He circled while others joined him. Ten in all came to his call. Enough to do the work.
‘They will sense us,’ he warned. ‘Loose formation, flame and claw. Pass quickly and turn sharply. Give them no target.’
He felt the warmth of their understanding.
‘The Dragonene must survive or our melde will fail and with it the Kaan Brood. We must not let that happen.’
‘We hear you, Great Kaan.’
Sha-Kaan tucked his wings into his body and dived. He stretched his neck out straight before him and his tail moved gently behind him, a rudder to keep him on course. The gales of inter-dimensional space clashed and pulled. Eddies appeared, strong enough to suck even a dragon off course.
He breathed in the purity of the air and let his flame ducts open. The vydosphere was taut but not bulging, a machine taken from its former task before time to come here and counter a genuine threat to the Garonin. Sha- Kaan felt satisfaction in that. This race that knew no enemies beyond its own dimension threatened by frail, primitive humans. Complacency. An enemy the Kaan had known in their past.
Kaan dragons were widely spaced about him. Below, left, right and behind. Sha-Kaan flew in close to the skin of the vydosphere. He saw streams of white tears pouring out from its underside. He opened his mouth and breathed. Flame spewed onto the skin, bubbling and melting it. Joints buckled and small sections twisted up, gouting steam into the void. He let his wings and body smash through antennae and funnels, feeling them bend and snap against his bulk.
In two beats of his wings, he was past the machine. He angled sharply down. Kaan were taking terrible damage from the weapons on the carriage slung beneath it. One of his brothers lost a wing, sheared off near the root. Another’s head was destroyed, taking a thick beam of light square on.
Sha-Kaan dived hard, spread his wings and executed a sharp U-turn. A wounded membrane protested but held. The carriage was directly above him. White tears streamed from all sides. A Kaan dragon was caught in two bursts, his body rippling with the fire and his wings ablaze.
‘No more,’ pulsed Sha-Kaan. ‘Clear and retreat.’
Sha-Kaan forced his body up. He beat his wings hard and fast. The Garonin could not see him, searching as they were for the Kaan just departed back to the corridor. He closed on the carriage, saw it looming large. With a final beat of his wings, he swung his body around. His hind claws and huge bulk slammed into the base of the carriage.
The force of his impact bent metal, splintered glass and shattered strut and fixing plate. The whole vydosphere was shunted upwards. Garonin were thrown into the void, snatched away without the means to save themselves. Sha-Kaan whipped his tail into the structure again and again, feeling parts of it weaken under the blows. His head snaked in, biting down on man and machine, tearing anything loose away and spitting it into the maelstrom.
Here and there, Garonin clung on to whatever they could. One brought a weapon to bear. The white tears caught Sha-Kaan on the side of the face, burning his scales away just beneath his eye. He roared his pain, snapped his jaws in and took the head from his tormentor.
He let go his claws and fell away, looking back to see what he had achieved. The vydosphere was drifting without apparent control. No more weapon fire came from it. Steam and smoke was pouring from gashes and holes in its skin. Funnels hung from its sides. Two Kaan dragons, standing off while Sha-Kaan attacked, flew in now, their flame encasing the front of the machine. The entire section collapsed inwards. The Kaan beat up at a steep angle. Sha-Kaan flipped his body and drove away, feeling the force of the explosion across his broad back.
‘Seek more,’ he pulsed to his Brood. ‘You know what to do.’
Sha-Kaan saw the corridor in all its glory as he approached. A strand of light that stretched as far as he could see in either direction. A beacon of hope for man, elf and dragon, an icon of fear for their enemies. The single gossamer filament of a spider’s web, shining through the swirling chaos of light and dark. Within it the dead still moved and the Garonin still stole the mana from them. And The Raven still fought.
The journey would soon be at an end. In the distance an ethereal light could be seen. Ulandeneth, the elves called it. The top of the world in dragon lore, where no single term could describe it. The Kaan could not help them in there. In there they would either believe or they would fail.
And the fate of all would be decided.
Chapter 39
The instrument in the hand of a Garonin grazed Hirad’s silhouette. Weakness flooded him and he dropped. The enemy advanced on him. He scrambled backwards, soul energy deserting him. The dead had scattered in front of the soldier. The instrument was a pale ball held in the palm of the hand. It had a neck like a gourd which ended in a needle-sharp point. The point was thrust at him again. He managed to roll aside. He came up against another silhouette, and this one did not flee.
Legs straddled his body and hands lashed out. The Garonin withered and crumpled.
‘I did it when I was alive and I’m still doing it now I’m dead,’ said Sirendor.
‘What?’
‘Saving your thick hide, that’s what.’
‘And you’re still moaning about it,’ said Hirad. He flowed to an upright position and felt the strength begin to return. ‘Best if you don’t let one of those things touch you.’
‘Valuable safety tip. Thanks, Hirad.’
Up ahead, Sol and Thraun were fighting their way towards a breach in the corridor. Auum’s Tai rushed into the flanks of a group of four Garonin who had dropped through a second breach. More helpless dead were drained of mana. More souls failed as they were pierced.
‘Let’s go,’ said Hirad. ‘It would be nice if some of you others decided to fight.’
‘Same as it ever was,’ said Sirendor. ‘Is it just me, or is this passageway starting to angle upwards.’
The pair of them flashed past the ranks of the dead, now broken into smaller groups. Some of them were trying to fight back but something was missing. Hirad ignored them. Sirendor was right. The passage had an incline to it now. Gentle here but it curved up ever more steeply.
‘Up to the top of the world,’ said Hirad.
A broad flash of light bathed the corridor. Hirad gazed to his left. The afterglow of an explosion lingered for a while in the midst of the void then was snatched away. Sha-Kaan’s mind touched his again.
‘You are close,’ he said. ‘The enemy is weakening.’
‘It doesn’t look much like it,’ said Hirad.
The corridor was full of Garonin. Right behind Sol, another breach had been forged in the base of the path. Garonin surged up. Dead fell in their hundreds under the onslaught. Sirendor raced ahead, planting his feet into the chest of an enemy, swivelling and driving right through the Garonin’s body.
‘That I must try,’ said Hirad.
The shade of the barbarian launched himself head first at his nearest enemy. The Garonin saw him coming, his hands came up, weapons in hand. Hirad was going too fast to avoid him. Sirendor washed past his vision. The Garonin stared at the stumps of his wrists. Hirad plummeted through his chest, feeling the faintest resistance and a glimmer of heat.
On the other side, he turned, feeling cold and a measure of sympathy that surprised him.
‘No souls,’ he breathed. ‘They’ve got no souls.’
‘Down!’ called a voice.
Hirad ducked. He felt something pass over him. He swung round, saw Garonin armour large in his vision and the arm of a dead woman sinking up to her elbow in the soldier’s body. She shouted her triumph.
‘We can fight,’ she said. ‘We can fight them.’
The word spread. Hirad flew about, heading for Sol.
‘They have no defence against you but your own fear,’ he said. ‘Go at them.’
Sol had his hands on a tear and was closing it. Garonin turned to stop him. The dead simply engulfed them.
