'What'll it do for us?'
'Buy us time. Here, we're all dead.'
He was right. The back of the train was lost completely. Demons were diving into the shell, karron battering into defenders on the ground. Hirad turned to the head of the column in time to see the Al-Arynaar line fold.
'Fuck.' He ran to Rebraal and grabbed his shoulders, his own limbs quivering with rage. 'I want ForceCone mages down that passage now. We're heading for the playhouse. Disengage your forward line. Do it now. Don't let those bastards get anyone else.'
Rebraal nodded and began barking commands. Hirad swung back to The Raven.
'Thraun, behind me with Denser. Ark, don't drop the big man. Look out for Pheone and the Xeteskians. Rebraal, it's now. Raven! Raven with me!'
Rebraal had been quick and his mages accurate. Three strode down the passageway, warriors at their backs. Hirad went after them, hearing The Raven in his wake. In The Thread, the bodies of man, elf and demon littered the ground. A Raven was amongst them. The four remaining wagons emptied and the last ColdRoom dispersed. The demons surged, pushing the routed Balaians before them. The tight entrance to the passage was quickly becoming a botdeneck.
'Dammit.' Hirad broke into a run and shouted ahead in elvish. 'Too slow. Drop the Cones and let's move.'
It became a headlong dash, mirroring that led by Auum to the gates of the college. Strike-strain fell about their heads, nipping, bidng and scratching. No sooner had he pulled one away from himself or Thraun beside him than three more cackled and attacked. Others threatened Erienne. Thraun ignored his own pain to keep her as safe as he could. Hirad could hear the sounds of karron in the buildings either side of the narrow alley, running through thin walls, trying to get in front.
'Left ahead!' shouted Denser.
Hirad relayed the message forwards. A few yards behind The Raven, karron beat a wall into the passage, spilling out after it. He risked a glance and saw elves driving through the sudden barricade, kicking, punching and butting. There wasn't time for artistry and the only saving grace for the runners was that the alley was too narrow for all but the smallest reavers.
The leading elves turned the corner flat out. Hirad and Thraun were falling back a little. Hirad could see light that indicated Seam-stone Square and the playhouse. It flickered like the light above them. The sky was filled with demons.
Hirad chewed his lip. In the square, the enemy would be waiting. They needed spell cover but the incessant picking of strike-strain and the force of numbers running through the alley wouldn't give mages much opportunity to cast.
'We need a safe corridor,' he said, panting a little. 'Mages, get the nearest door open. Swords and maces left and right. Pass the message back. Thraun, stay in the passage. You too, Unknown.'
'Forget it.'
They reached the square. The nearest playhouse door stood less than ten yards across the open street. Reavers crowded the entrance. Hirad heard prayers and the Al-Arynaar went to work. Unable to kill without using Auum's move, the elves chose containment for the moment and all used blade and fist to quickly force a small space. Hirad ran into the centre of it.
'Let's go, Raven!'
In front of Hirad, an Al-Arynaar backhanded his blade into the chest of a reaver. It skittered backwards, squealing. The elf moved left allowing Hirad in. He accepted, powering his mace through in an upward arc, connecting with his enemy's face and following through. The demon's head snapped back and it staggered into those behind it.
'Pressing!' yelled Hirad and then Rebraal and The Unknown were beside him.
The elf s mace pushed end-on into the gut of his enemy. The Unknown's carved left to right, clattering his aside in a flurry of claw and wing. Ark led more Al-Arynaar from the passageway, strengthening the break-out and driving further across the street. The demons, surprised at the ferocity and organisation of this attack sprung from the ashes of a rout, struggled to maintain any cohesion.
Strike-strain descended. Hard to ignore, their claws like sharp frost, they flittered over the heads of elves and men, trying to get into their faces where they could be most effective.
His mace in his right hand, Hirad ducked a claw to his face and whipped in a blow of his own, seeing the spikes rip into flesh and drive the demon back. Strike-strain locked onto the back of his head, scuttling forwards. He grabbed at one with his free hand and jerked it clear and flung it away, feeling blood begin to trickle from his scalp.
His limbs felt leaden. He roared to clear his mind and wiped a hand across his sweating face. He had to keep going, had to drive them all. He knew his arms were fatigued and his back sent pain through his body with every pace, every blow. They had no choice but to push on. Blocking aside another blow, he took a pace into the shadow of the playhouse. Their goal was only three yards away. He heard the dull rumble of falling stone and the crack of shattering masonry topped by the exultant squawks of demons. The karron had reached the square.
'What the fuck is going on!' bawled Dystran at his mages and Chandyr, ranged around his balcony.
Demons were clouding in two areas of the city. He watched them dive into the attack and soar high, cackling. He could hear fighting and screaming. Men's voices sounded out when the demon cacophony lulled. Dust clouded the air in the direction of the playhouse.
'The ward grid has failed,' said Chandyr.
'Oh, do you think so?' Dystran rounded on his commander. 'And do you also have in that incisive mind of yours the memory of my request for a contingency?'
'You know I do, my Lord.' Chandyr's face was unreadable.
'Care to enlighten me, my esteemed commander?'
Chandyr nodded. 'Prexys, would you be so land?'
The old Circle Seven mage closed his eyes briefly. 'He is coming,' he said.
'Well he'd better be quick,' said Dystran. 'Our new friends are getting slaughtered.'
From the centre of the city, one shape detached itself from the mass and sped back towards the college. The familiar, one of only three that still remained at the college, landed lightly on Prexys's shoulder.
'Master,' it said, drooling slightly, its chest heaving in and out.
'You know it occurs to me that we should have persuaded these things to leave the college earlier. They'd have made useful spies.'
Prexys calmed his tired familiar. 'It is risky enough now,' he said. 'And enemy attention is diverted from us. Speak. Tell us what you saw.'
And the familiar related everything. The attacks on two fronts. The elves approaching at speed and the larger group trying to get into the playhouse. The lack of any real watch on the college and the breaking of the ward grid. It was enough for Chandyr.
'We can get the elves inside,' he asserted. 'We can also trigger the rest of the wards but they'll all go up at the same time.'
Dystran looked heavenwards. 'Yes, I mean there are a few buildings that haven't been damaged yet. And how do you propose to get the elves in?'
'Well,' said Chandyr. 'I don't want to bore you with the fine detail but in essence, we open the gates and rush the demons. There's more to it than that. I mean, every mage knows position and casting for a run up The Thread. It was always the most likely route into us. It'll work.'
'It had better.'
'It will.'
'And another thing,' said Dystran. 'Will somebody please tell me what in all the hells has happened to our other new friends the Wesmen?'
Auum knew every approach to the college of Xetesk but he felt lost for the first time in his life. Duele was dying in his arms. Every pace he took seemed heavy, referring vibrations through his stricken Tai's body. He held on as gently as he could but surely his arms were like bindings, constricting more and more. His very breath crushed his friend and all his prayers would not be enough.