CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN

CORBAN

Corban stood with his back guarding the cauldron and Treasures, his friends spread in a loose circle around them too, with Meical hovering, swinging his sword with savage joy at any Kadoshim that came too close. Cywen was standing close to the cauldron.

She started to chant. “Seoda cloch réalta, ó deannaigh tháinig tú, agus deannaigh beidh tú ar ais…”

At first no one in the room heard, as it was still seething with battle; Kadoshim and Ben-Elim were more interested in cutting, stabbing, hacking and tearing each other to pieces. Corban took a moment to check Storm over, heard her whine when he ran a hand over her shoulder, and found a deep gash in her left paw that carried on up into her leg. He ripped a strip of cloth from his linen undershirt and bound it tight for the moment, thinking he would have to tell Brina about it soon.

But I can’t. She’s dead, gone.

Grief and rage were circling through his body, punctuated with waves of weariness and fear. He wondered how the battle outside was faring and felt a fresh wave of worry for his friends and warband beyond Drassil’s walls, made worse by the knowledge that Asroth and his demon horde were loose in the skies above them.

I should be there, fighting alongside them.

Cywen’s voice drifted in and out, and Corban felt a pulse of power ripple through his body.

No, this must be done, is the only hope of victory, of saving any of us. See it through. And I left Akar in charge—he knows what must be done.

Meical stood between Corban and Gar, eyes flitting through the Kadoshim above. Corban could see that he was eager to fight but was resisting the urge so that he could fulfil his oath to Corban and the others.

Abruptly, there was an enormous booming crash, part of the chamber’s roof imploding, stone and wood crashing down to the floor, an explosion of dust. Kadoshim were rushing into the chamber, Asroth at their head, demons spread behind him, hovering a moment and then launching into the overwhelming numbers of Ben-Elim that had been slowly filling the room.

Beside Corban Meical tensed, his wings pulsing, lifting him up into the air, but he only hovered over Cywen, sword held protectively ready. A Kadoshim flew near to him and his sword sang, the Kadoshim’s head flew in a different direction to its body, which careened on to crash into the great tree.

Dath tracked targets, sent Kadoshim tumbling through the air with his arrows.

Figures emerged from the shadows of the chamber. Calidus and a handful of his Jehar were striding towards Corban, behind them Rhin and her shieldmen.

Corban felt a wave of hatred flood through him, stealing all else from him for a moment as he saw the man who murdered his mam, murdered Brina, who had orchestrated so much death and destruction. All he wanted to do was bury his sword into Calidus’ heart.

He took a step forwards, away from Cywen, then felt a hand on his arm.

Gar.

They shared a look.

Anger is the enemy.

Corban took a deep breath and mastered himself.

Meical saw Calidus and smiled.

“The last time I saw you was in this chamber,” Meical said, wings twitching. “You cut off my head. I am thinking it is time I returned the favour.”

Meical strode at Asroth’s commander, wings lifting him a little, eyes blazing his fury. Corban could see the aeons-old hatred between the two races encapsulated in that gaze.

“Rhin,” Calidus called out, “get that bitch away from the cauldron.” He took a step towards Meical. “Time I finished the job,” he snarled and leaped at Meical, their blades clashing, Jehar-Kadoshim swarming around the Ben-Elim.

Corban ran to help Meical, and then a handful of Kadoshim were swooping down, feet hitting the ground between Corban and Meical, charging at him and the others.

One thrust a spear at Corban, but he knocked it away with his wolven claws and stepped in, chopping overhead at the Kadoshim. It swayed, Corban’s blow glancing off of its mail-covered shoulder, but his wolven claws slashed across its throat, opening up three deep gashes, and it fell away.

Another Kadoshim filled its place, this one striking at him high with a longsword, Corban retreating before a barrage of powerful blows that shivered through his wrist and into his shoulder, then something was grabbing him from behind, arms wrapping under his arms, and he was leaving the ground, a sense of weightlessness as he was hoisted skywards. He twisted, saw a Kadoshim’s manic grin and blue-black lips as it lifted him higher. He tried to swing his sword at it but could get no strength in the blow.

Coralen appeared out of nowhere. She jumped onto the Kadoshim Corban had just been fighting on the ground, ran up his back, pulling on a wing to help, and then launching herself from its shoulders. She all but flew through the air, crashed into the Kadoshim that was lifting Corban, wrapped her legs around it and, before it had a chance to react, she was punching her wolven claws into its side. The mail links of its armour shattered, then blood was gushing, the creature screeching its pain, swirling in the air, and the three of them were falling, crunching to the ground, Corban hitting stone, the Kadoshim falling on him, flattening him to the ground. Coralen hauled the corpse off Corban and gave him her hand.

He nodded his thanks to her.

And then another Kadoshim slammed to the floor in front of him, feet spread wide, ground smoking, a silver warrior braid coiled over one shoulder like a thick-bodied serpent.

Asroth.

His black eyes regarded Corban.

“Bright Star, it is time I heard you scream.”