‘Ilkar.’ The Unknown’s tone was admonishing. ‘Your talk will incite panic. More haste is good, blind flight is bad.’ The Unknown helped a frail-looking man on his way with a friendly pat. ‘That’s it, keep up the pace. Time is running out. That’s it.’ He leant into Ilkar again. ‘Don’t forget, we’re The Raven. While we remain calm, so will they.’

‘I just think we’re cutting this very fine, just like Denser says,’ said Ilkar.

‘And you are both right,’ said The Unknown quietly. ‘But like Hirad says, we aren’t leaving anyone behind.’

The store was all but empty. A man jogged past with a child on his shoulders and a babe in his arms, followed by two young women arm-chairing a tiny old lady who appeared in a dead faint.

‘How are we doing, Lallan?’ called Ilkar.

‘Fine. Almost there.’

Sudden illumination from behind them threw stark shards of shadow flashing across the stone-flagged square. Hirad swung round. Drops of fire fell like heavy rain from the sky, concentrating in a tight area to the south. Above the spell, the dark shape of Denser carrying Erienne flitted upwards, pursued by the black shafts of arrows. None hit, so far as Hirad could see, but the clatter of wood on stone as the arrows dropped to the earth, was lost in the tumult of noise as Erienne’s HotRain struck home.

Horns sounded behind the buildings, men shouted, some crying out in shock, pain or surprise. The rumbling of running feet could be clearly heard and, where the HotRain took a hold, flames licked at wood and caressed the night from the sky, augmenting the dawn.

As Hirad watched, Denser and Erienne wheeled and dived in again, fast. A long, narrow line of HotRain flared beneath them, dropping quickly. More wasted arrows flicked into the sky, tracking far too slowly to catch the speeding mage pair, who swung back towards the grain store.

Landing in a flurry of dust as the last of the Julatsans ran from the doors with Lallan’s urging voice behind them, Denser set Erienne down and shook some life back into his arms.

‘We’re slowing them but we aren’t stopping them, I—’

With a howl, the first of the Wesmen entered the square. Like a flash flood bursting into a valley they came, filling the space with the weight of their numbers and the very air with the deafening sound of their voices as they saw their quarry at last.

The released Julatsan prisoners panicked and ran, their screams tearing at the ear, any semblance of order in those at the rear of the line dissolving into terrified chaos, stumbling, tripping, pushing and forcing their way towards the northern exit of the square.

‘Move quickly but calmly. Help your friends, don’t shove them aside!’ Lallan’s voice rose above the barrage of noise but was completely ignored. The Unknown turned to him.

‘Get yourself out of here,’ he said. ‘Don’t look back. Hirad, time to act.’

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.