But above and ahead, the familiars circled, diving on any enemies they found, crushing skulls with their inhumanly strong hands, biting deep into flesh and goring cuts with their tails.
The Unknown turned them just east of north before they reached the corner of Xetesk's walls. The roar of battle echoed from die direction of the north gates, smoke and dust hung and blew above the gatehouse and Denser could clearly hear the thunder of a cavalry charge.
Breasting the corner, the situation became distressingly clear. The joint Dordovan and Lysternan force there was scattered, destroyed or in full retreat. No order existed and the Xeteskian forces were driving north fast, chasing down the injured, slow and shocked. More familiars flew, more mages in the air directed the battle but at least here they met some resistance.
Izack and his cavalry, their shield and offensive mages in their centre, were performing heroics in the face of the rout. In charge after charge, Izack broke the Xeteskian advance, targeting weaker areas of the slightly disorganised lines, getting out before the enemy could close around him. As he watched, a concentrated Orb shot out from one of the cavalry mages, catching a familiar full in the chest. It screamed and fell, its master by its side tumbling from the sky, his hands gripped around his head.
Denser should have felt sympathy for the mage. He'd experienced the pain of losing a familiar himself. But all he felt was the lift of a tiny victory over the college that he had loved for so much of his life.
Even Izack couldn't hold back the tide. Behind the soldiers and horsemen came wagons and carriages and mages on horseback. This breakout had been well-planned and executed with typical Xeteskian ruthlessness. It threw all the allied plans into chaos and, more urgently, made Julatsa incredibly vulnerable. The elves would have to travel fast to arrive with enough time to raise the Heart. But even if they did, would it matter? The Xeteskians wouldn't stop. Somehow they had to bring enough defence to the college to keep them at bay and then drive them back. He wasn't sure that was possible.
Denser switched his attention ahead of him. They were riding well ahead of the remnants of the Lysternan forces whom he could still see scattering east and north. The way before them was clear, across open fields and away towards the first cover on their run to Julatsa.
Before long, they had left the slaughter outside Xetesk behind them. The Xeteskian charge had slowed a little, as it had to if it was ever to become organised. Having won such a devastating victory and having dispersed their enemies beyond any immediate chance of renewed cohesion, they could afford to take time.
Half a mile beyond the battlefields, he saw what he'd been waiting for. Quick, disciplined and organised, the elves were moving north. Riders in the midst of the advance meant Darrick, and Thraun. He spotted him, carrying Erienne in front of him, holding her head against his chest.
They had scouts forward, ClawBound pairs ran the flanks and at the rear, TaiGethen marauded. They moved with purpose and represented Balaia's best hope of holding the Xeteskians at bay. It was difficult to guess how many there were; their movement was fluid, they dropped in and out of sight against changing backgrounds and into trees and tall grass.
Whether the estimated requirement of two hundred mages were with them he doubted. His best guess was that he was looking at a total of less than four hundred warriors and mages. But that hardly mattered now. All that had to be done was to preserve the mages they had. Every one that fell on the run north was a blow against the survival of Julatsa.
But like Hirad and The Unknown, who rode ahead of him, Denser would not let Ilkar's dreams die.
Chapter 31
Vuldaroq strode through the cloister corridor of Dordover, seeking out Heryst, whom he had been told was in the Chamber of Reflection, a room of polished granite slabs, fountains, small waterfalls and wicker furniture. The perfect place to relax. Or to contemplate disaster.
Heryst was sitting with his head in his hands. It had been a shattering blow, leaving Xetesk firmly in command of the battle. Unless fortune favoured the allies, the war was now Xetesk's to lose.
Reports from outside the city were still sketchy but it was clear that both the eastern and northern siege fronts had collapsed completely. South and west, the allied lines had fallen back, fearful of a similar fate, leaving Xetesk unmolested. Xeteskian forces had also withdrawn inside the walls of the city, comfortable now that not enough force could be mustered to mount a serious threat, at least for the time being. They were right, too.
Heryst looked up when Vuldaroq's sandalled feet slapped across the marble floor. The Dordovan lowered himself onto a two-seater bench, the wickerwork protesting at his weight.
'Anything new?' he asked, keeping his voice respectful and quiet. Though they had both lost men, Lystern had been the harder hit overall and Heryst, he knew, would take every death personally.
'We had committed so much. Why did we have no clue what they were preparing?'
'A message was relayed but none of us could have guessed the magnitude of what was cast at us. The Raven knew something. The word is, they tried to help.'
‘Iheard!' snapped Heryst. 'Sorry. I heard. And when the spell was forming they tried to clear the batdefield and even saved two men. Damn but it's hard to hunt them.'
'We cannot stop now.'
'I know.' Heryst was silent for a while. 'I have no real idea how many men and mages I have left in the field,' he said eventually. 'I've been in three Communions since dawn. Two of them with terrified individuals barely able to keep their concentration and talking about scattered bands of my people being hunted down by familiars, mage defender trios and come nightfall, no doubt, assassins too.
'Neither could put a figure on the casualties but, conservatively, let's say the reinforced line this morning lost eighty per cent. Say it's the same north. It leaves us with a force of less than three hundred facing nearly a thousand Xeteskians just north of the city. And that's assuming we include the walking wounded and can regroup to form a sensible defence. We're finished, aren't we?'
Vuldaroq surprised himself by reaching out a hand and laying it gently on Heryst's arm.
'Not until the last of our soldiers lies dead. Not until Dystran himself stands before me in my own Heart. Don't lose hope. Not now.'
Heryst nodded. ‘Iknow, I'm sorry. Bad moment.'
'Forget about it. Instead, tell me what you're planning for those you still have camped south of Xetesk.'
'You know, I haven't planned at all. We've been trying to pull the pieces together.'
'Join with me, then,' said Vuldaroq. 'Our belief is that Xetesk has only enough men inside the city to defend it, not strike out at any other targets. Move your men with mine north to Julatsa because the battle for Balaia will be fought there. If you have enough strength left in Lystern you must do it.'
‘Iwill direct them to your command,' said Heryst.
'Good. That's a wise decision. And now, I'll leave you. I think you have people to contact, fears to quell as best you can.' He stood to go. 'One thing. Your man, Izack. He saved a lot of Dordovans this morning. I won't forget that.'
Heryst smiled. 'Thank you.'
Vuldaroq nodded and left, the door to opportunity pushed a little wider open.
She understood her name but she could not recall it beyond her Loved speaking it to her. But she knew why she was here and who was friend and who was prey. She could sense that which instinct told her she should not. And she understood that which mere men did not. She was ClawBound and no one could break a bond forged since birth. No one.