our teams after the initial bombardment. The shielding works and the binding on the walls is strong. Let the population run. We are sworn to protect city and college. Let us not shirk that responsibility.’
Suarav nodded. ‘The Circle Seven are all still in the catacombs. I will not abandon them.’
He turned to the rest of those gathered with him. He saw fear and he saw determination.
‘Are you with me?’ asked Suarav. Five mages and twelve guards nodded. ‘With courage we can hold them long enough.’
‘Why do they wait?’ asked Chandyr. ‘Surely they presume their force to be overwhelming.’
The bombardment of white tears had ceased temporarily. Smoke drifted across the college from multiple fires.
‘They are cautious,’ said one of the mages. ‘Nervous even. That we could unleash such destruction without warning.’
‘The trouble is, none of us knows what the hell that blue spear was, do we?’ said Suarav.
‘But then, neither do they,’ said Chandyr. ‘And, like us, they have no idea if it is repeatable. Presumably that is why they’ve been targeting Densyr’s tower. And it still stands.’
Suarav faced his squad. ‘Then let’s waste no time. Mages, I need a shield. Let’s find every group we can and set up the defence of the tower complex as far as we can. You are brave people and I am proud to serve with you. Face whatever comes with spirit and we will see the enemy defeated yet or at least bring our masters to safety. And while we may all lose our lives, we must not be careless with them. Every moment we resist allows our citizens time to escape. Your loved ones and mine. For Xetesk, city and college of magic.’
‘For Xetesk!’
Suarav led his team out onto open ground. The five Garonin machines hung in the sky like giant insects waiting the chance to strike. Their drones combined to form a modulating bass over which the Xeteskian evacuation alarm rose in discord. Suarav saw people emerging from every door in the college to make their escape.
There was no move from the enemy to stop them. After their initial bombardment they were, without question, waiting and assessing their options. The city of Xetesk had been rich with mana but that was now largely collected or spent. The greatest prize on the continent was ensconced deep in the catacombs and any enemy, even one as powerful as the Garonin, should be wary of the task ahead.
Assuming they could not hack straight down through the-Gods-knew-how-much-rock to expose the Heart, an assault corridor by corridor, chamber by chamber was their only option. It meant a large number of soldiers were likely to descend at any given moment and try to gain access to the catacombs by the single entrance.
‘Bottleneck,’ he said.
‘Sir?’ asked a mage running along bedside him.
‘I’ve had an idea.’
The barrage had ceased but the tension was unremitting. Having released Brynar to a healer mage, Densyr had led them through numberless twists and turns until they stood as far from the entrance as it was possible to get while still being in habitable chambers. It felt cold and unfriendly so far from the surface.
The chambers he had brought them to were joyless. Hardly a picture hung. There were no coverings for the uneven floor, and while braziers could be lit to generate plenty of light, there was no heat here. No fireplace and flue. There were three workbenches ranged across the far wall underneath a set of blackboards. Chairs stood where they had been abandoned by mages in a hurry. A dark, heavy-timbered door was set into the right-hand wall.
‘You really know how to make your guests feel at home, don’t you?’ said Ilkar. ‘What was this, some sort of
