Sol had implored him not to but they had no choice. A demon's fingers were so close to squeezing his soul, his and all his brothers'. They were angry too. Everything he had known was unsettled.
What must I do?
Ark, you have the option you have always had. Sol wants us to be free but the demons are alerted. How can we refuse?
I have no choice.
We are one. We will grieve.
He was standing above the Al-Drechar now. She made no move to escape, merely looked up at him, resigned, accepting of her fate. It was not right. Surely they should be protected. But if the Lord of the Mount wanted her dead, who was he to question? A part of him felt ashamed such thoughts had arisen but ever since Sol had left them, there had been the germination of doubt.
Help me, my brothers.
We cannot refuse the Master.
Sol shouts that you should not.
The demons are close to us all.
May the Gods forgive me.
Ark raised his axe. 'I am sorry.'
The Al-Drechar nodded her head.
Ark tensed his muscles and powered in the swing and all but fell. His mind was silent, loss deluged him and in the same instant, unrefined joy battled it, his soul crying out on return to its rightful place.
Panicked, he tried to drag the axe aside from its target, a cry ripping from his lips.
Erienne saw the Protectors in front of her sway. One buckled, others staggered, struggling for balance, clutching at anything around them. Shouts filled the air, shocked, disoriented, scared.
She turned to The Unknown Warrior. He clenched both fists.
'Yes! Yes, you bastard, yes!'
'We've done it!' she said, relief flooding her. 'Myriell, we've-' _
Myriell's scream tore through Erienne's head like exploding glass, her death a cascade of pain, and a welling of power she couldn't hope to contain.
'No,' she whimpered. 'Denser.'
But the last thing she saw was the dismay in The Unknown's eyes as the One erupted into her mind and blew her consciousness to shreds.
Chapter 23
Denser had turned from the exhausted Kestys and reached the door of the Soul Tank chamber just in time to see Erienne scream his name and collapse to the floor. His triumphant words died on his lips and he had been about to move when a mana gale struck the catacombs.
Uncontrolled power surged from Erienne's mind, grabbing what it could from the elements and augmenting it with the' keenly focused Xeteskian mana. Denser gripped the frame of the door but no one else he could see was so lucky.
While Erienne lay motionless, the Al-Arynaar mages operating the ForceCone were pitched into the hub room. Auum's Tai cell, reacting with typical speed, spread themselves linked across the passageway, sliding down it only gradually. But Hirad, Rebraal, Darrick and The Unknown tumbled in a heap, trying to grab each other to arrest their progress while Sian'erei was plucked from the ground and flung straight into Dystran.
And the Xeteskians fared no better. The gale hit them full force, scattering the Circle Seven and their confused Protectors like chaff in a breeze. He heard the clatter of metal striking stone and knew soldiers as well as other mages were suffering beyond his vision.
Dragging his head round, he could see Porrack and Jaruul clutching to corners much as he was while at the far end, Marack and Harroc were pressed hard against the wall, barely able to move.
Denser had no choice. He dropped to his hands and knees, braced himself against one wall and began to edge his way down to his wife and into the teeth of the gale in whose eye she lay helpless, her mind being ripped apart with every beat of her heart. Beyond her, chaos held sway. The Raven's warriors had been swept into the hub room to join the helpless mass at the mercy of the extraordinary wind. He could see them struggling to create distance between themselves and the enemy. Auum and his Tai still resisted and it might prove a crucial advantage.
Denser fought every inch against being thrown back up the corridor. He couldn't afford to fail. Not for The Raven and most particularly not for Erienne. The last few yards, he was flat on his front as the wind howled past him. Erienne was its epicentre and its focal point.
Reaching her body, everything stilled. He lay very close to her, feeling her ragged breathing, seeing the blood trickle from ears and nose, the drool from her mouth and her eyes twitching horribly beneath their lids. Her body quivered. Every muscle was taut to breaking and every nerve end fired. She was hot, too hot to five for too long, her face and hands sheened in sweat.
'Hold on, love,' he said, pushing aside his emotions for the moment. 'I'm here. Please hold on.'
He knew what he had to do. He could shield her from the Xeteskian mana, starve the One of its fuel. Of course, that was why the Circle Seven were present. In their typically arrogant way, they thought that by doing the same, they could keep her safe until they understood the power and brought her back to herself. It had led them to this ridiculous folly and risked her life.
Of course they had an advantage. They were six powerful mages and could keep up the casting indefinitely. He was one man and it was terribly draining. He looked up and caught Auum's eye. He mouthed 'be ready' and though not sure if the elf understood, bent to his task.
Partitioning his mind, he tuned to the mana spectrum and pulled in an oval construct, packed with pulsing mana energy. That was the simple part. Keeping the construct rotating and feeding on the mana about it, he sought the centre of the gale. What he saw all but made him lose his concentration. Into the darkened pit that was Erienne's mind, mana was being dragged like water thundering into a sinkhole.
And from the centre of that same hole, the power was being channelled out. Struck through with a deep brown, the Xeteskian-based energy was gouting from her, thrashing in every direction. But it shouldn't have been the Xeteskian colour. Every fibre of his training told him that mana dragged into a Dordovan mind would be coloured the vibrant orange of that college because her manipulation of it, the lore she applied instinctively, made it that way.
He drew breath and moved the oval construct forwards, feeling it buffeted by the tumult around it. Dragging on every ounce of the learning he had gleaned from his time with Dawnthief, he forced his shielding spell in. He couldn't see Erienne's mind but he knew its position. He stopped the rotation of the spell, opened it along one side, shot it down the sinkhole and snapped it shut.
The effect all around him was instantaneous. Without the energy to get to his feet immediately, he opened his eyes and looked straight ahead. Quickest to react, Auum, Duele and Evunn stormed into the hub room. Swords in hand, they attacked the soldiers on the left-hand side. Only just regaining their feet and sense of direction, half of them were dead or about to die before they'd even formed a defence. Blood flowed across the floor.
Auum tore the throat from one man, backhanded his blade into the chest of a second and straight-punched a third in the windpipe. He couldn't see Duele but he saw the body that tumbled into view, Evunn leaping it smartly before crashing his left foot into the stomach of his first target.
In the centre of the room, Sian'erei wrestled free of Dystran and struck him on the nose, skittering back towards the corridor at an order from Hirad. She began to cast. The Raven warriors and Rebraal regained their feet quickly. The Unknown's blade flew from his scabbard, tapped once on the ground.
In front of them, the Circle Seven mages, ever quick when self-preservation was needed, had scrabbled to stand and were diving for cover behind the statuesque Protectors or running headlong for stairs or other passages. Denser saw Dystran take a single pace and disappear, a look of thunder on his face as he went. Another of the Circle Seven did likewise before all of them had taken themselves from the immediate vicinity.
Hirad snarled and lashed out at a mage too slow to rise. The blade caught him on the top of the skull, splitting it apart and spreading gore across the stone flags. Darrick fenced briefly with a soldier before dragging his blade hard across the enemy's stomach and stepping back smartly as entrails disgorged through his wrecked armour.