Barras opened his eyes with a start, his heart hammering. All around the circle, the Council’s eyes were closed. Cordolan even had a smile on his face. And above them, the shape of the crown slowly unwound itself. From its head, the deftly spinning diamonds flattened, dropped and disappeared. From its hub, the solidity of the lattice framework snapped and in its rim, the linkage to the Shroud frayed and was chopped away on the blizzard of demon mana.

‘No!’ shouted the elf negotiator and the crown teetered, its hold against the demons now held only through the mages’ innate sense and subconscious minds. But that too was fading, his word serving only to damage what little concentration was left inside the minds of his friends.

‘Kerela, awake,’ he said sharply, knowing the use of the High Mage’s name would stir her but might also pull her from the circle. It was a risk he had to take and he grasped at the section of the crown Kerela controlled as the elder returned to her senses, mouthing words of agreement and acceptance that changed to curses and threats. The sweat poured from Barras as his mind clung to a larger section of the construct than he could properly control.

And then Kerela was with him, pushing him gently aside as she reasserted herself. Not even pausing to reflect, she said:

‘Now the others. Occupy their hold before you speak to them. And be gentle.’

Like drawing children from a deep, dream-filled slumber, Barras and Kerela caressed the minds of the hypnotised Council to a bemused, then desperate wakefulness. They could hear the demons, their voices inviting denial of reality and of a surrender to hell, first persuasive and then with agitation and finally in fury as the Council was, temporarily at least, lost to them.

Vilif was the last to return the full force of his mind to the struggle to maintain the crown. He looked terribly tired and every one of his seventy-plus years weighed on him. The upright stoop was gone, replaced by a hunched, hooded-eyed dejection. His bald head was a sickly white and his limbs were shaking. He was close to the edge.

‘Vilif, we will prevail,’ said Barras. ‘Trust in the strength of us all. Keep the Heart beating.’

Vilif nodded and a little light returned to his eyes. But all around the circle, the attitude of the Council members spoke more eloquently than any words. They had been mere moments from disaster before Barras awoke and they all knew it. Without help from the outside, without something to halt the demons’ unbridled power, they would be lost. It was only a matter of time.

Shrieks filled the air and demons came from all sides. The attack gained and gained in intensity. Hirad had no time to see how his friends fared. He had trouble enough of his own.

From above, left and straight on they came at him, needle teeth bared behind lipless mouths, claws flashing bright in the green-hued firelight. Every face was racked with pain, every body dulled as it approached, like the burnish taken from a polished blade. Yet still they came and still they were strong.

He hefted his longsword in his right and a dagger in his left. They came at him in waves, chittering and laughing, shrieking and shouting, promising him death in eternity.

He laughed back and carved a staggered zigzag in the space in front of him while weaving the dagger above his head and the back of his neck. He felt the heavy blade slash home, heard the cry of torment and looked right to see a demon clutching at the stump of a leg. It bored its hideous eyes into him and flitted from existence.

Above him, the noise increased and he switched blades, carving out a circle above his head that drove the demons back. Behind him, five headed down for the mages. He made to lunge but The Unknown was there first, his two-handed blade scoring deep into blue hide, his movement too quick for their damaged bodies.

More poured through into the Cold Room, gasping at the lack of mana, moving to attack The Unknown’s unprotected back and flank.

‘Back up Raven!’ roared Hirad. ‘Will, my left, Unknown’s right, circle clockwise if at all and protect the mages.’

Will broke off a stinging attack on a pair of demons that flitted about his head, backing up to stand half a pace from Hirad, the barbarian chasing off the demons who threatened The Unknown. The Big Man threw down his blade, which clashed on the stone floor at his feet, drawing a pair of long-bladed daggers from sheaths in either calf. He made up the third part of the Raven defensive triangle, hefting the daggers easily in his hands.

‘Will, if it gets too heavy for you, we can turn you away. Just keep talking.’

‘Don’t worry, I will.’

Towering above them all, Sha-Kaan went about his destruction of demons with no sound but the fire snapping in short gouts from his mouth. Hirad could feel him in his mind, calm and controlled.

Above the humans, the demons attacked again.

Thraun buried his confusion in supporting man-packbrother as he struck again and again at the floating, hissing blue creatures who came from the green sky. His jaws snapped out, biting into tasteless bloodless flesh that oozed from between his jaws. He knew he caused them pain and he knew his claws damaged them but they didn’t bleed and the fang punctures closed as soon as he withdrew to bite again.

He felt a fear greater than that caused by the great beast who, it seemed, was not against them, but whose power could destroy them so easily. The blue creatures were not birds yet they flew and were not men though they walked upright if they chose to. Their scent scared him. It was not of his earth. It was alien and it was bad, like death undying. The thought furrowed his wolven brown and he lashed a claw into the face of one who yelped and disappeared too quickly for his eye to follow though he tried, leaving himself open to the bite of another. It clamped its jaws onto his ear, a feeling like fire spreading through his head. He howled and shook his head, sending the creature flying to slap into a wall.

Terror threatened to swamp him and he backed up, tongue lolling, eyes seeing face after face coming for him. He whined, looked to man-packbrother who stood with the other men now.

And then the air went blue.

‘They are come,’ intoned Sha-Kaan, confusing Hirad for just a moment. He looked at the walls of the Cold Room. The writhing bodies of the child-sized demons were gone, replaced by thousands of unblinking eyes, staring from faces the size of a child’s doll. Dark brows speared in above those eyes and their deep blue features were cut harsh, skin stretched tight over square cheeks and jaws, eyes sunk into heavy sockets and mouths small and fangs set in stark black gums.

‘Oh dear Gods,’ breathed Hirad.

‘Don’t let them face you down. Keep your souls safe,’ said Sha-Kaan.

‘How in the hells do we do that?’ snapped Will, his eyes flickering everywhere.

‘Keep them from eye-contact. When they have your mind, they can take your soul,’ said Sha-Kaan.

The demons attacked.

At once, the sky was full of squealing blue-winged and wingless doll-sized demons, crying their delight at the assault on new souls and their pain at the poisonous atmosphere. They filled the Cold Room in their hundreds and, for every ten who dropped to the floor spent, bodies unable to function, double that number came on. But they were weakened.

Following his friends, Hirad dropped his longsword in favour of a second dagger.

‘Keep the strike rate up, Raven. Watch the mages.’

His daggers fizzed through the air in a pattern designed for defence of upper body and head. The demons cluttered the air like birds and covered the floor in a mass of pumping limbs. One or two appeared through the stone but were too far gone to cause any real damage, serving only to disrupt the march of their brethren.