Demonstorm

'You know I can't stay,' he said. 'But thank you for the offer, even though you didn't really mean it. I always said I would fight for the world in which my family could grow up in peace. I thought that here, and eventually back on Balaia, I had achieved that. But now it is clear that there is still one more enemy to be beaten and I will be there to do my part for Diera, for Jonas and for The Raven. This isn't going to be anything but personal for me and I think we'll all work better if we feel the same way.'

'The Raven never work apart,' added Thraun. 'And what good would any of us feel if we didn't join the fight and that fight failed? We would die just as surely.'

'Myriell once spoke to you, didn't she?' said Cleress. 'About the One magic and why it must survive?'

Hirad turned his head to see the Al-Drechar looking at him and The Unknown, her eyes as strong as ever, burning with the barely suppressed energy of the One.

'She did,' said Hirad. 'After we'd beaten off the Dordovans from Herendeneth, if I recall correctly.'

'You do,' said The Unknown.

'But you probably don't remember what she said. She knew even then as we all did that there was a threat coming to Balaia and, we feared, to other dimensions. She told you that the One had to survive because it would be a potent weapon in the fight to come, whatever form it took. That time has arrived. The world will be grateful you kept your side of the bargain and that Erienne still lives.'

'Thanks for keeping the pressure off me, Cleress,' said Erienne.

'Ah, but you must understand what you can bring that no one else can,' she said. 'Yours is a magic that doesn't rely solely on mana for creation. It is one of the reasons the demons will want you gone. They will fear you as they will fear all The Raven because your belief, not just your power, makes you dangerous. Sha-Kaan sees it or he would not have involved you.'

'But it's not as if I can create extra devastation at will and forever,' protested Erienne. 'I get tired too and if Sha-Kaan is right, there's one hell of a lot of demons out there.'

'Think, child,' said Cleress. 'Remember what we learned so recently? How easy it is to strip one element from the target area? Mana is one element.'

The silence around the table grew ever more knowing and, slowly, a smile spread across Erienne's face.

'We have a couple of days before the tides will be right,' said Cleress. 'You and I have a lot of work to do.'

'Better pass me the meat and wine, then,' said Erienne. 'Looks like I'm going to need all the strength I can get.'

 

 

Chapter 13

 

It was dawn when it happened. Damp and chilly with low, brooding cloud. An altogether fitting atmosphere for the state of Xetesk. Later, Dystran would see the fortune of the weather front but first sight had simply depressed him.

It was the day they had identified for the raid on the library. Dystran was contemplating the task ahead when shapes began dropping out of the cloud. At first he assumed them to be more demons. But the clarion calls, gale of noise and thrash of action from the streets told him instantly that they were anything but.

They were a way distant, probably a couple of miles and maybe more, and the demons were clamouring to get at them, whoever they were. Dystran took a quick look down into the occupied parts of the college. It was all but deserted. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the ColdRoom construct and onto his balcony, signalling his guards to flank him, ready to haul him back if any threat appeared.

Immediately, the feel of mana energised his body, a tonic for the weary like the sun on cold skin. He wasted no time in casting to augment his vision and reaching out to see what was approaching.

Men, flying. Mages. Pursued by demons who were bursting through the clouds around them and faced by more rising up from Xetesk. They flew hard, pushing the limits of ShadowWings, dodging, splitting, reforming. A battle where a single touch would be fatal. Where one side could not strike at all.

He concentrated harder, searching their faces, and his jaw dropped. At their head, a man who despite the weight that had fallen from him was immediately recognisable.

Dystran turned and ran from the tower, shouting for his mages,

shouting for his library raiders. It was the diversion of his prayers and he was going to grab the opportunity with both hands.

Vuldaroq had no idea how any of them had maintained their concentration in the freezing air high above the clouds. They had started out exhausted, they had trimmed their wings for speed and they had pushed the limits from the word go.

But that was not all. The escape had been a nightmare scene of pulsing demon bodies; brave men facing them down, sacrificing themselves for their mages. It had been dark, dark corridors, shadowed halls and the stench of rotting flesh. It had been the pleading cries of the enslaved; the squeals of the newborn into horror and the briefest graze of a demon's finger that had chilled his soul. And ultimately, it had been the flight through the glass domes that roofed the chamber of light with the shrieking of demons just far enough adrift.

All leading to a day of pure torment. As quickly as they outpaced a demon pack, another would rise to block their path south and west. They could smell the mana from so far away. It meant they could not rest in each other's arms as they had planned and so cycle their effort.

How many times had they cowered behind clouds, dived at suicidal pace or spun dangerously close to each other risking collision? It was something of a miracle that they had lost only one of their scarce number. There was no time for reflection. There had not been time to mourn the fading scream.

And so they faced the final run. They'd dived from the clouds a little early but that didn't bother him. What did was whether Xetesk had seen them or not. It took only a few heartbeats to realise the demons had. Like a multi- hued cloud in the morning gloom, they lifted off, their alien calls taken up by their current pursuers who drove a little harder.

'Come on!' called Vuldaroq though he knew his words were lost in the battering wind on their faces.

He led the four remaining mages down sharply, off-balancing the pursuers who lost a little ground. Any chance was worth taking. Vuldaroq was surprised to feel a thrill pass through him. So close to

death for so long but with relative sanctuary almost within reach, he had never felt more alive.

He breathed the feeling in deep, felt the energy revitalise his aching body and pushed more speed from his ShadowWings.

'Come on, Dystran, you bastard, now's the time.'

Vuldaroq glanced back through his gossamer-thin wings, the protective film over his eyes adding to the slightly unfocused outlook. They were all still with him. The demons flitted in and out of his vision, blurred reds and blues, trying to steal a few feet to pressure the mistake. It was hard to tell how many there were. Ten or twelve at least.

But he considered them too far adrift if he and his could maintain their punishing pace just a little longer. To maximise their speed, the mages were all flying head first, arms pressed to their sides, legs straight and feet pointed backwards. It left little room for communication but they had organised a few signals in quieter moments of the flight and Vuldaroq knew they would all be looking at him for their cues.

In front of them, the seven towers of Xetesk stood grim and gaunt against the dull sky. A few lights burned in Dystran's but the others appeared closed and dead. Much like the city. It was wreathed in an undulating dawn mist trapped within its walls and punctured only by the glimmer of a handful of fires.

The demons rising from the city had fanned into a wide net. Some were streaming towards them, others hanging back. There had to be two hundred at least, thronging the air above the silent buildings, flashing greens and deep blues.

Vuldaroq went hard at the line approaching them, saw it straighten to counter their expected direction. It was a surprisingly naive move, but then the leader caste was not among this vanguard and without them there was little spatial awareness.

Dordover's Arch Mage flickered his fingers to draw his mages' attention. Then, he pointed up with his index fingers before splaying his hands. All he could do now was hope they had seen him and trust they would react when he did. Delay carried the severest of consequences.