breathing eased, his vision began to clear and he unclenched his fists. It seemed there was little he could do about the thrashing in his head or the sweat running from every pore.
The old Shaman hauled himself to a sitting position against the wall facing the door to his shrine. Anxious faces looked in. He waved them away feebly.
'I'm all right,' he said. 'All right. Some time, please. Some privacy.'
The faces withdrew. Arnoan placed shivering hands on quivering legs. He closed his eyes, fighting for control. He tried to recall the Communion. It had in so many ways been like any other. The gateway had opened in his mind. The physical expression of it in the hardening of incense smoke. He had stepped to the open portal through which his body could not pass and he had knelt. He had travelled with his mind and almost lost it.
First, the touch of something fresh. Bright and new and almost apologetic. He had ignored it though, seeking the Spirits of the ancients. The force of their emotion would have overwhelmed a lesser Shaman. Left them lost in themselves. But it had spoken loud and unequivocally; a coalescence of all the tendrils of anxiety he had been feeling for so long.
Terror. Helplessness. Desperation. Pleading. The expiration of time and opportunity.
Arnoan opened his eyes and pushed himself to his feet. He staggered and clung to the wall, waves of nausea sweeping over him. Outside, the sounds of battle were taken up once more but the noise was intense and alien. The old Shaman, his heart rattling painfully in his chest, waited for the sickness to pass. He pushed himself away from the wall and bustled towards the barracks door.
'Where is Tessaya?'
The warrior at the door turned frightened eyes to him. 'Out there,' he said. 'Leading the tribes.'
'Shadow me,' ordered Arnoan. T must speak with him'
The warrior drew in a deep breath. 'Yes, my Shaman.'
Arnoan gestured him aside and strode out into the freezing late afternoon. The demons were attacking on multiple fronts and from
above. It was to be expected. Tribal banners flew proud, the songs of the Wesmen reached beyond the ColdRoom shell and the warriors fought bravely.
It was several paces before Arnoan's confident stride into the courtyard faltered. There were the bodies of demons on the ground but too many Wesmen lay with them. He saw Al-Arynaar elves running from the dome complex, splitting into two large groups and running towards gates and long rooms, the latter where elven casters were protected.
The atmosphere was wrong. The songs weren't those of victory but those of struggle and grit. The songs that kept scared warriors together and fighting against the odds. Ahead of him, he could see the Paleon banner flying high. Tessaya was underneath it, fighting against reavers and strike-strain. Immediately in front of the Wesmen lord, the walls of Xetesk crumbled and burst in, scattering rubble into the courtyard. The walkway above collapsed along a forty-yard length. And through the gap came the karron. Transformed.
'Spirits preserve us all,' said Arnoan.
Chapter 40
The Raven followed the Al-Arynaar out of the dome complex while the Xeteskians were still organising themselves. The elven warriors and mages split, heading for the ColdRoom casters. The Unknown brought The Raven to a halt on the steps to take stock.
The courtyard was in upheaval but the reason for the roar they'd heard beginning from inside Dystran's tower was high in the sky above the college. From the slit in the deep blue sky, white clouds billowed and jetted into Balaian space. It was mana, pouring in at a hugely increased rate. The temperature, already low, was dipping fast towards freezing and there was no doubting that the colouring of the cloud was ice crystals. Those crystals were warming just enough as they fell to drop as chill rain onto the combatants below.
Down on the ground, the Wesmen and Al-Arynaar were under a blistering attack. Reavers had stormed the ColdRoom shell with strike-strain clouds backing them. Karron were battering on the walls in a number of places and fighting to try and gain access through the sundered gates. So far, the two thousand Wesmen warriors were holding comfortably enough but they were suffering casualties. Hirad, still feeling bleary after his frightening contact with Ilkar, couldn't work out why but felt the scene didn't quite ring true.
'Is it just me or are the reavers quicker and stronger?' he asked.
'Definitely,' said Rebraal. 'Tell me what Ilkar told you.'
'He said they had broken into the spirit dimension. He said they were fighting but that they only have their belief to defend them and their links to us to sustain them and give them strength. We have to go and close off the demon power now or they'll be overwhelmed.'
Hirad set off down the steps.
'Hirad wait,' said The Unknown. 'I'm sorry but I don't see the connection.'
'And how did they break in?' asked Erienne. 'I understood that to be possible only if they broke either the elves or the Wesmen.'
Hirad rounded on them, feeling suddenly hot. 'Do you think we've got time to debate this? Look around you. The demons are pressing like never before. Isn't it obvious what's happened? We have to go or Ilkar will be lost and so will we.'
'Hirad wait,' said The Unknown. 'We have to approach Tessaya the right way. We have to be sure of our ground. We're about to use a centrepiece of his religion. He's hardly going to just wave us goodbye.'
'Well why not? We'll be saving his dead too. Gods drowning, why are you all being so cautious? Look!'
He pointed up into the sky. Reavers plunged on the Wesmen and Al-Arynaar. Tired warriors fought hard. From gaps in the shell elements, elven mages cast IceWind into the sky. He backed up the steps to stand with The Raven. So far, they had been ignored but it wouldn't last for long. Hirad could see the masters floating high above, directing battle. The noise was growing. The walls groaned under the battering of the karron. Abruptly, a five-yard section gave way, bringing down the parapet on a long stretch either side.
The karron stormed in. Or at least, they began as karron. These were striding into the ColdRooms apparently unhampered by the lack of mana within. And they were growing with every stride. Seven and eight feet high now and they weren't finished. Bodies filled out with new muscle. The hammer and spike limbs lengthened a little, weapons developing, building. Halfway down their torsos, under their arms, more limbs were sprouting. Sinuous, long and pincered. True monsters, facing which the Wesmen sang defiance and courage. Unwavering in the face of a new and deadly threat.
'Gods burning,' breathed The Unknown.
'Reckon we've got time to have a little chat now?' asked Hirad. 'Darrick died to get us all in here. Let's not waste what he gave us.'
'Right,' said The Unknown. 'Rebraal, Auum, we need their head Shaman. And find Eilaan. Raven, with me to Tessaya. Meeting at the barracks, that's where their shrine is. Go.'
The Raven ran down into the maelstrom. They took up their
classic angled chevron but with Thraun at Hirad's right-hand side now Darrick was gone. The Unknown and Ark formed the forward muscle to the left. Behind them, both Denser and Erienne had blades in their hands. Al- Arynaar came to their sides, providing a flanking defence.
'Tessaya!' shouted Hirad. 'We need Tessaya.'
They could see the Paleon banner fluttering in the breeze towards the front of the line where the boosted karrons were engaging the Wesmen. Warriors turned to see The Raven approaching. Orders were shouted. Ahead of them, a path was created somewhat reluctantly.
Reavers dropped in front of The Raven. Strike-strain gathered overhead and dived.
'Keep moving, Raven!' called The Unknown.
'No problem,' said Hirad.
Holding his blade in both hands, he ran on. The first of the reavers were engulfed in a storm of Wesmen axes but others were heading in. Hirad, head cocked up, saw three coming in.
'Upwards, Unknown!'
Hirad ran on a pace, spun on his heel and whipped his sword in a circle above his head. The blade caught
