Denser saw each of them nod his understanding, never breaking the rhythm of their blows.
‘Down!’
The trio dropped as Denser and Erienne took a half pace and cast. IceWind savaged over their heads and scourged into the line ahead. The strangers’ SpellShields screamed as the cold hit, those under the Shields shrinking back, mist and gale filling the air in front of them. In the background a mage cried out in pain. Someone shrieked at him to hold firm. Still the IceWind raged, its edges reaching out and chilling everything it touched.
Ren’s bow sang, the screaming mage crumpled, the shield collapsed and the awful spell ripped into the helpless enemy, freezing flesh and bone, blinding, cracking and breaking. Cries cut off as mouths were paralysed. Metal shattered, men fell, the line fractured and The Raven ploughed on.
‘Come on!’ yelled Hirad, and Denser knew it was as much for the elves on their right as The Raven themselves. The barbarian hurdled a frozen body, chased into the vegetation and began the fight again, his friends left, right and behind as he knew they would be.
Denser glanced along the line, saw the TaiGethen weaving their swift death, the Al-Arynaar providing mage and blade support. More FlameOrbs soared out, casting their ghastly light. Across the river, he could see more of the enemy, looking on helplessly as their companions were taken apart. And there, splashing through the swamp and caught in the moonlight, were the other runners.
Almost straight away, Ben’s legs had given way. Erys and Yron scooped him into a chair lift, the lad gasping in agony as rough hands and leather scraped at his raw infected wounds. Yron had his arm high up around Ben’s chest, Erys supporting his lower back, as they splashed into the shallows of the swamp.
Yron tried to hear everything around him above the sound of his own breathing, of his feet hitting the water over and over. He strained for the sounds of pursuit, of the wail of jaqrui and the whistle of arrows. But with every pace he took he heard none of it. He began to dare to believe they might actually make it.
A hundred and fifty yards to go and he saw men standing up, beckoning them on, urging and encouraging. Others of the reserve ran to join them, some carrying bows. Shouts went up, increasing in their urgency as Yron and Erys pounded across the swamp, dragging their calves through the deepening water.
‘Keep going,’ gasped Yron.
‘I hadn’t thought of stopping,’ replied Erys.
Ben’s breathing was ragged and tortured.
‘Nor had I,’ he managed.
Arrows started to fly. The shouts of encouragement became a clamour for more pace and men ran towards them. Faces looked desperate now, exhorting them to greater effort. FlameOrbs soared high over their heads, heading for the pursuing pack. And now Yron could hear them. A flurry of feet rushing through the swamp. Not far behind. Perhaps not far enough.
More arrows arced over them. The elves replied in kind, shafts fired on the run hissing past, slapping into the water around them. Jaqrui wailed and whistled. Yron ducked reflexively.
‘Faster,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to go faster.’
Erys responded and the two men upped their pace. Yron felt the water become shallow again and relief flooded through him. He looked forward, seeing naked fear on the faces of those only seventy yards in front of them now and he thanked the Gods he had no time to look round. He didn’t need to. He knew how fast an elf could run.
‘Stay with us, Ben, we’re so nearly there,’ he said.
Ben’s words were little more than grunts of pain. ‘If our luck holds.’
‘It’s holding,’ said Erys. ‘Keep going.’
On they ran. More arrows splashed around them, others flew past seeking elven targets. Jaqrui fizzed and keened. A panther roared.
‘Oh dear Gods,’ muttered Yron.
He could hear his men now. Yelling at him, pleading. The second roar was close, so very close. Some of his men moved further forward and began to form a line. Thirty yards to go. Twenty.
A huge impact sent them all sprawling. Ben screamed. Yron felt his left arm torn half out of its socket. He rolled over and came to his haunches.
‘No!’ he bellowed. ‘No!’
The panther had leapt on Ben’s back and taken him down. Yron ran forward, hitching out his axe; the animal looked up, yellow eyes boring into him. It made to spring again.
Erys was shouting. ‘Yron, no!’
Very deliberately, the panther bit down, snapping the boy’s neck. ‘Bastard!’ Yron made to