James Barclay - Ravensoul

He felt hands about him, trying to help him. All around them the blue in the walls had faded to a crisp white and frost bulged out, thick and grabbing. Ice fingers probed into millennia-old stone. The catacombs gave a death rattle. A complete silence fell.

‘What’s happening?’ asked Diera.

‘The Heart is about to stop beating,’ said Densyr.

There were footsteps on the stairs. Densyr swore. Hirad screeched and clutched hard at Diera’s neck. Four Garonin pounded into the hub room. Densyr wasn’t ready. He had no spell prepared. His head was thumping as loud as the enemy boots. Jonas rushed in, yelling at them to leave his mother alone. A Garonin arm came round. The back of the soldier’s hand clattered into Jonas’s chest, sending him sprawling.

Diera and Hirad both shrieked Jonas’s name. Garonin weapons trained on Densyr. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. From his left two shadows whipped by. He heard a Garonin shout. There was a howl and then the crunchy of fang on flesh and bone. A weapon was fired, dust and stone fell from the ceiling. Densyr dared to look.

Both wolves had attacked from a side passageway. Two Garonin were down. The other two trying to beat the wolves back. Jonas stormed past him and hacked his sword into an exposed back. Densyr, impelled to action, freed his dagger again. He paced forward. The one free Garonin reared back, a wolf snarling and snapping in his arms. The soldier roared with the effort.

Densyr jammed his dagger blade hard into the back of the Garonin’s left thigh and kicked into the back of his knee. The Garonin pitched forward. The wolf spun in his grip. Claws and fangs lashed in. Before long, the enemy had ceased his struggle. Blood slicked across the hub room floor.

Densyr, breathing heavily, nodded his thanks at Jonas. He wiped his dagger on his trousers and sheathed it. A bass rumble rippled out from the centre of the catacombs. The hub room shook. Areas of the plaster ceiling fell in. The walls heaved. Fissures appeared within, shattering ice. The wind began to howl again but this time all could hear it.

‘Run!’ yelled Densyr.

He sprinted back to the stairs, trying to ignore the pounding in his head. Jonas was by his side, bloodied sword still held in one hand. They ran out into the devastation that had once been the tower complex. Nothing was left now but treacherous ruins. Ruins filled with Garonin. A hundred eyes turned on them as they fled the top of the stairs and were forced to stop by the piles of stone blocking their path. Fifty weapons were brought to bear. The wolves placed themselves in front of Hirad and Jonas, barking out warnings. Lips curled back from teeth and hackles rose.

‘To me,’ shouted Densyr. ‘Huddle close.’

There was a growing whine in the air, replacing the silence. Densyr cast quickly and efficiently, trying not to think about the fact that it would be his last casting as a true mage of Xetesk. He had a choice to make. To deflect the Garonin weapons was one option. He chose a second. Densyr stared at the nearest Garonin as the soldier’s hand rested on the trigger of his weapon.

‘I’d duck if I were you,’ he said.

The Heart of Xetesk exploded. The speed of the shock wave was incredible. The ground rippled underfoot, upsetting every Garonin, pitching them from their feet. It was followed by a series of detonations from deep within the catacombs. Densyr’s Orsyn’s Cocoon covered the four of them above and below, a seamless bubble of mana that he would cling on to for as long as his mind would let him.

From the centre of the catacombs the ground heaved in expanding concentric circles. Cracks were torn and blue fire lashed out, sending shards of stonework out in lethal clouds. Garonin, struggling to their feet, were cut to shreds in their tens and dozens. The ripple detonations thundered beneath Densyr and his charges. They were cast up eight or ten feet and dumped back down.

The ground collapsed beneath them and they fell further. All around them Garonin soldiers died. The air was full of whistling missiles. Great slabs of catacomb wall spiralled high, crashing down on the undefended. Bodies were smeared beneath falls of rock that would have crushed dragons. The ripples fled ever outwards, blue light gleaming under the surface. The wolves leapt out and bolted, howling as they went.

Densyr could just see the remaining college walls to the north judder and fall. Below, in the catacombs, nought would be left but dust. Stones and debris rattled on the skin of the cocoon. Densyr could feel his link to the Heart fade and die. An intense sadness swept into his body and the shield was gone. There was still mana here. He could feel it, taste it. But the flow he knew, the security that had always been there… nothing was left. Not a trickle. Mage rendered man.

‘I wonder if this really was always inevitable,’ he said.

‘Probably,’ said Diera.

She hugged Hirad close to her. The little boy was cut and crying but otherwise unharmed. Physically at least. Jonas coughed and sat up, using his sword as a prop to help him stand.

‘Is it over?’ he asked.

‘Well, that depends whether the Garonin find us of no more use or whether they feel annihilation is fitting revenge. Either way, we should probably get out of this hole. I dread to think what it’s like below us. As treacherous as shifting sands, I should think.’

‘Densyr,’ said Diera, feeling able to use his new name at last

‘Denser, I think,’ said Denser. ‘That little ego trip didn’t last, did it?’

‘Denser, then. Sol would have been proud of you. Thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me. Not yet,’ said Denser. ‘Not until he comes for you. Come on. We need to find somewhere safer to hide.’

The doorway was open. The light that encased Sol was blinding. All any of them had to do was turn and walk towards it and they would be gone. And the Garonin would be right behind them. The pull, the temptation, was enormous. But to give in would be a betrayal of everything for which Sol had sacrificed his life.

And so Ilkar turned back, the howls of the Garonin loud in his ears, and watched them charge across the open space. There had to be two thousand of them in ranks forty yards wide. They would reach The Raven and TaiGethen in moments. They would roll over them as if they were wheat in a field and they would plunder a new set of dimensions.

Even so, Hirad, who stood a few paces in front of him, did not flinch or turn to run. And he held The Raven with him, daring any of them to weaken. Erienne was casting beside him and how he wished he could do the same, but something was still missing. It hardly mattered now, he supposed.

‘Pick your targets, Raven,’ said Hirad as Garonin weapons came to bear. ‘Ilkar, Erienne, we need shields now. Let’s keep them back as long as we can.’

Which would be a few heartbeats at best. Ilkar searched within himself for the ability to make something from this place bereft of mana. For Erienne, the task was plainly a simple one.

‘Shield up,’ she said.

The Garonin halted twenty yards from them. Ilkar watched them move into an arc, surrounding The Raven completely. He felt powerless, useless. With Erienne shielding them, he was the one who could actually deal damage but he had no idea how. Thraun stood stock still to Darrick’s left, lips drawn back from his teeth. He snarled. Darrick, like Hirad beside him, faced the enemy with no hint of fear. But to Hirad’s right Sirendor was twitchy, unsure. The TaiGethen flowed left and right along the thin Raven line, seeming far more than the five they numbered.

‘Are you ready for this, Erienne?’ asked Hirad.

‘We’re about to find out,’ she replied.

‘You can hold on,’ said Sol, his voice around them all, comforting and strong. ‘Trust me. Help is near.’