Elves: Beyond the Mists of Katura (46 page)

Auum shuddered. How many were perishing blinded by the smoke and with claws of fire digging into their heads and backs? Again orders were ringing out above the sounds of pain. Still they had
order and courage, and Auum could only respect them for that.

‘I see figures!’ called Thrynn. ‘Smoke thinning at thirty yards.’

‘Back inside!’ called Auum.

The call was taken up by elven and Wes throats, bringing archers and mages scurrying through the gaps, which were immediately closed. Well directed arrows started to come over the stockade,
sending defenders hurrying for cover. Thrynn lay prone on the barn roof, still calling out the closing distance.

Sentaya roared for his warriors to get back into line. Bows were discarded, swords and axes bristled. Stein’s voice in his most melodious elvish reorganised his mages, bringing them back
towards the houses before turning to prepare again.

‘Twenty.’

Auum looked up. ‘Thrynn, don’t—’

A bolt of pure black the thickness of an arm crossed the space faster than an arrow and struck Thrynn square in the forehead. Her skull burst, her body twitched and fell from the roof of the
barn, leaving blood and brain smearing the thatch. For a heartbeat Auum struggled to understand what he had seen.

‘Il-Aryn, barrier, now! Stein, get some spells over that wall. Anyone in the open, get to cover!’

Auum ran across the central oval. A breathless hush fell in the village as Julatsan mages launched orbs over the stockade. A moment later the Il-Aryn barriers shimmered into place, each covering
a third of the stockade the enemy threatened. Sentaya’s warriors backed up a pace or two but ignored Auum’s advice to seek cover.

Auum turned a full circle, checking positions and trying not to think about Thrynn and what her death meant for them all. He trotted back towards Ulysan and Tilman, both peering from the door of
Sentaya’s house. Tilman was looking nervous, but Ulysan’s face was set hard, the loss of Thrynn firing his desire to fight.

Across the arc shaman fire slammed into the barriers, Auum imagining the thick black rods like spears of magic lancing into the magical construct. He heard Rith yelling for the Il-Aryn to hold
and could see the adepts, with arms about each other in their horribly vulnerable positions, bowing their heads to focus harder.

Again and again the fire came in and the barriers shimmered, bowed and steadied. Auum prayed that their adaptation of Takaar’s original casting had eradicated the weakness which had
previously brought them down, and that the Wesman warriors would be forced to attack the stockade. After the fifth attack the bombardment ceased.

‘Hold!’ called Rith. ‘They haven’t gone anywhere. Keep the bindings secure.’

The temptation to look above the stockade was almost overwhelming, but Thrynn’s demise was raw in their memories and the defenders held their positions. Orders were called beyond the
stockade. Arrows flew into the village in disciplined volleys, Auum estimating the archer strength at around seventy – enough to cause problems. Sentaya’s warriors raised their
shields.

Auum felt the weight of magical energy heavy across his shoulders, pressing down on his head. Beside him Ulysan felt it too, and out in the village the Il-Aryn had hunched closer together.

‘That doesn’t feel—’

The light dimmed momentarily in front of the northern section of the stockade. Dark energy engulfed the Il-Aryn barrier without warning, scattering it to twinkling shards. The stockade was
obliterated along a length of some sixty yards, sending splinters through the village on a cloud of choking dust. Mage, Il-Aryn and Wesman alike threw themselves down while the hideous energy
rolled over them only to be snatched back and swallowed by the hands that had cast it. It was gone as quickly as it had come.

Auum sprinted out into the open, racing across the ground to Rith, who was flat on her back. The dust was clearing away and through it he could see enemy warriors making their charge. To the
right more shamen moved into position while those who had broken the Il-Aryn retreated to recover. On the shallow rise where the carriage stood a single tall figure gazed across the land. It was
thick with the corpses of his fighters, while magical fires picked at bodies, some of which were moving grotesquely, grasping at nothing and hoping for death.

‘Yniss preserve us,’ breathed Auum.

He stared down at Rith, whose face was smothered with confusion and shock. Other TaiGethen ran to help the Il-Aryn.

‘Up,’ he said. ‘Enemies coming. Come on, Rith, get to your other teams. More incoming power. You have to help them.’

Auum hauled her to her feet and she stared at him while the world swam into focus. She nodded and turned away to see to her Il-Aryn. Auum ran to the shattered stockade.

‘Tais, with me!’ he called. The Wesmen were only twenty yards away and running in hard. ‘Jaqruis!’

Ulysan came to his left shoulder with Tilman the other side of him.

‘Face front, trust the TaiGethen,’ said Auum, wondering how vulnerable his right flank would be. ‘This is your chance to be one of us. Arrows!’ Auum grabbed Tilman and
dragged him flat. Arrows flew overhead. ‘Up, up!’ Tilman jumped to his feet, no fear on his face but a wild excitement in his eyes and pride fit to burst from his chest. ‘Remember
your training.’

Marack, Nokhe and Hohan joined his right. Auum saw Evunn and Duele moving left with more coming, bolstered by Sentaya’s Wesmen roaring their fury and holding weapons high. Archers behind
them sent arrows into the midst of the attackers, downing one or two. Auum estimated their strength at around six hundred. A third of them were down, but it was nowhere near enough.

Without warning the central section of the stockade exploded inwards, scattering Il-Aryn and Wesman fighters alike. The pressure of the blast blew across Auum and his defenders. Wesmen poured
towards the new gap as the last section was blown apart. Sentaya could he heard ordering his warriors back to their feet.

‘Ulysan, hold them here,’ said Auum. ‘We need a diversion.’

He turned and ran back into the village, hearing the first swords clash, the first cry of a dying fighter. He prayed it wasn’t Tilman. The Il-Aryn were exposed and vulnerable. Enemies were
driving in across the arc, buoyed by the devastating power gifted their shamen by Ystormun. TaiGethen cells were moving to their aid but he needed more than that.

‘Stein! Where are you!’ he roared.

‘Auum.’ It was Grafyrre with his cell of Ferinn and Lynees. ‘What do you need?’

They were standing in the centre of the oval, their plan in tatters. Their withdrawal should have been much more controlled and gradual.

‘I need the Il-Aryn up, defended and under cover. They have to get barriers back up when the shamen are ready to cast again. And I need Stein.’

‘Stein is by Sentaya’s barn.’

Auum looked to his left. Stein and seven of his mages launched orbs of fire across the defence to slam into the enemy line at the third section.

‘Good. Get two cells . . . Truun and Gyliaar’s . . . put them in charge of the Il-Aryn. Then get to Stein. You’re heading out on his signal to take Ystormun.’

Grafyrre took his cell and sped away. Auum raced over to Stein.

‘We can’t hold them when the shamen come back,’ said Auum. ‘But Ystormun is poorly defended.’

Stein looked at him and nodded. ‘Now is as good a time as any.’

‘It might be our only chance,’ said Auum. ‘Grafyrre will be with you. We’ll try to sweep up any survivors of the strike cells and send them back in.’

‘I’ll take twenty with me, fly out and hopefully turn a few shamen away from the village.’

‘I can’t risk you,’ said Auum. ‘Send your best deputy.’

‘I’ve trained for this all my life,’ said Stein.

Auum nodded, still reluctant. ‘Just don’t die, brother.’

‘I have no intention of doing so.’

Auum turned and ran back to Ulysan and Tilman. Despite the shock of the shaman power, Sentaya’s warriors were up and fighting, the line thin but just holding with the help of the
TaiGethen, who worked the left and right flanks to contain the attack. Auum saw Sentaya front and centre, his axe sweeping through low into the legs of an enemy and reversing to batter its spike
into the face of another. For a Wesman beyond his physical peak, he had the energy of someone half his age.

Running in hard, Auum saw Ulysan close to Tilman, tipping away a blow meant for the human and savaging his second blade into the neck of an opponent. Tilman had a short blade held two-handed and
displayed good speed, knocking aside an axe aimed at his skull and riposting swiftly, lacing a cut into the Wesman’s chest.

Auum called Ulysan’s name, leaped and soared over the big TaiGethen’s head, his blades in hand. He landed behind Ulysan’s next opponent and drove one of his blades backwards
through his thigh, ripping it clear through the side of his leg. He turned and spun right, driving his left foot up into the mouth of the attacker facing him and his bloodied blade into the chest
of the one moving in beside him.

Auum completed his turn, stabbed his right blade into the kidney of the Wesman closing on Tilman and rejoined the line.

‘We missed you,’ said Ulysan.

The Wesmen came on again after a moment to compose themselves. Beyond them the shamen were gathering themselves for another assault while overhead Stein flew out and to the right heading for his
showdown with Ystormun. Down on the ground Grafyrre and his cell would be under the shetharyn and following him through the enemy.

‘This had better work,’ muttered Auum. ‘Die old, Stein, not today.’

Grafyrre could see fingers pointing up into the sky and Wesmen and shamen turning. Auum was going to get his diversion. He led his cell through the lines and away to the right
beyond the reach of shaman fire, where he knew the strike teams were to muster before returning to the village.

Grafyrre called Ferinn and Lynees from the shetharyn, and they dropped to a sprint. Almost immediately Stein swept overhead, indicating ahead and to his right. Grafyrre changed direction, ran
over a low rise and into a small stand of trees, where TaiGethen stood over the prone forms of two others.

‘Faleen,’ he said, sliding to a stop and kicking up dust. ‘How many can come with us?’

He looked down and saw Pannos, over whom Oryaal crouched offering words of comfort. Next to him Merrat stroked the hair from Nersini’s face. Both injured elves were lying on their sides
and had scorches across their bodies where fires had burned through their clothes and into their backs.

‘This is what we face,’ said Merrat. ‘Dodann’s cell was gone in a taipan’s strike.’

‘Jyrrian?’ asked Grafyrre.

Faleen shook her head. ‘At least it was steel that killed him, not this new evil.’

‘We have no time to grieve,’ said Grafyrre, feeling heartless. ‘Any who can run with me, we’re after Ystormun. Stein’s mages are in the sky.’

Merrat and Oryaal stood. Faleen and Merke joined them.

‘What we have, we’ll bring.’

‘Then let’s run.’

Grafyrre led them out towards Ystormun’s carriage, twelve of them in all to take on whatever Ystormun threw at them. The elven mages were ahead and had been seen as they landed. Wesmen and
shamen were advancing on them from the carriage guard some two hundred yards away.

Stein spread them wide apart and all walked forward steadily, preparing. Ystormun stood proud in front of his carriage, barely even looking in their direction. Shamen and Wesmen in their dozens
were heading back to join him while the remainder battered at the village defenders.

‘Break around the mages and target the warriors first,’ Grafyrre said. ‘Stein will take the shamen.’

Orbs of fire shot from the hands of Stein’s mages, arcing over the warriors and falling on the carriage, Ystormun and into the midst of the shamen. The carriage roof blew off and the axles
broke as the vehicle collapsed into an inferno. Shamen were blown apart, others had dived and rolled away, some caught by flame, others unscathed. Ystormun did not so much as flinch when the fire
was diverted harmlessly across the shield he had created for himself. He continued to stare downslope as if searching for something, or someone.

Grafyrre sped past the mages, who were advancing again after casting their spells. He nodded at Stein, who was staring straight at Ystormun, already working on his next and pivotal
construct.

Grafyrre drew a jaqrui and hurled it. His Wesman target ducked and it slashed past him and struck a shaman thirty yards behind him square in the forehead. Grafyrre drew his twin blades and
launched into the attack, Ferinn and Lynees on his flanks.

Grafyrre swivelled and launched a side kick up to block an axe blade. He moved forward after the kick, sweeping his left blade into the warrior’s midriff. Lynees was airborne,
spear-kicking his target, catching him on the jaw. The Wesman’s axe jerked up and back and lodged in the skull of the warrior behind him.

Ferinn spun on her heel and unwound a heavy blow to the shoulder of her target with her right heel, sending him sprawling. Grafyrre pounced on him, slicing his throat open. He rolled under a
scything axe sweep and chopped both his blades into the groin of the fighter. Grafyrre stood as the Wesman collapsed. Ferinn dodged a cut to the face, failed to stop a sword slicing across her
chest and stepped back, blood seeping through her shirt and jacket.

Grafyrre surged right, battering the hilt of one blade into her attacker’s temple and jamming the other up under his ribcage. Ferinn nodded she could continue. To Grafyrre’s far
right, Merke, Siraaj and Dysett were making short work of the flimsy warrior line. Left, Merrat and Faleen were working their depleted cells as a four while Oryaal and Lyrrique swept up the left
flank.

Lynees came past Grafyrre at head height, piling into three Wesmen protecting a casting shaman. Grafyrre hurdled the knot of flailing bodies and struck the head from the shaman in a clean blow.
He turned. Lynees had killed one and wounded another, and now scrabbled backwards only to have an axe blade bite into his ankle from a downed warrior. Lynees fell forward. Grafyrre slashed a blade
into the third man’s back, staying his killing strike.