The hammering of weapons continued while Dystran presumably gathered himself. At Hirad’s back, the basket rattled down, slapping onto the floor. It was wet, the rope above it dripping and dirty. Duele and Evunn were in the basket in moments. Duele tugged the rope hard to indicate he was ready and up they went, quicker this time with Denser clearly on the rope too.

‘Come on, come on,’ muttered Hirad. The hammering on the door ceased. ‘Here we go.’

Auum clutched his sword tighter and looked half away, braced against the expected blast. The spell hit the door, driving into the mana lattice of the WardLock. Blue light sparked across its surface, a rush of air hit them and the door began to topple forwards.

For a heartbeat, Hirad stopped to wonder why the wood hadn’t splintered and Myx was past him, hurling himself against it and ramming it back into place.

‘Help me,’ he said.

Hirad and Auum leaned their weights against the panel. It was warm. On the opposite side, the enemy pushed hard, handicapped by the narrow passage width on their side.

‘Rebraal,’ called Hirad. ‘When the basket comes down, you’re next.’

‘No—’

‘Yes,’ snapped Hirad, arms shaking under an impact. ‘You’re the quicker climber. Darrick, you’re after him, the rope will take you both.’

‘I hear you.’

Hirad could hear the reluctance in his voice but unlike Rebraal, he understood who led down here.

The pressure on the door grew more sustained. They could hear shouts ordering more men to the press. Inexorably, the panel was moving. Myx turned and braced his legs against the stone floor, his broad shoulders flattened across the panel. Either side of him, Auum and Hirad, leaned side-on. Hirad looked up into the face of the Protector, saw the sweat on his brow and knew they didn’t have long before his strength deserted him.

The basket crashed to the floor, cracking on impact.

‘Rebraal, go!’ shouted Hirad.

He saw the elf leap to the rope and start climbing. Darrick watched him too. The barbarian could see the pallid colour of the general’s face. He had lost too much blood.

‘Don’t faint before you get to the top,’ he said.

Darrick was stone-faced. ‘I’ll make it,’ he said.

‘Three to go,’ said Hirad. ‘This should be interesting.’

Suddenly, the pressure against the panel vanished and it thudded back into place. Hirad would have preferred had it not. Dystran’s voice sounded in the sudden quiet.

‘Let me through, idiots. I’ll do it, myself.’

‘Not good,’ muttered Hirad.

‘We’re out of time,’ said Myx.

‘Right,’ said Hirad. ‘Auum, go.’ The TaiGethen looked at him. ‘Spell coming. Go.’

Auum nodded, understanding and respect in his gesture. He sheathed his sword and jumped onto the rope.

‘Go, Hirad,’ said Myx.

‘The rope won’t take four.’

‘You have no choice.’

‘You’re coming with me. I’m not leaving you here.’

Myx met his stare. ‘I will not yield. Go. Sol understands. We are one.’

‘You’ll be killed.’

‘We are one!’

Hirad hesitated but Myx had turned away. It felt wrong. This wasn’t necessary. He eyed the rope which flexed and jumped, under the strain of those climbing it. He stepped onto the rim of the basket.

‘The Raven will help you,’ he said. ‘You should come.’

‘No.’

Hirad sliced the rope below him, sheathed his knife and began climbing hard.

‘Pull!’ he yelled. ‘Darrick, make them pull. Myx, come on, you can make it.’

Below Hirad, the world turned blue, a force of air whipping up the shaft bouncing him from side to side. Myx tumbled beneath him like a doll cast carelessly aside, shards of the oak panel a storm about him. Urgent shouts were followed by soldiers clustering under the vent bringing crossbows to bear.

‘Oh shit,’ said Hirad. ‘Pull up, pull up!’

Bolts clattered and bounced in the shaft, one thumping side-on into his boot. He climbed faster, hand over hand, legs driving him upwards. The wound in his chest, pulled and twisted, fresh blood dripping down his body.

At the base of the shaft, the reload was complete but the shots never came. From nowhere, Myx barrelled across his vision, head down, arms wide, sweeping into the bowmen, pushing them away. The sounds of the fight followed but Hirad couldn’t see it because at last, the rope began to rise and he was pulled quickly from sight. He could hear though, and all too soon, the sounds ceased.

Hirad closed his eyes for a moment before turning his head upwards. Fresh air reached his lungs and drops of rain hit his face. He could hear the wind howling across the top of the shaft. It had been calm when they had entered Xetesk and now a storm had begun. It was somehow entirely appropriate.

Chapter 27

Dystran stared up the ventilation shaft, dodging backwards when, predictably, the rope dropped down. They had escaped him for now and the thought made him as angry as he had ever felt. But he couldn’t shake the grudging respect he also felt. They’d escaped from two colleges in the past four days, and he recalled they’d done something similar in Dordover when recovering a Dawnthief catalyst from the crypts there a few years back.

‘Extraordinary,’ he said quietly. ‘Quite extraordinary.’

He wanted to shout, lash out, anything to ease his frustration. Uncharacteristically, he chose not to. Turning and looking at the men around him he saw fear, shock and relief. He saw trepidation too. He knew they were anxious about his reaction. They expected him to blame them. He found he could not.

Down at his feet, Myx lay dead. He’d known the Protector for a decade and had never seen his face until now. A man. How easy it had been to ignore that fact. He looked peaceful in death, his face relaxed, his eyes closed and the red marks fading from his face.

Part of Dystran feared the passing of the Protectors. Something of Xetesk’s invincibility went with them into history. He knew the political will to reinstitute the order wouldn’t exist and that he was weakened because of it.

He shook his head and took a last look up the shaft. How often had he heard that you should never underestimate The Raven? He should have listened. He blinked away the dust that was falling, dislodged by foot and rope. They were outside the city but not outside his control. Not completely, and not if he acted quickly and decisively enough.

There was so much to organise, so much to do. The war had taken a turn against Xetesk. His hand was about to be forced. Fortunately, it was a strong one. He turned back to his men.

‘Let’s get out of here. Any of you who feel able to help clean up this mess our friends have created gather in the dome when you’ve had a stiff drink. Suarav will organise you. Any who don’t, stand yourselves down until dawn.’

‘My Lord,’ came the response.

‘My Lord?’

Dystran faced the soldier, he didn’t know his name.

‘Speak.’

‘We will get them, won’t we? We’ve lost so many friends tonight.’

Dystran smiled sadly. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I’ll do everything in my power to catch them. They’ve hurt us and I’m sorry for those of you who have lost friends. Tonight, we assumed no one could get in and get out and we were wrong. It’s a hard lesson, isn’t it? We can stand here and say we had no luck in catching them but The Raven would consider there was no luck involved. We have to accept that they may be right. Come on, I’ll show you the way out.’

Ark stood in the warm air of the early morning. He couldn’t sleep. He thought perhaps he never would again. Herendeneth was quiet once more but everything had changed.