‘You will see,’ said the new voice. One he recognised but could not place. ‘But we must go. The enemy will be aware of this corridor. ’
Sol shrugged. Or he thought he did.
‘No time like the present.’
‘Raven,’ said Hirad. ‘Raven, with me.’
‘Hold it!’ roared Suarav and Chandyr. ‘Hold it. You can do it.’
Tower Prexys had fallen. Tower Laryon had fallen and there was little they could do to shore up Tower Nyer now. Suarav was damned if any more would tumble. The five machines continued hovering above them. The new weapons continued to fire. The detonation clouds continued to build and burst. The machines continued to grow.
But now Xetesk was fighting back again. Beneath a cooperative Ilkar’s Defence casting, thirty mages kept the weapons away from the tower complex. Another six were in reserve and supported a second shield above the working team. Twenty-five guards stood on the perimeter. The machines had fired again and again, each time leaching more strength from the casters. Even so, precious time was being bought and it was hoped fervently that people were escaping into the wild. Garonin were advancing on all sides. Perhaps because they had caught all who had tried to run. Perhaps because they had failed to do so and had been called back for the main prize.
‘Clear!’ shouted the lead mage, an elderly man named Gythar. ‘And steady.’
‘Great work, people,’ said Chandyr. ‘Machine four is building. Be ready.’
‘Guards, look to your fronts. Enemies closing on foot,’ said Suarav. ‘Mage reserve, we need shields on the ground and facing out. Let’s keep the dome wall at our backs.’
Inside the shattered complex more mages worked on binding what was left of the circle of seven towers and the superstructure of the dome. Suarav did not think the enemy had seen them move in.
‘Come on and have a go,’ muttered Suarav. ‘I’m sick of using my sword as a pointer.’
Forty or fifty were advancing carefully from across the width of the courtyard. It was littered with bodies and rubble. Their weapons were trained on the small knot of defenders but they had yet to open fire. From behind Suarav, he heard confirmation of shields dropping into place in front of them.
‘What are they waiting for?’ asked Chandyr at his side.
Suarav shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Think we’ve scared them?’
‘Well, if it helps, I think we’ve worried them enough for them to want to wipe us out to the last man.’
‘Ever the voice of comfort, though I happen to agree.’
‘They fear the Cleansing Flame,’ said Gythar. ‘They’ve countered most offensive spells. Not that one.’
‘Then we should use it,’ said Chandyr.
‘No. They will sense the lessening of our shield cover.’
‘Gythar’s right,’ said Suarav. ‘We’ve got all the time in the world. It is they who are in a rush, it would seem.’
The enemy soldiers loped on, their big strides eating up the distance. At thirty yards, each slung his weapon back over his shoulder and drew what looked like a short sword though with an extremely thin blade. White light seemed to play up and down their edges.
‘Well, well, what have we here?’ muttered Chandyr.
‘They mean to take us on hand to hand. Inside the shield.’ Suarav raised his voice. ‘Not one of those bastards gets past our sword line. Protect the mages. Look to your flanks. They are playing in our world now.’
At twenty yards the Garonin broke into a run, taking Suarav by complete surprise. It was not just that this was the first time they had seen any Garonin do anything other than walk, they were fast too. Very fast.
‘Brace yourselves!’ called Suarav and he set his sword to ready, holding it out front and in both hands. ‘Blunt the charge.’
The Garonin loomed tall and powerful. The drum of their feet sent shivers through the ground and up through his body. He took his own orders and braced his feet as best he could. The Garonin soldiers struck.
Suarav ducked a flashing blade and buried his sword to the hilt in his opponent’s stomach. The momentum brought the Garonin clattering into Suarav and both men tumbled to the ground. Suarav’s blade was ripped from his grasp. Suarav shovelled the dying man from his legs. Right above him, a Garonin blade beat the defence of a young guardsman. It sliced straight through his neck, down through his ribcage and out of the side of his chest. The stink of cauterised flesh rose. The side of the guard’s body slid away and the rest of him collapsed.
‘Dear Gods falling.’
Suarav snatched up the fallen man’s weapon and swiped it as hard as he could into enemy legs. He felt it bite deep despite the flaring of the armour. He dragged it clear and hacked upwards as he came to his feet, his blade meeting chest armour and bouncing clear.
Suarav backed away a pace. The Garonin had torn the guard line to pieces. Chandyr blocked a weapon aside and struck high to slide his own blade into the eye slit of his enemy. Another guard near him lost his arm to an easy swipe of a Garonin blade.
‘They’re amongst the mages.’
Suarav saw some space and ran into it. He carved his sword through the back of enemy legs at the knee, feeling bone collapse. He kicked the Garonin in the calves and he fell backwards, arms flailing. A guardsman ran past him and leapt onto the back of another, ramming a dagger again and again into the side of his neck.
Suarav sensed danger and ducked. A blade buzzed over his head. He saw enough of it to know it was steel but edged in mana, pure and deadly sharp. Something Xetesk had been trying to perfect for generations. Suarav spun away. The Garonin followed him, stabbing straight forward. Suarav sidestepped, grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him off balance. The general brought his sword round high above his head and felt it connect with helmet and then bone.
Above him, the Defence spell flickered and steadied.
‘Gythar!’ he called.
The old mage was in the thick of the melee, defended by two guardsmen. One fell under a mana blade that stabbed clear through his body, spitting and smoking as it went.
‘Chandyr! To Gythar!’
Chandyr nodded. He brought the pommel of his sword down on the head of a Garonin trying to rise and smashed a knee into his faceplate for good measure. Enemy slaughtered mages but some fought back, having discarded the obsolete spell shields.
Suarav saw one calm young mage leap up and grab a Garonin faceplate to feed a superheated flame of mana inside it. The Garonin screamed. Three others turned and bore down on the youngster. Suarav diverted from his course and hammered his blade into the neck of one. The second went down under another tightly cast spell but the third sheared his blade left to right and opened up the mage’s back.
Gythar was still standing. Chandyr was near him. Garonin closed. A third of the defence mages were down. Above, a weapon cycled up to fire. Suarav knew they wouldn’t be able to resist the impact. Garonin blades halted in the act of falling. Faceplates turned skywards. A hideous sound rang out from the machines floating above.
Suarav saw an opportunity and swept the throat out of an enemy neck.
‘I didn’t agree a ceasefire,’ he growled.
And the next moment they were gone. All of them. The machines blinked out of existence, the detonation clouds dispersed and the foot soldiers simply ceased to be. Suarav turned a quick circle, looking for the counterpunch but there was no one to deliver it.
Xetesk was silent.
Densyr had wondered how, without screams from Diera, he would know when Sol was dead. But in the end it was as obvious as it got. Sirendor, Thraun and Ilkar dropped soundlessly to the ground, Thraun’s wolves howled grief and padded across to Diera’s boys, and there was an extraordinary explosion of sound from above. An alien sound like rage but metallic in tone.
Densyr opened the door and was first through it, the boys and Sharyr hard on his heels. Wolves and a more stately Vuldaroq came along behind. Diera was sitting on the floor, cradling the still form of Sol. His head was against her chest and she stroked the side of his face. Her weeping was quiet, reverential, and Densyr found a lump in his throat that would not swallow away.
Above her, the doorway was plainly open. Its properties had changed. The grey mist had cleared and a wan light shone out. He could see nothing within but there was a very slight breeze heading up into it. He found the
