Demonstorm

Where would it go wrong, that was the question. He couldn't fault the ward grid. It was something of which Septern himself would have been proud. All it needed was activation and it was he that would take that task. Chandyr's strike and fall-back plans were sound, he knew that. The commander was a skilful tactician and had studied General Darrick for many years.

But he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that the demons were still a step ahead. What was it they had missed? There had to be something. There was always something.

Hirad's wound had been rebound but he had conceded he should travel on the kicking plate of Erienne's wagon, driven once more by Darrick. Thraun still rode inside. The rest of The Raven were out front and just behind the Al-Arynaar line, keeping the path clear.

The success of Darrick's tactic seemed to have confused and demoralised the demons. Half-hearted regroupings of karron had been battered mercilessly aside by the TaiGethen-led elven force. The lumbering demons appeared badly hampered fighting inside the ColdRoom shell.

It had been left to the reavers and strike-strain to continue their sniping attacks. And while they scored small victories, they couldn't slow the advancing wagon train which was crossing the old battlefields in front of the north gate. It was a curious atmosphere dominating the demon forces. Hirad likened it to defeat and he told Darrick so.

'Don't believe it. They'll look to pin us down in some narrow street in the city,' said Darrick.

'Well, we have surprises for them in there too, don't we?' said Hirad.

'And it's all main street,' said Denser, hauling himself up to the bench. 'We can drive two abreast all the way to the college.'

'Simple enough,' said Hirad.

The General shook his head. T doubt that very much.'

It was less than a mile to the college from the north gate. Hirad had travelled in Xetesk enough to know that even the widest of its streets felt tight. Tall and ancient buildings loomed over the equally aged cobbles and stone pathways, blotting out half the sky. Every street in Xetesk had the potential for ambush. The recently arrived Xeteskians needed to be right about their ward work.

They had seen flights of demons heading back towards Xetesk, giving credence to Darrick's observation. The General's initial delight at the outcome of his snap tactic had quickly given way to introspection and now he wore a troubled expression.

'Come on, Darrick,' said Hirad. 'We've broken them. What's the problem?'

'You know it was too easy, don't you?' he replied.

T know we gave them a good hiding.'

Darrick shook his head a second time. 'They were inept in the extreme and I don't buy it. They planned to fail.'

'Hardly. From where I stand they didn't expect us to drop the ColdRoom and we took them down.'

'Maybe they didn't but after that, that's what worries me. They didn't attempt a concerted reformation, they didn't bring up reserves from the rear of the shell. They practically stood there and let us slaughter them. How many did we lose? Five? Ten?'

T think you worry too much,' said Hirad.

'Do I?' Darrick turned his head to stare at the barbarian. 'Think it's plain sailing from here on in, don't you?'

Hirad raised his eyebrows. 'So long as Xetesk lends the hand it has promised. I mean, look at the enemy. They aren't up for this, none of them.'

'Right. And that's what most of the elves think to look at them. Don't let your guard slip for one moment. I'm telling Rebraal the same thing.'

Hirad swallowed his retort. 'You really mean it, don't you?'

'I wouldn't say it otherwise. The demons are not this lame. They're in charge here, never mind what just happened. It is inconceivable that we've broken them.'

'If you say so, General.'

T do.'

Hirad chuckled. 'Lucky we didn't have you join us for your sense of humour.'

'I see nothing to laugh about.'

'Exactly.'

An hour later and barely under attack at all, die Julatsan wagon train rolled through the north gate of Xetesk. The imposing gatehouse edifice, sorely damaged though it was, was the first of many ideal ambush points. Nothing.

'Still sure, General?'

'Don't tempt fate, Hirad. They only need one place, one chance. Keep looking.'

The instant they cleared the gatehouse, the atmosphere changed. The cold intensified. Breath clouded in front of faces, and with no breeze to disperse it, hung in a cloud around the train. The city stank with the scent of fear, death and decay. The quiet set Hirad's

teeth on edge. Not even a demon made a sound. Nothing came from the buildings around them, the streets that ran away into the city or from the college. Not a bird sang or a dog barked. All Hirad could hear was the creaking of the carts, his own breath and the sounds of hoof on stone.

Turning into Norgate Road, the buildings seemed to climb so high into the cold blue sky. Bleak timbers and shuttered windows glowered down on them. Unconsciously, the pace slowed.

'Keep it up ahead,' said Darrick, voice unnaturally loud.

'Can you feel it?' said Hirad.

'It's why we're all whispering,' said Denser. He shuddered.

'Watch for any movement,' hissed Darrick. 'Rebraal, put the word out. Concentrate.'

The demons had gone from the sky. Not a one tracked their progress. The empty shell above them was almost unnerving after so long under attack. On the second wagon of the lead pair the Xeteskians, Suarav and Sharyr, his arm in a makeshift sling, were indicating ward positions. They were pointing ahead at the first crossroads which the train would traverse on its way to the playhouse. That building stood in the middle of the tight Seamstone Square. Once on the square, they would be at their most vulnerable.

Approaching the crossway, Hirad could feel his heart thumping in his chest. He readjusted his sword grip constantly, wiping sweating hands down his trousers. Every hoof-fall was a clarion call for a demon rally. Every nervous whinny or snort an invitation to attack. But still no demons. Darrick's frown deepened still further.

'Where would I do it?' he muttered. 'Where?'

His voice was the only one puncturing the edgy quiet. More than three hundred elves and men travelled the dead streets. Hirad felt his earlier bravado draining away.

'Just one place, you think?'

Darrick nodded. 'And with everything they have got.'

Hirad swallowed on a dry throat. The Al-Arynaar at the head had just entered the junction. To either side, Flame Walls, deep and scorching, sprang up, fifty feet and more high. Drivers fought with suddenly panicked horses. Shouts of alarm rang out in the enclosed space. Hirad swore. He could feel the heat on his face.

'Scared me half to death,' he said.

On the adjacent wagon, Sharyr managed a smile.

'They got the wards out further than I thought. That's good.'

'Would have been nice to have a little more warning.'

'Hmm.' Darrick shrugged then raised his voice, scanning about him to check all horses were back under control. 'Let's keep this tight. Maintain your pace, maintain your focus. Do not give those bastards opportunity.'

Hirad could see the response to the voice of authority. Postures straightened, calls of encouragement bounced around. Swords and axes were gripped with more belief, back to the ready position. The trotting of feet and hoof took on a military rhythm.

'That's more like it,' breathed Darrick. 'Nothing like a little purpose.'

The wagon train drove on up Norgate Way. The detritus of two years' neglect lay underfoot. The collected filth of decay powerful in the nostrils. At the playhouse, they turned right in response to Sharyr's promptings and the FlameWalls burning to the left, obscuring that part of Seamstone Square.