‘There is no mechanical switch,’ said Ilkar as The Unknown felt around the shutter’s edge. ‘It’s all part of the same casting, I’m sure of it.’
‘Then we’re going to have to batter it. Thraun, let’s see if we can move that plinth. I suggest you sheath your weapons and stand back to the wall. We don’t want any accidents.’
It seemed to Will that at every turn, he was exposed to a new fear. First the Familiar, then his useless hands, next the sudden dark and now this. Eight huge statues coming for him and him alone because he held the Death’s Eye Stone. He hadn’t even let himself think of the power that animated them, or that could remove The Raven’s capacity for victory so effectively.
All that bothered him now was the sound of their feet marking the floor, that he couldn’t see them coming and that, despite Jandyr’s words and hand on his shoulder, he was certain he was going to perish in this nightmare place that smelt so much of death.
‘Will, you’re shaking.’
‘Are you surprised?’
‘Listen to me and you’ll be fine. They’re closing in, so we have to move in a second to force a change of direction. I’m going to move us left. Grab hold of my arm and keep walking - there’s no need to run because they can’t cover the whole diameter of the Temple. Do you understand?
‘Yes.’ The scraping was loud in Will’s ears, the clang of metal boots sounding his death knell, his mind full of the images of axes felling from the disguise of night.
‘Let’s move.’
They hugged the wall, Jandyr gasping with every pace, Will trying to concentrate on merely putting one foot in front of the other. The elf walked quickly, and twice Will all but lost his grip, tripping on the bodies they had so recently dragged to the Temple’s edge. But the fear of being left alone to be cut to pieces kept his fingers tight on the flesh of Jandyr’s upper arm. An abrupt change of direction and Will stumbled.
‘Where?’
‘Sorry, Will. We’re heading to the other side of the Temple.’ Jandyr’s breath was tortured. ‘It’ll give me more space for the next move.’
Thraun swept the case from the plinth and tried to tip the column of carved marble. For a moment he thought it was set into the floor, but with a crack that signified the shifting of the dust of ages, it moved.
‘Unknown?’
‘Thank the Gods.’
The two big warriors hauled the plinth to an acute angle before wrapping their arms around it and heaving it from the floor, grunting with the effort and breathing heavily.
‘Lead away, Thraun,’ said The Unknown. ‘Quickly.’
Will slipped on a slick of new blood and went sprawling, shouting as his hand was wrenched from Jandyr’s arm. He rolled over and came to his haunches, eyes probing desperately at the impenetrable dark, recoiling as they touched cold torn flesh.
‘Jandyr,’ he wailed. ‘Don’t let them get me!’ Movement by him and a hand on his arm. He flinched then relaxed.
‘I’ve got you, Will. I’ve got you.’ Jandyr’s voice was a beacon of calm. ‘We’re all right. They can’t get us. Come on, we need to keep moving.’
Will rose to his feet. ‘Which way?’
‘Just follow me.’
The Unknown absorbed the recoil of the first blow on the shutter, his massive shoulders shuddering under the reactive force. But the wood had given. Magically sealed it might have been, but it was still just wood.
‘Next time,’ said Thraun. ‘Ready?’
‘Go.’
The wood shivered. They heard it splinter but still they weren’t through.
‘Close,’ Thraun said. ‘Again.’
‘Go.’
The marble plinth crashed through the shutter. Thraun let his end go and The Unknown drove forwards, pushing the makeshift battering ram out on to the path. A jagged hole in the wood let in fresh air, a wan light that shone like a watch beam and, more importantly, a flood of mana as the structure of the Cold Room was broken.
‘That’ll do,’ said Denser.
In moments, the Temple filled with a gentle glow as Erienne tempered her LightGlobe, wary of the danger of a new sort of blindness. Jandyr and Will were still evading. As the globe deployed, they began to run towards the main doors. Jandyr was limping badly.
‘See to those doors,’ said Hirad.
‘I’ve got them.’ Ilkar’s ForceCone focused where they met. Its casting blew them clean off their hinges to cartwheel into the glorious warm night air.
‘Let’s go, let’s go!’ Hirad led the run from the Temple, gulping in fresh air, unfettered by the taste of death. ‘If they follow, we can outrun them. Come on!’
The Raven exploded from the Temple, Jandyr and Will last, crashing into the dirt beyond the steps. The statues stopped at the doors, unable to move beyond the confines of their casting. The Raven stopped at the tree line.
First one masked figure, then another, stepped from the shadows. Eyes so long used to the dark took it all in as plain as if it were day. In moments, ninety Protectors barred their passage, headed by a single rider.
The Raven formed up, The Unknown at its centre, eyes boring into the ranks behind the horseman. All the time, he knew they’d been there.
Will stayed by Jandyr. The elf lay face down in the earth, blood running from a gash that led from shoulder to hip.
‘He needs help.’
‘So do we,’ said Erienne.
Will looked up as Denser spoke.
‘Styliann. You’re a little late for the rescue.’
‘Remarkable,’ said Styliann. ‘It was imperative you survived. Balaia doesn’t have much time.’
Chapter 30
The hordes were coming and Darrick had to make the most critical command decision of his career. He’d seen The Raven safely into the west and, a day later, Styliann and one hundred Protectors had galloped through, bent on vengeance. He hadn’t spoken to the Lord of the Mount but he had seen into his eyes. He pitied the Wesmen who encountered that centile of death.
The situation was clear to him. While the defence of the east was his charge, the real battle was about to fought in the west by The Raven and, it seemed, by Styliann. Darrick looked about him. He’d assembled the most capable staff he could think of, any one of whom could marshal the defence forces equally as well as himself.
To the south, while Gresse and Blackthorne’s loss of the latter’s town was a serious blow, their harrying tactics should delay the Wesmen advance on one flank, and to the north, he had to believe that the Colleges would hold Triverne Inlet. There lay the greatest concentration of magic, and there the Shamen could be effectively countered for now.
In his heart, Darrick knew he couldn’t stand at the head of Understone Pass and wait for the result in the Torn Wastes. He wanted his five hundred horse, his fifty mages and his freedom to ride.
He wanted a fight, and by the Gods he was going to have one.
Ilkar walked away, back towards the Temple. He was shaking. Styliann’s voice came to him through a haze.
‘I really am very sorry.’
Ilkar shrugged and turned. ‘When did this all happen? What happened at Triverne Inlet?’ He couldn’t understand how the situation could possibly be so bad.
‘Yesterday. I received communion earlier this evening. They wiped us out. We had thought to hold them there for days but their magic was too strong,’ said Styliann. ‘They’ve got something we never saw three hundred years ago. White fire that brings down walls and something altogether darker that can eat the flesh.’
The Raven listened in silence, The Unknown standing with the Protectors, his eyes unfocused. The mage force and warriors at Triverne Inlet had been massacred, overwhelmed by magic-wielding Shamen. The Wesmen were less than three days from Julatsa and there had to be doubts over the Colleges’ ability to keep them at bay. Blackthorne and Gresse were losing the battle to keep the Wesmen from flanking the Understone Pass defence, and Darrick had ridden into the west and disappeared. The Gods alone knew what he meant to do. Suddenly, their planned approach to Parve had turned into a headlong rush and they could already be out of time.