The playhouse was a circular structure with entrances at the four major points of the compass. Around its edge, the square was packed with darkened eateries, inns, shops still displaying gaudy clothes, all topped by two or three storeys of rooms and lodgings.
The sound of their passage was amplified here, echoes reverberating across the enclosed space. It was a sobering counterpart to the silence covering the city. The gargoyles and carved faces gazed down at them, laughing, crying, enraged, desolate. Monitoring the passing of the last desperate attempt to wrest control of Balaia from their nemesis.
Hirad bit his lip. The quiet was picking at their nerves and courage. Every doorway, every window could conceal an enemy. The sky could fill at any moment. There was no safety among the buildings that had once provided security for so many.
'Where are the Xeteskians?' he said, unable to speak at more than a whisper.
'Out of the way,' said Denser.
The train turned left and right to exit the square and start along King's Approach. Nicknamed 'The Thread', the street wound its way to the heart of the city. They could see lights burning in
Dystran's tower in the college, beacons still almost half a mile distant.
Alleys and side streets ran off The Thread all along its length. Some were barely the width of a man. Others as wide as a wagon. All were silent, all deserted.
A short distance further on, The Thread narrowed and twisted around the rear of the central grain store. The Al-Arynaar vanguard closed form. The Unknown, Ark and Kas dropped back and hitched rides on the sides of Erienne's wagon. Hirad noticed Sharyr look behind him and curse.
'Problem?' asked Darrick, noting it too.
'The wards should have triggered behind,' he said. 'Something's dropped out.'
'Or been interfered with,' said Hirad.
'Unlikely,' said Sharyr. 'We-'
The rear of the grain store burst out onto the street, engulfing Sharyr's wagon. The noise, a crack like thunder followed by the bass rumble of an avalanche, pressed on the ears, juddered through their bodies. Huge blocks of stone smashed into the wagon's flimsy side, crushing the roof frame, battering into the horse and its driver. The two helpless Xeteskians were thrown aside. The wagon was driven sideways across the cobbles. The axles collapsed under the pressure and the splintering mass collided with The Raven's wagon in a squeal of torn metal. Standing on its left sideboard, Kas took the fall force of the impact. Darrick, Hirad and Denser were jerked violently left and then away, tumbling onto the ground and into the traces and horses.
Now the air was full of screams and the sudden roar of demon cacophony. Hirad scrambled to his feet and grabbed his sword from the ground, trying to take it all in. He skipped out of the way of the horses which were bucking and trying to drag their wagon forwards, though its wheels were blocked by fallen stone.
There could be no survivors inside the other lead wagon. Suarav and Sharyr were getting to their feet but they were all there was moving. Karron were streaming out of the shattered grain store. Ahead, the Al-Arynaar and Auum's Tai were already engaged in fierce fighting and half cut-off from the wagon train. They weren't
making any real headway. It was obvious why. The crushed wagon had been carrying ColdRoom mages. The demons were protected.
The situation was quickly becoming desperate. Al-Arynaar had rushed to stem the advance of karron from the grain store but were outnumbered and fragmented. An alert group of elven mages was crouched in the open, casting, but above them winged demons were heading into the attack.
'Darrick, Denser. Up, up. Wall side, now.' Hirad led them, coming across a groggy Unknown Warrior being helped to his feet by Ark. 'We've got to get Erienne away. They'll want her.'
The storm of demons thickened, strike-strain barrelling down on them. Hirad led The Raven to the rear of the wagon. Thraun appeared with Erienne in his arms, blood streaming down the side of his head.
'Get her back inside the ColdRoom shell. Run, Thraun, we're right behind you,' ordered Hirad.
The first strike-strain were on them, reavers closing in.
'We need to get Kas,' said Hirad.
'You cannot help him,' said Ark. 'He is released.'
The Raven ran hard. Hirad came to The Unknown's left to help Ark. Demons flew around them, reavers landing in front and stalking into the attack.
'Go,' said The Unknown, his head running with blood, voice a little slurred.
Hirad nodded and ran on, streaking round Thraun's left, Darrick mirroring him right. Both men sheathed their swords but while Darrick drew his mace, Hirad had another idea. There were too many of the reavers for them to take quickly. Al-Arynaar were flooding in to help but weren't going to be fast enough.
Dagger in hand, the barbarian barrelled straight into the clutch of reavers, taking three of them to the ground with him. He landed on top of them, hearing Darrick join the attack and Thraun shout a warning.
The reavers were strong. Hirad took a punch across his face that knocked him half away. He felt hands scrabbling to get purchase under his chin and over his heart, searching for his soul. He blocked a clawed hand and jabbed his fingers into the eyes of the demon struggling to rise from beneath him. The creature howled. Hirad's
next thrust took the creature under the arm. It spasmed and was still. Another pushed him away. Thraun ran by.
'Keep going!' shouted Hirad.
A hand clamped around the top of his head and jerked him backwards. He fell onto his back, fists flailing out to either side. His vision was full of demon flesh. There was a flash of steel. One of his assailants was flung aside. He turned onto his stomach and pushed himself to his haunches. Ark stood above him, The Unknown on one arm, his mace in his other hand.
'Down,' he said. Hirad ducked his head and the mace swept by again. There was a squeal. 'Go.'
Hirad came back to The Unknown's side. 'Not without him. Come on.'
They set off again, Darrick taking up station ahead of them and Denser, a ForceCone directed ahead, clearing a path. Al-Arynaar had surrounded Thraun and were shepherding him back down the train. Demons were flying in all along The Thread now, attacking those within the still-functioning shell. Behind, the fighting was intense. Elves falling back in control. But the way ahead was blocked. The two ruined carts and tons of stone were strewn across the way. Just back inside the shell, Hirad took the time to look hard. He dragged strike-strain from his back as he did so, crushing their bodies in his fists or underfoot.
The two surviving Xeteskians ran past him. He could still make out Auum, leading the Al-Arynaar. There was a huge density of the squat karron in between the TaiGethen and the remainder of the train. He would survive, he always did. And the train had troubles of its own, Under heavy attack from above, there were still efforts to turn it around but in the tight space and with frightened horses it was proving almost impossible.
Thraun, with Erienne crushed close to him, was heading towards the nearest wagon. Denser was by his side. Darrick had run further down the train to oversee the turning of the wagons. The Unknown, coming to his senses, pushed Hirad away.
'I'm all right.'
'You're as bad a judge as me.'
'What's the situation?' asked the big man.
'Auum's cut off but he's all right so far. Darrick's back there. We
have to turn this train around, get out of the east end of the playhouse square. The rest of us are here but Kas has gone. I haven't seen Eilaan or Rebraal. We're in trouble.'
'Very astute,' said The Unknown, smiling through the blood slicking his face.
They paused. Al-Arynaar ran around them. Reavers were beaten back while The Raven headed for relative safety. And Hirad heard a voice that gladdened him. Strong, authoritative, elven.