‘The sand timer has started so I hope you’re really good. Because you’ve got even less time than we have.’
Chapter 22
The thud of spells pressuring the Al-Arynaar ForceCone protecting the open end of the corridor could be heard, heavy, regular and with an air of inevitability.
‘I need another mage here now!’ yelled Hirad. ‘Rebraal, get one of them, Sian can’t hold this on her own.’
A shout in elvish and the sound of feet slapping past but The Unknown could barely lift an eyebrow to care. Here it was. In a plain room, hung with darkest blue hangings. No pattern lifted the sombre atmosphere, nothing but the gentle blue light offered any life at all. The chamber was no more than a cell, fifteen feet on each side with a waist-high stone dais in the centre. And on top of the dais sat a carved stone block only the height of his dagger and twice as long. So physically diminutive but the ancient Xeteskian language and screaming faces carved on its flat surface told the knowledgeable everything about that which it contained.
It was the Soul Tank. It had no lid and the hollow inside was governed by the demons. Their deal with Xetesk meant that they linked each soul to its host Protector body; and in return for the control they exerted in the name of Xetesk, they leached life energy from the souls at their mercy. For The Unknown, it oozed power and evil. It was a prison with no windows and no air. One in which the essence of so many Xeteskian men had been trapped from puberty to death and one from which only he had escaped alive.
Until tonight. The Unknown laid his hands on its surface. He could hear the voices so loud now. In concert while they organised themselves around the tasks their masters had set and unsettled because they knew where The Raven were. And he was sure they could sense a change. The Unknown would see to it that change was effected or he would die in the attempt.
He turned to Kestys. The mage, with a dagger held to his throat by Denser, was quite white. He shivered and looked with wide, terrified eyes at the big warrior.
‘You know who I am,’ said The Unknown.
Kestys managed a nod. ‘You are Sol.’
‘So you know what I want.’
Kestys dragged in a tremulous breath and swallowed hard. ‘I can’t do that. Please. Don’t ask that.’
Denser slammed the hapless mage back against a wall, ruffling the blue cloth hanging. ‘You will, Kestys. This abomination must end and it must end now.’
‘I can’t—’
‘You can!’ snapped Denser. ‘Think I am without sense? I saw what was in that room. I know you can realign the dimensions and I know you have solved the script for undoing the Protector deal with the demons. I’ve been to Herendeneth, Kestys. I understand the depth of the knowledge they will have passed to you.’
‘It’s not that easy,’ protested Kestys.
The Unknown slapped the top of the Soul Tank. He pushed Denser aside and put a hand round Kestys’s throat. ‘I don’t have the time to debate this. I expect Denser can work it out. But I don’t want to risk that just in case my friends out there can’t hold on against your bastard master for long enough. And let me assure you, if he does break through, you will die before I do.’ He ignored the choking sounds the mage was making, instead gripping a little harder, lifting him from the ground. ‘I can hear them in my head right now. All of them, don’t you understand?’ He pointed behind him at the Soul Tank. ‘I feel them. I feel their pain and I know their desire to be free. But I can’t tell them I know because they can’t hear me. But you, Kestys, you will free them. You will allow them to take off those masks and live as men, not slaves.
‘Don’t miss this chance to do one thing of worth in your pathetic life. Because, believe me, if you don’t there will be no other chance to do anything. Your choice. Give my brothers their lives or drown in your own blood.
‘Which is it to be?’
Auum and Thraun had gone to stand behind the ForceCone, ready in case it should fail, leaving Erienne alone in the map room. She was trying to drag her thoughts together such that she could be of some use in the fight if it came to it. But it was so hard. She felt an axe poised behind her neck. Gods, she could feel its edge, hard and true.
And the One entity fed off her fear. She could feel that too. The mental mass that she tried so hard to repress was working so hard against her and Myriell. Trying to overwhelm her and release itself. She realised that in some fundamental respects, she didn’t understand the One entity at all. That it could destroy its host so deliberately and surely wither itself. She had to remind herself again that it was not sentient.
She shook her head but the conflict wouldn’t fade. Outside, she could hear Hirad exhorting the elven mages to more effort to keep back the barrage of the Xeteskian mages. Through the mana spectrum she could sense the weight of the battering they were taking. She and Denser needed to be there to help them but she couldn’t summon up a candle flame to save her life right now. And Denser was with The Unknown. She could hear them both shouting. Gods drowning, everything was falling apart.
She took a deep breath and held it, her eyes closed. Breathing out, she focused hard on the map hanging in the air. Like the light that caressed the entire catacombs, the map was a magical construct, sustained by the focused energy in the mana stream caused by the centre of Xetesk’s Heart. It was impressive too. Denser said that Dystran had sent a mana trace through the passages and chambers to try and create the first complete map of the catacombs. The resultant model was an extraordinary construction which grew that little bit every day. And it was vast.
Picked out in shades of blue and red, it covered between one and seven levels depending on which area of the catacombs you were standing in. It had to sprawl underneath the whole college and way out into the city beyond, perhaps even further. Erienne could understand why the walls of the map room were covered with sketches of small sections of the mana map. It was terribly difficult to discern locations. She had no idea which passage and rooms represented where they stood. The only positive thing she could take out of it was that they could surely lose themselves in here forever, far beyond the widest search.
Ridiculous. A tunnel complex of which no one truly knew the extent. She wasn’t at all sure that Dystran would find his answers from this bird’s nest of tiny mana trails. Erienne frowned. A tiny flash caught her eye. She leaned in close. Right at the base of the map and far to the left-hand side, beyond the furthest extent of the catacombs proper, the mana trace had found a rogue passage. Actually, now she looked, there were a few of them, stretching out further than the central mass.
She watched for a moment, saw the map growing minutely. She almost smiled but a sharp stab of pain within her head dragged her rudely back to reality. She gasped at its sharpness, deep in her mind.
Myriell, are you there?
I am, child, but I am scared, I cannot hide it from you. It affects my abilities.
Tell me what is going on. I feel like I’m under sentence of death here.
A frisson of humour stole across her thoughts. That makes two of us. I know what they are planning. They have already silenced Cleress with a spell to keep her sleeping. At least she will be spared this.
You have to stop them. Erienne felt a rush of desperation.
I cannot. My energies are consumed with shielding your mind. At least Sha-Kaan has been wakened. That may delay them, I don’t know . . . Erienne listen to me. If I should be killed, you must fight until Cleress can waken to your aid. The Xeteskians are planning to shield you but they don’t understand the nature of the One. They will treat it like a college magic. It is not.
Oh, Myriell, I don’t understand it either. Please help me.
Then hear what I say and pray that I have enough time left.
Another spell cracked against the ForceCone. Rinelle and Vinuun were holding but it was close. Beside Hirad, Sian’erei rested but had a SpellShield ready should the Cone fail. And in front of the barbarian, Auum, Duele and Evunn were poised to wreak mayhem amongst the Xeteskians wa
iting in the hub room beyond.
Hirad couldn’t see them all but knew there were more than the seven mages and thirty-odd soldiers he could count. They had to be trying to get behind too and that bothered him. The six TaiGethen guarded the two possible access points. Thraun was with them, and his keen sense of smell should act as some sort of early warning but it would only give them a few moments. And he seemed distracted somehow. Next to him, Rebraal spoke words of encouragement for his mages. Darrick patrolled the corridor. Ever the general, ever the tactician, though there was little even he could add. They’d abandoned one desperate situation and put themselves in another.
In front of Hirad, the spell attack stopped. ForceCone was an excellent spell. A simple shape, easy to cast and mercifully also very easy to maintain. It was largely invulnerable to magic attack though a powerful enough mage, or several in concert, could crack it. The problem the Xeteskians had was that this Cone was covering a small area and was particularly focused. And while The Raven couldn’t get at them through it because it barriered both ways, they didn’t have the guile or the linked power to knock it aside.
Abruptly, the mages and soldiers moved left and right. From the stairs came more men, mages this time. They were six and five spread in a loose arc around one who stood forward. Ten Protectors followed them out and formed a three-quarter circle around them. A sense of awe and undeniable power caused Hirad’s heart to skip a beat.
‘This looks bad,’ he muttered.
‘It is,’ said Darrick who had arrived at his right shoulder. ‘That’s Dystran and the Circle Seven minus Ranyl. It doesn’t get more powerful than that.’
‘Great.’ Hirad turned his head. ‘Unknown! I hope you’re getting somewhere in there. We’ve got a little trouble out here!’
Dystran stepped close to the Cone. The temptation Hirad felt to order the Al-Arynaar mages to push it forward and crush him was almost overwhelming but Dystran, like his attack mages before him, would be very well protected.
‘You are a master of understatement,’ said the Lord of the Mount. ‘Hirad Coldheart, isn’t it? Delighted to make your acquaintance. You have quite a reputation.’ Dystran’s gaze travelled slowly over all that he faced. ‘Remarkable. The Raven, or some of it at least. The extraordinary TaiGethen, or that is what I understand the elves to call themselves. And you, General Darrick. How is it, being an outlaw? I could offer you a senior position on my staff, you know. Now Lystern wants you dead, you are my ally, are you not?’
‘Your logic is flawed,’ said Darrick. ‘I am no friend to you just as I am no enemy to Lystern. They, at least, are merely misguided.’
Dystran chuckled. ‘Indeed. But they will execute you just the same. I don’t want to have to mimic them.’ His expression hardened. ‘This is over. Very valiant and all that but you cannot hold out against us forever. Your mages will tire, your ForceCone will fail and we will take you.
‘I repeat; you do not have to die. But you must surrender to me. I hold all the cards. I do not have to waste spells on you, I do not have to fight you. I simply have to wait.’
‘Go ahead and wait,’ said Hirad. ‘We’re in no rush.’
‘Only The Raven could mount such arrogance in the face of such circumstances. I will kill you if I have to. There is no escape. Don’t try my patience. It is already wearing very thin and the blood of too many of my men and mages is staining the stone of my college. I will not suffer more.’
‘Patience is a virtue,’ said Hirad. ‘And you’re going to have to learn to be more virtuous. We aren’t going anywhere.’
Dystran nodded and Hirad could see the anger building in him. ‘Yes. Ranyl has told me what you want from here. Very laudable. But we are not finished with the dragon and he stays here until we are.’
Hirad pointed a finger at Dystran. ‘You do not control Sha-Kaan. Gods burning, but he is far stronger than you can possibly imagine. And you know something else, Xetesk-man? Given what I suspect is happening to your precious men on Herendeneth, you’ll wish we’d already sent him home, believe me.’
‘Really, Coldheart? Think you can threaten me with that? One dying dragon? One more chance. Drop the Cone. Drop the SpellShield. Drop your weapons. Do it all now.’
‘Drop dead,’ said Hirad.
‘Fine. Seems I will have to take further steps. Can’t risk you actually succeeding with my research now, can I?’ He clicked his fingers and a Protector moved to his side. ‘Time to take one of yours out of the game. Myx, you know the order.’
The Protector nodded.
Sol we can sense you. We know you hear us.
‘Damn but you can’t hear me,’ whispered The Unknown. ‘Can you?’
He was leaning on the dais with his hands, his forehead resting on the Soul Tank itself. The stone was warm and the temperature was increasing steadily. Beside him stood Kestys and Denser, both lost in the mana spectrum. Kestys was sweating profusely, his concentration held under duress and difficult to maintain. Denser was monitoring the construct Kestys was making, or rather, the unravelling of the spells maintaining the link between the Soul Tank and the demon dimension.
Information was sketchy and The Unknown hadn’t had much time for explanations. But what he understood was that while each Protector’s soul was linked to his body by a DemonChain, a fundamental linkage formed the basis of the deal with the demons, allowing them to draw life energy from the souls in return for keeping the elite fighting force thralled and effecting the soul communication that made them so devastatingly effective.
Parts of the knowledge had been lost in the intervening centuries concerning the inter-dimensional construction of the linkage. The Al-Drechar had filled in those gaps.
‘How long, Denser?’ asked The Unknown.
The dark mage held up a hand. ‘Please, Unknown. The demons are resisting. Not long, I hope.’
‘Please hear me,’ whispered The Unknown, mouth all but kissing the Soul Tank, the clamour of voices in his head increasing as the souls within became more and more aware of the discord created by the warming of the tank. ‘Fyr, Ahn, Kol, any of you my brothers, please.’ He gripped the sides of the tank now, desperate to get through, hoping against all reason that his physical proximity would have an effect.
There is trouble.
We are one.
Sol is near.
Two across, catacomb right. Holding.
I am altered.
Change.
None are at rest.
The order is given. Ark, the Al-Drechar must die.
‘No!’ hissed The Unknown. ‘No, Myx. Ark, for Gods’ sake no. I am freeing you, don’t do this.’
It is understood. My mage will be apprised.
We are one.
‘No, damn you,’ breathed The Unknown. ‘No.’
He straightened and ran from the Soul Tank, running down towards the hub room where Hirad and Darrick stood.
‘Myx!’ he shouted. ‘Tell him to stop! Tell Ark to stop. Xetesk doesn’t understand.’
He saw Myx’s head move. He took an unsteady pace. Next to him, Dystran raised an eyebrow.
‘I . . . can’t. Please, Sol.’
‘Just tell him, for Gods’ sake, tell Ark now. No one will hurt you. You can feel the heat in the Tank, can’t you? Stop him!’ The Unknown slid to a halt by Hirad. ‘Call your man off, Dystran.’
‘Fascinating,’ said the Lord of the Mount. ‘That you can still hear them. Why don’t you rejoin them?’
‘Because there won’t be a them any more, you bastard. Now, instruct Ark off before it’s too late for us all.’
‘Drop dead,’ said Dystran, smiling at Hirad.
Brace yourself, Erienne. Myriell’s voice came to her clear and, for the first time, genuinely frightened.
What is happening?
They are coming for me.
No, Myriell. Run. RUN!
There is nowhere to run, child. Pray for me as I now pray for you.
Myriell. Protect yourself. A spell, use a spell
. Leave me.
Too late. The Al-Drechar’s voice sounded tired, beaten. Be strong.
Erienne ran. She had no idea what she was going to do. She tore out of the map room, saw The Unknown and Hirad and made for them.
‘Hirad!’ she screamed. ‘Help me!’ And then she caught sight of Dystran. ‘Stop it now. You don’t understand. You’ll kill me. Please.’
‘I rather think we can help,’ said Dystran calmly.
Erienne backed away into Hirad’s arms, shaking her head. ‘You can’t. You don’t understand.’ She was shaking violently. Her heart pounded so loud she could barely hear her own breathing rasping into her lungs in painful gasps. ‘Please don’t kill her.’
There was a heavy impact on the roof of the house. Sha-Kaan roared unfettered fury, his claws and mouth tearing at the slate and timber. Plaster dust fell in torrents, the noise was deafening. In moments he would be inside.
Ark strode towards the Al-Drechar, his axe raised, his orders clear but his mind a muddled fog. The Soul Tank was in uproar. He could hear his brothers but something alien was building. He felt uncomfortable, as if his body were generating heat it couldn’t dispel and though Myx had been quite clear in his instruction from the Lord of the Mount, there was no doubting he was unhappy.
Sol had implored him not to but they had no choice. A demon’s fingers were so close to squeezing his soul, his and all his brothers’. They were angry too. Everything he had known was unsettled.
What must I do?
Ark, you have the option you have always had. Sol wants us to be free but the demons are alerted. How can we refuse?
I have no choice.
We are one. We will grieve.
He was standing above the Al-Drechar now. She made no move to escape, merely looked up at him, resigned, accepting of her fate. It was not right. Surely they should be protected. But if the Lord of the Mount wanted her dead, who was he to question? A part of him felt ashamed such thoughts had arisen but ever since Sol had left them, there had been the germination of doubt.
The Raven Collection Page 236
