'We should go,' said Sharyr.
'Just remember to follow my lead and keep yourself moving. To stop is to die,' said Suarav.
Sharyr chuckled. 'Only that?'
'Strength,' said Suarav.
'Let's go,' said Brynel. 'It's cold standing here.'
Denser looked down at his wife and a tear dropped from his check onto hers. It was the deep of night. The demons were attacking again. He could hear their calls echoing across the wagon train as it rolled inexorably on towards the gates of Xetesk. Feet skipped across the roof struts overhead and he could see the stress in the canvas in the half-light that permeated the wagon.
Rebraal had said the night would be the worst and so it was. Because the demons, indefatigable, lit up the sky with the colours of their bodies. They set up a stunning array of lights, at once terrifying and undeniably beautiful. Shifting patterns across the rainbow of colour, bright washes and gentle tones that were quite extraordinary, almost mesmerising. But they denied man, elf and horse any rest. Their calls gnawed at the nerves. And periodically, they would swoop into attack. Not with the intention of destroying the convoy, but in the knowledge that with the dawn would come new fear.
Denser tried to put it from his mind while he considered the folly of what The Raven would soon be attempting. Next to Erienne, Hirad lay sleeping fitfully, his many scratches and wounds bound and treated and his body shivering. He was strong. He would come back. But Erienne was a different case. Denser tried to believe that she was as strong-willed and determined as the woman he had met all those years before. But tragedy had dogged her and the pressure to be what she did not want to be was tearing up her soul.
Her facade cracked often yet still she tried to achieve what The Raven desired and what Balaia and all its linked dimensions needed. Out there in the fields as they had run towards the ColdRoom shell and the security it represented, Erienne had attempted something new, something awesome.
Denser understood what it was. She had created a structure that expanded on encountering the air and had evacuated the space it covered of any vestige of mana. But this super-ColdRoom wasn't the end. She had then stripped an element from demons that they could not survive an instant without. Something that bound their flesh. It would be like taking water from a human body. Whatever it was she had seen in their make-up, she had used to devastating effect. But as with all the castings of the One, there was risk in the new idea.
And the second time she had cast, she had let too much of the power flood her body. Her collapse had been her body's defence mechanism against a complete disaster for her and for Balaia. They had been lucky. The storms Erienne would unleash if out of control would make those that Lyanna had triggered seem like puffs of breeze.
But when would she awake from this latest trauma? And when she did, what would she be like? He could only hope that somewhere in her mind, Cleress was with her.
'Why did you try it, love?' he asked, stroking her warm cheek, wiping away his tear. 'There's nothing you need to prove to us. Nothing.'
Around him in the wagon, resting Al-Arynaar mages and humans including Pheone kept their thoughts to themselves, respecting his need for whatever privacy of mind he could eke out. A strong hand rested on his shoulder.
'Deep inside, she knows even that. But she cannot deny that part of her that desires to experiment. To find her limits.'
Denser turned his head to look at Thraun. The big blond shapechanger was seated behind them, sword across his knees. He would not leave her side while she was helpless. He never would. Thraun had known her longer than any of them. He'd seen her twins grow and had buried them alongside her first husband. Theirs
was a bond that comforted Denser. Something he knew would never fail.
'What makes you say that?'
A smile touched Thraun's lips. 'A shapechanger drives his body when he is not a human. He desires to push it further than he ever could his human frame. It is something he never truly controls but in that lack there is such life and excitement. It is to be feared as it is to be loved.'
The wagon bounced across a rut in the ground. Above there was a shifting of feet and the multiple impact of weapons. Bodies hit the ground, death cries fading to nothing.
'You know, you might be right but I think there's more to it,' said Denser. 'The One is Erienne's only link to Lyanna. When she lets it thrive it's like life.'
Thraun shrugged. 'Yes. It is why I have to live part of my life with the pack. It is a link to something I cannot deny.'
'Do you remember any of the years you spent as a wolf after the Noonshade rip?'
Thraun's face darkened. 'No. It is at best like scent on the breeze. Fleeting reminiscence, soon dispersed. I'd rather it was that way.'
Erienne shifted in her sleep and Denser caressed her brow. 'It's all right, love. You're safe.'
Denser hated himself for saying it but it was the only way he could feel any worth at all. He glanced up at Thraun but the shapechanger wasn't looking at them. He was sniffing the air, sword clutched in his hands and his muscles tensed.
'Thraun?'
The shapechanger's eyes glinted yellow in the swimming lights reflected from the demons' bodies as they flew outside. 'Threat,' he said.
He stepped over Erienne and Denser and stood at the covered rear of the wagon, silent and unmoving. Denser could see him balancing with the shifts of the axles and could hear The Unknown shouting instructions from where he was riding with Darrick at the front.
There was an impact on the wagon's tail board. Thraun stiffened, crouched very slightly. The canvas rippled. Thraun's right hand shot out through die opening and dragged a reaver in by the throat. He held it down by his knee and growled, sword cocked and ready.
The demon screwed its head round, its body flaring yellow, bathing die wagon with an alien light. Both Hirad and Erienne moaned. There was a concerted movement towards the front of the carriage.
'Shapechanger,' grated the demon, voice strangled through Thraun's grip.
'And the reason you will never take what you want so badly,' he replied.
He jerked the creature further into the wagon. It spat and struggled, wings beating against the canvas, arms clutching Thraun's wrist. Thraun merely tightened his grip.
'Look,' he said. 'Look at what you are so close to but can never touch.'
His sword drove through the demon's chest. Within the Cold-Room shell, there was no defence against that. The creature convulsed and died. Gore drained onto the floor timbers. Thraun flung the body from the wagon and thrust his head out into the open air.
'Any more of you come right in.'
Denser had never seen him this animated. The big warrior withdrew and retook his seat.
'Glad you're on my side,' said Denser.
'Always,' said Thraun.
'What's got into you?'
Thraun's eyes bored into his. T have watched her these years, only leaving her side when I thought her to be safe. I have seen her grow in strength even as her heart broke. She can save us all. It is best that they know it.' He gestured outside.
'You're baiting a trap,' said Denser.
'And The Raven are its jaws.'
Hiela was unused to resistance. But the incompetence of the aggressor strains over an insultingly long time had forced his early appearance in Balaia. It had not been in his plans for this time. The orderly transfer of mana energy from their home of the last generations needed careful marshalling and he was particularly schooled in the linkage between their land and Balaia.
Hiela, of course, was the designated Shroud Master. He had overseen the capture of so many souls from the Balaian mages when their petty squabbles had forced them to come to him for protection. He understood how they thought. How anything was better than that which they had just faced.
He still remembered how the Julatsans had capped and dismissed the shroud around their college almost at
