‘Raven, let’s go!’ called The Unknown.

But from across the college to their right, from the barracks and stables, came more of the enemy. And simultaneously, the western gates of the college swung open and men poured in, heading straight for them.

‘Oh dear Gods,’ said Hirad, breathing hard, the muscles in his arms protesting, his thighs burning with exertion.

The Raven’s move faltered almost before it started, the TaiGethen gathering around them. From everywhere, it seemed, Xeteskian forces converged on foot and even on horseback. Arrows and bolts filled the air, clattering against Erienne’s HardShield.

‘We aren’t going to make it,’ said Darrick. ‘They’ve got us trapped.’

‘Ideas?’ demanded The Unknown. ‘We’re out of time.’

‘Only one place we can defend,’ said Denser and he was already moving back towards the tower complex. ‘Follow me.’

‘Back to the dome, back to the dome!’ yelled Hirad. ‘Rebraal, bring your people.’

The raiding party turned and ran headlong for the steps up to the open doors and relative safety. The shadows shortened right in front of Rebraal, Xeteskian spells rushed through the air, crashing down on the rear of the group. He heard Gireeth scream in pain, turned his head and saw the mage’s shield go. There was a wash of heat, hard cobalt light flashed and the lone FlameOrb burst on to the TaiGethen below.

Elves, burning and dying, were driven to the ground, their cries lost against the fire that rushed up the steps, biting at all their heels.

‘Faster!’

Hirad, breathing in gasps, upped his pace in front. The doors were within a couple of paces. Auum led his Tai cell in, The Raven charging in behind, the survivors of the collapsed shield in their bootprints.

Thraun and The Unknown bent their shoulders to the doors, shoving the well-oiled and counterbalanced side fast closed, hearing arrows rattle against the wood.

‘Denser, WardLock now,’ ordered The Unknown.

‘Ahead of you there.’

The casting was quick and efficient. Pale blue light crackled across the lock and through the veins of wood-and-iron binding. Rebraal slid to a stop in the blood of the fight so recently played out. He turned and took them all in, elf and Raven alike. Three TaiGethen and two Al-Arynaar mages hadn’t made it. And alive though the rest of them might be, the same thought ran through all their minds.

In the centre of the Dark College, they were trapped.

‘Ah, gentlemen, so glad you could all make it on this quite unbelievable evening.’ Dystran smiled thinly from his seat in Ranyl’s dining chamber on the second landing of the tower.

The dying lord himself was upstairs resting. The remainder of the Circle Seven were seated at the table.

‘You’ll note there are no refreshments,’ continued Dystran. ‘You’ll also note that despite my request, Captain Suarav has so far been unable to join us. Would you like me to summarise why that is?’

He looked around the table, seeing the group of men, all of whom were at least twice his age. None of them would look him in the face. There was a phrase concerning ivory towers. He’d have to look into ways of seeing they saw more of the world beyond their noses.

‘It is because this college is under attack by a few ageing mercenaries and some extremely impressive elves.’ No meaningful reaction. He slammed his fist on the table. ‘They are tearing up my college! Surely even you heard the odd shout or the odd spell marking our once pristine walls?’

‘My Lord,’ acknowledged someone though Dystran was barely listening.

‘Tell me, Myx, where are The Raven and their elven friends at this moment?’

‘They have just run into the dome, my Lord,’ said Myx. ‘The doors have been WardLocked.’

There was a stirring around the table.

‘Yes, gentlemen, they are scant feet below us. Fortunately, there is a small bright spot I can apprise you of. On Herendeneth, a proactive young mage by the name of—’ He clicked his fingers.

‘Nyam, my Lord,’ said Myx.

‘Nyam has confirmed beyond reasonable doubt that the Al-Drechar are shielding a One mage. As you know, we feel that mage to be Erienne of the same Raven who are currently trapped beneath us. Here is what we will do.

‘First of all, we need to send a message to some old friends. Then, I intend to prove that Erienne is that mage, and you must be ready to act on the mana spectrum the moment that proof is clear. We have always said that we should be able to adequately protect a One mage from his own mind while the awakening process completes, then school that mage in the art as laid down in certain of our more precious texts.

‘It is time for us to make good on that assertion.’ He turned to Myx. ‘Your brothers, how close are they to their positions outside the Tower complex?’

‘Before the hour turns, they will all be ready, my Lord.’

‘Good. In that case instruct our new friend Nyam that when the hour turns, he is to kill the Al-Drechar currently shielding Erienne.’ Dystran turned back to the table and examined the ends of his fingers before looking up into the blank faces of his Circle Seven. ‘That should give us our proof, don’t you think?’

‘We can’t stay here,’ said Denser.

‘No, really?’ snapped Hirad. He rubbed a bloody hand through his hair. ‘And there was me thinking we’d set up camp here, wait for the trouble to die down.’ There was an impact on the doors. Timbers creaked but it seemed half-hearted, an act of frustration more than a serious attempt to break in. ‘Gods, this is just like Lystern, except we don’t have horses waiting saddled and this city has walls.’

‘Quiet, Hirad,’ said The Unknown. ‘Denser, facts and quickly. What do you have in mind?’

‘This is an indefensible position, despite how it might look. Outside, they’ll be waiting for instructions from the Circle Seven who will be in here somewhere. Look, it’s grim. Our escape route is blocked. Right now, I don’t think there’s a way out for us. At least in here, or rather, in the catacombs, we can achieve something and hold out longer.’

‘Like what?’ asked Hirad.

‘Got a dragon to send home, haven’t you? I know where the research is held. Maybe we can last long enough to effect the casting. Depends how simple it is.’

‘You aren’t confident about our chances, then?’ said The Unknown.

Denser shook his head.

‘It’s the best plan we’ve got,’ said Hirad. ‘Rebraal, you hearing this?’

The elf nodded. ‘I’ve relayed it to the TaiGethen. We all knew it was a risk coming here. We’re with you.’

‘And the Aryn Hiil?’ asked Denser.

‘It will not fall back into their hands. We’ll destroy it first.’

‘Good, then let’s go,’ said the dark mage. ‘One last thing, Unknown. Where we think this research is, and the lead mage. It’s near the Soul Tank. I’m sorry.’

The Unknown nodded. ‘I’ll be all right. Just don’t ask me how I’m feeling, any of you. You already know.’

‘Follow me, then,’ said Denser. ‘I—’

A high-pitched sound flashed round the dome. Loud and piercing, it dug at the ears and vibrated through heads. Hirad clapped his hands to the sides of his head, grunting involuntarily. Across the dome, swords clattered to the floor and the elves were dropping to their knees, their pain written on their faces.

Abruptly, the sound ceased, leaving behind it the impression of great space. A voice, amplified by every surface and clear as a bell, filled the space.

‘Now I have your attention, I have a proposal for you. You can hear me, can’t you, dear Raven, dear elves?’

The voice echoed away. Hirad picked up his blade and scanned around, looking for the source. He saw Thraun breathing hard, his eyes closed, face pale. The elves were faring no better. The Unknown was glaring at the ceiling, chest puffed out, sword once again in his hand. Darrick was rubbing at his ears, face carrying that expression of irritation that was becoming a trademark, while Erienne stood close to Denser, looking to him for an answer which he duly provided.