Abruptly, the mages and soldiers moved left and right. From the stairs came more men, mages this time. They were six and five spread in a loose arc around one who stood forward. Ten Protectors followed them out and formed a three-quarter circle around them. A sense of awe and undeniable power caused Hirad's heart to skip a beat.
'This looks bad,' he muttered.
'It is,' said Darrick who had arrived at his right shoulder. 'That's Dystran and the Circle Seven minus Ranyl. It doesn't get more powerful than that.'
'Great.' Hirad turned his head. 'Unknown! I hope you're getting somewhere in there. We've got a little trouble out here!'
Dystran stepped close to the Cone. The temptation Hirad felt to order the Al-Arynaar mages to push it forward and crush him was almost overwhelming but Dystran, like his attack mages before him, would be very well protected.
'You are a master of understatement,' said the Lord of the Mount. 'Hirad Coldheart, isn't it? Delighted to make your acquaintance. You have quite a reputation.' Dystran's gaze travelled slowly over all that he faced. 'Remarkable. The Raven, or some of it at least. The extraordinary TaiGethen, or that is what I understand the elves to call themselves. And you, General Darrick. How is it, being an outlaw? I could offer you a senior position on my staff, you know. Now Lystern wants you dead, you are my ally, are you not?'
'Your logic is flawed,' said Darrick. 'I am no friend to you just as I am no enemy to Lystern. They, at least, are merely misguided.'
Dystran chuckled. 'Indeed. But they will execute you just the same. I don't want to have to mimic them.' His expression hardened. 'This is over. Very valiant and all that but you cannot hold out against us forever. Your mages will tire, your ForceCone will fail and we will take you.
'I repeat; you do not have to die. But you must surrender to me. I hold all the cards. I do not have to waste spells on you, I do not have to fight you. I simply have to wait.'
'Go ahead and wait,' said Hirad. 'We're in no rush.'
'Only The Raven could mount such arrogance in the face of such circumstances. I will kill you if I have to. There is no escape. Don't try my patience. It is already wearing very thin and the blood of too many of my men and mages is staining the stone of my college. I will not suffer more.'
'Patience is a virtue,' said Hirad. 'And you're going to have to learn to be more virtuous. We aren't going anywhere.'
Dystran nodded and Hirad could see the anger building in him. 'Yes. Ranyl has told me what you want from here. Very laudable. But we are not finished with the dragon and he stays here until we are.'
Hirad pointed a finger at Dystran. 'You do not control Sha-Kaan. Gods burning, but he is far stronger than you can possibly imagine. And you know something else, Xetesk-man? Given what I suspect is happening to your precious men on Herendeneth, you'll wish we'd already sent him home, believe me.'
'Really, Coldheart? Think you can threaten me with that? One dying dragon? One more chance. Drop the Cone. Drop the Spell-Shield. Drop your weapons. Do it all now.'
'Drop dead,' said Hirad.
'Fine. Seems I will have to take further steps. Can't risk you actually succeeding with my research now, can I?' He clicked his fingers and a Protector moved to his side. 'Time to take one of yours out of the game. Myx, you know the order.'
The Protector nodded.
Sol we can sense you. We know you hear us.
'Damn but you can't hear me,' whispered The Unknown. 'Can you?'
He was leaning on the dais with his hands, his forehead resting on the Soul Tank itself. The stone was warm and the temperature was increasing steadily. Beside him stood Kestys and Denser, both lost in the mana spectrum. Kestys was sweating profusely, his concentration held under duress and difficult to maintain. Denser was monitoring the construct Kestys was making, or rather, the unravelling of the spells maintaining the link between the Soul Tank and the demon dimension.
Information was sketchy and The Unknown hadn't had much time for explanations. But what he understood was that while each Protector's soul was linked to his body by a DemonChain, a fundamental linkage formed the basis of the deal with the demons, allowing them to draw life energy from the souls in return for keeping the elite fighting force thralled and effecting the soul communication that made them so devastatingly effective.
Parts of the knowledge had been lost in the intervening centuries concerning the inter-dimensional construction of the linkage. The Al-Drechar had filled in those gaps.
'How long, Denser?' asked The Unknown.
The dark mage held up a hand. 'Please, Unknown. The demons are resisting. Not long, I hope.'
'Please hear me,' whispered The Unknown, mouth all but kissing the Soul Tank, the clamour of voices in his head increasing as the souls within became more and more aware of the discord created by the warming of the tank. 'Fyr, Ahn, Kol, any of you my brothers, please.' He gripped the sides of the tank now, desperate to get through, hoping against all reason that his physical proximity would have an effect.
There is trouble.
We are one.
Sol is near.
Two across, catacomb right. Holding.
I am altered.
Change.
None are at rest.
The order is given. Ark, the Al-Drechar must die.
'No!' hissed The Unknown. 'No, Myx. Ark, for Gods' sake no. I am freeing you, don't do this.'
It is understood. My mage will be apprised.
We are one.
'No, damn you,' breathed The Unknown. 'No.'
He straightened and ran from the Soul Tank, running down towards the hub room where Hirad and Darrick stood.
'Myx!' he shouted. 'Tell him to stop! Tell Ark to stop. Xetesk doesn't understand.'
He saw Myx's head move. He took an unsteady pace. Next to him, Dystran raised an eyebrow.
‘I… can't. Please, Sol.'
'Just tell him, for Gods' sake, tell Ark now. No one will hurt you. You can feel the heat in the Tank, can't you? Stop him!' The Unknown slid to a halt by Hirad. 'Call your man off, Dystran.'
'Fascinating,' said the Lord of the Mount. 'That you can still hear them. Why don't you rejoin them?'
'Because there won't be a them any more, you bastard. Now, instruct Ark off before it's too late for us all.'
'Drop dead,' said Dystran, smiling at Hirad.
Brace yourself, Erienne. Myriell's voice came to her clear and, for the first time, genuinely frightened.
What is happening?
They are coming for me.
No, Myriell. Run. RUN!
There is nowhere to run, child. Pray for me as I now pray for you.
Myriell. Protect yourself. A spell, use a spell. Leave me.
Too late. The Al-Drechar's voice sounded tired, beaten. Be strong.
Erienne ran. She had no idea what she was going to do. She tore out of the map room, saw The Unknown and Hirad and made for them.
'Hirad!' she screamed. 'Help me!' And then she caught sight of Dystran. 'Stop it now. You don't understand. You'll kill me. Please.'
‘Irather think we can help,' said Dystran calmly.
Erienne backed away into Hirad's arms, shaking her head. 'You can't. You don't understand.' She was shaking violently. Her heart pounded so loud she could barely hear her own breathing rasping into her lungs in painful gasps. 'Please don't kill her.'
There was a heavy impact on the roof of the house. Sha-Kaan roared unfettered fury, his claws and mouth tearing at the slate and timber. Plaster dust fell in torrents, the noise was deafening. In moments he would be inside.
Ark strode towards the Al-Drechar, his axe raised, his orders clear but his mind a muddled fog. The Soul Tank was in uproar. He could hear his brothers but something alien was building. He felt uncomfortable, as if his body were generating heat it couldn't dispel and though Myx had been quite clear in his instruction from the Lord of the Mount, there was no doubting he was unhappy.