He burst through the curtained alcove, the second ward sounding, a flat tone repeating again and again. The Raven surged out into the dome behind him, Hirad taking up station to his right, Darrick and Thraun left, the Al-Arynaar in a loose group behind Denser and Erienne.

‘Down!’ snapped Denser.

Hirad and The Unknown ducked. A ForceCone played over their heads, knocking two Xeteskian swordsmen from their feet. The Raven ran into the gap left, heading for the dome doors. One of the Al-Arynaar split off, aiming for the office entrance they’d come through.

‘No,’ shouted Denser. ‘We can’t go back that way! Stop.’

‘Rebraal, call him back,’ ordered The Unknown, not taking his eyes from the doors. They were opening. ‘Do we have a SpellShield? ’

‘You do,’ Rebraal confirmed before shouting in elvish.

‘Keep it tight, Raven.’

The Unknown tapped his blade on the ground in front of him as he advanced. The first of the Xeteskian guard spilled in, seven forming up with more filling the space behind them, expecting to be confronted by elves. What they saw, for those who recognised The Raven, was worse.

‘One pace and duck,’ said Erienne.

Tried and tested, the warrior line did as instructed, barely pausing while the IceWind howled over their heads, slicing into the oncoming soldiers. A shield flared deep blue, feeding the power of the Dordovan spell over its surface and away into the floor. Even so, the line faltered. Rebraal’s bow thudded, an arrow found its mark and the first guard died.

‘Tight form, Raven, let’s go,’ called The Unknown.

Using the central column as a pivot, The Raven spaced to the outer wall and moved in, Darrick the man on the flank watching for the expected flanking moves. Denser was with him, a second ForceCone poised.

‘This needs to be quick!’ Hirad’s voice echoed off the dome ceiling.

The Unknown brought his blade up and parried a heavy blow from a huge guardsman whose eyes peered from beneath a metal helm, his hands engulfing the hilt of his sword. Beside him, Hirad lunged straight forward, weight to the left, anticipating the block and maintaining his balance.

But it was the left of the Raven line where the damage was most quickly wrought. Darrick was far too fast for his opponent, feinting left by the tower base and striking right, his blade piercing chest armour and ripping into ribs and heart. And Thraun didn’t bother with subtlety. Clearing his head with a howl from his wolven side he swung overhead, one-handed, crushing the skull of his first attacker and moving on a pace to pile his left fist into the face of the next, flattening nose and driving him back into his comrades.

‘Come on!’ yelled Hirad, seeing the carnage to his left. He battered his blade in across his body, seeing it parried away but leaving his attacker open. The barbarian moved into the space and shoved the man back and off balance with a push to his chest, following up with a strike into his left leg, chopping deep into flesh and bone. The man went down screaming.

‘HardShield up,’ said Erienne.

‘Rebraal, how many more can you see?’ The Unknown was happy to keep the big man in front of him quiet while he marshalled the move. He dropped in a low strike left to right, saw it parried but clumsily. The man might be powerful, but he was slow. ‘Any time,’ he whispered.

‘Five in front,’ replied Rebraal. ‘Five behind.’ The sound of another arrow. ‘Four. Mage down.’

‘Denser!’ called The Unknown, blocking another massive overhead blow, turning the blade aside and slashing in with his dagger, forcing the enemy back. ‘Round left. Darrick, watch him. Rebraal cover. Pushing Raven.’

The Raven moved. Denser turned and ran away around the base of Dystran’s tower, Rebraal right with him. Darrick pressured forwards, engaging two opponents with Thraun by him, powering in strokes that drove his targets further and further back. And The Unknown stared the massive guard in the eye.

‘Time to die.’

Before his hip was smashed, The Unknown had been the fastest man in Balaia with a two-handed blade. Now without the core balance to trust himself with the heavier blade, his switch to the long sword and dagger had increased his strike rate even further. He already knew his enemy couldn’t follow him so he waited. Dully, the guard tried to get in first, unwinding a scything blow across his chest. The Unknown simply ducked beneath it, came up moving forward and, with his dagger parrying away left to block any return, stabbed clear through the guard’s throat.

The Raven stepped up again and now the Xeteskian mages responded, spells clattering into the Al-Arynaar’s shield. The Unknown held his breath. Julatsan magic wasn’t as sure as it had been. FlameOrbs splashed harmlessly away, DeathHail following, again repulsed. From the opposite side of the tower base, Rebraal found another victim and Denser’s ForceCone hit the enemy immediately after.

Without their mage shield, the Xeteskian guards were helpless. The Cone caught them flank on, tumbling men into each other and driving them across the floor towards the outer wall. Denser kept the pressure on, the shouts of the guards weakening as they fell to unconsciousness, crushing them together against unyielding stone. Some would never rise again.

In front of The Raven, the path was almost clear, with any Xeteskians left standing in disarray. Hirad drove his blade into the midriff of one attacker, The Unknown thundered his through, waist high, following up with a killing blow with his dagger. Rebraal’s bow let loose again, this time the shaft skittering off the far wall and falling harmlessly.

‘Go Raven!’ Hirad’s call sent The Raven running through the broken line towards the doors.

The Unknown turned to the two mages, beckoning them on. ‘Rebraal. Keep your mages up. We can’t afford them to lag, this is going to be tight as it is.’

‘Right at the doors!’ Denser’s voice rose above the turmoil of shouts of pain and warning coming from the Xeteskians and the sound of The Raven charging for the outside. ‘Follow the dome to the Mana Bowl.’

‘Raven!’ roared Hirad. ‘Raven with me!’

Dystran heard the impacts of spells, felt a faint vibration through his tower walls. He increased his pace, Myx stepping in front of him to lead the way.

‘What the hell is happening in my bloody college!’

‘Protectors are moving from the walls. Suarav has been summoned. The Circle Seven are gathering themselves to be with you in Lord Ranyl’s tower,’ replied Myx smoothly.

‘Damn that. Gods burning, Myx, who the hell is tearing up my dome! Right under my bloody feet!’

‘It must be the elves, my Lord.’

‘Yes,’ snapped Dystran. ‘Yes. Hurry up.’

‘My Lord.’

They made the base of the tower and Myx led them unerringly through the maze of corridors and passages beneath the dome that led to the other towers, to the banqueting halls and to the catacombs. Since the incident with Captain Yron, Dystran had insisted alarm wards be reinstituted and guards be doubled for all the Circle Seven. Not that they had stopped the raiders reaching Ranyl. He had also closed off the known route to the reception chambers from his tower. Too many people knew about it. Too many chances to be betrayed.

The two men chased up the stairs, Dystran muttering at the sight of the bodies they passed on the two landings.

‘Worse than bloody useless. What have I done to deserve this?’

‘My Lord?’

‘Never mind. Let me through.’

Myx paused and Dystran passed him. Ranyl’s bedchamber door was open and he could hear low voices. He strode in without bothering to knock.

‘My Lord Ranyl, are you hurt?’

‘Only my pride.’ Ranyl was sitting in his favourite chair by his fire. The familiar, much calmer now though veins stilled pulsed anger in its bald head, sat on the back of the chair, stroking the old master’s head.