'Don't stop. Keep running!'
Hirad felt a warmth spread across his mind.
'Be ready to duck,' came the voice of the Great Kaan.
Six dragons flew overhead, Sha-Kaan leading them. His fire scorched the ground and he pulled up, the last remnants of flame shrivelling spines on the roof of the edifice. But the other five had no such intentions. They drove on, unflinching. Mouths open, disgorged killing fire into the entrance. And in they followed it. Wings caught in stone, bodies connected with the massive lintel and they crashed hard, sliding inside, bellowing pain. Stone shivered and fell. Wrecked spines were shaken from the roof to shatter on the ground. Dust filled the air. They had almost done too much. Five Kaan all but sealed the entrance. Up in the sky, Sha-Kaan barked respect for their sacrifice.
'Do not let it be wasted,' he toned in Hirad's mind.
'Raven let's go!'
More fire swept across and behind them. Right above his head he felt the beat of wings and the snap of jaws. A Naik dragon soared away, reavers in its mouth. It bit down and spat the pieces to the ground. But while it flew free, so many of its brethren were weakening under the concerted attack of many thousands of reavers.
Auum and Evunn had made the entrance. They found a path through broken dragon bodies and picked their way through the fires that pitted it. Inside, Hirad could see demons moving but he wasn't sure how many.
'Mages, we're going to need you.'
One last glance behind. They were all with him. The Unknown and Thraun either side of Erienne. Rebraal with Denser; and Ark, a flap of skin hanging from his cheek, shepherding Eilaan. Hirad ducked inside the edifice. He squeezed by the flanks of two Kaan, letting his hand trail across their cracked scales, feeling their lives ebb away. He whispered words of thanks but had no time to stop to pay them proper respect. The Raven followed him in.
Inside, it stank of burned flesh and dragon, sharp oil and wood. It was thick with smoke and he coughed each time he drew a heaving breath. He took quick stock of direction but there was only one way to go.
The edifice was one huge room, dominated by the shimmering brightness they had seen from the rise. It cut a slash clear across the bedrock floor, wall to wall. Light danced in the air and off the crude murals that adorned every vertical surface. He didn't need to be told what the shimmering was, that much was obvious. All he cared about were the two stone pathways that crossed its centre and the sight that greeted him on the other side.
'My friends, you are in big, big trouble.'
He turned and yelled for Erienne but behind her every demon left standing was trying to get inside.
The light was fading but the ferocity of the demon attack had not abated. The Wesmen had been driven back across the courtyard and were now in possession of just half of it. They had lost both barracks and long rooms plus the ColdRoom mages therein and now the library was once again threatened as was the mana bowl on the other side of the complex.
Dystran watched from his tower while his fury turned to admiration and his arrogance to shame. Down in front of the steps, Tessaya, Chandyr and Suarav fought side by side. The Wesmen lord was indefatigable. His axe in both hands, he chopped an ul-karron in two, shoulder to waist, and had turned to strike at the next before it had directed its pincers to hold him.
Suarav was a man possessed. His head was a mass of blood but he fought like a fresh entrant. His sword snaked out, piercing karron eyes, his dagger weaved in front of him, chopping at pincers. He ducked, twisted and swayed, defying hammer or spike to touch him, and he roared his disdain at them. Put furs on him and you would have sworn he was a Wesman.
And lastly Chandyr. He was the skilled fighter. The one in Ry Darrick's image. He and three other Xeteskian soldiers fought as a tight quartet, each targeting a separate point in the enemies they
faced. Chandyr focused on the killing thrusts while his men blocked pincer and limb with axe and mace. It was mesmerising but ultimately it would be futile. Above the shell, the masters floated, directing their forces in ever more focused attack. Reavers were taking their toll on the back of the lines now, looming out of the gathering darkness to split skulls, rake throats and steal souls. And outside what was left of the walls, Ul-karron paced forwards while more of their number spilled from the gap in the sky to glide quickly down on gossamer wings that stowed in folds of flesh as they landed hard.
A single shout of alarm echoed up the tower. It was Chandyr's voice. Dystran's gaze snapped round and down. One of his men had taken a spike through his head. He was stuck on the limb and his corpse was thrashed through the air. It swept into another of Chandyr's men not fast enough to duck. Cruelly exposed, Chandyr bounced to his feet, blocked away a second enemy but, with Tessaya's axe slicing through the air to his defence, was unable to escape the third. The hammer came down on top of his skull and drove his body to the ground. The ul-karron exulted; and died.
Dystran tensed. 'All my fault,' he muttered.
He looked across to his left around the balcony where Pheone and Dila'heth stood. Their mages were already outside the college backed by elven warriors. He had seen spells light up the evening. IceWind and FlameOrb destroying enemies only for more to take their place. No, something more drastic was called for.
Dystran looked right instead. 'Sharyr, who's the heavier, me or you?'
Sharyr dragged himself from the fight below. He was living every' sweep of Suarav's sword. 'You, I think.'
'I agree. Then I will carry you. Pheone, go and tell the ColdRoom casters to lower the shell to below the level of this balcony. Just for a short time. Dila'heth will tell you when it should be reverted. Sharyr, we're going flying. I'll take you places, you kill what's in front of you. All right?'
A smile spread across Sharyr's face. 'Yes, my Lord.'
Pheone was already on her way. Dila'heth raised her eyebrows.
'Are you sure that's wise?' she asked.
'Never order that which you would not do yourself,' said Dystran.
'That's what Tessaya says, as I understand it. Time to admit he was right, I think. Sharyr, stand in front of me.'
Mana played over his face and imbued his veins with energy. He felt awakened. Free. He cast quickly, the wings at his back in moments. He put an arm under Sharyr's knees, the other across his back and under his arms, and took off, hearing Dila'heth shouting Pheone's name as he did so.
'Time to bring down one of the big bastards,' he said to Sharyr. 'You comfortable?'
'It'll have to do.'
'Focused Orb, my friend. I'll get you in close. Tell me when you're ready.'
He flew straight up and looked all around him. Even though Shaiyr was lighter for the lack of food over two years, he was still a weight in Dystran's arms for the same reason. They were only going to get one chance at this. He could see no one rising to attack him. It was hardly a surprise. Every demon eye was focused on the battle they were winning in the college courtyard. He circled, picking out the demon master, Drenoul, silhouetted in the light of Wesmen fires below him. Perfect. He wondered why they hadn't thought of this before but then Tessaya hadn't been in the college grounds before.
'Ready.'
'Cast on my command then we're away. We'll drop to the balcony. It'll hurt but at least we'll be alive.'
'You're in charge.'
'Correct.'
Clutching Sharyr as tight as he could, Dystran moved almost directly above Drenoul. Still unseen, he dropped, feet first and fast, coming to an abrupt halt next to the demon master.
'Surprise,' he said. Drenoul swivelled, eyes widening. He reached out his hands but Dystran was carefully out of reach. 'Tut, tut,' he said. 'Now. Die.'
Sharyr cast. The deep blue focused Orb seared across the short distance and took Drenoul in the face. He screamed and shot straight up, the flame spreading quickly over his body. Dystran was already powering away back towards die tower when Drenoul's tentacles caught fire and he plunged to die ground, howling all the way.