In time, the gateway would collapse, its structural instability forcing it in on itself. But that would not happen until long after the Kaan and Balaia were destroyed; and the shockwaves it would send through the whole of interdimensional space would ripple tremors through every dimension, though none worse than through the ruins of Balaia itself.

Sha put the thoughts from his mind. For now, the Kaan simply had to survive the coming battle. From every point of the sky, his Brood came to the defence of their melde-dimension and themselves while from the north, a dark blotch signified the mass of the Naik and their enslaved allies.

As he reached the vicinity of the rip and felt its pull on his mind, strong like a wind sucking him towards it, the Great Kaan knew that what was to come had to be the last. If The Raven had not reached Beshara before the Naik attacked again, all would be lost.

He pulsed greetings and orders and the first Kaan flights set out to attack.

Julatsa’s stone-clad grain store sat in the middle of a cobbled square providing a natural fire break from the predominantly wooden buildings which surrounded it. History had demanded it be strong. Times of shortage in ages gone by had forced the peaceful folk of Julatsa into desperate measures and the blood of many a starving man with a dying family back home had soaked through the stones into the earth below. And though those times were long gone, the grain store stood as testament and reminder, as well as being a fully functional city building.

The Raven, with Denser overhead, Erienne now in his arms much as Ilkar had been over the Wesmen camp at Triverne Inlet, stood in the shadows of an alley that opened directly onto the square. They were parallel to the main street which led from the store, through the southern market and up to the College. Thraun had gone quiet but the hand-to-hand fighting was getting nearer and the level of noise from every quarter of Julatsa was rising. Hirad shifted grip on his sword. They were going to have to move fast and the Julatsans from the College would just have to be ready for them.

The grain store measured better than ninety feet on its short side, which faced them, and perhaps double that on its longer. The Wesmen had stationed half a dozen guards outside the main doors, which faced the alley, and watch-fires ringed the square in front of the four main access streets.

When the hoped-for opportunity presented itself, Hirad seized it eagerly. A spell landed close by, sending flames lashing up into the heavens. Wesmen from two of the watch-fires ran away to join the fighting that bordered the square to The Raven’s left and the guards at the door were nervous and distracted, clearly unsure what they should do.

‘Now Raven!’ shouted Hirad and he charged out of the alley, The Unknown right next to him and Ilkar, sword drawn, a pace behind. Above them, Denser flew low across the face of the store. From out of the sky above the guards, drops of flame, just a few, lashed down, setting fur and clothing alight. Panicked, the guards ran blindly away, not realising that The Raven were also attacking on foot.

Beating at the flames that threatened to engulf him, the fastest Wesman ran headlong towards the waiting Unknown. The Big Man sidestepped smartly, left in a foot which the Wesman obligingly tumbled over and finally drove his blade straight through the prone man’s throat. Beside him, Hirad ran forwards to take on two more. One’s gaze was locked anxiously on the sky until his companion tugged at his smouldering sleeve and both squared up to the barbarian.

‘Who’s first?’ rasped Hirad, springing forward and opening a cut in the face of the left-hand man. ‘You’ll do.’ He ducked under a wild axe swing and buried his sword in the Wesman’s gut. He dragged his blade clear and rolled away from the attack of the other, who followed his movement and turned his back on The Unknown. It was the last mistake he ever made. Before his body had dropped to the floor, The Unknown Warrior had turned to face the three remaining Wesmen and Ilkar was sprinting for the grain-store doors.

Hirad ran in to support his old friend, though The Unknown scarcely needed it. Angling his sword hilt in front of his face and blade down left, he caught the first axe blow and thrust upwards, tearing the weapon from the guard’s grasp to go spinning away into the night. He lashed the double-handed blade back down across his enemy’s chest and Hirad could hear the ribs shear. The man fell backwards, clutching at his ruined body with the blood pouring through his hands.

Hirad closed down the penultimate threat, clashing blades with the Wesman and kicking out straight to connect with his stomach. The man grunted but still thrust Hirad back and, though winded, held his blade steady in front of him. The barbarian smiled. Moving a pace forward, he feinted to strike right, switched grip and chopped in left. Hopelessly slow, the Wesman had barely moved his sword in the right direction before Hirad’s entered his neck, cleaving all the way to the spine. He turned to see The Unknown wipe his blade on the body of the last man. He spread his arms wide.

‘Good, aren’t we?’ he said, smiling.

‘You know it,’ said The Unknown, the corners of his mouth turning up. They ran on to join Ilkar, who was preparing to cast. Denser and Erienne circled above them.

‘Clear at the moment,’ said the Xeteskian. ‘The Julatsans have run into a little trouble just south of the market but the Wesmen aren’t organised yet. Be quick because I can see a large force, probably two or three thousand, running in from the west. You don’t have too long before they get here.’

Hirad nodded and hammered on the padlocked, barred doors with his sword. The sound of voices, lots of them, could be plainly heard but he had to try anyway or someone would get hurt.

‘Get away from the doors!’ he bellowed. ‘No time to explain, just get away.’

Ilkar stood and backed away a pace, giving the slightest of nods to Hirad who could see his face wracked with concentration, his arms tight in front of him and cupped as if to catch a ball. Hirad moved aside.

‘Deploying,’ said Ilkar quietly. He jabbed his arms forward quickly and the tightly formed ForceCone shot from the centre of his cupped hands and thundered into the heavy wooden doors. Built to withstand weapons they may have been, but not the ForceCone of a master. As the mana shape ploughed in, they first buckled at the lock then shot inwards, the padlock and chain snapping and whipping away to clatter into the wall near Hirad’s head.

‘Steady, Ilkar,’ said Hirad.

Ilkar shrugged. ‘I had to be sure,’ he said. The three Raven men ran inside to confront a sea of faces and a thousand frightened voices.

‘Your job, I think.’ Hirad patted Ilkar on the back. ‘You are a native, after all.’ Ilkar gave him a sideways look and opened his mouth to call for quiet.

Chapter 25

For an instant, Thraun’s eyes misted over as the life slipped away from man-packbrother. He felt it in the core of his being and the passing to the grey dust left a pit of loneliness inside his wolven heart. An agonised whine escaped his throat as he watched man-packbrother’s head slip slightly to the side and his chest fall but not rise again. He looked up into the face of the human who tended him. She laid an implement aside, one which had been used to wipe man-packbrother’s face, then moved a white covering to hide his still form.

Thraun could see the sorrow in her and felt the helplessness which tinged that sorrow with anger. The instant passed and Thraun’s mind was deluged with animal fury. He opened his mouth and howled at the sky blocked from him by the human structure as the blood-lust soaked into him and cast about for prey.