But they are the thoughts I would expect of such a man as you, Hirad Coldheart, continued the dragon.

Accepting death has always been my way of avoiding it, said Hirad.

I- Sha-Kaan stopped. That is by way of a joke, is it not?

Sort of. Sha-Kaan, this contact is fortunate, given where I stand now. I need to ask you to help us.

Ask.

We know one of the Al-Drechar was murdered.

Myriell, confirmed Sha-Kaan.

Erienne's mind was damaged by it. She is unconscious now and Denser has been holding back the storms. But he's spent and he can't help her where she needs it most. We need Cleress to be with her, in her mind. She's in trouble.

I will do what I can. Cleress is asleep under a spell now but she is also free of the Xeteskians. When she wakes, I will be there.

Thank you. And for you, we have the information we need. When we get out, we can make it happen.

Renewed warmth and sudden joy flooded Hirad's mind. Then, frail human, you had better ensure you survive. I will have need of my Dragonene when I return home.

I'll do what I can.

I am sure you will.

Sha-Kaan's contact ceased. Hirad came fully to himself, with the battering on the door constant and the pressure beginning to tell. Behind him, the basket carrying Denser and Erienne lifted out of sight, creaking and protesting, the movements deliberately smooth. He focused back on the door from which Auum had never taken his eyes.

Another impact, and the illusion collapsed.

'Can that happen?' asked Hirad.

'Apparently,' said Darrick from the other side of the shaft.

Hirad was looking at a plain panel of oak, dark and heavy. There was a recess to the left into which it would slide. Not that Dystran planned anything so gentle. When the WardLock failed, the door would go with it. Already, the wood was stressed and warped, only

Denser's spell keeping it in place now. Hirad backed up three paces, Auum following suit, understanding they were too close for comfort.

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.'

‘Ihear 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 chmbed 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.