Demonstorm

they needed.

Heryst had seen it from the windows of the college. He wondered why the enslaved hadn't given up, taken their own lives or their children's. He had witnessed in their faces the enduring shock and incomprehension. The eyes not dead but not alive either. The look of hope extinguished.

But somewhere inside them, most of them, the will to survive still lurked. It drove them to exist through the nights of terror, the knowledge of why they were being kept alive. The human spirit, never truly broken.

Heryst knew why that inner light still burned. It was because every day they could see the college. Still holding out. A torch to guide them through their bleakest moments, something to cling on to though they were helpless themselves. It meant an expectation was laid on Heryst and those few who worked to find an answer. It was why Heryst looked out every day to remind himself. They had to strike back. They had to. If only they had the means.

'My Lord?'

'Kayvel,' said Heryst. 'I'm sorry, miles away.'

'Please, just for a moment, look away from the city.' Kayvel placed a hand on his shoulder, all it did was remind him how thin he had become.

'Show me again.'

'Look towards Xetesk, tell me what you see.'

Heryst looked. Beneath the shale-grey cloud, there was a lightness in the south-west. It was faint but it was there. Sometimes stronger, sometimes fading. There seemed to be a pale blue hue to it but that could have been a trick of the distance.

'What is that?' he asked.

'You know how you've been asking why it is the demons don't try and attack us any more?' said Kayvel.

'Yes.' Heryst shrugged and drew back from the window. 'So what?'

Kayvel pointed. 'Well, I think that's why.'

Heryst regarded him coolly. 'You're going to have to explain that.'

'Naturally.' Kayvel chuckled and scratched at his beard. They all had them these days. There were other things more important than putting the edge of a dagger to your chin every day. Until the lice struck. Then they shaved. 'We know that what we possess as mages makes our souls prized by demons. That's surely why they targeted the colleges from the outset.'                     

Heryst nodded, about to tell him to stop repeating the obvious when he realised Kayvel was speaking for the benefit of the whole room, which had fallen silent.

'But we saw them back off quite quickly when they knew they couldn't take us without great loss of life on their side. We know this has happened in Xetesk and Julatsa too but we don't know about Dordover. Worryingly quiet over there, if you ask me.'

A murmur ran around the room. Heryst looked round. On the council table, the ColdRoom mages were lost in their casting. Two others sat next to them, monitoring the mana spectrum as best they could for any communication through the strands of mana that linked to the spell that kept them safe. How strong they had all been against all the odds. What character had been shown by so many. Heryst didn't know about anyone else but he knew he'd have gone under a long time ago without the spirit they had engendered here.

Kayvel continued. 'So it seems clear they are waiting for something to happen before they can attack us with hope of success and without huge losses, right?'

'It's logical,' said Heryst.

'They have been completely systematic in their approach to taking Balaia. It has been a textbook conquest.'

'You sound as if you respect them for it.'

'I think we must,' said Kayvel. 'Because the chaotic creatures we read about in our myths bear no relation to the organised race we witness every day. It's time to stop thinking about them as the evil in our mythology and start thinking about them as a capable, intelligent enemy playing perfectly to their strengths.'

'Haven't we always done that?' asked a voice from the crowd that had closed in to listen.

'No, Renarn, I don't think we have,' said Kayvel to the gaunt

youth who had spoken. 'It's so difficult to change the teachings of thousands of years. Don't forget that, with the exception of Xetesk and to a certain extent Julatsa, we have never viewed demons as anything other than a nightmare symbol. They really were the story told to keep children quiet at night. Trouble is, they are far more dangerous than that. They are a dimension-travelling race seeking domination of this dimension. And they are ninety per cent there already. Once Balaia falls completely, who will stand in their way?'

'Wesmen and elves, presumably,' said Renarn.

'For how long?' asked Kayvel. 'They have come to the colleges to take out the biggest single threat to them, that of magic. The other races they can defeat at their leisure because weapons can't kill them.'

'The elves have magic,' said Renarn.

Heryst went cold. 'Not when the tower of Julatsa is destroyed.'

'Right.' Kayvel's smile was grim.

'All right.' Heryst gestured for calm as consternation swept the room. 'Come on, let's keep our focus. We're already deflected from the question, which is, what does that mist signify?' He pointed out of the window.

'It's mana,' said Kayvel.

Heryst started. T beg your pardon?'

'Think about it. What is the one thing stopping them from attacking us inside our ColdRoom constructs?'

'Mana of course.'

'Yes. It is an integral part of their being. It's armour on one level but actually it's far more than that. Without it, they die. It's clear that there's enough mana in the atmosphere of Balaia to keep them alive, but not enough to overwhelm our castings and flood the ColdRooms.' He indicated the window to the south-west. 'That, I am certain, is the demons introducing mana to the air above Xetesk for just that purpose.'

'But surely we'd feel it,' said Renarn.

'No,' said Heryst. 'Not at all. We're inside a ColdRoom here, we won't feel anything. What about those that have flown outside?'

'Well, the spectrum is turbulent, or so I'm told. But that in itself isn't proof though I challenge you to tell me another reason why it should be so.  There's something more.  The temperature is

dropping like it always does when mana is too concentrated. This is supposed to be late spring. It is unseasonably chilly.'

Heryst sighed and walked back to the window. He looked out on the mist with greater suspicion. 'Can it really be mana? I don't know. Don't we need to know more than anything exactly what it is the demons have planned for us? Mages and wider Balaia, I mean. Because extermination doesn't seem to be on the agenda, does it?'

'It would be incredibly useful to know,', agreed Kayvel.

'Right,' said Heryst, nodding. 'Let's go and catch ourselves a demon and ask it, then.'

It had taken The Unknown quite some time to calm Diera enough for her to take Jonas and walk the island. He didn't know how to feel. On one level he was furious with Hirad for threatening his idyll and the life he loved; just being with his family. But he knew that Hirad would not have come to Herendeneth this way unless he felt he had no choice. And indeed had he not been approached and whatever it was turned out to be Raven business, he would have been just as angry.

But he felt retired. Although he kept himself fit and sparred with Ark every day, the desire to fight had gone. He'd fought and won his battles and he'd earned the right to be here on this beautiful island, watching his son grow while his wife lay in his arms. It was almost everything he'd dreamed of though he would have preferred to have been on Balaia, and be iandlord of The Rookery too.

So he'd kept a silence to let his emotions settle while he walked ahead of the party from the Calaian Sun. He took them to the kitchen of the house, away from the sights and sun of the island. Into a place where they could focus and talk. The only time he opened his mouth was to call Denser and Erienne to join them.

And now here they sat with drinks and food in front of them, waiting for Hirad to speak. At least he had the decency to look deeply apologetic.

'So, Hirad, perhaps you can explain why you've come here bringing who you have brought with you,' said The Unknown. 'And it had better be very bloody important.'