The Lord of the Mount of Xetesk sat up and dragged Vuldaroq to a seated position. The Dordovan was spent. He surely could not have flown for much longer. A quick glance told him that the others were in no better condition.

‘Get me hot drink, food and blankets. I want beds made for these men to rest on,’ said Dystran. ‘We’ve saved them from the demons. Let’s not lose them to exhaustion.’

Vuldaroq’s eyes flickered open. They were red and brimmed with tears.

‘Thank you,’ he croaked, voice dry and cracked.

‘That was quite some entrance,’ said Dystran. ‘What the hell happened?’

‘Dordover is gone,’ said Vuldaroq, voice suddenly loud in the silence that fell in the dome as he spoke. ‘We’re all that is left.’

Dystran felt cold. The second great college of Balaia. Reduced to four mages.

‘How?’

‘We were never strong enough and they grew stronger every day. It was sudden in the last few days. Like they’d gained power from somewhere.’ He coughed. It wracked his entire body and he shivered.

‘Later,’ said Dystran. ‘Food and rest now. You’re safe here for the time being.’

But the words Vuldaroq had spoken backed up everything Dystran feared. He searched for Chandyr. The commander met his gaze levelly from across the dome.

‘I need some good news,’ said Dystran. ‘Where’s my library team?’

‘They aren’t back yet,’ said Chandyr. ‘Patience, my Lord.’

‘It’s happening now,’ said Dystran. ‘We don’t have time for patience.’

The shadows of demons flitted in and out of Sharyr’s peripheral vision. The whir of their wings was the only sound they made. He had to keep out of his mind the thought of their spindly fingers reaching for his soul while he searched feverishly among the shelves for anything that might give them a clue to the demons’ tactics.

Smoke was filling the library from the fire that was fast consuming the accumulated knowledge of Xetesk. Whatever he and his team collected now could well be all that was ever salvaged.

Sharyr knew the demons had lost him temporarily after he’d pushed them through a skylight and dropped the ForceCone. But they hadn’t lost Suarav. What a spirit the man had. He could hear the captain’s taunts and shouts, trying to draw the soul stealers away from the two surviving archivists looking for Dystran’s prayed-for panacea.

The conscript was gone. The sound of the man’s cut-off scream would live with him forever. He smiled grimly at the thought that forever for him could be a very short time indeed.

Sharyr grabbed a demonology scroll and with a surge of excitement having seen the author’s name, stuffed it into his cloak. Behind him, new flame flared high into the library and sent a billow of choking smoke across the lower hall. The shadow of a grasping demon was cast huge against a wall. He heard one of his archivists call a warning.

‘Time’s up!’ roared Suarav. There was the sound of a sword thudding dully. A demon yelped and screeched. ‘Meeting point, now!’

Sharyr turned right, heading back towards the seat of the fire. Back towards the library doors. He heard the whir and saw a demon round the corner and float gently towards him along the aisle. He backed away.

‘No escape,’ said the demon, advancing with hands outstretched. ‘We seek what you seek.’

‘It’ll burn before you set eyes on it,’ said Sharyr. He backed off further and felt a chill, heard the whirring again, this time behind him. He was trapped.

‘No escape,’ repeated the demon. It came on, fingers rippling.

Right was wall, left, bookcases. Sharyr’s mind was made up. The rest went by in a blur.

‘You will not have me,’ he whispered.

He could not cast, there was no time. Flames crackled menacingly in the centre of the library. Smoke irritated his eyes. The demons closed lazily. Sharyr had only one chance at what he intended to do. He threw himself shoulder-first into the freestanding bookcases that were the left-hand border of the aisle. It was a long, solid structure with more shelves racked beyond it. About ten feet high and heavy with books. Mercifully, it was not bolted to the floor.

Sharyr felt it move and he started to climb, scrambling up the shelves, arms and legs scrabbling for purchase. His momentum carried him up while the bookcase tipped away from him. With his feet on the top shelf, the bookcase passed the point of no return. The thundering sound of books falling mixed with that of his breathing, his heartbeat, Suarav’s shouts and the flames. The shelving creaked. He stood, riding the case. It gathered momentum and cannoned into the one across the next aisle.

‘Oh shit,’ he muttered. There were six aisles before the wide gap of the centre aisle of the library.

He began to move again, running at an angle across the cases, jumping to the next, almost stumbling. He could feel the quickening movement beneath his feet. He kept himself going, his paces light. The clattering of the cases and the slipping of books reached a crescendo. Suarav was barking orders. He could see the heads of his friends bobbing as they sprinted down the centre aisle, demons in pursuit. He daren’t guess how close his own pursuers were.

Sharyr took one last leap, caught the falling edge of a case and tumbled hard to the ground. He turned a diving forward roll, feeling a sharp crack in his collar-bone. He sprawled and cried out, clutching at his clothing, desperate to keep the texts with him.

A strong hand gripped him under his good arm and hauled.

‘By all the Gods burning, that was quite a performance,’ growled Suarav. ‘Now go, run hard left at the main doors as we’d planned. You know the way in.’

Sharyr could feel the heat of the fire on his face. It was eating up at the walls. The pain in his right shoulder was terrible, nauseating.

‘What about you?’

‘I’ll keep them back.’ Suarav leaned in. ‘Don’t argue with me, boy. We always knew this could happen.’

Sharyr nodded, turned and ran; the last thing he heard behind him was Suarav daring them to try and pass him.

Chapter 14

The Unknown made them all wait. The longboat was ready to take him and The Raven to join the others already aboard the Calaian Sun but he wasn’t ready yet. There was never enough time for goodbye. Particularly when he had no desire to leave.

‘I can’t believe I’m doing this,’ he said, walking arm in arm with Diera through the woods to the left of the path that led to the landing beach. Jonas trotted along next to them, oblivious to the mood for the moment, lost in a nonsense game of his own devising.

‘It’s the price we have to pay because of who you are,’ said Diera, her words carrying no conviction.

A stiff warm breeze swayed the narrow trunks surrounding them. A few dead leaves fell.

‘We’ve paid enough,’ he said.

‘Apparently not.’

The Unknown stopped and faced her, looking into her lovely face, the fear in her eyes clear behind her forced smile.

‘One word and I’ll stay,’ he said.

‘What, and wonder how they are coping without you? We’ve been through this, Sol. There isn’t a choice.’ She looked down at Jonas who had stopped his play to stare at them, a frown across his innocence. ‘There never is.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Every word was clumsy. None of it helped. He was trapped between his desire and his calling. Gods, he’d shunned the soldier’s life to avoid exactly that. At least now he knew why. It hurt.

‘What for?’ She placed her hands on his chest, smoothed his shirt to either side. ‘I heard Sha-Kaan. I do trust him. This is the only way.’

He was unsure who she was trying to convince.

‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Or you’ll miss the tide and we’ll have to go through all this again.’

He crushed her to him and felt her strength give and the sobs coming. Jonas clung onto his mother’s leg, his expression collapsed into anxiety.