‘We leave at first light tomorrow. Be ready.’

Rebraal started at the unexpected sound he heard. They were clapping him.

Hirad had his back to a tree, knees pulled up to his chest and his arms around them, hands locked in front. His sword leant sheathed against the trunk. Around him, an early leaf-fall was testament to the cold that the demons had brought to Balaia. They had risked a fire to cook by when the night closed in but it was long dead now and in these hours before dawn the world was frosty and quiet. Hirad felt exhausted. His sleep had been broken first by Sha-Kaan and subsequently by the force he assumed was Ilkar, still trying without success to contact him.

And now he was awake on the dawn watch and looking over his sleeping friends, the two Protectors, Kas and Ark, and the quiet but determined elf, Eilaan. None of them slept undisturbed. Thraun chased the demons of his past, his body twitching and his mouth moving, murmuring. And Erienne, he knew, was occasionally found by Cleress despite the huge distance and the ageing elf’s condition. Right now, she was somewhere to the left, having woken suddenly.

He had asked her to call his name regularly but she hadn’t. In the end, she wasn’t gone long and he felt her hand on his shoulder as she eased herself down to sit beside him.

‘So I’m not the only one hearing voices tonight, eh?’ said Hirad softly.

Erienne linked her arm through his and laid her head on his shoulder.

‘She didn’t say much. She doesn’t have the strength, poor woman.’

‘Does she help you?’

‘What can she really do? She speaks the right words when I can hear them but I’m not skilled enough to reply over this distance so it’s all rather one-way.’ She picked her head up. ‘Look, Hirad, sorry about Blackthorne, the way I behaved I mean.’

‘Erienne, you never have anything to apologise to me or to any of us for. All I care about is that you’re feeling more comfortable now.’

‘I’m not sure I am, that’s the trouble. It isn’t the One magic itself, because in theory I can perform the castings. But this isn’t like casting an IceWind or putting up a HardShield. Failing in those is one thing, failing to strip the mana shell from demons would be fatal for all of us. It weighs on me.’

Hirad thought to reply immediately but some words from The Unknown replayed in his mind and he paused before saying something different.

‘We can’t help you with your power, I know that and I won’t pretend to understand the pressures it places you under. But remember how hard we’ve worked on fighting assuming your casting isn’t there to aid us. Keep that with you because it means we can survive if you’re having a problem. You are the most potent weapon we possess but you aren’t the only one. We’re all still here.’

Erienne chuckled. ‘How do you do that?’

‘Do what?’

‘Say something patronising and belittling and make it sound like comfort and support.’

‘Because that’s what it is supposed to be.’

‘And there’s my answer.’ She pulled at his arm with hers. ‘Tell me about your voices. Are you really sure it’s Ilkar? I mean, that’s far-fetched even for you.’

Hirad shrugged. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I’ve sat here tonight wondering if it’s all because I so want to believe he’s still here in some way that I’ve created the whole thing.’

‘And what did you conclude?’

‘That it’s all too coincidental. This has happened only since the demons began to flood mana into Balaia, if Blackthorne’s timings are right. But more than all that, it just feels like him. I can’t explain it. I’ve heard no words. It’s all just fuzz and mist. But you know when you can smell someone on the clothes they’ve worn? It’s like that, only inside my head. I just wish I could make it clearer.’

Erienne moved so that she faced him and laid her forearms on his knees.

‘Go with it,’ she said. ‘Try not to fight it or force it. Let it drive you on. If that’s what means you fight harder, then use it.’

‘I’ll try.’

‘But it’s hard, isn’t it? Having something inside you that you want but can’t use. I know a little about that.’

‘I guess you do.’ Hirad smiled. ‘Now if you’ll take my advice, you’ll get your head down. Auum could be back any time from tomorrow and then this little oasis of calm is gone for ever and it’s fight and fear all the way.’

‘But just one more time. Then we can go back to being bored.’

‘Do you really believe that?’

‘What do you think?’ Erienne leant in and kissed his cheek. ‘Goodnight, Hirad.’

Chapter 25

The cursyrd were waiting for them before the first wagon was hitched to its nervous horse. Since they’d begun loading the fifteen wagons, some little more than makeshift covered trailers, in the dead of night the enemy had been preparing. Auum knew they would. For him, it had always been a question of superior tactics come first light.

But for the humans and those Al-Arynaar who hadn’t listened to everything said at the briefing, the sight had to be truly terrifying. Reavers swarmed the shell, anticipating the moment it was dispersed. They thronged the area in front of the main gate, emitting a staggering kaleidoscope of colours. They hovered above every roadblock, herding slaves into the road as human barricades. And from their mouths came a cacophony of sound that echoed against the buildings of the college and high into the air, sending shivers through the bravest soul.

‘I want runners either side of each horse!’ shouted Rebraal. ‘Drivers let’s mount up and assemble in the courtyard. Free mages, to your wagons. And watch those borders. Move!’

Auum’s breath clouded in the cold air, mixing with that of around one hundred and eighty mages and two hundred and twenty Al-Arynaar warriors, college guard and the free Julatsans. He turned a full circle. Blinkered horses were goaded from the stables and out into the arena. Two to a wagon, they were skittish and either side of their heads elves stood and whispered soothing words, stroking cheeks and necks.

In front of the first clutch of five wagons, thirty Al-Arynaar mages gathered with fifty warriors. They were the vanguard, tasked to clear the path for the first wagons and if they could, blast a hole through the mass of cursyrd gathered beyond the gates. In each of the wagons, which would go through the gates two abreast, six human mages and six warriors, human and elven. For them, the task was to set up the forward ColdRoom shell immediately they left the protection of the college. The wagons would be flanked by elven warriors and mages, some of whom were already perched atop the wagons themselves against attack from the sky.

Behind this first wave would come two others made up almost identically. The few spare horses were tethered to wagons in the second wave. Again they were blinkered and near them would run elves ready to cut them free should they threaten to bolt.

They had done everything they could. Auum was as satisfied as he could be. He and the Tai would bring up the rear because there they perceived lay the greatest immediate risk of losing mages. Right now, heavily guarded in cellars in the college, the ColdRoom casters still held the barrier strong. They would have to be moved.

He understood it was the nature of the casting that three mages were needed for each one to maintain its core strength. Under normal circumstances, if any of this could be considered normal, mages coming to take over the casting would feed into the same construct, thereby maintaining a seamless shell. Moving all three would inevitably lead to the spell collapsing.

They approached the moment of greatest danger. In five locations around the college, ColdRoom trios were waiting to move. In order, they would disperse their spells and run to their designated wagon, flanked by Al-Arynaar. For three of the trios, the problem wasn’t too great. Their exits were clean, the wagons parked close and they could disperse their castings without risk to any but themselves. When those parts of the college were cleared, they could be moved and the cursyrd could take the territory.