At Oyru’s left flank, Therin glanced between the fallen body of his fellow avatar and the menacing figure of the bloodied Shadow. To his credit, Therin lifted his trembling rapier in front of him and stood his ground as Oyru raised his blades for a second attack.
Then Annev was there, his bright sword knocking back the two thin blades with a shower of black and white sparks. Oyru gritted his teeth, eyes narrowed against the white light even as he deftly parried each of Annev’s blows. Not once, though, did he strike back at his one-armed opponent. Instead he retreated, glancing warily between Annev’s flashing sword and Titus’s approaching lantern. Again, Therin and Fyn came at him from the sides, but this time they stuck close to Annev and Titus, and their respective light sources.
Oyru growled, retreating further towards the well. This time Annev didn’t race in pursuit, staying close to Therin, and as the four drew within striking distance, Titus kept the phoenix lantern’s beam on Oyru, making the light dance across his chest. Therin lunged and Oyru lifted one sword to block. His flyssa was caught by Annev’s flamberge, the undulating blade raking across the edge of his black sword, sending out a cascade of grey sparks. The tip of Therin’s rapier pierced the assassin’s arm just as Titus’s lantern shone on it.
Oyru screamed, falling against the wall of the well behind him. As he rolled into the grey shadow at the base of the well, curls of black smoke began to pour from his wounded arm and nose, the blood evaporated, and the flesh began to heal itself. Visibly relaxing, the assassin grinned and moved further into the wan dark.
Blood and bones, Annev thought, watching the assassin’s ragged nose stitch itself back together.
The smile faded from Oyru’s face and his eyes grew cold once more. With a wave of his hands, he dispelled the twin flyssas into wisps of smoke and shadow then took a deep breath, his palms rising upward. The darkness surrounding the well deepened and expanded, stretching to reach the feet of the surrounding avatars. A heartbeat later, dozens of spindly grey limbs sprang up from the blackness and seized Fyn and Therin.
‘No!’ Therin screamed, ineffectually swatting at the clawed fingers with his sword. Annev jumped to the boy’s aid, swung his fiery blade, and severed the eidolons’ hands at the wrists.
A few feet away, Titus was having similar success using the lantern. He shone the eye of the phoenix on the grasping arms pulling Fyn into the darkness and made the grey flesh sizzle and smoke. The long fingers opened, releasing their prey with a high-pitched, almost inaudible keening as the lanky limbs withdrew to the shadows.
Oyru shifted, pulled a thin star of metal out of the air, and hurled it at Titus before any of them could react.
A beam of molten fire shot through the air, obliterating the throwing star and blasting the roof off the well. As one, the assassin and the four boys turned north towards the source of the magic flames.
Tosan stood at the north-eastern corner of the Academy with the hellfire wand extended in front of him. He flicked it at Oyru, shouting, and another gout of fire shot from the wand.
Quick as a blink, Oyru dived headlong into the well, narrowly escaping the blast. Beneath the heat of hellfire flames, the cobblestones around the well melted and crumbled, its walls toppling inward, sealing the well below in a messy, red-hot slump of slag and rubble.
The liquid fire pouring from Tosan’s wand cut off and there was a long silence as the boys realised what had happened … and then a ragged cheer went up from the avatars.
The Shadow Reborn was gone.
Chapter Seventy-One
Tosan and his retinue came towards them, the headmaster alert for demons. Myjun was walking in step with her father, followed closely by a train of ancients and senior Master Avatars, Brayan at their head, his massive war maul resting on his shoulder. He shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted at the figures surrounding the well. When he spotted Titus, he gave a shout and waved.
Ill-prepared for a confrontation with the Eldest of Ancients, Annev pressed the hilt of his flamberge into Fyn’s hand and the magic flames winked out. Fyn stared at the weapon, puzzled.
‘Hold onto it for me, please.’ He turned to Titus. ‘Turn off the lantern.’ Fyn and Titus both nodded and Annev went to check on Sodar.
As Annev entered the salt-lined glyph, he tiptoed around its white lines, wary about disturbing their symmetry. He walked past Brinden’s body and saw that the boy’s arms had been folded over his chest and the throwing star removed from his forehead. A brown piece of cloth had taken its place, cut from the boy’s trouser leg and wound around his head, hiding the mortal injury.
Sodar lay in the centre of the glyph with his head propped up on the bag of salt and his feet pointing towards the rows of smoking houses. Sraon sat next to him, one hand pressed tightly against the priest’s wounded thigh. As Annev drew closer, he saw Sodar was using the cobbler’s knife to cut strips of cloth from the remainder of Brinden’s trouser leg. When Annev approached, he lowered his knife and lifted his head.
‘You’re alive.’ Sodar breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I didn’t … I wasn’t sure if …’
Annev knelt beside his fallen mentor. ‘I’m fine. Oyru never raised his blades against me.’
‘He’s dead?’
‘I don’t think so. We hurt him, but he escaped into the well and Tosan sealed it up with the hellfire rod. He might find another way out.’
Sodar grunted. ‘He will, I’m sure. But it will take time, and we’ll be long gone by then.’ He set down his knife and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He looked over his shoulder, counting Annev’s remaining companions. ‘One less than you left with.’ Annev nodded. ‘Who fell?’
‘Lemwich.’
The memory of the brawny avatar’s falling body flashed through Annev’s mind. He tried to dismiss it, but that image was replaced by Brinden’s bandaged face, then Chedwik and Alisander screaming in the darkness. So many dead … Excepting Sraon and the three boys behind him, it seemed possible his entire reap had been killed, along with all of Chaenbalu’s farmers, tradesmen and shopkeepers. Apart from Tosan and his approaching retinue, had any of the Academy’s other inhabitants survived? Annev hadn’t seen a single witwoman or acolyte, and Myjun was the only female to have emerged from the Academy. Could the rest really all be gone – could they really have been fighting each other? What of the other reaps? Annev felt sick thinking so many innocents might be dead.
Sodar nodded. ‘You did well. You lost one boy out of five against Keos’s most dangerous assassin.’
‘One was too many,’ Annev answered. ‘And there were more before him.’
Sodar pursed his lips and nodded. ‘Yes. Of course.’ He wrapped the long strip of cloth around his wound, cinched the bandage tight, knotted the fabric, and tucked in the loose end.
‘Why don’t you heal yourself?’
The priest gave a weary smile. ‘Because it’s the fastest way to deplete my body of quaire, and I spent too much of that trying to survive my beatings.’