James Barclay
Demonstorm
THE RAVEN
Hirad Coldheart barbarian warrior
The Unknown Warrior/Sol warrior
Throun shapechanger
Ry Darrick cavalry swordsman
Denser xeteskian mage
Erienne dordovan mage
THE COLLEGES
Dystran lord of the mount, xetesk
Ranyl circle seven master mage, xetesk
Myx a protector
Suamv captain, xeteskian college guard
Chandyr commander, xeteskian armies
Nyam senior mage, xetesk
Vuldaroq arch mage, dordover
Heryst lord elder mage, lystern
Izack commander, lysternan cavalry
Pheone high mage designate, julatsa
THE ELVES
Myriell al-drechar
Cleress al-drechar
Rebraal leader of the al-arynaar
Auum leader of the taigethen
Evunn tai cell of auum
Duele tai cell of auum
Dila'heth elven mage The ClawBound
BALAIANS, WESMEN, DRAGONS AND DEMONS
Blackthorne a baron
Ark an ex-protector
Devun leader of the black wings
Diem wife of the unknown warrior
Tessaya lord of the paleon tribes
Riasu lord keeper of understone pass
Sha-Kaan great kaan
Yasal-Naik great naik
Ferouc master strain
Drenoul master strain
Chapter 1
'Again!' Tessaya swept his arm down. 'Again!'
The Wesmen charged the walls of Xetesk once more, tribal banners snapping in the breeze, voices mingling to a roar. The ladders drove into position, his warriors stormed up their rough rungs. Below them, archers tried to keep the defenders back from the wall. A difficult task over such a distance.
In the deep night-shadows of Xetesk's walls, tribesmen pivoted more ladders. Along a four-hundred-yard stretch of wall tlrey arced up. The best of them just rough-cut and bound, the worst little more than shaved trunks of the tallest trees they could find. In earlier attacks, some had not been tall enough. He saw the ladders catching the light of the torches on the battlements before they thudded into place, warriors already swarming up them two abreast.
This time he had his enemy. This time, the Wesmen would break through the defences. He could feel it. In the daylight, many had died. Spells and arrows had ripped into wood and flesh. Burning warriors had tumbled to the ground screaming. Ladders, charred or frozen, had cracked and collapsed in heartbeats.
Yet the tribes had not faltered. Urged on by their lords who could see victory so close they had continued to press. And while hundreds scoured the land for the wood to build more ladders, hundreds more died at the Walls doing exactly what had to be done. They exhausted the spell casters.
Tessaya saw the outlines of men running along the battlements to prepare their defence. Below them, holding shields above their heads, came his warriors. It was the fourth attack of the day. The night was just passing its zenith, and the spells no longer deluged them.
In desultory fashion, the odd casting blew away the top of a ladder and the men that scaled it. But that was all. Tessaya had foreseen this moment and had kept back his greatest force. Xetesk no longer had the magical power to stop them. Now it came down to who was the stronger with sword, axe and spear. And that was a battle he knew the Wesmen would win.
He watched for a moment longer. Arrows still peppered the warriors streaming up the ladders. His people still fell in their dozens. He breathed the night air deeply. The smells of ash and fear mingled with the freshness of grass in the breeze. He heard the voices of the Wesmen, their tribal songs echoing from the walls of Xetesk. They were the anthems of strength and victory, swelling in volume with every heartbeat.
He turned to Lord Riasu. The man's small eyes sparkled in the darkness and his heavy-set features had reddened with excitement.
'You can feel it too.'
'I can, Lord Tessaya,' said Riasu. 'We are so close.'
'And what is your desire now?'
Riasu nodded in the direction of the walls. More and more Wesmen were higher and higher up the ladders. Arrows alone were not enough and the spells had all but stopped falling. One deep blue flash to their left served as a reminder of the diminished threat.
'My men are on those ladders,' he said. T would join them. Lead them onto the walls.'
Tessaya smiled and slapped Riasu hard on the back. 'It is a wish I share.'
He looked quickly about him. Six other tribal lords stood with them, their warriors, a thousand and more, ready to charge forwards. Their shouts of encouragement to those already engaged sounded across the open ground. Beyond them, the fires of the camp burned and the Paleon guard stood watch over the Shamen while they prayed for guidance and strength from the Spirits. Prayers that had surely been answered.
The group of lords was close to him. All wanted just one thing but waited for Tessaya's word. Ten tribes and their lords had been unleashed already. The glory of being the first to make the walls outweighing the risk of death. Three of those lords had joined the Spirits as heroes. Four more would join them shortly. The remaining three were at the walls now.
'It is time,' said Tessaya. He unhitched his axe and held it in one hand. 'My Lords, let us deal the greatest blow.'
He raised his axe high above his head, roared a Paleon war cry and led the charge to the walls. Behind him, the lords invoked their tribal Spirits and came after him, a thousand warriors with them, voices raised to a deafening crescendo.
Tessaya ran. His braided silver-grey hair bounced on his shoulders; his arms and legs pumped hard, the breeze was on his face. He couldn't remember ever feeling more alive. Not even leading the Wesmen out of the shadow of Understone Pass matched this. Then, they had so much still to accomplish and had failed. Now, their goal was within his grasp.
His forgotten youth surged back into his middle-aged veins. His heart thumped life through his body. His mind was clear, his eyes sharp. The Spirits were with him and within him. Nothing could stop him. He laughed aloud and upped his pace.
The darkness deepened in the lee of Xetesk's walls. Seventy feet high, with a slight outward slope. Imposing, menacing and never before breached. Here, the noise of the fight intensified. Tessaya could hear tlie thud of bow strings, the creaking of the wood against its bindings and the calls of the Wesmen above him, silhouetted against the flare of torches.
As they had been ordered, the Wesmen, barring those bracing and those about to climb, did not cluster around the ladder bases. They were scattered across the field, waiting the shout to approach. No dense targets for the mages, no easy masses for the archers.
Tessaya ran past the waiting warriors, his name being taken up and spreading across the field quicker than a scrub fire. And by the time he had run through the waiting warriors and had his path cleared to the base of the ladder, all he could hear was the chanting of his name.
He thumped onto the bottom rung, exhorting those around and above him to push harder. Riasu was right behind him, yelling in a tribal dialect Tessaya could barely understand. Not that he had to. The message was clear enough.