‘This threat is real. Dragons will perish in repulsing it. Fight together to save us or fight each other to a swift oblivion for us all. The choice is yours.’
Chapter 22
Auum looked across at the borders of Julatsa from the deep cover of dense heather and the dark of night. So much for the complete overrunning of Balaia by the demons. They had seen very little activity in the outlands and though the air was cold with the flood of mana, the demons were certainly content to concentrate on the major population centres. And this was after two years of invasion.
Of course, it could be that they had swept up any outlying villages and towns and driven the people into the cities. It was no concern of Auum’s. All he knew was that he had to get the five of them into the college unseen. He had to nudge from his mind the disbelief that he was here and trying to get into the college for a second time. On his return to the rainforests of Calaius, he had sworn never to leave his shores again. And again it was humans who had caused him to travel north. Enough.
‘Thoughts,’ he said.
‘Baron Blackthorne is certain all the colleges operate tunnel systems to keep their supply lines open, such as they are,’ said Rebraal. ‘One thing we do know is that they won’t be hidden magically.’
Auum nodded. ‘Then we can search using the old ways. An unexpected pleasure. Eilaan. Prepare nothing. Just follow. Rebraal, be with him. Tai, we move.’
Julatsa was a quiet city. Barring the circle of light and life that signified the college itself, precious little illumination punctured the darkness. Away to the south of the city, some lights burned from windows in what looked like long, low warehouse structures, and ahead of them lanterns bobbed on poles, lighting a group of people on their journey back into the city. Above them, demons hovered, watching. None of the slaves made any noise whatever.
They were returning to the city from the farmed fields that stretched left and right in a ring that disappeared around the city and presumably encircled it.
‘Look for the signs of passage. Elven not human,’ whispered Auum. ‘Spread five paces and sweep.’
The TaiGethen leader brought his people quickly to the edge of the fields. The crops were whole and hearty, apparently untroubled by the air temperature. Thick stalks of corn jostled in the breeze. Root crops grew well in ordered banked rows, their leaves strong and broad.
Auum paused, listening to the ebb and flow of the wind. He could hear the diminishing echoes of demon calls and sporadic cries from young, scared mouths. Dying away slowly. Like Balaia.
He waved his Tai on towards a low barn set between two corn fields, aiming to skirt it to its far side and approach the college from the north. To his right, he could just make out Duele’s progress through the stalks. Behind him, Rebraal and Eilaan kept as quiet as they were able. Left, Evunn had paused. Signalling stop, Auum joined him in the deep shadow cast by the barn.
Evunn pointed at three tiny holes in one of the timbers. They sat below a timber split and splintered by arrow strikes. Only a rainforest elf would have understood their significance.
‘Hope or expectation?’ whispered Evunn.
‘Good habits,’ replied Auum. ‘And Yniss brought you here to find them.’ He touched Evunn’s shoulder. ‘We have direction.’
A sharp wave of the hand and the elves moved off again, a little faster now. Entering the first streets of Julatsa, silence fell abruptly, the wind broken by a high stone courtyard wall. Auum paused briefly, cupped a hand to his ear and put a finger across his mouth for the benefit of the Al-Arynaar. Here, the merest sound could be heard streets away.
Twenty yards ahead, Evunn had found another marker, this time mere grazes on the wooden wall of a dark empty house. Further into the city, the lights of the college burned unnaturally bright, casting a halo over the surrounding buildings.
Auum indicated he turn into a side alley away from the wan wash of light. They continued on, veering right, further north of the college. Elves had been busy everywhere. The tiny marks were visible on buildings and brazier stands, on windows and the bark of trees.
They were taken in a lazy curve that would end near the college and, Auum presumed, a tunnel entrance. He resisted the temptation to run, hard though it was. Not just the muted stench of human civilisation insulted his senses but the insidious evil of the cursyrd that pervaded everything, even the air he breathed.
Leading them through a network of tight-packed houses, Auum picked up a faint scratching sound ahead and left. He held up his hand. Behind him movement ceased and the silence closed around him. Even he could not discern without looking that any others stood behind him. He angled his palm left and held out his index finger. Moments later, he felt Duele’s breath on his neck.
The scratching echoed faintly in the cramped space. The passages they travelled were narrow enough in places that their shoulders all but grazed the damp, moss-covered stone and timber either side. In hunter’s stance, Auum paced deliberately towards the opening in the left. His weight was slightly forward, short blade in hand, his feet probing the ground ahead each pace.
In this city of shadows and silence, it might have been a rat but his instincts told him otherwise. The sound was too ordered. He edged his head slowly around the opening. Crouched facing the right-hand wall, the cursyrd was dragging a piece of flint repeatedly over the same foot-long section of stone wall. It was completely rapt in its task, oblivious to the world around it.
Auum frowned. One reason for its action came immediately to mind. It would have to be stopped. Auum reached back and touched Duele, never taking his eyes from the slim, wingless creature he guessed would be about his height if it stood up straight. It had a small head on wiry shoulders and a covering of fine hair. Little apparent muscle and a solid dark hue were strange make-up for the cursyrd; surely a lesser creature in their hierarchy.
Duele could see the cursyrd now. Auum pointed to himself then at the target. He tapped his leg, indicated the target again and finally Duele. The Tai nodded his understanding.
In the next instant, Auum had sprung, landing square on the cursyrd, driving it flat to the ground face down, one of his hands clamped across its mouth. A beat later and Duele had pinned its legs down. It tried to bite, shout and scratch. Its body rippled strength despite its slender frame and a kaleidoscope of colour chased across its writhing skin. Auum held it until he felt the thrashing pass its peak. He put his lips by one of the flat slits it had for ears and spoke pure elven.
‘You know my race. You know my calling. You cannot take me,’ he whispered. The cursyrd subsided immediately. ‘Struggle is pain.’ All that heaved now were its lungs. ‘Good. Do not test me.’ Auum half turned his head. ‘Duele, release and watch.’
The creature was pulled upright, Auum’s hand still over its mouth, his short sword at its eye. They both knew the weapon wouldn’t kill it. But the pain would bite so deep.
‘Move.’
Auum drove the restrained cursyrd forwards, following the arc marked out for them. They turned again and again, deep into the heart of Julatsa’s slums where the stench was unquenched by time. Duele had taken the lead and when he stopped to read a more detailed mark, Auum knew they were close.
The TaiGethen paced away and round a right turn into a dank dead end. It was bare but for weeds, grass and the detritus of humans long gone. The opening was marked by a delicate pattern in cracked mud that was obscured by grass about halfway down the passage. He knelt and plucked it open, speaking softly into the hole he uncovered.
It was man-width but made by elves. The demons would never find it unless led straight to it. Auum nodded for Duele to continue and the five elves and their demon captive entered the college of Julatsa.
The warrior and mage guard in the tunnel clearly couldn’t quite believe what they were seeing. The leaders of the TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar dropping unannounced into their laps and accompanied by a captive demon. Auum had no time for explanations.
‘We need a large open room. De
fensible. Now.’
One of the warrior guard led them down the tunnel into the college proper. They brushed aside elven questions and the fears of men. The demon, cowed and scared but very alert, was held now by just its arms.
The tunnel ended inside a cellar beneath the library. Their guide took them through the sparse bookshelves and across the short distance to the single lecture theatre. Already, word was spreading and elf and human alike were being drawn in.
Auum spared one glance up into the sky at the cursyrd circling there and pushed his captive inside. He hurried it to the centre of the stage.
‘Rebraal, guard the door,’ he said. ‘Evunn, stand ready and watch.’ He released the cursyrd which backed away confused, deep reds and blues chasing each other across its skin. Auum’s smile was bleak. He turned to Duele.
‘Fight it.’
Ule backed a little further into the cave. He looked down at Vituul, spent and shivering; and across to his brothers, bloodied, frozen, but unbowed. Both stood to his left, mace and axe in hands, waiting.
‘They are coming back.’
Minute nods greeted his words, a tightening of grips on weapons, a shifting of stance.
‘When the time comes, you know what to do.’
The three former Protectors stepped forwards to the cave entrance where the gap was at its narrowest. They looked out over the last foothills of the Blackthornes. To their right, Understone, the Pass and a sizeable encampment of Wesmen. To their left, the forward Wesmen positions and the city of Xetesk. Their destination. A day’s walk but impossibly distant.
Ule wasn’t sure how the demons had detected them as they descended from the peaks into the deep grey and black mass of the range. Perhaps a lone scout. Perhaps the elf mage’s aura was too bright. It hardly mattered now.
Upwards of fifty demons were flying at them. Most were soul stealers and all were of the warrior strain popularly termed ‘reavers’. They were tall and well muscled with powerful wings, trademark hairless bodies and writhing veins. The band had repulsed three attacks on their descent, with spells accounting for dozens of the enemy, but still the demons came and Vituul had no more to give. His face bore the terror of the fight and the wounds that iced his blood and sapped his will to a point where he could no longer protect his soul.
Ule had time to appreciate the irony of the position in which he and his brothers found themselves. So long in thrall and so relatively short a time released. Had they never been freed they would be in the halls of Xetesk even now. He breathed in the air, felt it over his face. He experienced a moment of pure release, almost joy. He smiled.
The demons flooded the cave mouth but paused just out of weapon range.
‘Ule,’ said one, a pulsing deep green creature with huge eyes in an otherwise largely featureless face. ‘Return your soul. It belongs to us.’
Ule stared at the demon. He felt calm, at peace. As did his brothers.
‘There is no hope,’ said the demon. ‘You cannot resist us.’
‘You will not taste our souls again,’ Ule said. ‘While we live, we will fight you. And in death, we will escape you.’
‘You cannot harm us.’
‘Wrong. We cannot kill you. Know pain.’
The Protectors’ speed was startling. Ule’s mace came from his right side and blurred upwards catching the demon on its chin. The force of the blow echoed in the confined space and catapulted the squealing creature end over end into those massed behind it, wings flapping uselessly.
Ryn and Qex drove into the enemy simultaneously. Ryn flat-bladed his axe into the side of one’s head, sending it tumbling sideways, scattering others back and forwards. Qex slammed his mace into the midriff of his target and scythed left to right with his axe, biting deep into the demon’s forehead. It fell back, screeching.
The wound did not bleed but instead healed over almost immediately, leaving a livid blue line where it had scored most deeply. And then the demons bunched and charged. Ule faced a blistering assault of claw, tooth and tail. He worked feverishly to keep them at bay. The mace was a potent weapon thudding time and again into head, chest and gut. And with it came the axe; flat-bladed to block strikes, edge-on to inflict pain.
But inexorably, the press grew and deepened. Claws raked his face. Tails threatened to trip him and fangs bore ever closer. He could feel the desperation beginning to creep into his brothers as he could the chill of the demons’ touch through his body. Every time they struck, he felt himself weaken. But he would not let it show.
He dragged the spikes of his mace across the throat of his nearest enemy, deriving strength from its strangled yowl. He followed it up with a carving swing into its waist. It was a blow that would have severed a human. But here it cut just so deep, forcing the creature back.
To his left, his brothers suffered. Qex had been on his knees more than once and Ryn’s face was a lattice of cuts, bleeding and blue from the cold. They didn’t have very long.
‘Once more my brothers!’ he shouted, his voice bouncing off the cave walls.
He launched a ferocious attack, summoning everything he had left. He battered at the press of demons, seeing his mace buried in face and arm, his axe chop claw from hand, only for it to regrow. He took what pleasure he could from the cries of pain and the anger of his enemies that they had not cowed their prey. And nor would they.
‘Duck.’
It was a moment before he realised it was Vituul who had spoken, so unlike him was the voice. But there was no mistaking the intent in the word.
‘Brothers, drop!’
And they did, together as always.
The IceWind scoured over their heads and swept into the defenceless demons. And now the screams were of agony and death. Flesh boiled away, wings froze and shattered and eyes glazed. Veins stood out proud and still, the supercooled mana penetrating skin and stopping flow in an instant. The entire front rank of the demons died before Ule could blink and the rest scattered back into the air, howling their anger and fear.
Ule turned to look at Vituul. The elf slumped back onto his side, his breath laboured and his eyes sunken deep into his skull.
‘You were spent,’ he said.
‘I am now,’ said Vituul between gasps. He managed a smile. ‘That really was the last.’
‘I didn’t think you had it in you.’
‘Neither did I.’ Elf and Protector eyes locked. ‘We cannot take another round.’
Ule nodded. ‘I know.’
He swung back to his brothers. Both were leaning on their weapons, exhausted, all but finished. Out in the light, the demons had gathered once more and were approaching cautiously.
‘Ule,’ said Vituul, dragging his attention around. ‘Just make it quick.’
‘It is something I am very good at,’ he replied.
Vituul chuckled. ‘Glad to hear it.’
‘My brothers,’ said Ule. ‘Prepare. They shall not take our souls.’ Each man drew a dagger from his belt, letting his other weapons clatter to the floor of the cave.
‘Vituul,’ said Ule. ‘You understand we will die as one. Your journey must begin sooner.’ He knelt by the elf and wiped the tear from the mage’s eye. ‘Your courage will be remembered among the Protectors. Even in death, we will not forget you.’
The strike was quick and sure.
Ule stood and embraced his brothers. Daggers rested against throats. ‘Release is ours, my brothers. We are one.’
‘We are one.’
The crowd watching the fight grew steadily. Auum could sense them and at times even hear low words but he didn’t ever take his eyes from the scene being played out in front of him.
At first, the cursyrd had been reluctant. It had felt the weakening effects of the ColdRoom construct but slowly had come to terms with it. What it had found more difficult were the probings and lightning strikes of Duele.
The elf tried to goad the cursyrd into retaliation and aggression but for an irritating length of time it merely squealed and backed off
, rolling itself into a ball or standing with its hands covering its face. But when Duele jabbed a straight-fingered blow in its throat, its temper snapped and it struck back.
Duele stood his ground while the creature attempted to land blows with its clawed hands, whiplike tail and long fangs. The fluid movements of the TaiGethen left no room for the cursyrd which found its best efforts countered easily. Duele blocked, ducked, jumped and counterstruck with the speed that had made him so formidable even among the elven elite. Time and again, the cursyrd would lash in left and right with its claws and attempt a bite only to find itself dumped on its backside by foot sweep or the heel of a palm in its chest.
As the weight of Duele’s blows and the cumulative effects of the ColdRoom casting took their toll, the cursyrd became at once weaker and further enraged. It knew it would not get out of the college alive and became ever more desperate to inflict damage where it could.
Three times it tried to break away to attack those watching it but Duele was too fast and its screeches of frustration grew louder. But well before it became too weak to defend itself, Auum had seen what he wanted to. The cursyrd didn’t once raise its arms over its head to strike, only ever to defend blows to the head, and even then it preferred to duck and move or use its tail.
He moved into its compass.
‘Duele, rest now.’
Auum paced forwards, assessing the cursyrd’s attention. It switched to him right away, a frown on its face. Its skin modulated from a livid green to a deep, menacing blue. It was breathing hard.
The TaiGethen circled it for a moment, seeing the track of its eyes and the movement of its feet unchanged from its combat with Duele. It was disciplined at least. But it was lagging slightly, tired and bruised. Auum struck.
He ducked inside a flailing right arm, grabbing its wrist with his left hand and holding the arm high and away from its body. He continued his movement forward, raised his right elbow and smashed it into the cursyrd’s exposed armpit. The creature jerked once and collapsed.
The Raven Collection Page 286
