Each slash was edged in the deep blue of Xeteskian magic and inside darkness roiled, occasional flashes of a dull red spitting outwards. Another breeze rolled across them, and there was a rumbling like thunder as the air of Balaia came into contact with the raw energy of inter-dimensional space. With a crack that echoed across the battlefields, the blue edging brightened to a dazzling level and began to pull apart, the blackness growing.
Down on the field, the fighting had stopped almost before it had begun and wary Lysternans were beginning to back away, fearful of what they were seeing. It wasn't going to be anywhere near enough to save them.
'Dear Gods, they won't stand a chance,' said Denser.
He turned and began running towards his horse, Hirad and The Unknown calling after him. He yelled over his shoulder as he went.
'Come on! We've got to make them clear the battlefield. Raven let's go! Mount up, come on!'
'Denser no!' shouted Hirad. 'You can't expose yourself. They'll catch you.'
Denser spun on his heel and ran back, grabbing Hirad's collar and pointing over the barbarian's shoulder. 'See those people. They are going to die. Very soon. Maybe we can save some of them. Hide here if you want.'
Hirad growled but his face cleared. 'That's why I like you,' he said. 'Unknown, we're going. Thraun, Darrick, get the elves moving. Let's go.'
All around them there was noise. Mages shouting for more lattice-strength, soldiers demanding orders. Out on the batdefield, the Xeteskians were falling back fast, the allies, unsure, began a push forwards only for it to peter out with the rent in the sky above them yawning wider, the thunder louder, the blue edges fizzing and jumping.
Denser ran into the makeshift paddock in the elven camp, grabbed the reins of his horse from the hitch pole and mounted up.
'Come on!' He kicked the animal's flanks and it shot forwards, jumping the rail. Elves scattered out of his way. 'Get moving. North now!'
He didn't know if they could understand him, he didn't really care. He galloped down the muddy path that led to the battlefield, yelling for anyone who could hear him to clear the battlefield. He cleared the camp and the wooded area, flying down the slope, angling across to the Lysternan command position. He felt The Unknown and Hirad come up on his shoulders, driving their horses hard.
To his left and above, the rent was enormous. The edges flailed; Denser imagined the mages struggling to maintain cohesion. He prayed for one, just one, to fail. The Lysternan command was in turmoil, everyone shouting at once. A huge soldier sat on horseback bellowing for his men to advance, to drive home the advantage. A mage next to him was passing messages out via runners. None of it was going to help.
Denser dragged his horse to a halt in front of them.
'Clear the battlefield,' he shouted into their faces. 'Clear it now, it's your only chance. Signal the north gate. Make them do it too. Now, damn you!'
The soldier pointed at him, at them. 'You're wanted, Raven.'
'Do you think I care, you bloody fool? Your men are going to die,' he said feeling the blood run into his face. 'Listen to me!'
'Arrest these men,' said the soldier. 'Hold them.'
'Fuck's sake,' spat Denser.
He hauled on the reins and set off towards the front, hearing Hirad shout some abuse and The Unknown order him away.
'Denser!' called The Unknown. 'Keep clear.'
'Clear the field!' Denser had never shouted so loud in his life and, even so, he knew they couldn't hear him. The thunder was deafening, the air flattening against his face, the pressure growing beneath the rent. He carried on, an eye on the spell as it grew, determined not to be caught in whatever it was that was cast.
He rode directly behind the fragmented line, bellowing for people to run, to scatter, to make for the camps, anything. They were beginning to pay heed but were caught in two minds. The field lieutenants were watching the flags from the command post and were loath to disobey orders. The cloaked man riding along their rear exhorting them to flee was surely either mad or a spirit sent to save them. They didn't know which it was, he could see it in their faces.
There was another crack, the sound whiplashing over his head, spearing pain in his ears. 'We're out of time!' he shouted.
There was nothing more he could do. Knowing Hirad and the Unknown would follow him, he turned his scared horse and rode direcdy away from the battlefield, hunching over its neck, praying he wasn't too late. A few hundred yards later, the spell was released.
A blast of air caught Denser on the back. His horse, terrified, bucked and threw him, too confused to know where to bolt. He rolled over on the ground, came up and watched as his worst fears were realised right in front of him.
From the dark mass of inter-dimensional space, sheets of deep red-tinged blue light flared out. They were shot through with forks of pure energy, the whole striking the ground with incredible force. Sheet after sheet slammed downwards, exploding on impact, sending out fingers of light which lashed away.
Great mounds of earth blew into the air, men were picked up like leaves and flung aside. Others caught the forks and fingers of energy directly. Some simply disintegrated where they stood, others burst into flames, saw limbs or torsos instantly burned or had their bodies torn apart. At least the screams didn't last for long.
The shield lattices were not designed for such pressure. Denser saw them flare green, deflect the first wave but crumble under the second. And still the spell came down. Sheet after sheet, deluging the area in front of the gates where the Lysternans had stood. He could see survivors running, saw the dead collapse, saw men with their faces burned off walking blind, and others who became so much ash on the wind that howled down after the lightning.
BlueStorm. Those were the words he had read in the Laryon hub. That was what he was witnessing. And Dystran would be behind it all. All Denser could think of was that the same would be happening over the north gate. Xetesk had struck the most enormous blow. Hirad's shout told him it was only getting worse.
The spell finished with a splitting slap of sound, the rents whipping shut, the BlueStorm cutting off, leaving an afterglow in the dawn sky, smoke and dust like a fog around Xetesk and the smell of smoke and carnage in the air.
But the fog wasn't so thick he couldn't see what was happening now. The gates had opened. Xeteskians were running out to join their forces, swelling their numbers and charging ahead east and north in an arc that would take in the camp. Above the walls, mages flew, safe from spells now, like the familiars that accompanied them. Dozens of them breaking away in as many directions, their chitter-ing laughter on the breeze, their sense of delight at destruction clear in their cavorting.
'Denser, let's move.'
The Unknown and Hirad both had men across their saddles, snatched from the lines as they turned to run. The lucky two were pushed away, The Unknown trotted up and handed Denser his reins and the mage remounted.
'We've got to join up with the elves,' said The Unknown. 'There's nothing more we can do here.'
The Lysternan force at the east gate had been all but destroyed. The Raven trio rode hard through milling survivors and those who tried to come to their aid from the camp. The Lysternans were in rout, fleeing back into the trees and beyond. Denser prayed they would regroup.
The Unknown led them along the base of the slope that marked the edge of the panicked Lysternan camp. The command post was deserted as they galloped by, only a couple of hundred yards ahead of the Xeteskians who were advancing on foot, any horsemen riding behind the lines.