the outer crypts. They had fled here the night before and had nothing with them. The Heart of the college was below them and they could no longer reach it.
He dragged himself to his feet and looked around the chill, lantern-lit chamber.
'They will be here soon,' he said. 'They must not take any of our souls.'
A swordsman, Marn, turned to him. 'The college must survive,' he said. 'Even if none live here until the demons are defeated. We cannot let our light fail.'
Vuldaroq managed a smile. 'That you still have hope makes you the strongest among us, my friend.'
'Not for myself, my Lord Vuldaroq, but for you and the mages we still have.' He gestured about him. 'We have been talking, the non-mages I mean. If you all have the stamina left for one more casting, there is a chance you can escape.'
Vuldaroq shook his head. He was tired. The bluster and arrogance he had carried were long since gone and he had developed an unflinching loyalty to those who had fought the demons so bravely though their efforts were ultimately to end in failure.
'We will take our lives here, leave them nothing to leech from us,' he said. 'It is as we agreed, Marn. We will die together.'
'No,' said Marn. 'It is you they want, you they prize. We can get you out.'
'How? We are trapped.'
'Yes, my Lord, but not yet quite helpless.'
Vuldaroq listened on and the spark of chance warmed his heart once more.
Chapter 11
'Unknown!'
Hirad's shout shattered the peace of Herendeneth, setting birds to flight and scattering the cattle in the yard behind the house. He pounded up the track from the landing, not even noticing the swaying trees to either side that flanked the path with such grace. All he could see was the man he hadn't laid eyes on for well over a year. It was a great sight.
The big man was dressed in light linens, his shaven head hidden from the sun under a tied-back cloth. The smile on his face was broad and his bulk almost blocked out his wife and child standing a little way behind him.
Hirad hurtled into his embrace, rocking him back a step. The two old friends spun each other around, the barbarian kissing him on the cheek before stepping back.
'Surprised?'
'I thought you'd gone elven native,' said The Unknown. 'It's wonderful to see you looking so well. Still off the wine?'
Hirad wrinkled his nose. 'They have something almost as good. Made from some tree sap or other.' He blew. 'Very sweet, very powerful.'
'So not wine at all then. Got some young stuff you should try.'
'When on Calaius, Unknown . . .'
The Unknown shook his head. 'Very funny. Seriously though, how have you been? There's a lightness about you, I'll say that.'
'Life with Auum teaches you a few things.'
'Hasn't quietened your voice though, I see,' said Diera.
Hirad stepped around The Unknown, kissed Diera and ruffled Jonas's blond hair. The boy hid behind his mother's skirts.
'And a good morning to you, Lady Unknown,' he said.
'It's good to see you, Hirad. It's been too long.'
'Yeah,' said Hirad, stepping back and taking them all in, feeling the guilt begin to nag at him like it always did when he saw them standing together, the perfect family. 'Yeah it has.'
'Come on up to the house, it's almost time for lunch anyway. Denser and Erienne are going to get a real surprise,' said Diera.
'Yes, they are,' said Hirad, unable to keep the light in his expression.
'So,' said The Unknown, slapping him on the back. 'You've got a year or more to fill me in on, man-elf. How long is Jevin staying for or is the Catalan Sun coming back to pick you up another time?'
'He'll be here a few days. As long as necessary, really,' said Hirad. 'Look, Unknown—'
But The Unknown wasn't listening to him. There were voices coming from around the corner in the path, still just out of sight.
'Who's that man, Mummy?' asked a small voice.
'That's Hirad, sweetheart, one of your father's . . .'
She trailed off, sensing the tension that had stolen through every muscle of The Unknown's body. Hirad looked briefly at her, saw the colour drain from her face and the tears already beginning to well up behind her eyes.
'Brought some friends with me, Unknown,' he said, voice close to cracking. 'I'm sorry, Diera, I'm so sorry.'
And round the corner they came, their smiles and greetings dying on their lips as the scene unfolded before them. The Unknown spared Hirad a dangerous look and turned back to watch them approach, most of them people he hadn't ever thought to see again. Darrick, Thraun, Rebraal, Auum, Duele, Evunn.
'Hirad, what is going on?' he hissed.
'Think we'll be all needing that drink,' said Hirad.
Whatever it was The Unknown said next, Hirad lost in the sound of Jonas beginning to cry and Diera shouting 'no' over and over.
'There, see it?' Kayvel was pointing out over the south-west of Lystern.
Heryst was one of a dozen faces pressed against the highest window in the tower. The day was dull and drizzling, adding to the misery of the population of the enslaved city. He could barely
concentrate on what he was supposed to be trying to see, his eyes as always drawn to the perpetual terrified drudgery that unfolded daily beneath him.
The demons had assembled the people they wanted to keep alive into buildings ringing the college and had cleared areas of the city in full view of the rebellious mages for crops and livestock. It was a reminder every heartbeat if one were needed of the Lysternans' failure to do any more than survive.
In two years, while they had expanded their domain within the college, nothing outside of it belonged to them. They had wells under their control but had to raid farms for food or fly high and fast to hunt or forage in distant areas still apparently ignored by the invaders. Those making the flights had at least brought back information about the wider state of Balaia and it made grim listening.
Those still living outside the control of demons lived in constant fear of being the next into the inexorably expanding net. In addition to the college cities, all major population centres bar one were in thrall. Korina, Gyernath and all the northern and eastern baronies were captured, leaving only Blackthorne as a bastion in the south. It was a testament to Baron Blackthorne's skill and farsightedness that he still remained free, if that term could really be applied to any of them. Only Blackthorne outside of the colleges had refused to victimise and drive away the mages in his town or employ when the Black Wings were at their height of influence. He was alive now because of that decision.
In the scattered villages, isolated farmsteads and hamlets, a subsistence life went on but there was precious little travel or trade. After all, the demons controlled every marketplace and port and had thrown an impenetrable ring around Blackthorne. Those living in these small communities would all have fled but there were no ships to anywhere. Some had tried to make it to Understone Pass but no news of their fate ever came back.
And everywhere the stories about what the demons were doing were the same. No one unable to father or bear children was left alive. The old, infirm and barren had been taken for their souls in the early seasons of the occupation. Those that were left were drilled into a workforce designed purely to keep them alive, let them breed
and so perpetuate the supply of souls. And while the new generation were born and grew, the demons satiated themselves by draining life force slowly, using a horrifyingly exquisite touch to draw off only that which
