She didn't have to say anything more. All around, her mages were returning to themselves and their elven helpers sought the focus of the battle and ran to the aid of the Al-Arynaar.

In the passage between the Heart pit and the main gates, Auum and his Tai still fought. The Unknown just couldn't leave them to it. He patted Hirad on the shoulder, left the barbarian sitting on his haunches, hands on his thighs, and trotted as quickly as he could towards the elves, damaged hip protesting all the way. But at every pace more of the Al-Arynaar mages were coming by him and the spells were already beginning to fly. Focused Orbs took individuals and ForceCones knots of enemy forces. Almost at once, the passageway was clear and Auum's Tai set off to free Rebraal and the rest of the Al-Arynaar.

'Got you,' breathed The Unknown.

Hirad was spent, he knew he was. Behind him, The Raven were in no condition to fight on. Whatever happened now was out of their hands. He leaned on a wall. Thraun's muzzle nudged at his hand. He looked down.

'Gods, I hope you know what you're doing,' he said. Thraun looked up at him, humanity blazing from his lupine eyes. 'You come back to us, you hear?'

From the gates there was another roar of noise and Xeteskians fell over themselves as they were forced into the gateyard. A horse neighed loud and Izack leaped a fallen man and galloped in, followed by his cavalry, his sword dripping blood.

The men that had fallen in before the cavalry and had survived, got up and ran. And they were just the first. All over the yard, Xeteskians detached themselves from battle and headed for the gates, Mages cast ShadowWings and took off, clearing the walls and elimbing high from danger.

The Unknown watched them run and nodded to himself Auum roared a rallying cry and the Al-Arynaar and surviving TaiGethen surged once more. Bottled up by the gate, enemy cavalry and elves around him, the Xeteskian commander yelled for order, for a new attack, but all around him, his men were running. They outnumbered their enemies but with Julatsan and Al-Arynaar mages on the parapets and racing along the stones, casting into their midst, they were broken.

Chandyr bellowed his rage. He turned his head and met The Unknown's gaze. Reluctantly, he nodded, snapped the reins of his horse and rode out of the gates, his men following him. Not satisfied, Izack bellowed his cavalry to order and chased them out, Al-Arynaar elves with him.

The Unknown felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked round to see Hirad leaning against him. Blood slicked his face and dripped from his nose and ears but he still couldn't keep the smile from his face though his eyes were a little unfocused.

'What the hell do you think you're doing?' asked The Unknown.

'Watching us win, I think,' Hirad said.

He wobbled slightly on his feet and The Unknown caught him under the shoulders.

'Come on, old son, let's get you seen to.'

The cheers were ringing round the college. Up on the walls, the elven and Julatsan mages were hugging each other and down on the bloodied ground, Al-Arynaar warriors and mages clasped each other's hands, too tired to do anything else. The Unknown and Hirad were joined in their walk to the infirmary by Auum, who was supporting a bedraggled-looking Rebraal. Duele and Evunn walked beside them, both cut and bleeding. Gods, wasn't everyone?

'We did it,' said Rebraal.

'Did you ever doubt it?' asked Hirad.

'Of course,' said Rebraal.

Hirad smiled. 'Got to learn not to, if you're ever going to be in The Raven.'

Thraun was sitting outside the infirmary and staring in. Hirad unwound himself from The Unknown and knelt by him, ruffling his fur.

'Thanks, Thraun. Saved me again, eh?'

The wolf stared at him, some comprehension in his eyes. His tongue licked at Hirad's face.

'This is some risk you've taken. You can come back, can't you?'. He held the wolfs cheeks in his hands and looked at him. 'Listen to me, Thraun. Remember.'

Thraun backed away, yowling in his throat. Then he growled, cocked his head and trotted away.

Hirad stared after him a moment, then let himself be helped inside.

Vuldaroq completed his Communion with Heryst and sat back in his chair, feeling the warmth of the sun on his obese body. He felt a surge of excitement though it had been such a mix of a morning. First, one of Izack's cavalry mages had reported to Heryst that the relief force had been completely wiped out. Only a handful of allied men had been left in the field barring Izack's and they were under Blackthorne's questionable control.

The wait for more news had been interminable and when it had come, just as he was going to turn down an early lunch, it had been better than he could possibly have hoped for. Izack, the elves and The Raven had been victorious. The Heart of Julatsa was raised and the Xeteskians were in retreat.

It wasn't the fact of victory that had so lightened his mood. Indeed, had Julatsa fallen, he wasn't sure that would have been too bad a thing. But it stood and better, the prize remained inside. More than that, Heryst said that he had nothing left to commit. And Izack was not going to be the man to arrest The Raven, that was abundanrly clear.

That left Dordover to do, well, the right thing. Vuldaroq rang the bell by his chair and waited for his servant to appear.

'The reserve,' he said. 'See it is sent to Julatsa with all speed. I will be writing a letter to the acting High Mage, Pheone. We have one of our own that needs to be returned to the bosom of the college.'

*

Dystran could still not believe what was happening. He stared at the Wesmen army that was organising itself outside his college. Carefully out of spell range, they calmly pitched tents, lit fires and fashioned battering rams and ladders. He shook his head, rested his elbows on the wall, and rubbed his face in his hands.

It wasn't just the enormous numbers of men that were being assembled, it was the mode of their attack. They hadn't, as in years gone by, thrown everything they had at their enemies, only to be beaten back by spell and arrow.

Instead, they'd hurled abuse for a while and now this. They were having a party outside his south gates. It couldn't have become much worse except that his Communion team had just reported the final defeat at Julatsa. His men were routed and fleeing south even now.

'I suppose I should be thankful for small mercies,' said Dystran.

‘Ibeg your pardon, my Lord?' said Suarav.

'At least Chandyr is bringing some people back,'

'We can keep them from the walls, my Lord,' asserted Suarav.

'How many fighting men do we have in the city right now, Captain?'

'Two, maybe three hundred.'

'And how many mages of any real experience?'

'Forty or so, my Lord.'

Dystran could see light dawning over his face. It wasn't a pretty sight. 'They have three or four thousand out there. They fear magic but it won't stop them. If they get over these walls or through those gates, and I don't doubt that they will try very, very hard, they will sweep through this city like a dose of the shits, do you understand? I suggest you go and read up on their normal tactics. It might tell you something.'

'Yes, my Lord.'

'Lucky I've got another dimensional team in the catacombs, isn't it? I wonder when the next conjunction is.'

The mood of celebration had taken hold though it was tempered by the numbers of dead. Sixty Al-Arynaar warriors had perished, along with twenty mages. Another twenty would not make the trip home to Calaius. Commander Vale had died too, in the gateyard. He'd dived on an elf as a Spell had struck and taken the full force himself. Arynaar would respect him for it forever. Auum, Duele and Evunn had survived, a testament to their extraordinary awareness or eacn other as much as anything. They were three of just five Tai-Gethen. And just a single ClawBound pair remained. They mourned their fallen alone.