‘Outstanding,’ said Erienne, though there was little surprise in her voice. She knew the extent of their abilities. ‘The two halves must mirror exactly in shape and rotation speed. Flatten and spread the pyramids . . . yes. Widen the bases of the spikes. Hold it. We’re ready to deploy.’
‘I’m stable,’ said Denser.
‘Me also,’ said Ilkar. Above them, the mana shape hung and spun like two large, spiked, domed helmets.
‘Dor anwar enuith,’ said Erienne, the words of Dordovan lore sparking through the shape, mixing threads of pale orange through the yellow and blue. ‘Eart jen hoth.’ She unclasped her hands from Ilkar and Denser and held them, arms stretched, above her head. ‘Deploy.’ She brought them down, her palms slapping on the stone floor. The mana shape expanded as if a burst of air had been fired into it at enormous pressure. One half covered The Raven and Sha-Kaan, the other was beneath them, intended to slow the advance of any demons who attacked from below.
‘Lys falette,’ said Ilkar quietly and a green washed through the shape, pale and translucent. The trio of mages allowed their heads to drop. The casting was complete. Raven and dragon breathed air untainted by mana. It tasted and felt no different but to the mages, the Cold Room was an instant drain. They could not hold it for long.
Hirad didn’t have to open his mouth to advise Sha-Kaan the spell was done. A savage jolt shook the corridor, ruffling the tapestries which hung from the walls and sending sparks from the fires as log and coal shifted. Hirad wobbled and Will sprawled, tripping against Thraun’s broad flank. The wolf howled in fear, unable to see the threat but knowing it was there.
‘Steady, Raven,’ said The Unknown who had not even had to adjust his footing. He tapped his sword’s point on the stone, its gentle clashing bringing clarity to mind and banishing uncertainty.
A second jolt, followed by a long rumbling through the stone of the corridor, shook dust into the air.
‘Prepare yourselves,’ said Sha-Kaan.
Hirad and The Unknown exchanged glances. Inside the Big Man’s eyes was an unease Hirad had never seen before, but with it a determination strong enough to wipe away doubt, and Hirad knew exactly why. The Unknown was a man who already knew what it was to lose his soul to the demons. That time, he had been given it back and he had no desire to lose it again.
With their souls a clarion call for any demon, The Raven plunged into the DemonShroud.
Chapter 22
The Julatsan Council ringed the mana candle in the centre of the Heart, arms in crucifix form, as the roar of demon mana tore around them, whipping away the holding patterns they struggled to make and forcing them to expend energy merely keeping the door to the demon dimension closed.
The casting to cap and disperse the DemonShroud had begun calmly enough and the shape that would close the Shroud and dissipate its energy back into the demon dimension, which could be likened to a crown, had been quickly made and deployed. But exactly at the moment when that shape had connected with the Shroud, the demons had attacked, sending blasts of pure mana energy through the Shroud’s periphery.
As he clung desperately to his concentration and the tatters of the crown, Barras thanked the Gods that the Council mages were so exceptional in their mastery of magic. A lesser set would have lost hold completely and been blown away, their minds wrecked by the power the demons threw at them. As it was, both Endorr and Cordolan had momentarily slipped, relying on the remainder of the Council to cling on with their minds to the crown until they could refocus.
And with his thanks went a fear that, no matter how powerful they were, the Council would not be able to keep their hold for long and it was already too late to go back. The mana construct bordering the Shroud was maintained throughout its life by the demons and it was for this service that they demanded a critical soul. On dispersal, that control was taken from the demons and brought once again into the domain of Julatsa.
It was an enormous drain on mana stamina but, crucially, also meant a change to the nature of the construct. It was at this point that, theoretically at least, demons could force their way through the protection afforded by the construct and flood Balaia with mana enough to choke the life from every living thing. Mages had always known of the possibility but never had the demons had an independent source of power large enough to make that potential a reality. Until now.
But what really worried Barras was that the demons knew exactly when to strike and that meant they had an understanding of Julatsan lore and mana construction far in excess of anything he had dreamed of. It potentially also meant that they could read the trails and, if that was the case, they could counteract anything the Council wanted to do almost before it was tried.
And that left them hanging on to the crown, alternately attempting to close it onto the Shroud or clawing its shape back to prevent the demons tearing it to shreds as they clearly intended to do. Barras shuddered. The crown was the weak point of the construct but its destruction would leave the Shroud construct both changed and vulnerable. To lose the crown was unthinkable. The demons would be free.
‘Kerela, we must reform the shape. The crown is losing outline. We can’t close it down like this.’ Barras knew his voice was low but that every member of the Council could hear it through the screams of mana battering at their inner minds.
‘We must regain cohesion first. The link to the Shroud is not fast,’ said Kerela, her voice calm and authoritative. ‘Endorr, we need a shield against the demon mana.’
‘Yes, High Mage.’ The strain in the young mage’s tone mirrored that on his consciousness.
‘Leave the crown to the rest of us. We can hold it while you cast,’ said Kerela.
‘Withdrawing,’ said Endorr. Even as his mind cut away from the crown, those of Vilif and Seldane closed to take up the slack in the shape, keeping it together. Barras closed his eyes and let his mind drift carefully towards Endorr, feeling his pull on the mana as he created the shield, modifying its normal shape, used to repel offensive spells, to one that would act as a buffer to a stream of pure mana. He smiled. Endorr was quite brilliant, melding the spell shield with a ManaMask designed to block attacks on the mind.
As quickly as it had come, Barras’ smile disappeared. Endorr’s mana shape was ragged, the two spells linking imprecisely allowing one to flow indiscriminately into the other causing instability. Yet Endorr seemed not to have sensed it as he poured more and more force into it, its boundaries beginning to pulse as he drove towards deployment. But there, right in the midst of the rough-cut dodecahedron, a miasma of colours. Yellow conflicting with a vivid purple and a dark swirling grey that told of a potentially catastrophic weakness.
‘Endorr, you aren’t stable. Check your lore. Don’t cast. You have time.’ Barras’ urgent words affected concentration all around the candle. Wisps of the crown tore away as the Council were deflected by the sight of Endorr’s flawed mana shape. But the young mage didn’t hear him. Outside the circle of the crown’s casting, he was lost in his own concentration, his lips moving soundlessly and his hands flickering as they sought to hold the shape together. Only he couldn’t see the trauma at its centre. Why, Barras didn’t know, but the darkness consumed the core of the twin spell linkage and casting could result in only one thing.
‘Endorr!’ shouted Kerela, her grip on the crown not slipping even as her conscious mind dominated in the attempt to disturb the youngster. Endorr continued to intone quietly and a ripple of anxiety ran through the remainder of the Council, reflected in the crown. Kerela called for concentration and the vital shape steadied though all eyes stayed on Endorr.
None of them could move. To do so would render the crown unsustainable - five could not hope to maintain it against the storm from the demon dimension. Endorr built towards casting, the dodecahedron pulsating bright yellow, shot through with bronze and white, but at its centre, the grey. Barras could feel the tension carving through the circle.