Rebraal ducked, dived headlong and rolled over his left shoulder. White tears fled over his body. He came up to a crouch, jumped and smashed his sword into the face of his target. The Garonin’s helmet split. Gore spilled out. The body disappeared. Rebraal gripped his blade with both hands, ignoring the pain from his damaged wrist. He stabbed straight out. A weapon blocked the thrust. Rebraal carved out and down, slicing through thigh and knee.

Al-Arynaar waded in next to him. Others hurdled him, driving feet first into the ranks of the enemy. Blood misted the air. The stench of innards rose. Rebraal surged to his feet. Directly in front of him, two Garonin. He blocked the blade of one and hacked down into the weapon of the other. Both enemies stepped back. They loomed over him, tall and powerful.

Rebraal moved into the space. He feinted to the right and brought his sword through from the left, clattering it into the shoulder of the blade carrier. Armour flared white. The other turned his weapon on Rebraal. The hand of an Al-Arynaar clamped on it, forcing the weapon down. A short blade whipped through and severed the enemy wrist.

Rebraal nodded thanks. He punched out into the midriff of the blade carrier. He dropped to his haunches and swept out his left leg. The Garonin saw the move and jumped but he landed off balance, stumbling forward. The thrust of an Al-Arynaar sword took him under the chin.

Rebraal rose again. Garonin were thick about him and his warriors. White tear weapons were useless now. He fielded a blade on the hilt of his sword and shoved the Garonin back. To his right an Al-Arynaar took a blade through his throat. Blood spurted from the wound. The elf fell yet even in the act of dying held out his sword. Rebraal took it and swept it through his killer’s gut.

Blade in each hand, Rebraal moved into the space.

‘Disengage!’ Dila’heth’s voice carried into the heart of the fight. ‘Al-Arynaar. Scatter free!’

The speed of their withdrawal was as exhilarating for Rebraal as it was confusing for the enemy. Thirty warriors, maybe a few more, ran hard into open space. Rebraal headed straight for Dila’s team of six mages.

‘Down in front,’ she said.

Rebraal hit the deck. Yellow heat flooded the air above him. The Jalyr’s Sun, which normally traced an arc, barrelled straight ahead only a few feet from the ground. The Garonin had seen these before and adapted to them. But the loss of Julatsa’s Heart made every casting a compromise. It made them different. Different enough.

The Sun, perhaps three wagons in diameter, exploded across the Garonin, covering dozens of them in superheated mana fire. Armour flared but could not withstand the force of the barely controlled spell. The withering flames consumed flesh and bone. Burning Garonin screamed. They fell, some trying to crawl away from the fire that ate at everything it touched.

The Garonin line holding the valley wall collapsed. Soldiers scattered before the conflagration that rolled across the ground. Some even turned and ran. Rebraal climbed to his feet and caught Dila’s eye. She smiled.

‘Spell Shield up,’ she said.

‘Our turn now,’ said Rebraal.

And, calling his warriors to him, he charged across the fires and down to the unguarded flank of the fight for the valley mouth.

Chapter 43

The fighting washed around Sol, leaving him feeling detached. It all seemed sped-up to his mind and he experienced confusion and a slew of nausea. Hirad’s blade crashed through the top of a Garonin helmet, beating the man to the ground and spreading his brains across the ivory floor.

The Raven, along with Evunn and Duele, had fought to form a rough circle in which stood Erienne and Ilkar. The former was causing devastation with One magic castings against which the Garonin armour had no defence. The latter seemed unable to grasp the concept of where they were. Ilkar relied on actual feelings, not memories and beliefs. Right now he was a passenger.

Outside the circle, the remaining TaiGethen weaved their unique form of death with astonishing accuracy and speed. But even they were coming under increasing pressure. The Garonin had ceased their attack on the mass of souls in an attempt to destroy the aggressive defence provided by Raven and elf.

‘We need to get to the TaiGethen. Bring them into the circle,’ said Sol.

Sirendor blocked a strike to his waist and stabbed out, landing a glancing blow on his opponent’s hip.

‘That’s the third time you’ve said that.’

Sirendor feinted to move in and instead swept his blade low, carving deep into the thigh of his target. The Garonin staggered back. Another took his place. Sol scowled and lashed out with his blade. The Garonin in front of him blocked the strike, grunting with the effort.

‘Fight me,’ growled Sol.

But they would not. The Raven circle was moving steadily towards Auum. Erienne cast again. Reinforcing Garonin were hurled aside like a child discards a toy. A path opened up to the TaiGethen leader. Sol saw him surrounded. Six Garonin converging on him. Auum turned full circle, taking them all in. His movements impossibly quick and sure.

Auum crouched. Blade in one hand, jaqrui in his left. He powered to his feet, taking off and twisting his body. His left arm came round. The jaqrui howled away, slamming into the helmet of a Garonin soldier. His blade came next, spinning on the horizontal as it left his hand. It hacked deep into the arm of a second soldier. Both men fell back.

Auum landed and was running at his next target. Sol couldn’t focus on him. He shook his head to clear his vision but there were clouds before his eyes. He gasped, pain gripping his soul.

‘Unknown!’

Hirad’s voice came from a long way off though the touch of his hand was immediate. Hands dragged Sol backwards. The circle closed. Sol could hear fighting. The clash and spark of weapons. He felt a huge pull on his body, like someone was trying to suck his heart clean out of his chest.

‘I have him.’ Ilkar’s voice. ‘Unknown, lean into me. We’re still moving.’

Sol had no idea if was standing or seated. Warmth was growing around him. The light of the mass of souls burned incredibly bright in his mind, like staring into the sun. Pinpoints closer were those of The Raven and TaiGethen. He heard voices. Distant echoes of those he loved. And those of the lost seeking sanctuary.

Sol’s entire body was juddering. In a brief moment’s vision, he saw Ilkar’s arm and clung to it. The elf’s face was confused and bright, so bright.

‘Keep it inside you.’ The voice came from everywhere. It was Auum. ‘Do not let it take you. Not yet.’

But Sol did not know how to achieve any of that. He felt as if his body were being flushed by the force of the void. A chasm had opened up between the body that had drawn around his soul and the soul itself. He reached out, trying to grip himself. He saw a spectral hand clutching at the centre of his spiritual body. He found purchase. And he found a tiny degree of calm.

The fight was raging on around him. Sol shook off Ilkar’s hand and straightened his shoulders. Garonin had closed in on Miirt. Ghaal was fighting his way towards her but he wasn’t going to make it. Hirad was moving The Raven’s circle in the same direction. The barbarian’s blade licked out, cracking against the armoured shoulder of a Garonin shoulder. Next to him, Sirendor ducked a wayward thrash and jabbed his blade up and into the gut of his opponent.

The pull on Sol’s body declined. He looked about him. The soul mass was pulsating, lanterns to banish the darkest of nights. They could feel the pull.