Demonstorm

They were a strange-looking demon and that was among a race of unusual creatures. Flat, coloured and textured not unlike a beaten and tenderised steak. Thousands of fine hairs covered their undersides, which also housed eyes and mouth. These hairs rippled and swayed as the creatures moved, undulating their bodies gently. They had little in the way of limbs. Vestigial arms either side of their head section and no legs at all.

That they weren't soul stealers had become apparent very early on, not to mention a huge relief. The gliders were present in numbers enough to really threaten them but instead they had crawled over the lattice, directed by the tentacled masters who hovered nearby, eyes on everything.

'You know what they're doing, don't you?' said Vuldaroq.

Dystran looked across at the man at his side. He had discovered a respect for his former enemy during the few days of their enforced close contact. The Dordovan Arch Mage had worked tirelessly with Suarav and Sharyr, helping them in the aftermath of their ordeal in the library and bringing them, if not out of their shock, then at least to a place where they could begin to deal with it. Neither had taken up his duties to the full and the other survivor, Brynel, was still in the makeshift infirmary, the chill deep in his body.

'Enlighten me,' he said.

'Watch the way they move across the shield. It looks random when you first look but there is an order to it. I've counted greater densities in some areas that then disperse and allow other even more concentrated groups to form in the same place. Like they're confirming what they think they've discovered. It's actually very logical.'

'You haven't done a lot else but stare at them, I take it.'

Vuldaroq shrugged. 'There is so much time for your mind to play tricks on you and undermine you. Best to keep busy.'

'What are they tracking?'

'The mana trails feeding the ColdRooms, I think.'

Dystran pulled his cloak tight around him, a chill gust whisding through the open doors of the tower complex in whose shadow they stood.

'That's a worrying thought.'

T suppose it rather depends why they're doing it,' said Vuldaroq.

'Much as I'd like to, I can't believe it would be out of curiosity,' said Dystran.

'No, but there is more than one possibility.' Vuldaroq had never had much of a sense of humour but these last two years had removed whatever vestiges remained.

'They shouldn't be able to detect the trails, you know,' said Dystran as the thought occurred. 'They would dissipate instantly on contact with the edge of the construct.'

'Well, I think they can and you only have to see where it is they're hovering for longer periods and where their density increases. It's always above the mana-feed trails.' He shook his head. 'They're getting stronger.'

'Agreed,' said Dystran. 'Mana density is rising fast out there now. So, you dunk they're coming in?'

'Yes, and it won't be too long. The most likely reason for tracking the feed trails is to target the casting mages. But they could be doing something as simple as probing the linkages. After all, where the overlap is less, we are more vulnerable.'

'But you don't think so.'

'No. If I was them, I'd be wanting to fly straight down the trails as far as I could and take out our only real defensive weapon. It's blindingly obvious.'

Dystran blew out his cheeks. 'And now they think they're strong enough to do it.'

'We're moving into another phase, young Lord. Best we're prepared.'

They assembled on the plains of Teras over the course of three days. The burnished red Naik; aquamarine Veret; golden-scaled Kaan; dark green Gost; bronze Skoor and pale brown Stara. And these representatives of the largest broods were joined by those of another seventeen. All the colours of the brood spectrum were represented in the largest single gathering of dragons ever seen.

It was a scene that would never be repeated. Sha-Kaan and Yasal-Naik sat on a small rise in front of the mass of scale and furled wing. Both chose upright, respectful stances, their necks in 'S' shapes and belly scales revealed. Both dragons wore the scars of their recent work. The Skoor had attacked them. Yasal bore a long burn along the top of his head and down the first third of his neck. Sha-Kaan's displayed belly was scorched black and painful. Six Skoor had died before the reluctant emissaries had forced their leader to hear them. Six diey could ill afford to lose.

Immediately before Sha and Yasal, the brood fathers were gathered. It was an uncomfortable grouping. Old animosities were barely hidden, postures were hostile. Some would not rest within scent of others. But these dragons had at least agreed to carry the message to their broods gathered behind them. They would relay by thought pulse what could not be heard across the crowded plain.

Sha-Kaan gazed out over Teras and felt enormous pride in his achievement mixed with a deep anxiety. Here lay the greatest risk.

Here they had to prove to all assembled that what they proposed was the only way to save them all. The only way to preserve their right to hate, attack and attempt to eradicate each other. To preserve the dragon's way of life.

Spread out before him, at the edges of his vision in every direction, some two thousand dragons weighed each other up. So far, minor flaring and disagreement had been easily calmed. Kaan, Naik and Veret diplomats moved among the gathering.

But this would decide it. If they couldn't mass and debate in relative peace on the plains, what hope of constructing a robust attack on the Arakhe to give The Raven the time and backing they needed?

Sha-Kaan scanned the extraordinary assembly. Far away to his right, dragons were squaring up. Wings were deployed, bellies clashing. He pulsed to his brood to quell the disturbance. Else where, the rasp of breath and the rustle of wings furling set the ambience. From the north, another flight of Gost approached. He waited for them to land, drinking in the veneration that dominated most of those present.

Not ail of them knew why they were here but every dragon knew it was momentous. It couldn't be otherwise.

'It is time,' said Yasal-Naik. 'We cannot hold the peace any longer without giving them something.'

'I will speak for us both if you will allow it.'

Yasal turned an eye to him that spoke everything about the respect in which he was held and about the Naik dragon's aspiration to his position.

'They will listen to you,' he said.

Sha-Kaan rose up on his hind legs. He unfurled his wings and beat them three times. His tail flashed as it made the whip shape for attention and he barked long and loud, a huge gout of flame scorching the air above him. Across the plains, the gathering calmed and quietened. In front of him, the brood fathers prepared to relay his words. Sha-Kaan felt a wash of reverence cross him and he all but choked on his first words. We may hate you, it said, but we are here for you, Great Kaan.

'You know me,' he began, voice booming across the hush. 'I am Sha-Kaan. I stand here wing furled with my sworn enemy,

Yasal-Naik. Always we have shared hatred but always we have had respect. And today we stand before you as one. Allied as you all must be.'

There was a rustle through the assembly, spreading out to the periphery as the pulsed thoughts reached every dragon and the reaction came back.

'Today we face the greatest ever threat to our home dimension. To counter that threat, we must become one brood with one mind. There are those of you who do not know your role, why you are here. I will tell you why. The Arakhe have invaded the melde dimension of the Kaan.'

Noise erupted across the plain. Hoots and barks shattered the calm. Flame gouted into the sky on a battering tide of sound. Sha-Kaan drew breath at the scale of the tumult but kept his bearing proud while he waited for it to subside. He had to wait some time for the last echoes to fade.