‘And you are the lucky one,’ said Heila. ‘I cannot touch you. Shame. Your elven soul would have been my choice.’
‘We are none of us lucky.’ Barras’ calm voice was no reflection of his inner bearing. ‘Today, we will all lose people we know. Choose and begone.’
Heila smiled, his body snapped round to face the High Mage.
‘You, Kerela, are the chosen. You will fuel the Shroud your College so desperately needs.’ There was a hiss of indrawn breath. No demon should take the High Mage. It was like felling the tree before its fruit had grown. But Kerela just smiled.
‘So be—’ she began.
‘No!’ shouted Deale, his face pale, his body shaking. ‘If she goes, saving the College is worthless. Don’t be bloody-minded, Heila. If you want an elf, then take me. When I entered this chamber I knew I would be chosen. And when you were summoned, you knew it too. Take your rightful victim. Take me.’
Heila spun to face Deale. ‘Remarkable,’ he said. ‘But I fear you are in no position to bargain.’
‘We can always despatch you back to where you came from, empty-handed,’ said Deale evenly, his face slick with sweat.
‘Then you would not have your Shroud.’
‘And you would not have the soul of a Julatsan Council member, let alone that of the High Mage.’
‘Deale, I—’ began Kerela.
‘No, Kerela. He will not take you.’
Heila regarded Deale coldly. ‘I am not used to being challenged.’ Deale shrugged. ‘Very well.’ Heila began his rotation once more. ‘Hear me, Council of Julatsa. This is the bargain I offer you.
‘The soul of Deale the elf is not so highly prized as that of either Kerela, the High Mage, or Barras, the elder negotiator. But I will agree to take him over any of you on one condition. If, after fifty of your days, you still need the Shroud to keep your enemies at bay, either Barras or Kerela shall walk into the Shroud to provide new fuel. I leave it to you to decide who it should be. If neither of you approaches the Shroud, it will be removed and you will be left to die. Do we have a bargain?’
‘The price for a DemonShroud is only ever one soul,’ snapped Kerela. ‘If mine is prized enough, then . . .’
‘Kerela, the College cannot afford to lose you,’ said Deale. ‘Not at this time. We need a leader. You are it. You have to stay.’ Deale spun to take in his colleagues. Barras could see each of them struggling to avoid his eye. ‘Well, don’t you agree? I should be taken and Kerela should remain? Well?’
The old mage watched as first one, then another of them nodded. All reluctant, all knowing that by their agreement they saved themselves but none wishing to condemn Deale to death.
‘There,’ said Deale, his voice strong though his body still shook. ‘We have agreement.’ He faced Heila who was regarding him solemnly, one hand on his chin, lipless mouth partly open to reveal his tiny razor-sharp teeth. ‘Heila, Shroud Master and Great One, we have a bargain.’
The demon nodded. ‘Never before have I heard man or elf argue so strongly for his own death.’
‘When will the Shroud be raised?’ demanded Kerela, looking not at Heila but at Deale, her eyes brim with tears.
‘The moment I am gone and the portal is closed. It shall stand outside your walls and encompass the core threads of your mana as you require.’
Kerela nodded. ‘Be of your words, Heila. Our friend sacrifices himself for this. Deale, the blessing of the College shall go with you. I . . . Your sacrifice is such that . . .’ She trailed off and smiled at Deale. It was the saddest smile Barras had ever seen. ‘Find peace quickly.’
‘Time is short,’ said Heila. ‘You have fifty of your days. Count them, as I will.’ His gaze snapped to Deale. ‘For you, my friend, those days and any after them that I choose shall each seem an eternity. Come with me.’ His hand extended, stretched beyond the confines of the portal, passing through Deale’s chest and suffusing his body with blue light. At the end, Deale was calm. His face displayed no fear. He jerked once as his soul was taken, his body falling to the ground betraying no evidence of the violence of his mortal death.
Heila rotated fast and fell through the portal, Barras slamming it shut behind him. There was a momentary whispering, then all was still.
‘It is done,’ said Kerela, and her voice cracked. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she sank to the floor. Seldane walked quickly to Deale’s body and closed his eyes.
‘We must—’ The door to the Heart burst open and Kard staggered in, hands clutching at his ears, his face colourless, his eyes wide. He should not have been able to cross the threshold, such was the weight of mana in the Heart, but the clamour that followed him in told its own story.
The stifling pressure of the fuel of magic was as nothing compared to the screams of those, Wesmen and Julatsans, that soared over the noise of battle, silencing every blade. It was a sound quite unlike anything that could be associated with the Balaian dimension. Piercing, driven cries that emanated from the depths of human bodies as souls were torn from their living frames, echoing through the skulls of everyone who heard them, grinding teeth and freezing muscle.
Kerela raised her head and locked eyes with Barras, all the horror of their actions reflected there for the old elf to see.
The DemonShroud had risen.
Chapter 4
As it always does, curiosity eventually got the better of fear. The return of Sha-Kaan to his own dimension removed the immediate threat of death and, by the time The Raven walked slowly into the Central Square, a crowd was gathering around the body of the dragon.
‘Back in a while,’ said The Unknown, trotting away towards the corpse. Ever the warrior, ever the tactician, thought Hirad, watching his friend shoulder his way through Darrick’s cavalry. A knot of Protectors with their backs to him parted instinctively to let him through. He hadn’t gone to stare and shake his head at the enormity of it all. He’d gone to check closely for weak points; any chinks in the dragon’s hide that might help them.
Hirad wasn’t convinced he’d find any and for his part had seen enough of dragons for one day. For a lifetime, come to that, but that wasn’t a choice that was his to make any more. He trudged back towards Will’s spluttering cook-fire and the tunnel that led into the pyramid and the former tomb of the Wytch Lords. He needed something to calm his nerves and hoped there was at least a drain of coffee left in the pot balanced precariously on the shifting embers.
Ilkar had walked back with his arm around the shoulders of the nervy barbarian, not saying a word all the way. Hirad felt him tense as they neared the tunnel. Just in the shadow stood Styliann, above the prone form of Denser and the kneeling Erienne.
‘Can’t that bastard go somewhere else?’ muttered the Julatsan mage. ‘His presence offends me.’
‘I don’t think he’ll hang around long after he’s heard what we have to say.’
Ilkar snorted. ‘Well, I’d like to think he’d take the quick way back to Xetesk, too. Unfortunately, we’re all going the same way.’
Hirad was quiet for a time. ‘You know, I was looking forward to joining the war against the Wesmen,’ he said after a while and just as they stopped at the fire. ‘It seemed like a return to the simple things. But this . . .’
‘I know what you mean,’ said Ilkar. ‘C’mon, sit down. I’ll check the pot.’
Denser had heaved himself to his feet and stood leaning against Erienne, expectancy and anxiety radiating from his pale features in equal measure.
‘I think you’d better come out here and listen to this,’ said Hirad. ‘That includes you, Styliann. Things aren’t so good.’
‘Define “not-so-good”,’ said Styliann, emerging into the sunlight and absently adjusting his shirt collar.