Hirad gauged the pace of the Wesmen approach, guessing they might just reach the street before the enemy.
‘All right you three, we need some rubble to slow them down. Sorry Ilkar but some of your buildings will have to come down.’ He pointed at the city administration offices and barracks that ran around the northern edge of the square around the grain store.
‘No problem,’ said Ilkar. ‘C’mon you two.’ The Julatsan ran around the thinning crowd, Erienne and Denser, wings now dispersed, hard on his heels.
‘All right Big Man, that leaves you and me for the rearguard.’
The Unknown nodded. ‘I gathered. Let’s go.’ The two men turned and hurried after the fleeing Julatsans, shepherding them towards the exit from the square which was under heavy guard.
‘Keep it going. No need for panic, we’re at your backs.’ Hirad’s voice urged and cajoled frightened men, women and children. To his left, The Unknown scooped a fallen child under one arm and sprinted forwards, planting the crying girl on the shoulders of a young woman. He turned back to the onrushing Wesmen, caught Hirad’s eye and yelled.
‘Duck!’
Arrows coursed over Hirad’s head, plunging into the defenceless civilians. A dozen fell and the line disintegrated, people running in all directions to avoid the killing shafts.
‘No!’ shouted Hirad. ‘Forwards. Keep going forwards.’ But his voice was lost. Behind him, the Wesmen roar increased, and the pounding of their feet could be felt through the cobbles of the square. ‘Ilkar!’ His voice now a bellow, Hirad saw Ilkar turn his way. ‘HardShield! HardShield! Protect the exit.’
An arrow whistled past Hirad’s right ear, burying itself in the shoulder of an old man. He fell and others paused to help. Hirad made a hurrying motion with his arms as he hurdled the body. ‘Don’t stop. You can’t help him, he’s gone already. Run on.’
With The Unknown again at his shoulder, Hirad urged and pushed the Julatsans out of the square, at every step expecting an arrow to thud into one or both of their bodies. The shafts still fell but they were arced to fall into the main body of the crowd in an attempt to incite more panic. But those who hadn’t broken away as the first arrows fell had clearly decided to run headlong and trust to luck, for which Hirad was eternally grateful.
Ahead, Hirad could see Ilkar had cast and that Erienne and Denser were deep in concentration, at work on the spell that would bring down the buildings in the faces of the Wesmen. In front of them, Julatsan soldiers beckoned the crowd on, helping them to relative safety up the secured path that Hirad knew must be under increasing pressure all along its length.
‘Almost there,’ he shouted. ‘Keep pushing on.’
The arrows no longer fell in the crowd, bouncing instead from Ilkar’s shield. Hirad and The Unknown reached the line of soldiers, stopped and spun round. The Wesmen were less than a hundred yards behind them.
‘Now Denser,’ said Hirad. ‘Now Erienne.’ He and The Unknown spread their arms and moved backwards, ushering the soldiers back with them. The Wesmen roared on, sensing blood.
‘Hammer,’ said Denser and Erienne together.
Beneath their feet, the earth rumbled and shifted. Hirad felt a ripple travel through his body as it moved in the direction of the square, gathering in intensity.
As he continued to move back, he saw the Wesmen line falter in its charge, still forty yards distant, as it neared the buildings. Under the enemy, cracks opened as the ground moved violently, pitching Wesmen from their feet, forcing most to stop and scramble for balance. Behind them, their comrades ploughed on, trampling the fallen underfoot until horns and shouts slowed them to a stop.
To Hirad’s left and right, the buildings shuddered, loose chips of stonework and dust clouded the outlines and roof slates shifted and fell. A pause followed in which Denser and Erienne both jerked their arms skywards before flattening them in an arc to the cruciform shape. Then they turned and ran.
Without bothering to wait, Hirad did the same, closing to Ilkar’s ear as he did so. ‘Time to go, Ilkar. Keep that shield up if you can.’
The Julatsan nodded. Hirad grabbed one of his arms and led him away, all the time with one eye on the scene behind.
Slabs of stone twice a man’s height burst from the ground, spearing the street in two dozen places and showering cobbles and mud in all directions. They rose under the buildings and the feet of the Wesmen causing chaos and destruction while all the time the tremors and ripples gained strength as they focused under their targets.
With a flat crack that echoed into the lightening sky, the city administration offices slid left into the street. Thousands of stones burst from their bindings to cascade, bounce and crash down to cover the escape of the Julatsans, the clatter of pebbles complementing the rumble of the main parts of the building and the fragmenting of tiles. Moments later, barracks to the right began to rock as slab after slab rose inside, sending slate and timber into the square, scattering the Wesmen line. Across the street a fissure opened in the ground, the fault running left and right gouting dust into the air and yawning three feet wide in places.
‘Let’s take this chance!’ roared Hirad. ‘Push it on, straight to the College. Come on!’
Falling back in pre-ordered form, the Julatsan city guard closed ranks as the whole force began slowly to relinquish the corridor while maintaining the integrity of its shortening length. They had been trained for just such action. Drilled for years in fighting street to street, falling back in safety to the next bottle-neck when required and striking out in guerrilla action to weaken and demoralise attacking forces, the guard moved efficiently to the College.
Inside the cordon, The Raven ran the line of city folk, cajoling, urging and encouraging while Ilkar’s moving HardShield, joined shortly after by those of Denser and Erienne, provided significant protection from the arrows that fell sporadically into the running crowd.
Hirad knew the building collapses wouldn’t hold the Wesmen for long and already, as the desultory arrow drop indicated, they were finding their way along parallel alleys, though not in sufficient numbers to overwhelm the well-drilled Julatsan city guard who had beaten off all attempts thus far. But there was one point where weakness in their line was inevitable and, glancing back to see the retreat under control, he made his decision.
‘Unknown!’ he called above the cries and screams of the crowd and the barked orders of the guard Captains. ‘The southern market.’
The Unknown nodded. ‘Raven! Raven with me!’ Dropping their shields, the trio of mages formed up behind the warrior pair and ran for the open space of Julatsa’s southern market place where, in peaceful times, grain and fresh produce were traded.
It was asway with people, the yelling of soldiers, the running of the old and the young and the clash of weapons as the Wesmen battered at the slim line of defence, heedless of the spells that dropped death on their defenceless bodies.
Hirad headed left across the market where the Julatsan line was being pushed back, not needing to check if The Raven were with him. In front of him, he could see hundreds of Wesmen spilling into a wide access street and running to the attack. Facing them, two dozen Julatsan guard and a pair of mages, one of whom was maintaining a HardShield as occasional bouncing arrows indicated.
‘Denser, we need FlameOrbs. Ilkar, relieve the shield mage. Erienne, whatever you’ve got to keep them back. Unknown, with me.’ Hirad ran into the centre of the line, pulled an injured man away with his left arm and swung his blade right-handed and overhead, feeling the metal crash through the shoulder of his target. Behind him as he squared up, he heard The Unknown issuing instructions to the Julatsan squad leader.
‘Take half your men and shore up the rolling retreat to the south. Leave the mages with us. Keep the people moving. We’re doing well but we’re not home yet.’