'No, Denser,' she said and she sighed as if in pain. 'Remember I love you. Remember I love all of you. Whatever happens now.'

‘Idon't understand? You're awake, you've won.'

'It is in me now,' she replied. 'It touches everywhere. Please don't think badly of me.'

'Why would I ever-?'

He saw something pass across her eyes, like a black cloud across moonlight. And when she looked at him again, those eyes were so cold.

Chapter 35

Dystran had thought to ride with his small army to Julatsa but Ranyl had dissuaded him, despite the lure of glory. Another wise decision, given what he had heard from Chandyr via Communion report this morning. What would he do without him?

He had sat in Ranyl's rooms for much of the day, talking to his dying friend, acutely aware of the brevity of the time they had left together. The old master had reacted badly to the attack on Xetesk and the intrusion into his chambers, shock settling on him, weighing him down.

'I could not have fought back,' he said for the tenth time that day. 'I was powerless.'

Ranyl was sitting in his favourite chair by the fire which roared out heat despite the warmth of the day beyond his open balcony doors. His hands wrung together, his face was damp with sweat, and the agony of his cancer was evident in every breath he drew. His skin had taken on a yellow pallor and his body had a distinct tremor to it. He had refused food all day.

'They meant you no harm,' said Dystran gently. 'It was me who failed you. I am sorry.'

‘Iwas in my own chambers and they just walked in,' he said.

Dystran could see the fear in those bright, wise eyes and was reminded that great mage though he was, Ranyl was first and foremost an old, tired man facing death and scared at the prospect.

‘Ihave news for you,' said Dystran, determining to take his mind off it.

It was news he had known since before dawn but had not revealed while Ranyl struggled with his pain as he always did for half of the day. At such times, it was best to talk memories but today, his mind had been preoccupied.

'Oh yes?' Ranyl perked up and Dystran wondered if he had made a mistake in delaying.

'As you know, we put scouts into the field last night,' he said. 'It seems the damage we inflicted was worse than we hoped. The southern and western camps have been abandoned. They are moving north but of course almost a day behind us.'

'It was an obvious move in some respects,' said Ranyl, straightening in his chair. 'They have guessed rightly that we cannot afford to send men from here to harry them, we would leave ourselves too exposed. And they of course, can no longer attack us here. Are we assuming they are headed for Julatsa or are they actually going to return to Dordover and Lystern?'

'That's difficult to answer,' replied Dystran. 'They have over a hundred wounded with them, and I suspect they will be returned home. But die bulk of the force, something in the order of four hundred could well continue north.'

'Interesting.'

'What do you suggest we do to counter them?'

Ranyl was silent for a while, rubbing the top of his nose with an index finger. ‘Iam no military tactician,' he said eventually. 'Chandyr is best placed to assess the threat. Surely if we keep scouts trailing them and him informed, that is our best option. Unless… When will we be able to cast dimensional magics of the same magnitude again?'

Dystran raised his eyebrows. 'In two days, I am told. And this time the window is much longer, perhaps a whole day before alignment becomes unhelpful again.'

Ranyl nodded. 'Well, it's an option. Chandyr may have other ideas but should we not consider getting a team of mages into the field and behind the enemy now? Not let the distance get too great. They can rest on the trail enough to be able to cast. I must say, it worries me that the elves will reach Julatsa before Chandyr has taken the college. Three hundred is a significant number in this game.'

'My thoughts exactly.' Dystran smiled. 'Thank you.'

'It is always a pleasure,' said Ranyl.

He coughed, the pain wracking his body. On his lap, his familiar raised its head weakly and settied down again, looking nothing more than a sick cat.

'You need to rest,' said Dystran.

Ranyl chuckled. 'I will have an eternity to do that, young pup. An eternity that is very soon to begin.'

North and west, the people poured out of Julatsa. The meetings across the city had been brief and harsh. The mayor had played his cards well, barring mages from the gatherings, determined to ensure that the people heard the unexpurgated truth, as he put it. Anyone who Pheone had managed to speak to following the meetings, which had gone on well into the night, reported nothing short of rabble-rousing.

The result had been angry but directionless demonstrations outside the college, a few threats levelled at the mages within for the trouble they had brought to the city and now this exodus. Early guesswork and a close watch on those leaving suggested that the charge, for such it appeared when it gathered momentum in the early afternoon, had been led by those who had only come to Julatsa for shelter.

The ranks had been swelled by women and children chaperoned by a sizeable number of armed men, often on horseback. It was a somewhat different story among businessmen, who could see their already precarious livelihoods collapsing around their ears if they left. But while many of these people determined to stay in the city, keeping open areas like markets, bakers and blacksmiths, they were not openly declaring their support for the college.

Julatsa, they had said, is my home and I will protect it and my business. If I help the college as a by-product, so be it. Hardly the vote of confidence Pheone had been hoping for. To be fair, friends had come to the college to pledge their support but they were so few that Pheone had considered sending them away for their own safety. Instead, she had welcomed them in and put them to work.

Despite the ever-present risk of mana failure, Pheone watched the ordered column of Julatsans leaving the northern border of the city from under ShadowWings. The effort of structuring and maintaining the simple casting told her all she needed to know about the depths of trouble in which Julatsan mana found itself but she was determined that she would not be scared out of using it. Indeed, if Geren was completely right, using magic helped maintain the Heart.

A determined movement from below caught her eye. Someone was waving up at her. She dipped lower and smiled sadly. Another friend deserting the city. The woman was beckoning her down and she obliged, pulling up to land just outside the last house before the empty north route guard tower. She heard muttering behind her at her arrival but no one spoke up.

'Hello Maran,' she said. 'Sorry to see you're leaving.'

'I'm sorry too,' said Maran. Her daughter, Maranie was walking along hand-in-hand beside her, the five-year-old sensing only the excitement, not the uncertainty. 'But I can't let her see what might come.'

'I do understand,' said Pheone. 'You are why I spoke to the council. You should be assured of your safety. It's what everyone in the college wants.'

'The Mayor didn't speak too kindly of you. None of you but you in particular,' said Maran.

'I'm sure he didn't.'

'You know, most of us don't believe much of what he said.'

'And what did he say?'

Maran paused before speaking. 'That you courted war and expected us to defend you. That you felt above every other citizen, assuming yourselves rulers of the city. He was quite forceful about who was really in charge.'

'It's not something I've ever disputed,' said Pheone. 'We only ever wanted to work together to make the city great again.'